Conviction

by Jennifer Blackstream

  When we pulled up to Andy’s office the run down old building didn’t look any more welcoming now than it had the first time. If anything, the broken steps and boarded up windows of the single story structure looked even more desolate now that I thought Andy might be living here. Sleeping here. Blood and bone, this wasn’t a safe place to work, let alone sleep. What had he been thinking?

  “Let me go in first,” Liam said. “It’ll be easier to pick up the scents of the place if I’m around fewer people.”

  I paused with my hand on the truck door. “All right. Let me know when I can come in.”

  Scath leaned forward, her green eyes following Liam’s progress as he let himself in to the building. After a moment’s hesitation, she butted my shoulder with her head.

  “Is that an offer of comfort?” I said weakly.

  She snorted. Then she bumped my shoulder again before resting the full weight of her giant skull on my arm.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  I could tell it wouldn’t be good news the second Liam walked out of the building. He gestured for me to come inside. I climbed out of the truck with Peasblossom burrowing under my coat on my shoulder. Scath prowled behind me like a shadow down the short hallway to the door to Andy’s office.

  “He’s been sleeping here,” Liam said grimly. “But he hasn’t been here today. And there’s more.”

  He opened the office door. The wall across from the threshold was covered in pictures and index cards, with brightly colored Post-its here and there with notes and speculations. I’d seen these before. They were part of Andy’s investigation into Flint, his attempt to help me understand exactly what my sidhe master was up to.

  Liam tapped me on the shoulder, then pointed to a grouping of photos on the opposite wall. I turned—and froze.

  Kelpies. Not just kelpies, but other waterhorses. Each uisges, nuckelavees, backahasts. The differences were subtle, but Andy had clearly labeled each of them. And he was only wrong about one. The pictures depicted some of the beasts in their equine forms. He’d caught them at the edge of the water. One of them had apparently just leapt out of a boat. One stood on a dock I didn’t recognize. There were pictures of humans too, but I could tell even from the photographs that they were waterhorses. They had that green or blue tint to their skin, and their pupils were too large, their eyes too glossy. The ones that were smiling showed large, flat teeth.

  Some of the pictures had index cards next to them. The index cards referenced file numbers. I looked at the table in the center of the room, and spotted the files in question. Liam had already opened one, and he stood staring down at the file’s contents with his mouth set in a hard line.

  “You were right,” he said, his voice low. “What you said before about Andy being capable of tracking them down, finding out if they killed someone. He’s got a decent case against at least one of them. College boy went missing. Police found his blood on the side of a boat, thought there must have been an accident out on the water. But they found horse hair at the scene that the investigator put down to some sort of paintbrushes.”

  I traced a hand over the file. “We need to find him. If I can get something he’s touched recently, I might be able to do a tracking spell. Do you have a map?”

  “In the glove box. I’ll grab it, hold on.”

  Liam retrieved the map while I continued studying the files. Andy was thorough. Every bit as good as I’d believed he was when I asked him to help me figure out what Flint was up to. But why hadn’t he asked for my help with these missing persons cases? Because I was too busy doing Flint’s bidding?

  Or because he planned to get justice for these victims his own way?

  I pushed all that aside as Liam spread the map across the table over top of a scattering of file folders and more photographs. With Bizbee’s help, I was set up for the spell in no time.

  I was just about to light the first candle when my cell phone rang.

  Scath huffed a sharp breath on the match I held just in time. The sudden trembling in my fingers nearly set the whole table of papers on fire. I fumbled with my cell phone, putting it to my ear before taking the time to check the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Mother Renard. Is Agent Bradford with you?”

  The severe tone in Oksana’s heavily accented voice sent a chill through my blood. I stepped away from the table, grateful I hadn’t cast my spell yet. “No, I don’t know where he is. I was supposed to pick him up this morning, but I seem to have missed him.”

  “Mother Renard, you must be truthful,” Oksana warned. “This is important. I have been tasked with tracking down Agent Bradford, and it is better that I am the one to find him. Believe me. If you know where he is, if you have any idea, then you must tell me now.”

