by Shae Mallak
I stared at it for a long time. Like the rest, it wasn't the most flattering photo of him, a candid shot taken at a poker table. Dad was sweating and wiping a handkerchief across his forehead. He was frowning down at his cards—it seemed his poker face was as bad as mine. No wonder he was such a terrible gambler.
"Dad," I sighed. "What happened to you?"
I didn't like seeing him like that, down on his luck and sweating over a card game. It wasn't how I wanted to remember him. The last three years wasn't him, not who he really was. He made mistakes and I hated him a lot of the time for what he put us through, but he was still my father! He was still the man who helped raise me, helped me become who I am. Three years of mistakes couldn't erase a lifetime of love, care, and support. I couldn't let hatred and disappointment be my last memory of him.
I flipped over his photo to look at the last piece of paper in the file. It was a list of names and dollar amounts and at the bottom, it was totaled, adding to quite a large number—my father's outstanding debts. There were so many names! I couldn't believe the mess he got himself into—the mess Jonah bailed him out of! I knew it was bad, but seeing it all on paper, itemized like a grocery receipt with a six-digit total circled in red pen on the bottom...it was overwhelming.
"Oh, Dad," I moaned. I stared at that number—the amount of money Jonah paid in order to get what he wanted—to get me. I couldn't decide if I was flattered or insulted. But if the rest of the people on the list were anything like Kinney—and Dad owed a lot of them twice as much—they wouldn't be satisfied with a few pennies here and there. They'd demand full payment or they would find another way to get their money back. A messier, not-so-legal way. That is, until Jonah Carson stepped in out of the blue and saved our necks. "Yeah," I muttered, "And you've been so grateful to him ever since," I sneered in self-derision. I couldn't look at it anymore. It was like looking at a list of my father's sins. It felt disrespectful.
My reverie was interrupted when the phone rang, startling me so much I jumped and sent the folder and its contents into the air. I watched them flutter to the floor as I tried to regain my composure but froze when my eye caught the name flashing on the caller ID. Travis Kinney. Why was Kinney calling Jonah? He promised me that their business was finished. Was the call just a fluke or was Jonah lying to me? It had to be a fluke, right? The two didn't exactly seem on the friendliest of terms when we saw him. So then why was he calling Jonah's office? Lucky for me the answering machine on the old cord phone was the kind that played the messages aloud when they were given.
"Joe," Kinney started firmly and seriously—no nonsense. "I got your message and I did some digging. I found your green-back. You know how to reach me."
The office went silent again but I could feel Kinney's words lingering in the air around me. I found your green-back. So Kinney knew the identity of the other dragon! Knowing Jonah reached out to Kinney for information didn't exactly help my fluke phone call theory—a subject on which I made a mental note to bring up later and was sure to start an argument. But knowing who attacked us—who challenged Jonah's claim on me—was a little more important. My issues with Jonah's past were going to have to wait.
I quickly pulled out my cell phone and dialed Jonah's number, fidgeting in the chair while I waited impatiently for him to answer only to get sent to voicemail. Of all the times to not answer his phone! I dialed again with the same result, already bolting from the office and up to the roof, the new information busting out of me as I ran out onto the roof.
"He knows!" I shouted, stopping to catch my breath before dialing Jonah a third time. The three in the pool stopped what they were doing and stared at me like I went insane. "Kinney—" I said, still taking deep breaths. I really needed to work out more. Greg scowled at the name; it was safe to say I got his attention. "He knows," I repeated. "Who the green dragon is," I finished.
"How do you know that?" Greg asked.
"He left a message for Jonah in the office. I overheard—damn it, Jonah! Answer your phone!" I screamed into his voicemail, then hung up and focused on Greg again. Addis looked confused, shifting his gaze between Greg and me, but Ava didn't look surprised at all. How much did she know?
"He's probably still dealing with the police," Greg said, climbing out of the pool. He dripped across the cement to a stack of towels and quickly dried himself off as well as he could. "Do you have a landline at your house?" he asked.
"No," I shook my head. The landline was one of the first expenses to get nixed when we started having money problems. There was no point paying for a home phone and cell phones for Dad and me.
"I'll call Hobbs," Greg offered, picking up his own phone and starting to dial. "You keep trying Jonah." It only took him a few rings to reach Hobbs. "Arthur," he greeted, "Greg Tibble. We're trying to find Jonah, are you still—Oh." Greg's face darkened. I didn't like that look. "Oh, I see. Well, thanks, Arthur."
"What?" I prompted when Greg didn't immediately share. "What is it?"
"Jonah's been arrested," he said, still in shock at his own words. "For the murder of Otto Aberdeen."
TWENTY-THREE
"Impossible," I denied. I shook my head adamantly, stumbling back to sit in one of the lounge chairs. Greg came and sat across from me, looking as blindsided as I felt. "How could they—how could they even think that?" I muttered. "He was with me the whole time. He wouldn't—"
My sentence cut off, the nasty voice in my head reminding me of the truth I didn't want to admit. I have killed before, he said. He was capable. More than capable. Cutler pointed out motive earlier that afternoon—if Dad contested the right of protectorship and won, Jonah would lose me. I wouldn't have any legal reason to let him stick around and I hadn't given him any reason to believe I would stay otherwise. Given the opportunity, for all he knew, I would push him out of my life. Jonah would probably do almost anything to keep that from happening.
