Текст книги "Sins of the Demon"

Автор книги: Diana Rowland

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I nodded. “But still, if they’re going after me—another summoner,” I said, musing, “—they have to figure the payoff is worth the risk.”

“Or they’re desperate enough to risk it,” Ryan added.

I tugged my hands through my hair as an uncomfortable thought occurred to me. I slid my eyes to Eilahn. “Are you able to assess for summoning ability?”

“That is not one of my skills,” she said, spreading her hands in apology.

Zack eyed me. “You have a suspect?”

I shifted in my chair, uncertain. “I’ll be shocked if he turns out to be a summoner, but…well, this ex-boyfriend of mine, Roman Hatch, lost his job at ESPN earlier this spring. He arrived here in town shortly before the first murder. In fact he found the body.”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “I think that qualifies him as a person of interest.”

“Right.” I cast my memory back over the conversation. “He also said he was staying in town a few extra days because one of his projects was taking longer than expected.”

Jill gave a smirk. “I think that’s what we in the biz call ‘a clue.’”

I nodded, smiled tightly. “I guess I’ll be summoning a demon to check him out tonight.”

“Cool!” Jill said, mischievous smile on her face. “We can have a demon summoning party!”

“Like hell!” I said, giving her a dark glower. She merely chuckled. My phone dinged and I dropped my eyes to it, expecting it to be from my aunt.

It wasn’t. “Shit,” I muttered as I read the text.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked.

“Chief wants to see me, ASAP.” I sighed. “Somehow I have a feeling he’s not calling me in to offer me a promotion.”

Chapter 15

Despite joking, my nerves were a frayed mess about being called in to talk to the chief. I had no doubt as to the reason, and I could only be deeply glad that I’d already spilled the beans to my sergeant.

I flashed a relaxed smile to the secretary in the chief’s outer office—even though I felt anything but relaxed—and tapped on his door frame. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

Chief Robert Turnham gave me a smile as he waved me in, but there was a tightness around his eyes that did nothing to ease the knot of worry in my gut. He’d recently decided to give in to his ever-retreating hairline and shave his head, but the combination of that with his dark skin, his height, and his gangly, thin limbs had him resembling one of the creatures from the movie Aliens.Though without the slavering teeth and poison blood and all that. He and I had always gotten along fairly well. He had a tendency to be dour and anal retentive, but he was a damn good cop with tons of experience, and he’d always treated me with respect.

But right now it was pretty obvious he was stressed and worried. Obviously something more was going on.

“Have a seat, Kara,” he said. I complied, doing my best to keep my expression even and calm. He’d had the walls painted in here, I noticed—a warm blue that matched the tones in the Beaulac PD seal on the wall behind his desk. The carpet had been updated too—a dark gray that that was a huge improvement over the bilious tan of its predecessor. The desk, chairs, and bookshelves were real wood now instead of metal, but nothing that looked like it cost and arm and a leg. Not much else had changed, though. The books and various awards were still aligned neatly, and I doubted I’d find any dust on the shelves. The overall effect was “serviceable and classy,” which pretty much fit the chief to a T.

He leaned forward and interlaced his fingers together on the desk in front of him. His face fell into lines of concern that I knew weren’t fake. “I’m not going to waste time with bullshit small talk, Kara. I received a tip this morning, from an anonymous person, stating that the deaths of Barry Landrieu, Evelyn Stark, and Thomas Chartres are connected. And that we should be looking at you as a murder suspect.”

I took an unsteady breath. “As I told Sergeant Crawford, yes, I knew all three. And no, I sure as hell didn’t murder any of them.” I gave him a terse explanation of who each person was—everything I’d told Sarge. Okay, maybe not everything. I could probably safely leave out the bit about the demons and portals and whatnot.

He blew out his breath and leaned back in his chair. “So there are two possibilities that leap to mind. First is that you’re being set up, and second is that you’re a serial killer.” He cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Or both,” I replied with a weak laugh.

“Or both,” he acknowledged, barest hint of a smile playing on his mouth, but the tension around his eyes hadn’t left.

“Sir, I’d like to point out that that there’s nothing to suggest any of these people were murdered.”

“True enough. However, I’ve spoken to Dr. Lanza and he’s concerned that all of them had similar causes of death, though right now he’s more worried that it could be something contagious, and he’s currently going back and forth with the CDC.”

That was a troubling thought, but I had a tough time believing it. If it was contagious then more people would be affected than just the ones on my not-invited-to-my-birthday-party list. The tox didn’t show anything because it wasn’t the sort of thing a tox screen could detect. At least that was mytheory.