  I believed her. “What happened?” At her hesitation I prompted, “Please, Oksana. I need to know.”

  Oksana sighed. “I’m sorry, Mother Renard. You know I like Agent Bradford.”

  “What. Happened?”

  “There’s been another murder. Deacon is dead.”

  Chapter 8

  I put a hand over my mouth for a second, willing myself not to be sick. “I’ll find him. Oksana, you know he didn’t kill Deacon.”

  “Deacon was shot,” the strix said grimly. “It is Agent Bradford’s signature weapon. And you have admitted he was not with you. Why is he not with you?”

  “Because he’s an innocent man who deserved to sleep in his own bed without someone watching his every move. Didn’t Vincent or Kylie tell you about the camera?”

  “The camera with the missing SD card that only Agent Bradford knew about?”

  I gritted my teeth. “The SD card was gone. Andy didn’t have a chance to take it. He was tackled right after the shooting, and dragged to the kelpies’ boat right after that.”

  Oksana drew a breath, but I kept talking.

  “As to the shooting, anyone who’s even heard of this case would know Andy’s been involved in at least two shootings. And they’d know by now that we found the camera without the SD card. And they’d draw the same conclusion we did, that there’s something on that recording the real killer doesn’t want us to see. Maybe Deacon knew what was on the SD card. Maybe they’re watching Andy’s house and they know he was alone, so they decided to frame him.”

  “You do not yet know the details of this murder,” Oksana said, her voice colder than it had been a second ago. “And I have no time for your conjecture. I must find Agent Bradford before the others do. If you have any idea where to look, tell me now.”

  “I’ll find him. We’ll come in and get this all cleared up.” I hesitated. “Where was Deacon killed?”

  Voices called out in the background, and the strix put her clawed hand over the phone to make her reply. Then she demanded of me, “You did not know where Deacon was, then? You swear this to me, you did not know?”

  “I didn’t know. I still don’t, you have my word. Where was he killed?”

  Oksana let out a harsh breath. “Deacon was on a houseboat at the home of Marilyn the leannan sidhe. The place where Agent Bradford shot Siobhan’s brother.”

  Liam’s arm came around me, and it was that alone that kept me on my feet. The world tilted, and I dropped my phone. Liam caught it with his free hand, passed it back to me. Peasblossom put both hands on the back of my neck, pulsing energy against me, using our empathic bond to send calming vibrations into my mind. Even Scath came forward, pressing her huge furry head against my hip.

  Marilyn’s. Deacon had been at Marilyn’s.

  Morgan stayed at Marilyn’s.

  Morgan was the one who kept pointing Andy at the kelpies as if he were her own personal handgun.

  “Mother Renard, they will not let you on the scene,” Oksana was warning me.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I mumbled. “I’ll find Andy.”

  “Shade, what do you want to do?” Liam’ voice was as calm as ever as I ended the call, but his aura writhed against me. He’d heard
everything. He knew how bad it looked.

  “We need to find Andy,” I said, my voice strained. “Now.”

  “We will. We’ll find him.”

  I braced my hands on the edge of the table and closed my eyes. My heart still pounded, my breathing coming too fast. I took a deep breath in for the count of seven, then let it out for the count of eight. I repeated it a few more times.

  “She has to calm down,” I heard Peasblossom whisper. “Tracking spells aren’t her specialty.”

  My head dipped. My familiar was right. Under perfect circumstances, with the blood of the person I wanted to find, willingness on their part to be found, and a clear, calm mind, I’d have a decent chance. But I didn’t have blood, at best I had the pen he’d been using or some hairs from where he slept, and items from his parents’ house wouldn’t help me either after his long absence. And if Andy wanted to be found, he’d answer his phone.

  I could fight for the calm and clarity, but the other two were beyond me.

  I tried anyway. I lit the candles, I concentrated on my breathing. And I dangled the crystal on the end of the string, swirling it in a tiny circle.

