Page 9

Seth Mays

Humbolt needs to talk to me ASAP.

Do you have your room key?

Elliot Crane

Do you want me to meet you there, instead?

I do have my key, though.

Not sure how long it will take.

I don’t mind waiting.

I’ll feel bad. Just do whatever, and I’ll text you.

Okay.

Love you.

I made it up the last step to Humbolt’s office, opening the door to find his administrative assistant, Michelle, sitting at the front desk.

There were four doorways off this lobby—one to Humbolt’s office, one to Mallard’s, one to the single bathroom, and one to a little staff kitchen, from where Michelle had gotten me coffee the other day.

Michelle, a woman about Humbolt’s age with dyed brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, and carefully—and tastefully—done makeup, looked up.

Her eyes crinkled in a smile over her embroidered pink mask that matched the color of her flowy shirt.

“Just a few minutes, Mr. Mays. Mr. Humbolt is just finishing a call.”

I nodded and sat down in one of the two chairs available for that purpose.

“Coffee?”

“No, thank you, ma’am.”

I sent a quick message to Lulu, just checking to see how they were doing.

I never used to like Lulu, but I guess I’d stopped being a jealous jerk about my twin when I’d finally stopped trying to cling to Noah as the only person who really loved me for me.

Because I’d moved to Shawano and stood on my own two feet for at least a couple months, and then found someone else who wanted me just as I was, scars and aches and all.

“Mr. Mays.” Michelle’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You can go in.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

I stood and walked to Humbolt’s office door, deliberately forcing myself not to limp. It was half-habit, half-vanity, but it was a way to pretend that I had any control whatsoever over the situation.

I closed the door behind me, then came to sit across from Humbolt at his desk.

“Mr. Mays, how are you?”

“No offense, Mr. Humbolt, but I don’t think you want an honest answer to that question.”

He sighed. “Fair enough, Mr. Mays. Fair enough. I have some news I thought you would be interested in hearing.”

“Oh?” My pulse sped up, and I wondered if this had to do with my mother’s will or her murder.

“I put in a few calls to some friends in the DA’s office, and I was informed this morning that your twin’s DNA was not a match for the saliva and blood found at the scene. In fact, both saliva and blood came from the same person—who was not your twin.”

I felt relief—not because I thought Noah had been guilty, but because now there was evidence to prove what I already knew. “Are they releasing him?” I asked.

He sighed. “Unfortunately, no. My understanding is that they have amended the charges from first-degree murder to accessory and conspiracy to commit murder.”

“Accessory to fucking whom?” I demanded, then felt my neck flush. “Sorry.”

Humbolt had looked momentarily startled, but then his features settled into something sympathetic.

“Your reaction is completely understandable,” he replied, waving a hand.

“And I find myself in agreement with the sentiment.” He cleared his throat.

“I believe you may be getting a visit from them, as well, as the DNA result showed a familial match.”

I blinked.

“A familial match—” he began.

“I’m a forensic specialist, Mr. Humbolt,” I interrupted. “I know what it means.” I frowned. “Momma’s letter said something about a sister…”

“Rachael,” Humbolt replied. “I’m sorry to say she died over a year ago.”

Which only left one person, as far as I knew.

“So my father.”

“Or a cousin or other relative,” Humbolt replied. “I understand your mother had siblings.”

Did she? I knew she’d had parents, but I couldn’t remember Momma ever talking about any brothers or sisters. “I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “She didn’t talk about her family before the Community.”

Humbolt pressed his lips together. “Your mother was concerned that this Community might try to circumvent her will,” he said.

“I’m sure they will,” I replied dryly. “Since they don’t believe that women can hold property.” Not that I’d known any of the land we’d lived on had been bought by her.

Humbolt’s expression was stubborn, and I liked him the better for it. “The law says otherwise,” he replied coldly. “I will make sure you have what is rightfully yours. You and your… brother.”

I liked him even better after that.

A deputy from the Augusta County Sheriff’s Office was waiting in the hotel room when I got back, standing awkwardly by the door while Elliot glared at him from the rickety desk chair.

“Mr. Mays?—”

“My lawyer has informed me that you want a DNA sample,” I interrupted him. “Did you bring the swab, or do I have to go in?”

“You should make him get a warrant,” Elliot growled.

I sighed. “My DNA is already on file with the state of Virginia,” I replied calmly. “Because I worked CSI out of Richmond for the state. So it isn’t like they couldn’t pull it anyway.”

It was both an explanation to Elliot about why I was just going along with this, but also a dig at the Augusta County Sheriff’s Department for not doing their due diligence.

