Top Secret Vampire (Monsters, PI #4)

27. Reese

Chapter 27

Reese

A s the detective pulled the vehicle into the lot in front of the station, my stomach twisted itself into a knot so tight I could barely breathe. The detective got out and opened the rear door, gesturing for me to go inside with him.

Wolf remained with me the entire time, his presence a comforting shadow that I needed more than anything right now. He kept his hand on the small of my back as if he could shield me from everything about to happen. I wasn’t ready for this. I'd never been arrested before, never even gotten so much as a speeding ticket.

This was a nightmare; one I couldn’t wake up from.

Inside, the warm air hit me like a slap, the entry sterile and silent except for the occasional clink or murmured conversation from some distance away. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glare over the gray walls and speckled linoleum floors.

Detective Carter led us to the front desk. “I need to process Ms. Hamilton.”

The woman at the desk had thin, pursed lips that spoke of long nights on the job and no interest in making this process any easier on me. She glanced from me to Wolfram, then back to the detective, before she tapped the keys on her computer, not saying a word.

My stomach dropped further, if that was possible.

“Alright,” she finally said, sliding a clipboard across the counter. “Put your details here. Name. Address. Date of birth.”

With shaking hands, I grabbed the pen and filled out my information. It felt surreal. I shouldn’t be here. This was happening to someone else.

Except it wasn't.

Once I'd finished, Detective Carter looked it over and handed it to the clerk. “Take her out back. I’ll join her shortly.”

The woman rose from her chair, motioning to a door to our left. “Through there, Ms. Hamilton. I'll meet you on the other side.”

Wolf remained with me; his eyes boring into the clerk with a look of cool indifference. Anger thrived in his eyes.

“I’m staying with her.” His growl came out low enough that only I could hear the rage simmering beneath it.

She eyed him warily but led us down a narrow corridor, our footsteps echoing off the walls until we came to a stop in front of a closed door.

“Not without me,” someone said in a sharp voice behind us. A tall, muscular man with tousled blond hair and deep green eyes joined us. “I’m Brandon Sharvish. I represent Ms. Hamilton.”

The clerk sighed and urged us into the room.

We sat inside on hard wooden chairs with only a pitted wooden table between us and an empty chair. The clerk left.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly,” Wolf told Brandon sitting on my opposite side.

“Always glad to help.”

“Don’t answer without clearing it with me first,” Brandon said. “I’ll guide you through this. Be as honest as possible but speak with me before revealing anything that might incriminate you.”

“Yup,” I said.

A short time later, Detective Carter joined us.

We sat in the cold, sterile booking room, and my pulse echoed in my ears. My heart hammered, and no matter how deeply I tried to breathe, I couldn’t get enough air.

Wolf squeezed my hand. He sat on my right, his presence reminding me that he and Brandon were here to help me.

Before Detective Carter could speak, Brandon leaned forward, his forearms landing on the table. He shot the detective one of those evaluating looks that seemed to imply he already knew far more than he let on. “I’ll assume you’ve got something concrete since you brought us in here.”

“Of course,” Carter deadpanned. He placed his phone on the table and tapped at it a few times. “Let’s start simple. Reese, where were you last night at about eight fifteen?”

After receiving Brandon’s nod, I swallowed hard. “I was home. With Wolf.” My fingers knitted together in my lap, and I gripped my hands tight to stop their trembling.

His eyes flicked to Wolf. “Is that true? Were you with Reese last night?”

“Yes.” Wolf's voice came out harder than stone. “As I said, I did step out briefly.”

“Define briefly.”

Wolf exhaled; his brow furrowed. “I was gone for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I went to get some personal belongings from my house and returned immediately.”

Carter's jaw tightened. “Fifteen minutes. That's not much time. Did you drive?”

“I . . .” Wolf shot me a sharp look tinged with humor. “I mistified . I'm a vampire.”

“I heard that somewhere.” I had to hand it to the detective, he didn't even flinch.

“I can move myself with a blink of an eye,” Wolf said. “Which means I mistified to my home, grabbed clothing, and returned in the same manner.”

“Did Reese leave the house while you were gone?” he asked.

“Speculation,” Brandon interjected before Wolf could answer. “Reese and I will answer all necessary questions. You're on the clock, Detective. Let’s not waste our time with hypotheticals. Get to the point.”

Carter ignored the jab, fixing his eyes on me again. I didn't see anything malicious there, just a sharpness that told me he was trying to size up my answer before I even gave it. “Reese, can you vouch that you didn’t leave the house during that time? No walks to the garden, checking something inside the garage, or anything like that?”

“No,” I said, sucking back the panic rising in my throat. “I didn’t leave. I was inside the house the entire time Wolfram was gone.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” The word came out harsher than I intended, but damn it, I was telling the truth.

Detective Carter adjusted his chair and flipped the phone around to face us, tapping to start the video. The footage played again, showing someone who looked an awful lot like me slipping through the back entrance of the historical society, night sky showing through the windows in the main area on the left. The figure moved with purpose, checking around like they were making sure the coast was clear before snatching the small statue from the display and tucking it into a cloth bag.

The timestamp in the corner read 8:22 p.m.

I sat frozen, my breath stuck in my throat. It couldn’t be me. But that woman had my hair, my build, even my damn mannerisms. How?

Detective Carter didn't take his eyes off me. “Is this you?”

Brandon sat stiffly beside me, but I could feel his presence like a wall at my side. He gave the barest of nods, urging me on.

“No.” My voice came out steady but strained. “That can’t be me. It’s not me.”

“Take a good look.” Carter flipped his fingers toward the phone. I didn’t need to. I’d already seen enough. “You’re telling me that this woman, who has your face, your hair, your exact height, isn’t you?”

“It isn’t me,” I said, louder this time, straightening my spine to mirror my words.

Brandon’s hand landed lightly on the table. “My client stated she didn’t leave her house, Detective. I think we’re repeating ourselves.”

“Even with the timestamps?” Carter leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing on his chest. “It’s a lot for a judge to swallow, don’t you think? But we’ll leave that for later.” He cleared his throat and turned his phone back to face in his direction, focusing on the screen again. “Another question, Reese. Are you capable of mistifying?”

“Are you serious?” My voice pinched higher. “I’m human. Completely human.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” He raised an eyebrow, his expression frigid.

“Do I need to stake myself to prove I’m not a vampire?” My frustration bubbled up, my hands balling into fists on the table. “I can’t mistify. I can’t fly. I can’t disappear into thin air. I come in through doors like a normal person would.”

Detective Carter tapped his phone. “Like this one did.”

“If I may,” Wolf asked, laying his phone on the table. He rose only to ease around me and speak with Brandon in a voice so low, even I couldn't overhear. Brandon released a slick smile and grunted. Wolf retook his seat. “Allow me to show the camera footage on Reese's home during the time in question last night.”

“Alright,” Detective Carter said. Did I hear a touch of sympathy in his voice? He must think he’d caught me and all that was needed was to charge me with the crime. Yet I sensed he would welcome a way to prove this couldn’t be me.

Wolf played a series of videos, the grainy images spooling across the screen. In each, taken of my home from all angles, no one left the building.

And best of all, they all held timestamps between 8:15 and 8:31 p.m. At 8:20, one image showed me standing at the window, peering out at the driveway.

“See?” I gasped out, vindicated at last. “It couldn’t be me.”