  I don’t know how long I tried. I stared at the piece of crystal as if I could force it to move with my mind, force it to tell me where Andy was. I probably could move it with my mind, but that wouldn’t help.

  Liam’s hands closed over my shoulders. He didn’t pull me away, didn’t make me stop. He just stood there. Anchoring me. I dropped the crystal.

  “I texted Blake,” he said quietly. “He’s calling the cab companies to find out who picked Andy up. We’ll find out where he went, and I will personally track him down.” He leaned forward, putting his mouth closer to my ear so I could feel his breath on my neck. “I will find him.”

  “I know you will.” I cleared my throat, concentrating on the heavy weight of Liam’s hands before he withdrew. “We should go to the crime scene. Kylie and Vincent will be there, and we were supposed to meet them anyway.”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  He didn’t point out that Oksana had said I wouldn’t be allowed at the crime scene, even though I knew he’d overheard. It didn’t matter. I needed to talk to Vincent and Kylie.

  And I was most certainly going to talk to Morgan.

  We all climbed into the truck, and I got my cell phone out and pulled up the map function. I’d programmed Marilyn’s address into my phone the night her protégé Simon was cursed. I hadn’t been able to help him yet, but I was working on it. I wouldn’t forget. I laid the phone on my lap, leaving it to the electronic voice to give Liam directions so I could lay my head back and stare out the window.

  “A second murder means new evidence,” I said finally. “It’s a fresh chance to prove Andy didn’t do it. The real killer might have made a mistake this time.”

  “Why would anyone want to kill Deacon?” Peasblossom asked, flopping down on my shoulder, her wings slowly fanning the air. “He said Andy killed Raichel. Isn’t that what Siobhan would have wanted?”

  “The obvious reason would be Deacon changed his mind,” I said slowly. “Maybe he was lying before, and for some reason he decided to come clean.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I knew there was something off. Something he was holding back. I should have pushed it last night.”

  “If he had something else to say that would have cleared Andy, he wasn’t going to tell you with Siobhan standing there,” Liam argued.

  “Well he can’t tell me anything now, can he?” I took another deep breath in for seven seconds, then exhaled for eight. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, you’re fine.” Liam tilted his head. “If Deacon overheard that the SD card was missing, that could have changed his mind. Maybe he was worried about what would happen when we found it. The Vanguard might have a reputation for not going after the little things, but I can tell you that they do not consider lying to the Vanguard a ‘little thing.’”

  “So Deacon decides to change his story, and someone shoots him.” I nodded. “That could be why the kelpies took him to Marilyn’s. I always wondered if Marilyn offered them any compensation for what happened to Bradan.”

  “You think she’d kill Deacon for them?” Liam asked.

  Peasblossom grunted. “It wouldn’t be a big deal to someone like Marilyn. Deacon is property. And even if Siobhan didn’t explicitly tell her to kill him—maybe she just hinted it’d be convenient—the punishment for killing him would be next to nothing. A half-satyr’s life just isn’t worth much to them, even if he wasn’t property.”

  “So then the question would be, what change would Deacon have made to his story?” Liam asked.

  I twisted in my seat. “What if Deacon killed her?”

  “You think he could have shot her?”

  I tried to keep up with the new direction my thoughts had taken. “Think about it. Deacon couldn’t see through the glamour. He thought it was Siobhan. He sees Andy run out, gun drawn. He says he stayed in the car, but what if he didn’t? What if he got out and ran up to Andy?”

  “Andy doesn’t shoot,” Liam said slowly. “Deacon takes his gun and shoots Raichel, thinking she’s Siobhan.” He frowned. “You think he could have gotten Andy’s gun away from him?”

  “We don’t know what happened to Andy,” I pointed out. “What caused the blackout. If it happened before Deacon took the gun…”

  “But Mickey saw it,” Peasblossom argued. “Why would he say Andy did it?”

  “All right, how about this.” I held up a hand. “Deacon thinks Raichel is Siobhan. He sees her manhandling Mickey, and he thinks this is his chance to get rid of his unwanted mistress? Anton Winters favors Mickey, so Deacon thinks he can convince the vampire that he killed Siobhan because she was hurting his prized jockey.”

