Vivian placed a hand over mine. “All I ask is that you think about it. Give Derrick the benefit of the doubt. He might surprise you.”
***
Her words stayed with me as I walked toward the agency. Some of my resolve had crumbled, but I wasn’t ready to reveal everything, not until I was sure I could handle the repercussions.
I stood outside Derrick’s office gathering the courage to knock. Part of me was nervous to show him the box with the slipper, and the other part couldn’t stop replaying our kiss in the carriage. Guess which part won? I smiled as I remembered the feel of his mouth, hot and insistent, against mine, and the way his fingers threaded through my hair, molding my body against his. A perfect fit.
Everything had faded away—all the secrets and lies, the case. Nothing else had mattered for a brief moment.
The door opened while my hand was still hovering in the air. Derrick halted in front of me, a stack of folders tucked under his arm.
“Hi.” I cringed at my lame greeting. Couldn’t I think of anything better to say?
“Good morning, Tessa.”
“Are you headed out?” Wow. What a scintillating conversation.
He glanced at the folders and nodded. “I have a meeting with the director to go over the events of last night.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, not all the events of last night.”
I smiled, and some of my nerves slipped away. “Don’t tell me the honorable Detective Chambers is keeping secrets from his superior? I’ve corrupted you.”
He pulled me into his office and shut the door. I backed up against it.
“Corruption is a strong word,” he murmured, cupping a hand around my cheek, warm and solid. I was desperate to lean into it. “It’s more like I’m trying out your investigative methods.”
“Well, I’ve been called an asset before, but it’s nice to see you finally realizing it.”
Derrick’s thumb traced my bottom lip. “I wouldn’t go that far.” But the heat in his eyes said otherwise. “What do you have behind your back? You’re hiding something.”
With a heavy sigh, I showed him the box containing the slipper. Derrick clenched his jaw in silence while he read the note. I placed my hand on his chest to feel the vibration of anger beneath my palm.
“Before you say anything—”
“The killer knows where you live. He’s watching you.”
“It wouldn’t be hard to find out. It’s not like there’s an abundance of witches in the kingdom, especially not involved in the investigation and romantically linked to the lead detective.”
Derrick scrubbed a hand over his face, concern darkening his features. “We should have kept your association a secret. We shouldn’t have flaunted it.”
“I don’t agree. I think this means we’re getting closer, striking a nerve. The killer wouldn’t lash out like this otherwise. Why risk it?”
“Because the killer thinks they’re in control, that they can manipulate the investigation by issuing threats. If you’re right, and we’re getting close, a threat like this might make us sloppy.”
“But we won’t be.” I searched his gaze.
“No, we won’t. But I don’t want you to stay alone at the magic shop anymore.”
I didn’t relish staying alone either. I might be downplaying the slipper for his benefit, but the gift had me worried, and the shop no longer felt safe. Besides, it wasn’t like I had any real customers. After the article in the paper, everyone only wanted a glimpse of the witch who’d enchanted the kingdom’s lead detective. That wouldn’t have bothered me if it also meant they’d part with their money, but so far, it hadn’t worked out that way.
“I can stay with Vivian in town. It’s closer to the agency.”
“That will work. I’m in meetings all day, but Abrams should be available soon. He can take you back to your shop to get your things. Let him escort you to Vivian’s this evening.” Derrick gave me an adamant look.
His rules echoed in my head. No wandering off alone.
“Fine, I can sort through evidence while I wait. A fresh pair of eyes might help. I just need the key.” I held out my hand, not missing the shock in Derrick’s eyes.
“What? You mean you aren’t going to break in?”
“Not this time, Detective. This time, I’m asking.”
He lifted a brow in surprise. “Maybe I’m the one corrupting you?”
I patted his cheek with a wink. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
After opening the evidence room, I was left alone to sift through the victims’ personal items. I started with the folders detailing the circumstances of each murder. There wasn’t anything there that Derrick hadn’t already mentioned, and I found my attention wandering to the board where he’d tacked up the roses, one for each of the girls.
Why did the killer leave roses? There had to be some significance. I shuffled through the papers to find a list of possible strains. The roses left at the scene were distinctive and unlike the ones found at the palace. Derrick hadn’t been able to determine the origin. Could they have been imported? The first killing took place three years ago, which meant searching ship manifests for imported seedlings would be useless. Unfortunately, they hadn’t paid attention to the rose at the first crime scene, and the passage of time made everything more difficult.
Putting the list of roses aside for now, I reached for one of the journals, pausing when I caught sight of a familiar object. The notebook Derrick carried around with him poked out from beneath a stack of papers. An image of him making mysterious entries the day we met flashed through my mind. Inside were his first impressions of me and my shop. Impressions that probably weren’t kind.
With a glance over my shoulder to make sure I was alone, curiosity made me pick it up, but guilt kept me from opening it. It was one thing to read the thoughts of a dead person, but it was another to pry into the thoughts of the living.
In the end, curiosity topped guilt.