He cocked his head. “Do you think it’s all a giant coincidence?”

“Fuck no,” I said. “What’s that saying? ‘Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern.’”

He steepled his fingers in front of him. “There’s a variation of that phrase that says ‘three times is enemy action.’”

Scowling, I nodded. “Can you tell me how this tip came in?” Because if that wasn’t sent by my mystery summoner or someone working with him, I’d eat my demon’s cat.

“Phone call, from a prepaid cell phone. Cash.”

Crap. There’d be no chance of tracing that.

“It’s a damn good thing that you told your sergeant about your connection to these victims,” he said. “But until we—”

He was cut off by the opening of the door. I glanced back to see who it was, deeply unsettled to see Mayor Peter Fussell enter and close the door behind him. I fought to keep any of it from showing on my face. The mayor gave me a tight smirk of a smile, which didn’t do a damn thing to relax me. He didn’t like me, and the feeling was completely mutual. Not long ago he’d attempted to coerce and threaten me into revealing confidential information on an active murder investigation. With the help of my sergeant, I’d recorded the conversation and had threatened him right back. Yeah, he didn’t love me.

“She’s still here, Robert?” he said as he pulled his overcoat off. “I’d have thought you’d have her gun and badge by now at the very least. And maybe have her in jail for good measure.”

My stomach dove into my toes. I was fully aware that the Chief of Police was appointed by the mayor. It didn’t matter how much Chief Turnham admired, respected, or even tolerated me—if it came down to a choice between me and his job, I knew which way it would fall.

Annoyance swept over Chief Turnham’s face. “I have nothing to arrest her for, Peter.”

The mayor dropped into the other chair and eyed me. “Three people dead. And you hated them all, didn’t you?”

I eyed him right back. “Is this an interrogation?” I asked, then looked over at my chief. “Because, if so, I want a lawyer.” I shifted my arm to reassure myself the cuff was still there, relieved that I’d been so stressed about being called in that I’d forgotten to slip it off. Yeah, the white hot rage I was feeling right now was all my own.

“It’s not an interrogation, Kara,” the chief replied. “However, until we can get this whole mess cleared up, I think it’s best if you go on administrative leave.”

Even though I was half-expecting it, the news was still a punch in the gut. “I haven’t done anything wrong, sir,” I managed.

“That we know of,” Fussell said with a dubious sniff.

Chief Turnham shot him a quelling glance, then gave me a more reassuring look. “It’ll be with pay, and it’s in your best interest. This way there can be no question of impropriety in the investigation.”

“Yes, sir.” I understood it. I really did. But I didn’t have to like it one bit.

“Stop coddling her, Turnham,” the mayor sneered. “Get a search warrant for her house, and get the evidence you need.”

I leveled a black glare at the mayor. “You don’t have the probable cause for a search warrant.”

He sat forward. “Then sign a consent-to-search and prove you’re innocent.”

“Not in this lifetime,” I shot back.

He laughed and looked over to the chief. “See? She’s obviously hiding something. You could fire her for insubordination for refusing to follow an order.”

“Oh, for God’s sakes, Peter,” the chief muttered.

“Mayor Fussell,” I said as I fought to remain calm, “with all due respect, just because I’m a city employee doesn’t mean that you or anyone else has leave to trample all over my civil rights. And if you insist on having me fired for refusing to consent to a search of my private residence, you and this city can most certainly brace yourselves for a lawsuit.”

“It won’t come to that,” Chief Turnham said, voice sharp and firm. My respect for my chief soared.

I gave him a polite nod. “And I appreciate that. Am I to assume that my leave is effective immediately?”

He sighed, deep regret in his eyes. “I think that would be for the best.”

I stood and gave him a grateful smile, then gave the mayor a slight, mocking bow. “Y’all have a Merry Christmas!” I turned and left, and even resisted the desire to slam the door behind me.

But once I was out, the smile slid off my face as I strode quickly down the hall to my office. True, it could have been worse. Administrative leave was a shitload better than a suspension. Basically I’d just been given a paid vacation. But I still felt as if I’d been hamstrung.

No one else was around, which was a relief. I didn’t feel like going into an explanation of the whole thing for anyone right now. I ducked into my office and quickly gathered up the few personal items I gave a damn about, just in case this whole situation turned to even more shit, and I couldn’t get back here for a while.

On my way home I called Jill. “Guess who’s a murder suspect!”

She groaned. “Please tell me you’re not in jail.”

I laughed. “Not yet. But I am on administrative leave. Paid!”

“Woohoo! Vay-cay!”