"Impossible," I repeated, scowling at the cement. "He couldn't have—I was with him the whole time!" I looked up desperately at Greg. "I was with him all day yesterday!" Except at night, the nasty voice reminded. When you made him sleep in the hallway all night. I mentally snapped at the voice to shut the hell up. Jonah wouldn't kill my father.
"I know," Greg sighed. "I don't have answers, Evie. I wish I did. Hobbs said they had no choice—he was the last to see Otto alive."
"But there's no proof!" I cried. "No evidence! He...he couldn't...he wouldn't...." But my argument for his innocence was weak even to my desperate ears. "No," I whimpered.
"We'll load up and go back to the house," Greg advised. "We'll think of a game plan and go down to the station in the morning. There's nothing we can do tonight." Addis and Ava climbed out of the pool with soft splashes to dry off and get ready to leave.
"No," I protested. "I want to go now. Surely, it's just a misunderstanding—Jonah was with me the whole time! We'll go and clear this all up—"
"But you weren't with him the whole time," Greg said quietly. I scowled at him fiercely. Whose side was he on, anyway? "Remember?" he prompted. "He slept in the hallway."
Right. We argued and he spent the night outside my bedroom door. "But—"
"I'm sorry," Greg said, reaching out to hold my hands. "We'll just have to wait and talk to the police in the morning and go from there."
"Please, I need to see him," I said pathetically. I wanted to tell him what I heard from Kinney. I wanted to tell him I was going to fight tooth and nail to clear his name because I knew he was innocent. I didn't care about his past. I didn't care what or who he used to be, he was my Jonah now and I was going to save him just as he saved me and my father.
Greg rubbed a hand across the back of his neck contemplating our options. It was getting late, and after an afternoon of swimming, the twins were tired and needed to be fed and sent to bed. It'd been a long day. But Jonah was sitting in jail for something he didn't do. I wasn't going to get a wink of sleep knowing that.
"Okay," Greg sighed. "We can stop by t
he station, but I'm telling you, Evie, there's nothing we can do tonight."
"I can try," I insisted.
We readied to leave quickly and quietly, leaving the way we came with more order and organization than I'd ever seen from the twins. I couldn't remember the code to the alarm so I merely locked the door behind me. If Jonah was released, he would forgive me. If he wasn't, then it really didn't matter.
Greg pulled into the parking lot of the police station and promptly cursed under his breath.
"Watch it, the twins are still—" I started to scold him, hooking a thumb behind me toward Addis and Ava who were giggling over Greg's foul language.
"Those are CPL cars," Greg said, pointing at a row of black SUVs with heavily tinted windows. One by itself wouldn't have warranted any notice or concern, but six of them in a row—it looked like the FBI had invaded Sinclair Falls.
"CP-what?" I asked in confusion.
"CPL," he repeated quietly. "Council of Paranormal Law," he explained. "They step in to handle criminal cases involving paranormal beings when necessary. Usually they let human courts handle most situations, but every so often an extreme case will catch their attention."
"Well, that should be good, right? I mean, they can help clear Jonah's name! We can explain—" My burst of hope was dashed by the dark look on Greg's face. "What? They're here to help, right?"
"I'm afraid not," Greg murmured. "The Council have wanted to nail Jonah for years. They're not going to pass up an opportunity like this."
"But he's innocent!" I cried, slamming my fist on the center console in indignation. "How can they convict him without trial—without evidence!?"
"The Council runs on a different set of rules, Evie," Greg sighed. "No one powerful enough or brave enough to tell them otherwise. We should go home," he insisted. "If the CPL are involved—"
"I'm not giving up on Jonah because of some paranormal police who think they're king," I scoffed. I opened the car door and marched across the parking lot with Greg and the twins on my heels.
I threw open the door to the station with enough drama to fill a soap opera. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me and I glared back at them. The police station was one large room with clumps of desks everywhere stacked with files and old boxy desktop computers. Talk about retro. Couldn't the city afford to give the poor guys an upgrade?
Milling around the room were two different types of people—the police officers, dressed in their blue uniforms, and those whom I presumed to be the CPL, wearing black suits. It was like they saw Men in Black and ran with it. It was cliché and a little sad.
Everything seemed to freeze upon my entrance, the several dozen people crowding the station all gaping at me like they saw a ghost. A phone rang on one of the desks, but no one moved to answer it.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, someone answer the damn phone," a woman hollered from out of sight. In the back of the room near the coffeemaker was an enclosed office—the sheriff's office—and a hallway that connected to the rest of the sizeable building.