The deputy’s face flushed, and I knew my jibe had hit its mark.

I forced myself not to bare my teeth at him.

Being overtly hostile to the police isn’t generally a good idea, particularly if you’re on—even briefly—the suspect list for murder.

I wasn’t going to manage to avoid being passive-aggressive, but I could at least not be overtly aggressive. Especially as a known shifter.

“If you could come with me, sir,” the deputy mumbled.

“We’ll follow you,” Elliot interrupted. “But I’m driving him.”

“I—” The deputy had clearly been told to bring me in.

“Is he under arrest?” Elliot demanded.

“No…”

“Then he’s coming in of his own free will, demonstrating good faith and compliance, so you’re going to let me drive him.” Elliot stood directly in front of the deputy, and if he’d been in fur, his hackles would have been raised.

“I’m going to follow you in, then, sir,” the deputy said, clearly annoyed that he was caving to Elliot’s demands, but also intimidated by Elliot’s hostility.

“Fine,” came the snapped response.

“We’re parked in back,” I told the deputy. “Blue FJ Cruiser.”

The deputy nodded once, a little mollified. But only a little.

Once we were in the car and pulling out of the parking spot, the deputy’s marked car waiting behind us, I turned to Elliot. “It’s not a good idea to antagonize the police.”

“It’s not a good idea for them to antagonize me,” he retorted.

“Elliot, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

I clenched my jaw for a second, drawing in a deep breath through my nose, then pushing it back out.

“Please don’t provoke them into hurting you,” I said, finally.

“They’ve already arrested Noah, and I really couldn’t handle it if they arrested you, too.

” My voice cracked a little on the last few words, and Elliot shot me a guilty look.

“I don’t like it,” he said, but his tone was softer. “But I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

For a minute, I thought Elliot was going to break his promise when one of the other deputies immediately cuffed me with plastic zip-ties as soon as we walked into the building.

Honestly, for a minute I thought I was going to break his promise, tingles spreading throughout my body and saliva filling my mouth.

But I pulled my shit together, reminding myself that I had an alibi that was so rock-solid—and a thousand miles away—they’d have to let me go. Eventually.

They might try to hold me on conspiracy, especially if that’s the direction they were going with Noah, but there was no way they could put me at the scene itself.

And since my phone records had most of my communications with Noah—and were mostly inane—they easily could have seen that we weren’t planning anything.

“I’ll call Humbolt,” was what Elliot finally said, although the words were a little thick and a lot growled, so I knew he was very close to losing his temper. And his control.

I nodded once, desperate to keep him calm. And alive.

“Call me when they let you go,” he said, then.

I nodded again. “I will,” I forced myself to say, looking into those fractured hazel eyes and trying to tell him silently that I loved him. Because saying it out loud in this context might earn me a beating I didn’t want to experience if I could avoid it.

A muscle ticked in Elliot’s jaw, but I watched him swallow, then nod.

And then they pushed me through into the back.

They took me into one of the less-nice interview rooms, otherwise known as interrogation rooms , leaving me handcuffed, but at least not also attaching those cuffs to the table.

They’d also left my hands in front of me, even if they had pulled the zip-ties way too tight.

I rested my arms on the surface of the table and looked up at the two deputies—the one who had come to the hotel and the one who had cuffed me.

I had the absurd desire to snark about how this was an awful lot of fuss for a DNA swab, but I kept it to myself.

Hart would have said it, but Hart had also gotten himself nearly beaten to death on more than one occasion.

As much as I respected him, I had no desire to start emulating that particular habit.

A third person came in, masked and gloved and looking very nervous. The interesting part was that she was clearly not nervous about me , but kept glancing between the two deputies as though something about them put her on edge.

Given that the only reason she’d be swabbing me was that I was a shifter, the fact that she was more afraid of the two men—who were definitely not shifters—than she was of six-three, two-hundred-fifteen-or-so pound me said something.

Something not very good. Especially considering I didn’t want to join Noah in jail. Now if me going to jail would get Noah out , I’d have made that deal in a heartbeat. But I knew that’s not how any of this worked.

I obediently opened my mouth and allowed her to swab the inside of my cheek.

And then she scurried out, sparing another set of nervous glances for the two deputies who had yet to actually introduce themselves. In my experience, that was a clear indication that they had no intention of thinking of you as an actual person.

I shifted in my uncomfortable plastic chair, knowing that I was going to be here a while if they were going to wait for the DNA test results.

I really hoped they were going to rush the DNA.

That would be a couple hours as opposed to, well, days .