“Yeah, under any other circumstance it would rock. Anyway, I’m headed to the house. The mayor was in there with the chief when I was given the lovely news, and he’s seriously gunning for me. Wanted me to sign a consent-to-search form to let them rummage through my house.”

I heard her suck her breath in. “Yikes. I’m assuming you told them to get stuffed?”

“Pretty much. But I have a bad feeling that the mayor’s gonna be pressuring Chief Turnham to scrape up enough probable cause to get a warrant.”

She made an unpleasant sound. We both knew that there were ways to get around the strict legalities of search and seizure. All they had to do was come up with a “confidential informant” to attest that I was hiding evidence of my dark deeds in my house. “You’re still planning to summon tonight?”

“Hell, no,” I said. “I’m summoning as soon as I get home.”

“Good plan. You need something to cart your demon around in once you get him here?”

“Crap. I might, depending on which demon I summon. I’ll need to go rent an SUV—”

“No, you won’t,” she interrupted. “We can put him in the back of the van.”

It took me a couple of seconds to process what she meant. “Wait. Your crime scene van?”

“That’s the one!”

I burst out laughing. “This is yet another reason why you’re my best friend.”

After I hung up with her I called Roman, spun him a fiction about needing his signature on a witness statement so that I could close out the Barry Landrieu case, and could he possibly meet me at Grounds For Arrestin say, two hours?

He agreed without hesitation. I breathed a sigh of relief. I still figured it was a long shot, but even eliminating him as a suspect would be progress. And since my progress thus far had been zilch, I’d take what I could get.

Eilahn was waiting for me on the porch with the cat on her lap when I pulled up. I had absolutely no idea how the demon managed to be everywhere I was, but I wasn’t going to complain.

Fuzzykins eyed me balefully as I climbed the steps. I reached to give her ears a scratch, and she gave me a dubious sniff. Well, at least it was an improvement over the usual hiss/snarl/claw reaction.

“I’m on administrative leave,” I told Eilahn.

“I know,” she said. “I listened in on your meeting.”

Again—no idea how she managed that. Did she hide in the air ducts or something?

“Any suggestions for demons to summon who can do a discreet assessment of Roman?” I glanced at the sky and scowled. “In broad daylight?”

She thought for a moment. “A nyssorwould be the most prudent choice.”

I bit back a groan. She was likely right. But a nyssor…ugh. “They can assess for summoning ability?” I asked, hoping she’d respond with something like, Oh, wait, my mistake, you don’t need anyssor after all.

“Yes,” she said, dashing my brief hopes. “And it would only need a heartbeat or two of contact.” Her lips twitched. “You do not care for the fifth-level demons?”

“They creep me the fuck out,” I confessed, adding a shudder for emphasis.

She laughed, a crystalline sound. “You are not the first summoner to say so.”

“There’s a reason for that,” I said sourly. “Do we have any bacon in the house?”

“Second drawer in the fridge,” she replied as she stroked her fingers through the cat’s fur.

I stood and headed inside, shedding the cuff and pulling my cell phone out as soon as I was through the door. While I walked to the kitchen I typed a text to Jill, then retrieved the bacon from the fridge, kicked the door closed, and walked back down the hallway to the basement door.

Yes, you really do need to summon this demon, I told myself firmly as I hesitated. I didn’t really like summoning during the day, but the use of the storage diagram made it easier. Muttering something nasty, I set the package of bacon down, stripped off my clothes, retrieved the bacon, then headed down the stairs to get garbed up for the summoning. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could dismiss it.

Chapter 16

I’d just finished changing back into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt when Jill entered the front door. She flashed a smile at me, then stopped dead at the sight of the demon waiting patiently in the living room.

“Good, you brought the stuff,” I said, moving forward to take the bag from her hand. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” she replied unsteadily. She swallowed, frowned. “Is, um, this the demon…?” She wrenched her gaze over to me, and I couldn’t tell if the pleading in her eyes wanted me to say yes or no.

Exhaling, I nodded. I totally understood her reaction. Nyssorlooked almost exactly like human children. This particular one looked like a little boy, perhaps four years old, and utterly beautiful, with flaxen curls and an angelic face. The “almost” part came in when you looked at their eyes, which were a little too large and had sideways-slit pupils. And the features were a little tooperfect. They definitely fell into that “uncanny valley” territory. Creepy.

I crouched by the demon and pulled clothing out of the bag. “Jill, this is Votevha. He’s a nyssor—a fifth-level demon. Votevha, this is Jill. She is my friend.”

The demon’s eyes shifted to Jill. “Friend,” he repeated in a high treble. It bared its teeth in a vulpine smile full of hundreds of sharp teeth.

