10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Zelyah
W ell, if the FBI Supernatural Unit had any doubt about me being responsible for these murders, they’ll definitely be convinced I am the one now. I try to take a step toward her, but Agent Cooper stops me with a hand across my body the same way he did in the car, but this time, he’s not whispering in my ear. He’s wearing his signature scowl, but for once it’s not directed at me.
Trisha doesn’t take her eyes off me as she shakes her head violently “I don’t know what you are, but you’re something else. Something sinister. Something evil.”
A monster is what she would’ve called me if she’d known what I really am. Everyone would’ve been looking at me with disgust, more so than they already are. I look at the crowd surrounding us. They’ve all stopped what they’re doing to stare. This is not how I hoped things would go. I can’t get caught. I’ll use my powers to get away before they try and treat me like a lab rat, or worse, use me for their own gain.
“What is the last thing you remember?” Agent Rodriguez asks, taking out a small notebook and a pen from her pants pocket.
“We were at the liquor store buying some uh . . .” I think she forgot who’s surrounding her. “We were buying some alcohol.”
Alcohol. Yeah, right! Probably some illegal shit they were trying to score. Her hands are braced against her forearms to hide the tremors, but her sweat-dampened shirt and blown pupils are not as easy to disguise. I’m not the only one who notices how sick she looks. My guess is that I interrupted her hooking up with their dealer last night, but no one seems to care about her cover story.
“We were there to meet our friends and get some alcohol, but we met her instead.” Her eyes swivel back to me. “We took you to The Velvet Room.” She narrows her eyes like she wants to fight, but she can’t move. The officer has a tight hold on her.
I shouldn’t have given up finding them so easily. Feeding was on my mind, and I left a messy trail. I used to have a clean system using my warehouse. I would stalk my suspect for a couple of days, bring them back to the warehouse, and complete my kill by feeding. It was the perfect plan until I let my emotions get the best of me with Nick.
I’m still high from feeding on two humans instead of one, but now that I’m being accused, I’m sobering up quickly.
“Did she leave the club with someone else?” Agent Rodriguez asks. Walking down the last step making sure she keeps her attention on the woman.
“We left the club to meet up with our friends and . . .” Trisha furrows her brows, her voice faltering as her gaze drops to the ground. She relaxes, the visible tension in her body going slack, and the officer holding her back releases her, taking a tentative half-step back.
What the fuck just happened?
“Trisha, are you okay?” Agent Rodriguez asks. Concern is etched across her face, and frankly, I’m just as worried as she is. It’s like Trisha was animated and then a switch flipped out of nowhere.
“And . . .” She tries again, frowning back up at the Fox Shifter. “And . . . I can’t remember what else happened after we got in the car.”
“So why did you say this woman is the one who killed your friend?” Agent Cooper asks as he walks down three steps and stands in front of her, nearly blocking my view. I’m only able to see bits and pieces of her face when Agent Cooper moves.
“I uh . . .” Her eyes wander to the crowd of officers as if she just realized we have an audience. “Right before we left the club, we were approached.” She stares at the ground, her expression turning pensive.
“Do you remember if it was a group of people or just one person?”
Trisha’s eyes flick over to Agent Cooper as she answers. “It was only one person.” Trisha shakes her head like she’s trying to clear the fog in her mind.
Agent Cooper’s body tenses, hands clenching briefly into fists. He hasn’t found a lead, and it’s really getting to him. “What did this person look like?” his voice comes out tight, anticipation evident in each syllable.
Trisha pauses with furrowed brows. After one long minute of silence, she finally says, “I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”
Agent Cooper presses his lips together, the muscle in his jaw flexing with frustration. Around us, the other agents let out audible sighs, shoulders slumping in disappointment. They’d hoped she’d have the answers they were looking for.
I want to find my mother’s killer just as badly as they do. But I want to find this person first. I’m going to make my mother’s killer suffer.
“Why did you call this woman the killer?” Cooper asks sharply, the intensity in his gaze betraying his neutral tone. He’s like a dog with a bone, refusing to let it go.