I flipped open the book, searching for the date Derrick first visited my shop. I found it toward the middle and scanned through. As I feared, his thick scrawl covered the page in judgment. He described my shop as untidy and hazardous, making special note of the foul-smelling potions I’d offered him at a discount. I flattened my lips, reading further.
Miss Daniels displays a lack of respect for authority and is secretive when asked direct questions.
Okay…not wrong, but also not flattering. I skipped to the next entry, drumming my fingers on the desk in irritation.
Miss Daniels is evasive and crumbles easily when cornered. She’s unlikely to be a suspect in the Lockwood murder, though she does appear to have information regarding the victim’s mental state before her death.
Not wanting him to find my illegal potions meant I crumbled easily? More like self-preservation. I huffed and flipped the page.
After meeting with the subject’s neighbor, it appears Miss Daniels relies on her magic to support herself, though, according to the neighbor, Miss Daniels’ magic is subpar.
I snapped the book closed and considered taking the candle flame to its pages. Subpar? Sylvia could forget about the friends and family discount I gave her on wrinkle cream. Humiliation made my neck hot. How dare he?
Then again, I had called him Detective Arrogant and considered turning him into a toad. I scratched the back of my neck. Hadn’t I also referred to him as cold and calculating? It didn’t matter that I hadn’t written it down, I meant it at the time. I opened the book again, flipping past the negative entries to the one he’d made when he found me in the alley. This one was different.
Miss Daniels is resourceful in the face of danger and exhibits street smarts.
And then, one final entry, dated after we interviewed the Lockwoods.
Tessa is perceptive and catches onto things quickly. Her questions during interviews are clever and intuitive. She may turn out to be a valuable asset to the Lockwood investigation.
An asset. Something that felt a lot lik
e pride burned in my chest. There was nothing in the last entries about my failed magic, and it felt good to be judged for skills other than the ones I’d been born with. Derrick had misjudged me in the same way I’d misjudged him. We had both fallen victim to poor first impressions.
“He’s a workaholic, isn’t he?”
I jumped, dropping Derrick’s notebook. Estelle stood over my shoulder, her gray eyes probing, casting a look between the notebook and the piles of information scattered across the desk.
“Sorry to startle you, dear. I wanted to bring you a cup of tea and let you know Abrams is available to take you to your shop whenever you’re ready.”
I accepted the cup and breathed in the sweet aroma. Steam wafted over the rim.
“Has he always been like this?” I gestured to the cluttered piles. “On the outside, he doesn’t give much away.”
Estelle clucked her tongue and leaned against the desk. “This case is different. It’s personal. It’s the one case he hasn’t been able to solve. It eats away at him.”
“Personal? How do you mean?”
She shrugged. “It’s not my story to tell, but I will say that ever since you came along, I’ve seen a lightness in him that wasn’t there before. I even caught him whistling this morning, if you can believe it. You’re good for him and good for this case.”
I laughed, the sound more scornful than I intended. “I haven’t been very good at anything in my life.”
Estelle angled her head, considering my statement. “Well, maybe you haven’t found the thing you’re good at yet. That’s the fortunate thing about life, you can always try something new. Just because you aren’t good at one thing doesn’t mean you’ll be bad at another. Not if you find what you’re meant to do.” She gave me a sly smile and leaned closer. “Or the person you’re meant to do it with.”
What if she was right? I was caught in a vicious circle, repeating mistakes and doing things the way I’d always done them. It wasn’t until I’d stepped out of my comfort zone that I finally felt useful. Maybe the potential my mother had always wanted me to achieve didn’t look the way we’d thought it would.
“Thanks, Estelle. You can tell Abrams I’m ready to go. Something tells me, after last night, I’m going to be on research duty for a while. I’ll have time to go through everything here.”
Estelle’s eyes went wide with sympathy at the mountains of paper. “Better you than me, dear.”
***
Abrams unloaded my bags from the carriage while Vivian stood in the doorway, her hands balled on her hips, counting each bag.
“How long are you planning on staying?”
“The duration of the case, I assume. Be careful with that one, Abrams.” I gestured to the oversized bag clinking loudly as he set it down.
Vivian cocked her head. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t bring it?”
“Will we need that much?”
“It’s better to have more than you need, don’t you agree?”
“Naturally.”
Abrams furrowed his brow, his head bouncing back and forth as he tried to follow our conversation. He hefted the bag over his shoulder.
“What’s so important about this one? Is it full of deadly potions?”
I picked up the last of my bags and followed him inside. “No, that’s the wine.”
He burst out laughing and shook his head. “I hope there’s some in here for me. It’s been a long week.”
Vivian grinned. “There’s more than enough. I’ll get us all a glass, and we can make an evening of it. I’ve been dying to try out the new tarot deck my grandmother sent me.”
She showed Abrams where to store the bags, then disappeared into the kitchen. The sound of a cork popping could be heard from the séance room where Abrams and I sat around the oval table. He peered warily over his shoulder.
“Is it true that Miss James can see ghosts?”
“Yes, all her life. They can’t hurt you though. You’re fine.” He didn’t seem convinced.
A knock sounded on the door, and I rose to answer it, but Abrams held up a hand.