Jill paled. “Jesus,” she muttered, but she managed to pull together a smile of her own. “So nice to meet you.”

“I have clothing for you,” I told the demon. “Do you require assistance?”

He shook his head and took the pants and shirt from me, examined them briefly, then slipped them on easily. He gave me a questioning look. “Good?” he said.

“Good,” I said with a nod. “There are shoes, too.”

He pulled them on while I straightened and turned to Jill. “Did you bring the booster seat?”

“Yeah, borrowed it from my next door neighbor. Told her I was babysitting for a friend.” She gave a mock shudder. “I hope she doesn’t think I’m available to babysit herlittle darlings.” She paused, looked at the demon with a slight frown pulling at her lips. “Does, um, he really need one?”

“Nope,” I said, “but if by some chance I get stopped, I don’t want to get a ticket for not having my demon properly secured.”

Part of my text to Jill had been to ask her to bring her personal car instead of her crime scene van. Since I didn’t have an overly large demon to tote around, I figured it was better if we went with something a little less obvious. In theory we could have used my departmental vehicle, but since I was on administrative leave, I didn’t want to be seen driving it around too much, just in case someone remembered that, technically, I should have been asked to turn my keys in for the duration of my leave. And I didn’t currently have a personal vehicle. About a year and a half ago, the engine of the ancient Honda Civic I’d been driving since college had finally gone into a spectacular meltdown after two hundred and forty thousand miles. Buying another car—even a crummy used one—had been beyond my budget and relegated into the category of “things I really should do one of these days.”

Luckily Jill had a nearly new Nissan X-Terra. It took a few minutes to figure out how to belt the demon into the booster seat, and then we were on our way.

Jill glanced over at me after we were both in the car, and gave me a wink. “Look at us being all domestic and mom-like and shit.”

I let out a snort of laughter. “Take a picture. This is the closest I’m likely to get.”

The drive into town was uneventful, though I discovered that Votevha had a preference for National Public Radio. We parked about a block down the street from the coffee shop and walked, the demon trotting along between us. I couldn’t help but be amazed at how much he resembled a human child—not just in looks, but in demeanor as well. He paused to tug on a fluttering piece of tinsel, darted forward to peer at a bug crawling along the sidewalk, pointed and laughed at a battered snowman decoration.

Apparently he looked convincingly child-like to others as well. A middle-aged woman dressed in a full-length leather coat and a fur hat paused in her cell phone conversation as we approached. She frowned as her gaze came to rest on the demon.

“That child needs a coat!” she informed us with an imperious sniff as we passed her.

I gritted my teeth and kept going. “Pushy bitch,” I muttered. I’d even asked the demon if he was cold. What, I was supposed to make him wear a coat he would be uncomfortable in?

“Maybe Votevha can go smile at her,” Jill said, eyes glinting wickedly.

The demon stopped, looked back at the woman. His eyes narrowed, and then he looked back up at me. “Free.”

I blinked, then shook my head, fighting back a smile. “I am grateful for the offer, but it is best that we remain discreet.”

He nodded once, and continued walking. Jill and I fell into step on either side of him again.

Jill gave me a baffled look. “What was that about?”

My lips twitched. “Votevha was offering to, ah, smile at that woman as a free service. Apparently he thought she was a pushy bitch too.”

The demon gave a firm nod. “Bitch.”

Jill grinned broadly. “Eloquent and no doubt accurate.”

We slowed as we neared the shop. “Okay, I see his car here,” I said, nodding toward the BMW parked across the street. “You two sure you can handle this?” I shot Jill a concerned look.

“Oh, please,” Jill said. “We walk in, we walk by his table, Votevha here grabs his hand and assesses him, we walk out.” She looked down at the angelic-looking demon. “Did I miss anything?”

He shook his head. “Perfect.”

“All righty, then,” Jill said. She gave me a reassuring look and took the demon’s little hand. “Let’s roll!”

I waited until they entered then followed. Despite the demon’s confidence, there was still plenty that could go wrong. If Roman wasa summoner and got a good look at Votevha’s eyes, he’d instantly recognize a nyssorand know that we were on to him. Maybe I should have found sunglasses for the demon, I fretted as I walked into the coffee shop.

Roman was at a table against the far wall. He’d apparently been watching for me, and he lifted his hand in greeting when he saw me. I gave him a nod in response, but I was also trying to keep an eye on Jill and Votevha without actually looking their way and drawing attention to them.

I started moving toward Roman as Jill and the demon went past his table. In a smooth, effortless move, Votevha set his hand on Roman’s without even looking at him, without even a hitch in his stride, then pulled his little hand away as he walked beyond the reach of his arm. It looked like nothing but a curious kid who wanted to touch everything around him.

