“Sure thing.” Honey stood watch over the girl who no longer needed a guardian. “The witness is behind the bleachers. She was sitting on a cooler last I saw.”
Nodding his thanks, Boaz went out to meet the woman, who was cradling her middle and rocking.
“Who could have done such a thing?” She glanced between the sentinels posted to either side of her. “Who was she? I don’t know all the children, of course, but I didn’t recognize her. What was her name? Maybe I’ll remember that.”
Abernathy and Parker kept their eyes forward and their mouths shut, but they nodded to Boaz.
“Ms. Nunez.” Boaz turned on his good ol’ boy smile. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
The woman perked at her name and then preened a bit when she spotted him before slumping back into her hunched posture. He got the feeling both reactions were equally authentic. That she enjoyed attention, being the center of it, but not this kind, not at this cost.
“I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
Aware the cleaners were en route, he didn’t dawdle. “Do you know Cassandra Desmond?”
There was little harm in giving out names, considering what the cleaners would do to her shortly.
“No.” She shook her head. “That name’s not familiar.”
A plain vanilla human had no reason to know a vampire, but it was a small community, and folks talked. Apparently, they just didn’t talk about Cassandra. Otherwise, he had a feeling this woman would know.
Polite as you please, he pressed harder. “Did you notice anyone or anything out of place tonight?”
“There were so many kids and parents and visitors…” Her gaze went distant. “Cassandra, you said?”
“Yes.” It pained him to wait for her to finish her thought, and he nudged her. “Cassandra Desmond.”
“I bumped into a friend of mine from high school tonight,” she confided. “She was with her girlfriend, Cass.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “They were both wearing long coats, but I could see leather pants beneath it, and boots. With a lot of laces.” She lowered her voice. “Highly inappropriate, if you ask me.”
Dread twisted through his gut at this confirmation of his worst fears. “What’s your friend’s name?”
“Adelaide.” She gazed off at a spot near the concession stand. “Adelaide Whitaker.”
The sentinels to either side of Nunez slid their gazes toward Boaz, aware of his connection to Addie. This link between his fiancée and the bounty hunter with a nose for trouble would blow up in his face if he didn’t hurry and diffuse the situation.
“You said they were together?” He held on to his smile by sheer practice. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Her busybody persona surfaced with a smirk. “They put on quite a show.”
“A show?”
“They kissed,” she whispered as if sharing a dirty secret. “In front of God and everyone.”
“Adelaide Whitaker kissed Cassandra Desmond?”
“If that was her name, then yes. She did. I had no idea Adelaide…” A blush touched Ms. Nunez’s cheeks, macabre slashes against the pallor of her complexion. “Everyone in line at the concession stand saw it.”
So much for easy solutions. Sentinels were one thing, but a mass of unidentified humans was another. There were too many witnesses to erase the deed or to ignore the spectacle. People would talk, word would get around, and the dominos of his life—so carefully lined up—would start falling. Worse, Addie would topple alongside him.
And goddess, when had that happened?
When had Addie joined the small circle of people he would do anything to protect?
About the time she offered your sister a way out of her troubles, he reminded himself. Don’t go getting sentimental. You need Addie. Otherwise, Amelie is screwed. Not many women would have offered what Addie did. You can’t afford to botch this.
Yeah.
That was why.
Goddessdamn him.
He wasn’t supposed to care. Not after what he had done to Grier. But Addie was good. Whatever this was, she had to have an explanation for it. There had to be a reason. He just had to convince Addie to share hers with him.
“Thank you for your help.” He kept his voice calm, despite his desperation to break loose and put eyes on Addie before someone else put cuffs on her. “The EMTs will be by to check on you shortly.”
Turning his back on her protests, he made his way to his bike, careful to keep an eye out for pursuit. The others would be as curious about what his fiancée was doing at the murder scene as him.
Dialing Addie as he mounted his bike, he clenched his jaw, working to modulate his tone when she did. “Where are you?”
“At home.” She sounded breathless, and he couldn’t shake the mental picture of what else she and Cassandra could be doing to make her that way. “I’m cooking dinner. If you’re not here in an hour, I’ll put yours in the fridge.”
Emotion scraped his nerves raw. Jealousy or fear or both. He couldn’t tell, and that bothered him. “I’m on my way now, actually.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll, um, get moving then.” Pots clattered in the background. “See you soon.”
After the call ended, Boaz rubbed his thumb over the screen, wondering what he was about to walk in on and how he was going to handle this conversation. He had never cheated on a girlfriend. He could say that much for himself. He might not stick around, might not get serious, but he was honest about his intentions from the start.
Just like you were honest with Grier?
Shame and disgust twisted his gut into knots, but this was bigger than potential infidelity. The Society wouldn’t look kindly upon their union if Addie was carrying on an affair—in public—prior to their wedding. Their union had to be above reproach in order for them to each get what they wanted from the other.
The drive to the old Whitaker place blurred, his thoughts twisting as much as his stomach, and he took a moment to compose himself before he dismounted Willie and entered the house.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Addie called cheerfully.
