CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR #2
She fixed her brother with a hard glare.
“Do you really believe that, Liam?” she asked, wincing inwardly as she heard her own voice rising, growing mocking and shrill.
“Did she give you any trouble at home? Was she talking back, staying out past curfew? Was she out drinking in an alley with hoodlums? Did she curse at you, disrespect her mother? Any of those things?”
She advanced on him and he shrank back, putting Dewey’s desk between them. Doubt and guilt played across his features, a wincing struggle. “Mother Francesca told me–”
“What? What did that shriveled goat tell you?”
Liam’s eyes pinned her, defiant. “Molly stole sacrificial wine! A blatant theft! And she’s been doing other things, evil things. Out in the woods.”
Hero scoffed. “So a nun says.” She turned on Dewey, giving her brother a dismissive wave. “Did you know about this?” she demanded. “One of our main witnesses gets shipped off to prison, essentially, and it doesn’t strike you as suspicious?”
“Bright Renewal Academy is an esteemed–”
“Enough!” She slammed her fists on his desk. He jerked back, blinking furiously, and Hero got in his face, almost screaming, “Snap out of it! Do your damned job, Chief!”
If she’d thought that trying the same tactic that had worked with Keen would work on Dewey, that she might shout the spell out of him, she was proved wrong when his eyes cleared, hardened.
She saw sense returning to him – no more shaking hands or vague stares.
“I have been doing my job, Inspector,” he countered with immense calm.
“While you were desecrating tombs and getting your partner very nearly killed, I was following a lead.”
Well, this was unexpected news. “A lead? From where? From whom?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It was legitimate. A witness saw the perpetrator exit Sister Catarine’s apartment on the night of her disappearance, sneaking down the back stairs of the cloisters. With the sister.”
Stunned, Hero rocked back on her heels. “What witness? Another sister? Surely, you know you can’t trust a single one of them!”
“But we’re supposed to trust you implicitly?” Liam said. “A disgraced half-demon nun fresh from prison?”
She scowled. “I’ve been out three years. And I’m no longer a fucking nun. You should trust me because I’m a death speaker, an inspector! I know what I’m doing.”
Dewey and her brother exchanged glances, sharing expressions of disdain. Then Dewey smiled at her smugly. “Nevertheless, Inspector, we managed to make headway without your help. Despite your help, really. The witness feared coming forward, given your obvious hatred of the sisterhood.”
This was a trick. A lie. Hero looked from one to the other, flabbergasted, but a sliver of doubt lodged in her heart. Could it be true? Could fear have kept a witness away? Had she only felt comfortable coming to human police?
Was Hero an impediment to her own investigation?
“We have the suspect in custody, if you’d like to peek in on his interrogation,” Dewey continued.
“Who’s running the interview?” she asked, meekly now, all her righteous anger having left her, giving way to doubt.
It was an uncomfortable and unfamiliar sensation.
She was very rarely caught flat-footed on a case – she was the one who brought in suspects.
Nevertheless, she had to determine for herself whether the suspect was a person of interest, even if it meant watching from the sidelines. For now, she had to play the good PK.
“Inspector Smith and Officer Coates,” said Dewey.
“Coates? That fetus?”
The chief frowned. “He’s a trained officer, Inspector, and he was one of the uniforms assigned to help you. He’s more than qualified to interview a suspect. Besides, Smith is a murder PK, trained in New Savage.”
She struggled not to launch into a tirade.
This was unbelievable. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, as calmly and as reasonably as she could in the circumstances.
She didn’t know Smith from a hole in the ground.
“I would like a crack at our suspect too, if you please. After the initial interrogation.”
“Fine. I’ll allow it.” Dewey gave her an indulgent smile that sliced through her like a knife. So, he was throwing her a bone, was he? “He’s in Interrogation Room One right now. You can watch through the glass.”
She adjusted her clothes needlessly – there was no putting back together her ruined outfit with a few tugs – and gave him a respectful nod. I’m going along with this like a good PK. “I’d like to have DH Keen observe as well,” she said. The only one I can trust. “We’ve built a good rapport.”
“That’s up to him,” Dewey said sternly. “If he’s recovered enough. Last I saw of him, he was drugged to his eyeballs. Do you want to wait for him that badly? You know time is of the essence.”
Hero ticked off the hours in her head and ground her teeth. Keen would probably be out for another day probably, maybe longer.
“I’ll watch alone for now.” She shrugged. “If they get a confession, I won’t interfere, but if our suspect is recalcitrant, I’ll have to involve myself in his interrogation. In the meantime, I’ll need the file and all the evidence you’ve gathered on…” She raised her brows.
“Braun,” Dewey said. “Our suspect is Jerry Braun. And the evidence against him is damning. He was the last person seen with the victim, and there’s an entire trove of communication between the two of them.
Looks like they had a relationship of some sort.
” His frown returned. “No one is going to like it, but we’re pretty sure Catarine got mixed up with some religious nutjobs.
You know the type – all into the gory worship of the past, blood sacrifices and rituals.
It all makes sense when you think about it.
Braun and his heretical accomplices probably murdered her to appease their primitive version of the Goddess. So barbaric.”
Hero barely heard a word he said. It was all bullshit. Braun wasn’t their man; she’d stake her life on it. “I need to speak to the suspect,” she blurted. “Now.”
Dewey eyed her. “You’ll get your chance. Right now, you observe. Understood?” He tapped a finger on his desk. “You are on very thin ice at the moment, Inspector. Tread carefully. I don’t want to have to send you back to Savage.”
She ground her teeth, tempted to open the Gates of Hell right there in his office. “Yes. Chief. Whatever you say.”