Lupi 08 - Death Magic

over them. “None of us likes having one of our own fingered, and why would a lifetime cop commit murder after announcing himself to the damn maid? Doesn’t make sense. But trust me—we’re taking it seriously. We have to. He’s got motive enough, given the senator’s opposition to his Unit.” He paused. “For the record, Brooks denies it. Says he was home all morning. His wife says the same. Special Agent Yu here has a theory that supports Brooks’s innocence.”
    Nearly two dozen pairs of eyes fixed on Lily. The scowliest pair belonged to Mayhew, the one Drummond had told to shut up earlier. “She’s Unit. Brooks is her boss.”
    “He is,” Lily said evenly. “I won’t give you my opinion of him, because that wouldn’t mean shit to you. Or to this investigation. But aside from my opinion, there’s reason to think he isn’t the perp.” She went on to explain why the trail of death magic she’d followed suggested that the knife had been intended for use by someone without magic. “Brooks, of course, is Gifted. There’s no reason he would need a weapon fueled by death magic.”
    Mayhew wasn’t giving up. “Unless he wanted us to think it couldn’t be him.”
    Lily’s eyebrows rose. “So he announced himself to the maid? Which is he—a devious mastermind, or a bloody idiot?”
    “Enough,” Drummond said. “You’ve got the basics. Now you get assignments. Each of you will work with at least one partner. I want every interview, every shred of evidence, substantiated by two people.”
    Drummond was thorough. He had teams checking public transport, looking into Ruben’s activities the past month, obtaining financial information on Bixton, his wife, and his family. One team would head into North Carolina to look into associations in the senator’s hometown. Another—the one Sjorensen ended up on—would try to trace the dagger. Drummond would handle the interviews with Bixton’s wife and immediate family himself. He assigned Lily the job of digging into Bixton’s political enemies, starting with an interview with his chief of staff.
    Her partner was Doug Mullins.
     
     
    WHEN Drummond dismissed them, Lily had to swim upstream through the mass of people leaving the room. Mullins was in his usual spot next to his idol, who was talking to Nguyen.
    “Come on,” Mullins told her.
    “In a minute.” She waited until Nguyen finished and turned away. “Two things,” she said to Drummond. “First, I need to let you know I’ve got a medical appointment today. Second—”
    “What the hell?” His eyebrows snapped down. “I was told you were good to go.”
    “I am. There’s some lingering weakness in my right arm, but otherwise I’m fit. But I was moved from light duty to active without a doctor signing off on it.” Let him assume her appointment was for dotting those bureaucratic i ’s.
    He waved that aside. “Don’t bother with your second thing. I’ve already heard it from Doug.” His smile was slow and sour. “The two of you are stuck with each other.”
    She glanced at Mullins, who scowled. “No, the other thing is that I want to dig into the death magic angle.”
    “How?”
    “Homeless shelters. Missing persons reports. At least one person and possibly more were killed to charge that dagger. There’s a good chance that wasn’t the first time our perps killed, either. They probably had to practice.”
    His eyes narrowed. He gave a brief nod. “Good enough. You’ll give your assignment priority, though. If you—” His brows snapped down. “What is it?”
    Her heart was pounding, but unlike Rule, he wouldn’t be able to hear that. Maybe her eyes had widened for a split second before it vanished. “What do you mean?”
    “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    She had. It had hovered in the air between Drummond and Mullins for a second, a pale blur in the air . . . one hand outstretched, just as at the shooting range. A wedding ring on one finger.
    No way in hell was she telling Drummond and Mullins about it. “I’m fine.” She turned to Mullins. “Let’s go.”

FOURTEEN
     

     
    THE wolf wanted more time to sniff at the base of that oak, to trot along leafy paths flavored with scents of deer and raccoon. He wanted to chase his clanmate through the trees, romp with him in a tumble of nips and pounces on that wide, grassy lawn. But the man was needed now. He allowed himself one gusty sigh, then reached for the song.
    Moonlight flooded him, blinded him,