I want to know the answer, too. Compelled by burning curiosity, I find myself leaning forward, muscles tensing as I’m ready to walk down the steps and get a better vantage point. But I catch myself at the last moment, remembering it’s smarter to stay put. I force my feet to root back into place, though they itch to move closer. My fingers curl and unfurl restlessly at my sides. Every nerve feels like a live wire with too much pent-up energy and nowhere to channel it. Being unable to act when every cell in my body screams for action is excruciating. I have to resist the urge to pace like a caged panther. My predatory instincts don’t like being restrained, especially when I’m being blamed for a murder I didn’t commit.
Instead, I take a slow breath, rolling my shoulders back. Patience was never my strong suit, but I have an audience and can’t afford to lose control. I look up at the sky, where the moon is still visible amidst the bright streetlights. The night is quiet, but our activity here could attract unwanted attention from any late-night wanderers or early risers. We need to hurry before any curious passersby spot us.
Trisha holds her breath before answering. “I . . . I don’t know.” She glances over at me again, but there’s no hate in her eyes this time. “Maybe because she was the last person I remember seeing besides Sandy, and I had to put the blame on someone.”
“You said the last person you saw was the one who approached you in the car. Why not put the blame on the person you saw last?”
“Well, yes, that was the person I last saw, but since I don’t remember anything about that individual, my immediate thought went to her, and that maybe she was trying to harm us in the first place.”
Only if you had done something vile, then I would have harmed you .
“How did you know your friend was here?” Cooper asks.
“I looked at my driving history on my phone, and it said I took a detour here before heading to our friend’s house. When I picked up my other two friends, they asked where Sandy had gone. I told them she was with me earlier, and I’d look for her. I dropped them off at the club before coming back here.”
“Didn’t they want to come with you to help you find Sandy? If they’re her friends too. I know if my friend was missing, I’d want to help look for them,” Agent Cooper says, and I feel like he’s trying to catch her in a lie. It’s like he almost believes Trisha might have done it.
“I didn’t want to worry them. I made it sound like we had taken a detour, and I needed to pick her up now.”
“Why did you drive here?” Agent Cooper doesn’t miss a beat. He keeps spitting questions while Agent Rodriguez writes her answers down.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” She sounds frustrated with the interrogation. Personally, I thought they’d wait until they had her in the same room I was in, but Agent Cooper knows what he’s doing. After all, he’s the lead agent on this case.
“Were you trying to buy drugs here?” He can tell as easily as I can that she’s withdrawing from something, and this place obviously shows evidence of squatters cooking drugs in this house.
“N . . . No,” she stammers.
“How did you know your friend died?” Agent Cooper inquires as Agent Rodriguez writes something down on her notepad.
Oh, that’s a good question, and I want to know the answer, too.
“I saw the cops, and I heard someone mention her name, saying Sandy was lying dead.” Her eyes start to get watery again.
Agent Cooper growls and glowers at the officers there because they weren’t being as discreet as they should’ve been. They all avoid eye contact with him.
“We’ll be taking you in for more questions. Please follow Officer Lopez. He’ll drive you to the FBI headquarters.”
She sobs, “I want to see my friend.”
“You will after we finish. First, we have a couple more questions to ask,” Agent Rodriguez says in a softer voice.
Trisha looks down, resigned, and follows the officer to the police vehicle.
A van pulls up and a group of people step out. They move with a precise efficiency that tells me they’ve done this many times before. They open the back doors and start pulling out biohazard suits and full-face masks. It's clear they’re a cleanup crew, here to handle the aftermath and remove any evidence. They’re swift and methodical, getting ready to sanitize the area and take away the body.
I watch them for a moment, then make my way down the stairs when I know Trisha won’t say anything else. They’ll probably take her to Radnor to confirm her story. I pause mid-step. As I get ready to get in Agent Cooper’s car, my body shivers, and it’s not from the breeze. When I look up, a set of dark eyes stare at me from across the street. I reach into my hoodie and grip my hands through the center pocket. Could this be the murderer lingering at his crime scene, or has someone realized my secret? I’ve been so messy lately, and letting the man go at the club while I fed on his friends was a huge mistake. Until I find him, every stranger in the night could be here to blow my cover or exact revenge. I hate unfinished business.