“Let me. It’s late, and with last night’s threat, you shouldn’t answer it.” He pushed through the hanging beads to enter the waiting area. The door opened, and I strained to hear the muffled conversation.
“Where is she?”
Recognizing Derrick’s voice, I turned as he entered the room. Abrams remained behind him. It seemed the poor guy wouldn’t be getting that glass of wine after all. He was probably stationed on the stoop, standing guard. I’d have to sneak him a glass later.
My eyes locked with Derrick’s, and warmth spread through my chest. He looked exhausted, his clothes rumpled after a long day at the agency. There was tension around his eyes, but he relaxed when he saw me. Offering him the chair next to mine, I resisted the impulse to smooth the wrinkles from his jacket. Any excuse to touch him.
“All settled in?” he asked at the same time I asked how his meetings went. Our questions collided, canceling each other’s voice out.
I chuckled and answered first, “Yes, all settled. Vivian’s playing hostess. Can you stay for a glass of wine? Maybe some dinner? She has a new tarot deck. If you’re lucky, she might read your fortune.”
“Is she any good?” He removed his jacket and undid the button at his collar. My gaze dropped to the patch of exposed skin, then slowly climbed back up to find him watching me. Awareness flared in his eyes.
“No, she’s terrible at it.”
“That’s too bad. What about you?”
“Are you asking if I can read your future?”
His mouth curved in amusement. “I don’t know. You look like you’d be good at that sort of thing.”
I scooted closer. “I’m good at lots of things, Detective. Hold out your hand.”
He turned his palm up, and I set it in my lap. His skin was rough against mine where I traced the lines of his palm with my fingernail, reveling in the way his breath caught at my touch. With my thumb, I rubbed small circles into the base of his fingers, watching as his eyes grew heavy-lidded with pleasure.
I bent over his hand. “What would you like to know?”
“How long will I live?”
Pretending to examine his lifeline, I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. “Hmm… It seems you’ll live long enough to admit how valuable I am to your investigation.”
“So, I’ll be old and gray.”
I pinched his thumb. “What else do you want to know?”
“What’s that line tell you?” He pointed to the one running at the top of his palm.
“Ah, that’s your love line.” I tsk’d. “It’s the shortest one I’ve ever seen. It means you’re disagreeable and impatient. I don’t know,” I hedged, “this doesn’t look promising.”
“Tessa,” he growled, “you’re making that up.” Twisting my hand, he captured it in his own to drag me closer.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. It was nice to see him this way. Even nicer to know I’d played a part in wiping the haunted expression from his eyes.
“Don’t be mad, Detective. I read it like I see it.”
He grinned, seeing through my lie, and I felt my heart stutter as his thumb circled my wrist, sending little frissons of heat up my arm.
“I already told you, I don’t get mad, I get even.”
A girl can hope.
“Read it again. For real, this time.”
“All right, hold still.”
I ran my finger along his heart line. There was a gap near the start, and my touch lingered there. I knew what it meant, and my voice dropped with sympathy.
“This break means you suffered the loss of a loved one. It was quite significant. You’re not over it.”
His silence confirmed my fears.
A pang of jealousy throbbed around my heart. It was probably a first love, and knowing him, there was an elaborate shrine to the woman somewhere in his house. It
would explain a lot. He’d said there wasn’t anyone else, and it was because she was dead. It was hard to compete with a ghost. Not that I was competing. A witch never played second fiddle.
“Is that all? It ends there?” Misery laced his tone, almost as if he’d been hoping for a different answer.
I sighed, peevish, and continued the reading. “No. See this, here?” My finger trailed the length of his palm. “After the break, the line is long and deep. That’s a good sign. It means you’ll find your true match. And see this small curve on the end?” He nodded, dark eyes watching me and not the curve on his palm. “It signifies a willingness to sacrifice everything for love. That’s pretty noble of you, Detective.”
“I suppose. You wouldn’t do the same?”
My laugh came out harsh. “Sacrifice everything for love? That sounds like a fairytale, and my life is no fairytale. Prince Charming doesn’t end up with the witch, Detective.”
“Maybe he should.” His fingers intertwined with mine, and he brought my hand to his lips. “Tessa, there’s something—”
“Here we are!” Vivian’s voice startled me as she entered the room.
I jerked my hand out of Derrick’s, feeling silly for getting caught—or maybe it was just fear. Whatever he was about to say had felt important. Altering. But I wasn’t meant to hear it. If his fortune told me anything, it was that he was destined for great things, not a lousy witch who could barely support herself.
Vivian paused when she saw Derrick, her eyes narrowing at our odd expressions. “I’m going to need another glass.” Plunking the tray down on the table, she headed back to the kitchen, only making it a few feet before she froze. Her hands lifted, fingers trembling in the air.
“What is it, Viv?” A sense of foreboding curled my stomach.
“We’re not alone.”
I glanced at the clock perched on a nearby shelf. It wasn’t midnight. It couldn’t be Ella.
Spellbound After Midnight (Ever Dark, Ever Deadly Book 1) Page 17