  “But Siobhan is the one running the business he has a financial stake in,” Liam countered.

  “But according to our witness statements, Siobhan wasn’t a good businesswoman,” I argued. “She was an ideas person, and that’s it. Raichel or even Jane herself could have kept the place going.”

  “That’s a stretch,” Liam said doubtfully. “There’s just as much chance the vampire would be furious that Deacon killed the person leading a lucrative business he has an interest in.”

  “Which is why they blamed Andy,” I reasoned. “Deacon realizes he shot Raichel. Siobhan shows up, and he claims he killed Raichel because he thought she was trying to drag Mickey off and make him miss the investor meeting to discredit Siobhan. He suggests blaming Andy, she loves the idea.”

  “It’s just as likely Siobhan is the one who suggested blaming Andy in the first place,” Peasblossom pointed out.

  “And Mickey goes along with it regardless of who suggests it, because he doesn’t want to risk the whole mess interfering with the running of Turning Tides,” I finished.

  “That would explain why Deacon’s dead now,” Liam admitted. “If Siobhan figured out that he was actually trying to kill her, then she’d want him dead before he could try again. And she’d definitely want him dead before anyone could figure out it was him, not Andy, that shot her.”

  “We still need to find out how Andy’s memory loss plays into all this,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek in frustration. “I didn’t see anyone at the bar with a natural talent for manipulating memory.”

  “Palgun seems to have acted alone and seems pretty confident his takedown of Andy didn’t result in a severe head injury,” Liam agreed, “so if his injury didn’t affect his memory, what did?”

  “We’ll know more after we talk to Vincent,” I said. “If Andy’s condition was worse than Palgun thought, or there was someone—or something—there that could affect Andy’s memory, he’ll know.”

  By the time we arrived at Marilyn’s, I was so desperate for answers I was ready to jump out of the truck and run up the driveway. I forced myself to sit still, staring down at the notes I’d scribbled as Liam pulled up the drive. There was no guard in the small building outside the gat
e, and the gate was open.

  Liam parked at the top of the drive close to the house, and I led the way to the lake. It was a distressingly familiar path to me now, and I’d never made this trip without finding something extremely unpleasant at the end.

  Marilyn had a large property, and it took some time to cross her expansive green lawn to the rocky hill that separated the main property from the beach. My heart sank as I saw Marilyn and Morgan standing on the pier. Leannan sidhe. Why did this case have to involve the leannan sidhe?

  Suddenly, a figure separated from Marilyn and Morgan, revealing herself as she took three quick steps down the pier toward me. Siobhan’s black denim jeans contrasted with the pale green of her skin. Her eyes burned as she swung her arm up to point at me.

  “You! Get away from here! Were you a part of this? Did you help him find Deacon?” Her features twisted as she looked from me to Liam. “Deacon should have been safe here. He should have been safe from all of you!”

  Marilyn took a step with Siobhan. She was beautiful as always, with her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a complicated style that involved braids and waves, and at least thirty pearls. When my attention shifted to the fey woman standing beside her, my magic pulsed, the desire to call a spell and blast Morgan into the next county all but overwhelming.

  “What are you doing here, Mother Renard?” Marilyn asked.

  “I’m working as an agent of the Vanguard as Agent Bradford’s legal defense,” I said, not taking my eyes off Morgan. “I have every right to be here.”

  “She did this!” Siobhan hissed. “She’s so desperate to save the human that she killed my Deacon!” Her lip curled in a sneer. “It won’t save him. Mickey V saw Bradford shoot poor Raichel too. Let’s see you kill him. See what Winters will do to you then.”

  “I had nothing to do with this.” I lifted my chin. “And neither did Andy.”

  “Then where is he?” Siobhan demanded. “Why isn’t he with you?”

  “I have no intention of bringing him to a crime scene where he might contaminate the forensics in a way that would let you put him here at the time of the murder,” I said coldly.