Chapter 18
Gwen couldn’t look at Hugh. She lurched forward, propped her elbows against the gleaming dashboard, and buried her entire face in her hands.
Still, his stare seared the side of her head like a flamethrower. Or maybe that was just her imagination combined with the incinerating heat of her utter humiliation.
“Please explain to me, Josiah.” By all rights, the utter chill of Hugh’s tone should have transformed the sweltering car into a refrigerator. “Why would the investigators think that?”
Goodling sounded highly reluctant to answer the question. “The going assumption is that you’re either unwilling to have a child or unwilling to have someone like her as that child’s mother.”
“And they believe I tried to solve that ostensible problem by killing her in a fire”—those five words emerged with particular icy precision—“as she slept?”
“Correct.” Goodling didn’t sound overly saddened by the prospect. “Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to establish an alibi for you. As surveillance within SERC headquarters indicates, you left the building between meetings, shortly before the time investigators believe the fire began.”
Where had he gone? Because she knew to the marrow of her bones that he hadn’t visited his apartment for oracle-murdering purposes, no matter what his colleagues believed.
The ever-rising temperature in the car revealed the volcanic intensity of Hugh’s emotion, but his voice remained entirely calm. “I was meeting an informant.”
The sensation of eyes boring into her head had ceased at some point, and she snuck a glance his way. He was staring through the windshield now, his expression as hard as the cobblestones on the sidewalk.
She didn’t know which she feared more: Hugh refusing to ever look at her again or Hugh directing that expression at her. Both would hurt far, far too much.
“Where?” Josiah asked. “Perhaps there’s video evidence of your presence there during the time in question.”
“I can’t say.” Exactly the response Gwen would have predicted. “Sharing that information would endanger my informant’s safety.”
“Do you have any cameras within your apartment, then? Security footage that might reveal the presence and identity of another culprit?” Goodling sounded worried. “Without proof of an intrusion, convincing the investigators of your innocence might be difficult.”
“No. It’s easy to tamper with video or buy a glamour, so I invested in foolproof wards instead.” Hugh’s jaw ticced. “Theoretically foolproof wards.”
Josiah paused. “Do you have any other proof of your innocence?”
Hugh wasn’t guilty. Of course he wasn’t.
But someone had certainly gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like he was.
And maybe his past history of rectitude would save him, or maybe he could somehow provide an alibi that didn’t compromise Thora’s identity.
But if not…he could lose his reputation and his job. Maybe even his freedom.
Because of her.
Her stomach roiled violently, and she clamped a hand on the passenger door, poised to fling it open. He glanced her way then. Mouthed, Are you well?
A very polite query. But he didn’t reach out to touch her, and his eyes were distant.
She nodded, bereft.
“I have no exonerating evidence to offer right now.” Hugh was still watching her, brow creased. “To be clear, though, Josiah, I do want at least one child. And I would never seriously date anyone I wouldn’t want as my child’s mother.”
Too bad he wasn’t actually dating Gwen. What they’d done the previous night didn’t count. That was sex, not courting. And even if it did count, he wanted a mother for his own child. Not the offspring of Gwen and some Zone rando with unfortunate condom technique.
The car’s windows had all fogged over. With a hunched shoulder, she blocked Hugh’s view of the tiny heart she traced with her fingertip on the window closest to her. A droplet of water trailed like blood from the small shape, which seemed a poor omen.
She drew a line through the heart. Another. Until it was obliterated from sight.
“But that’s not the crucial point here.” Hugh was still speaking, his voice measured and precise.
“Do you believe the speculation about my possible guilt, Josiah? Do the others? Or is this simply grist for the SERC mill and predictable schadenfreude at seeing a killjoy colleague taken down a notch?”
“I don’t believe any of it, son,” the older demon declared stoutly. “The others aren’t convinced of your guilt, but…there are doubts. I suspect you’ll be called into headquarters for a very unpleasant interview in the near future.”
How could Hugh’s colleagues ever suspect him of something so heinous? And was there any way for her to help him? Should she remove herself from his orbit?
Before she could decide what was best, the two males exchanged brief goodbyes, and the call ended. After a deep, fortifying breath, she turned to face forward again. Hugh had directed his own attention back to the roadside, mouth pressed into a tight, grim line.