Officer Cutler emerged from the hallway, stomping out in a khaki pencil skirt and white blouse and looking completely out of place. Her reprimand was enough to snap everyone else out of their frozen state of shock and the room buzzed with activity again. Cutler spied the four of us by the door and greeted us with a frown that clearly told us we were not welcome.
"Miss Aberdeen," she said stiffly, crossing the room to us. "Mr. Tibble," she nodded at Greg. "You shouldn't be here," she said bluntly. From Greg's face, he seemed to agree.
"Of course I should be!" I protested. "You arrested Jonah for the murder of my father! I have every right to be here! He is innocent!" I cried loudly. "How can you possibly think—"
"Miss Aberdeen," Cutler hissed. "Lower your voice or I will be forced to escort you out of the building," she warned.
"Not until I see Jonah!" I insisted firmly. "I need to see him!"
"Visiting hours are over, Miss Aberdeen," Cutler said stiffly.
"Visiting hours my ass!" I shouted back. Addis and Ava both stifled their giggles. It wasn't exactly an appropriate time to be laughing at cuss words. "I demand to see him!"
"The matter is out of my hands," Cutler replied. "the CPL have taken over the investigation and have prohibited any outside contact except with his lawyer," she explained. "Please, go home, Miss Aberdeen. We will contact you when the investigation is completed." She paused and for a moment her stiff outer facade seemed to dissolve and I saw compassion and pity in her eyes. "I'll make sure you get to see him before the sentence is carried out," she said softly.
"Sentence?! What are you talking about? You act like he's already been proven guilty! This is ridiculous—Jonah didn't kill my dad! How can you—"
"I warned you, Miss Aberdeen," Cutler said, her stony outer appearance back in place. She gripped my arm and turned me around and started to march me back toward the door.
"No!" I cried. "This is illegal! You can't—Jonah is innocent! He didn't do it! Just let me see him! Jonah!!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. But my pleas were ignored and Cutler deposited me on the steps outside the police station.
"If I see you here again, Miss Aberdeen, you will be arrested for disturbing the peace and interfering with an open investigation. Go home," she instructed again. "We will be in contact."
I slumped to my knees in pathetic defeat as Cutler marched back inside and I was joined on the steps by Greg and the twins.
"I told you there's nothing we can do," Greg said quietly, offering a hand to help me back to my feet. I ignored it and stood on my own. "Once the CPL decide something, that's it—there's no other option. Their word is law."
"That's a stupid system," I muttered.
"It's the only one we paranormals have," Greg replied. "Come on, we better get the twins home and in bed." Begrudgingly, I followed him back to the car.
We arrived home silent and orderly. Dinner and bedtime came and went in the same fashion. If I didn't feel so empty and numb, I would've been really worried about the twins; they were never that quiet or well-behaved unless something was seriously wrong. Of course, there was something seriously wrong. After everyone else was asleep, I laid awake in my bedroom staring at the dark ceiling, knowing I wasn't going to get a wink of sleep that night.
Jonah was arrested. For murder. For the murder of my father! No matter how many times I repeated it to myself the shock never wore off. And what about the green dragon? Who was he? How could the murderer know the evidence would be burned on the mountain in the fire and not merely stumbled upon by a wayward hiker?
Unless...unless they knew there was going to be a fire.... Unless...Unless the green dragon wasn't just challenging a claim, maybe he was also trying to clean up his mess. His murder mess.
I had to find out the identity of the green dragon! I sat straight up in bed and tried to remember how to get to Kinney's Den. If Kinney knew who the green dragon was, he was the only way to clear Jonah's name. But I had no idea how to contact him and I was pretty sure if I went wandering around his part of town I was going to get killed myself. Jonah wasn't around to save me anymore.
Was I going nuts or did I already miss that infuriating man? I mean, the man was arrested for murdering my father, the least he could've done is called me! Didn't prisoners get a phone call?
"The phone!" I cried aloud. The number Kinney called from would still be in Jonah's phone! It was a bit of a long shot—a man like Kinney didn't make mistakes like leaving valid phone numbers where anyone could find them. But Jonah wasn't just anyone. Kinney knew that. Jonah's security system was top notch—maybe his phone system was just as secure. Maybe....
"That's a lot of maybes," I told myself. "Maybe I should just wait for morning..."
I glanced at the clock. At least eight hours until I could reasonably wake up the twins and haul everyone down to the police station—and most likely get nowhere. Again. Eight hours Jonah was still in jail. Eight hours the real murderer had to escape
and hide his tracks. Eight hours spent in agony not knowing....
"I can't just sit around doing nothing," I sighed. "I have to do something!"
Even if that something gets me killed? If the roles were reversed, Jonah wouldn't hesitate. I jumped out of bed and strode confidently to the bedroom door, stopping short only when I remembered Greg was still keeping guard in the hallway between the bedrooms. No wonder Jonah trusted Greg so much. Great minds think alike or some crap like that. I put on my best slightly-asleep face and opened the door.
"Evie?" Greg sounded a little groggy himself.
"Just getting something to drink," I assured him, and pattered down the stairs as quickly as I dared.
