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Taavi had kept shooting me vaguely worried looks, but I wasn’t really sure what to do about it. Every time I tried to answer or redirect my mother’s attention, she shushed me or told me to stop being rude and that she and Taavi were having a lovely conversation.

What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?

I suppose I could have yelled at her, but starting a childish fight with my mom at the age of forty-one didn’t really appeal to me. It also wouldn’t have been terribly mature or attractive, and I didn’t want Taavi to come out of this thinking I was a spoiled brat.

I could almost hear Elliot rolling his eyes at me.

And that made me think about what we were driving toward, andthatmade me feel like a grade-A asshole for not thinking about Elliot and the fact that he was going to be devastated because his father had been fucking murdered.

I’m a terrible friend and probably also a terrible boyfriend.

“Mom. Enough.” I tried to at least say it gently, although I’m not sure how well I do ‘gently.’

Everybody in the car looked at me, startled, although I could have sworn there was relief in Taavi’s expression, as well.

“Val—”

“No, Mom. You’ve had two hours to ask Taavi whatever you wanted, and he’s been really great about answering everything, even though most of it is none of your business.” I tried not to sound angry, but my mother’s expression was hurt.

So much for not being an asshole.

I took a breath before my mother recovered. “But I think we need to drop the fu—pleasantries and talk about what happened. About why we’re actually here.”

My father let out a sigh. “He’s probably right, honey,” he said softly.

“Oh,” was all my mother said. Small and soft. Pained.

“I’m sorry, Mom. But we came out here for Elliot, and I need to know what we’re looking at.”

My mother pursed her lips. “This isn’t one of your cases, Valentine.”

“Maybe not,” I answered. “And maybe all Elliot wants—all heneedsis a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on. But if he asks me to look into it, you can bet your—” I didn’t have a good replacement forass, but my mom hates it when I swear, and I was already being a little bit harsh, so I could at least try to clean up my language. “You can bet that I’m going to do everything I can.”

“Val—”

“I’m not going to let Elliot down, Mom. I owe it to him to do everything I can to make sure he gets justice for his dad.”

“But Val—”

“Mom, do you really think they’re going to take this case seriously?”

My mother hesitated, and I met my dad’s worried gaze in the rearview mirror. Whatever my mother thought, my dad clearly agreed with me.

“The police—”

“Arenotgoing to give this the attention it deserves, Mom. Believe me.”

“Sweetie—”

“Mom. I was a fu— Iwasa cop. I know how it works, trust me.”

“And you did your job!” my mother pointed out.

“And I’m a go…sh darn rarity,” I finished, a little awkwardly. “How many of these cops are Nids?” I asked.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know that, sweetie,” my mother replied, her tone of voice the one she got when she thought I was being paranoid or unreasonable. Usually when I suggested that people might be biased against me because of my pointy ears. Or that Elliot might be having trouble finding work because he was open about being a shifter. Or gay.

“I will bet you dishes every night we’re here,” I offered. “That there isn’t a single Arcanid working this case.”