After a long, fraught pause, he spoke to the windshield, watching her response in the reflection.
“The werewolf at the hospital said you were in good health. I assume that assessment took your pregnancy into account?” When she nodded, her throat too tight for words, he asked more questions.
“Was he concerned about the health of your baby?”
She shook her head.
“A standard anti-nausea amulet and minor healing spell should still mitigate the physical effects of your visions without harming you or your child?”
Another nod.
“Hmmm.” When he spoke again, his tone remained scrupulously neutral. “I was meeting with Thora for an update when I received news of the fire.”
Exactly as Gwen had suspected.
“At your request, she can confirm my whereabouts to you, but I hope…” He hesitated, fists clenched on his lean, strong thighs. “I hope you don’t think I caused the fire.”
“What?” Her head whipped in his direction so fast her neck hurt. “No! Of course not! Not even for a single moment!”
He inclined his own head, and the latest blast of sere desert wind inside the car faded to a fitful, hot breeze. And then…he fell silent again, brows still beetled in thought.
He wasn’t going to ask her anything else about her pregnancy? In the face of other, more existential issues, she supposed her uterus and its current inhabitant possessed only limited importance, but…his disinterest didn’t bode well for their budding connection.
Fine. She’d known from the start that he wouldn’t understand about the pregnancy. If he didn’t want to talk about it more than he already had, she wouldn’t belabor the topic either.
“Do you think the fire was a genuine attempt to kill me? Either because I’m supposedly your girlfriend, because I helped thwart the conspirators’ plans, or because I’m a newly powerful oracle?
” She plucked restlessly at the edge of her sweater.
“Although that last bit’s not something any outsider should know. ”
Since someone had accessed her medical records and learned about her pregnancy, however, she supposed the information she’d given the doctor earlier today might have been compromised too.
When Hugh didn’t bother responding, she swallowed her hurt and kept talking. “Or do you think the entire point of the fire was to frame you, impugn your credibility, and make you less able to interfere in the conspirators’ future operations?”
More silence.
“I really am very sorry about the apartment,” she ventured, but he simply waved that off.
She couldn’t stand it any longer. If he was so furious that he wouldn’t even talk to her, she should wrap up this shit show and move along. Even if that meant addressing the topic they’d both prefer to avoid, one final time.
“I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you I was pregnant.” There. It was done. “Under the circumstances, I should probably stay with someone else. My continued proximity is clearly endangering you.”
He was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “No.”
That was it. Nothing more.
“No?” Entirely out of patience, aching with hurt, she flung her hands in the air and rounded on him. “Why not? You’re clearly angry with me, so—”
“I’m angry, yes,” he interrupted. “With you?”
She waited.
“Not…” His hesitation lasted several beats too long. “Not necessarily.”
She raised her eyebrows. Glared at him until he sighed in defeat and turned to face her.
He spoke slowly at first, his voice low and rough with emotion. “I’m frustrated because I’ve been fighting to redeem my family’s reputation for the past decade, and now all that time and effort feels like an utter waste. But—”
“I’m so sorry.” Her momentary bravado had curdled into shame, and she curled up as small as possible in her seat. “That’s because of me, and—”
“It’s not your fault, Gwen. Not even one particle of blame belongs to you. And as I was about to say, the fire’s consequences for me and my family are the least of my current concerns.”
Potential criminal charges were the least of his concerns? How was that even possible?
“I may be frustrated about the hit to the Blacke reputation. But I’m furious that”—he ticked the reasons off on his fingers, starting with his forefinger—“you’ve been targeted in such a deliberate manner, in my own godsdamn home, for reasons we don’t fully understand yet.
” Middle finger. “You’re pregnant but didn’t tell me, so I failed to take care of you adequately.
” Ring finger. “The father of your unborn child is nowhere to be found and hasn’t helped you during your time of need.
” He paused, mid-tick, over his littlest finger.
“Or maybe he is in your life still, and I just didn’t know? ”
That prospect didn’t appear to make Hugh any happier. It also explained why he’d been so careful not to touch her since the revelation of her pregnancy.
He considered the issue for another moment, then shook his head. “No. If he were in your life, you wouldn’t have allowed me the liberties you did last night. So he’s an irresponsible asshole, and you deserve far better.”