Page 75 of Grave Beginnings

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Probably nothing.”

“Oh my, first date and showing up nude,” Angel teased.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” I buried my face in my hands, not wanting him to see how embarrassed I was.

Angel’s palm landed on my thigh, squeezing lightly. “Wear whatever makes you happy. Eyeliner makes everyone hotter.”

“I’ll wear it to our first date if you do,” I offered.

He flicked his gaze my way. “Sure. I’ve never done it before,but I can. Seems a bit much for an at-home dinner. Maybe we should save it for second date dancing?”

“Convinced you’re going to get a second date? Or trying to get out of wearing makeup?”

“The former,” Angel said as his hand slipped off my thigh and his magic contracted, vanishing from the subtle caress it had been playing over my own. I sucked in a pained breath, shocked by the withdrawal, but it trickled back around me, as if Angel had complete control of just how much magic he let mesh with mine.

“How did you do that?” I asked, eyes wide.

“A lot of years of learning control. Xavier helped a lot. So maybe give him a chance?”

“As long as he doesn’t fuck with my little brother, sure.”

“Best work on learning your magic if you’re going toe to toe with Xavier.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Know your enemy,’ or in this case, ‘know the terrifyingly powerful shifter who is your baby brother’s magical sensei.’ Got it.” I sighed, tempted to ask him what Xavier was, but at the same time afraid of the answer. “Let’s get this creepy meet and greet over with already.”

25

The high-risesin this area of the south metro all looked a lot alike. Mostly because they were new builds meant to attract the young working downtown, filled with amenities that grew dusty from lack of use. None of them had been around when I’d found my place right out of college, and I didn’t think I could afford any of them now as the studios began at $1600 a month. They weren’t completely unfamiliar though. I knew someone who lived in one of them.

Brandon Cassidy lived in the one that overlooked the river, and he had a trust fund to supplement his cop salary. My place might have been smaller and without all the extras, but it felt more like home than any of these strangely sterile buildings.

Angel guided us into a shared parking garage, aiming for the visitors’ section, and I recalled a half dozen times I’d driven into this very garage and parked. Enough to know Cassidy’s assigned parking number, which was thankfully empty as we passed. Hopefully, he was on duty somewhere else.

The two spots marked for security and police up near the main door were empty, and Angel took one of those, putting an SED label on his windshield.

“What floor is it on?” I asked.

“Twelve,” Angel said. “The kid’s dad—” He glanced at his phone for the notes. “—Michael Thayerson, said he’d meet us in the lobby.”

I checked the time and opened my computer to review the video of Ezra’s interview. “Let’s see what fresh horror awaits.” Thankfully, the kid sat playing in the corner as Ezra’s camera recorded. The questions were mundane enough. Some clarifying questions about their kid; Jonah’s autism, which had developed before he was a year old and became stunted interaction, worsening to non-verbal.

“Does anyone else in the family have autism?” I asked Angel. “The studies I’ve read indicate it’s hereditary.”

“Nothing in the records,” Angel said, watching the video with me.

“These guys are on twelve, which means they have money. Money is good at hiding family flaws. I wonder how much it pisses them off to have a kid with autism they can’t hide.”

“Mom’s pretty crunchy, at least per Ezra’s notes. Not in a good way.” He flipped through notes. “Five grand per month for their apartment. Income is in the million-dollar range.”

“Yeah, upper floors cost more. They’re bigger.”

Angel raised a brow my way.

“I know a cop who lives in this building. He’s on four, and his one bedroom is twenty-six hundred.” Which I only knew because Brandon flaunted it as though it gave him status. I liked the St. Paul side of things; older buildings and less nightlife, but also lower taxes and prices. “My place is a third of that. Better management, even though it’s older and doesn’t have the meeting rooms or gyms and all that. If I made that much, I’d have a house. Grandpa and Ivan could have their own spaces.”

“And you could have dance parties without disturbing your neighbors.”

“My apartment has excellent insulation. Only time I hear anyone is from the hallways.”