I raised a brow and eyed him. As we passed from the shadows of the narrow, overhanging buildings into a bright open courtyard, the bags under his eyes became visible. “You looked into it all night?”
His throat bobbed and he shot me a side-eyed look. “Maybe.”
“Ah.” I took another sip of coffee. “And how many of these have you had?” I held up my cup.
“A few…” He looked away. “…dozen, maybe.”
My eyes widened. Well that certainly explained our clipped pace. “Go on.”
He splayed his big hands as Daisy trotted ahead. “The reason Davies was getting the Officer of the Year award was for bravery on the job.”
I frowned. “I thought all the cops voted on it.”
Peter nodded. “Yes, but to even be nominated there needs to be a reason—some moment of heroics, usually.”
“Ah.”
Daisy led the way as Peter continued. “A witness in custody attacked Davies, he defended himself and was injured in the process, but the witness was killed in the scuffle.”
I frowned. “A witness attacked? Not a suspect?” Why hadn’t that part of the story stuck out to me before?
Peter shook his head. “Exactly. The witness was some nobody, Gregor Caron, a low-level criminal. He’d been arrested a bunch of times before, and everybody chalked his outburst up to desperation or just being a rotten fish.” He frowned. “But according to his records, he’d only been arrested for theft and possession of illegal potions, that kind of thing—he had no history of violence.”
“Okaaayy….” I was starting to see what had triggered Peter’s all-night study session.
“So I looked into the case Caron was involved in. Turns out, he was going to testify against one Jacob Watts.”
I glanced up at Peter. “As in Emerson Watts’s son? My old b— I mean, the lawyer?” I remembered he had a son, a real screwup who was always besmirching the family name.
“Yep.” Peter nodded. “Emerson, Jacob’s father, is a lawyer. I recognized the last name from our questioning the other night at the ball.”
He flashed me an excited grin. “Get this. He’s not only a lawyer, but a top lawyer here in Bijou Mer and a big donor to the police department.” He bit his lip and leveled me a serious look. “I don’t know, Jolene. This smells fishy to me. What do you think?”
I grinned up at him, proud that I was working with one of the few honest cops who’d be willing to question his own. “I think you’re onto something big, Peter.”
His face relaxed a little. “You think?” He nodded to himself, then spun back to face me as we walked up the cobblestone thoroughfare. He shot me a grateful look. “Thanks.” He stopped abruptly. “You ready?”
I continued on a few steps, then doubled back and grinned up at him, puzzled. “For what?”
He jerked his chin at the building behind me. “To question Emerson.”
My stomach sank as I spun around and suddenly realized where we stood. I’d been so engrossed in the conversation that I hadn’t even noticed we’d climbed to the third-highest tier in Bijou Mer and now stood outside the imposing stone building with Watts, Baker & Low chiseled above the heavy wooden doors. My old law firm.
23
QUESTIONING
“Oh, no no no….” I staggered back into the middle of the street.
Daisy’s hackles rose, and her dark eyes darted around, looking for the source of danger, and even Peter drew his wand, before remembering the humans nearby and hastily stowing it away.
“Jolene—what’s wrong?”
My heart thundered in my chest. I hadn’t been back here in years, not since the Bruma Eve party when my life imploded. And it was the last thing I wanted to do this morning. My muddled brain searched for an excuse.
“I’m—not dressed for it.”
Daisy barked. Lie!
Peter gave me a warm smile. “You always look beautiful.” His cheeks reddened as he caught himself. “I mean—so does Daisy. She looks beautiful. It’s a, uh—a beautiful day. Lots of beauty—you fit right in.”
I let out a combination chuckle/whimper. Why did he have to be so kind to me? And I knew it was kindness, too, because in my current state, I definitely didn’t look beautiful.
“I just—I’m so tired and not really feeling well.” I let out a weak cough.
Daisy barked again. Liar! Stop lying to Peter!
I gritted my teeth and shot her an exasperated look. Can it, Daisy!
Peter, a pained look on his face, glanced from his barking partner to me. “Look, Jolene.” He took a few slow steps toward me, eyes on his feet. “I know you have your reasons for not wanting to question Emerson… or maybe for not wanting to work with me?”
My chest tightened. I hated him thinking that.
He lifted his eyes to mine. “And I don’t want you to feel pressured to tell me what they are…” His eyebrows pinched in the center and he shot me a weak grin. “Though, that’d certainly help me understand…?”
He looked at me hopefully, but I kept my lips pressed tight together. I wanted to tell Peter everything, I really did. I glanced up at the law firm—I was probably about to be exposed anyway.
But snakes—my stomach twisted—what if I told him the truth and he turned away from me, like every other nonshifter I knew had? My stomach turned again. Or worse—what if knowing the truth about me somehow put him in more danger from Ludolf? My little visit to the sewers was still heavy on my mind.
After giving me time to jump in, Peter licked his lips. “Okay. That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me your reasons.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I—I don’t mean to be that guy, but I’m paying you—I mean, the department’s paying you to do a job. We need you on this one.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Then don’t pay me.” I waved it away. “I