Fucking hells, I hoped the contact was long enough.

“Oh, darn,” I heard Jill mutter. “C’mon, sweetie, Auntie Jill forgot her purse.” The pair turned around, retraced their steps through the tables, and a few seconds later were out the door.

I gave Roman a broad smile, and pulled a report out of my bag. “Hi, Roman. I’m so sorry to call you down here, but I really need to get this sewn up. My sergeant’s on my ass, and I’m in a huge rush.” I handed him a pen and plopped the report down in front of him, positioning it so that he could only see the last page which, conveniently, had nothing case-related on it. Important, since this report was for a completely different case, due to the inconvenient fact that I had yet to write anything up on the Landrieu death.

He chuckled, lifted the pen, signed where I was pointing. “Not a problem. Anything else you need?”

“That’s it,” I said with a cheery smile. “Thanks a million!” I quickly scurried out before I could be drawn into any conversation. Less than a minute later I was climbing into the car where Jill and Votevha were already waiting.

“Well?” I twisted around to look at the demon. “Is he a summoner?”

He shook his head. “No.”

I sagged back in my seat. “Damn.” Then I jumped in shock at a tap on the window. I turned, half expecting to see Roman, but instead it was Eilahn, expression grim.

I hit the button to lower the window while trying to get my pulse back under control.

“We have a problem,” she said.

“You mean, besides the fact that Roman isn’t the summoner, and we’re back to square one?”

“Yes. Someone is trying to get to the house.” Her eyes narrowed. “Several someones. I think they are there to search it.”

“Shit!” I gripped the steering wheel as my mind whirled. “The basement. Fuck. My implements. The summoning circle and the storage diagram. It needs to be cleaned. I can’t let anyone see that storage diagram.”

Her expression grew dark. She understood my concern. I’d created that diagram with a generous boost from Lord Rhyzkahl. He’d seemed very pleased when I discovered the way to store potency, which made me believe that it had been his intent to point the way. But as corny as it sounded, such a diagram in the wrong hands could be pretty damn dangerous. With a sufficient quantity of stored power, a summoner would have little problem calling and binding a demonic lord. Even Zack had posited that the reason I was a target was because I knew how to store potency. I wasn’t completely convinced of that, since I had yet to figure out how to increase the capacity, but then again, someone else might be able to work that out. At any rate, for now, it was surely best to keep the details of the diagram secret.

She placed a hand on my arm. “I will go there at speed and remove all evidence of your arcane activities.” Her eyes went to the demon sitting in a booster seat in the back of my car. “Protect her if the need arises. I will pay.”

“Done,” came the treble reply. Then I blinked and Eilahn was gone.

“That’s so hard core,” Jill said under her breath. I gave her a questioning look, and she grinned. “The way she does that gone in a flash thing. I wonder if she practices it?”

“Yes,” Votevha piped up.

Jill and I stared at each other for a second, then burst out laughing.

There were three cars parked in front of my house when I made it home. A St. Long Sheriff’s Office vehicle, a Beaulac PD vehicle, and an unmarked black Crown Victoria that I recognized as Sergeant Cory Crawford’s. Actually, they were parked about fifty feet from my house, at the outer edge of the open area in front of my house.

I took a ridiculous amount of pleasure in telling Jill to go around them. She obliged with a grim smile and parked right smack up by my porch, next to my departmental vehicle and a different Crown Vic—a familiar dark blue one. I couldn’t help but smile. Eilahn had recruited reinforcements again.

“Why are they parked way back there?” Jill asked as we got out. She looked back at the cars in my driveway.

“They’re held up by the aversions,” I said, and quickly explained how they worked. She hadn’t had to experience them, since I’d made sure to adjust the wards to allow her access before she’d come over. “They probably aren’t even aware they’re being delayed,” I said with a lift of my chin toward the cars out in the driveway. “Most likely they all suddenly had the urge to make a phone call or check their email. That sort of thing.”

“That’s a relief,” she said, a satisfied smile curving her mouth. “Is Eilahn finished with the basement?” Jill asked as she gave the nyssora hand out of the car.

“Hope so,” I said. “It’d be bad enough if people saw the diagram and all the other stuff in my basement, but that would simply brand me as a weirdo.” I snorted. “I think I have that designation pretty well sewn up right now anyway. It’s the storage diagram I’m most worried about. I can’t risk pictures of it leaking out.” I glanced over at the Crown Vic. “Looks like Ryan might be helping her as well.” I had to grin at the image of those two working together.

“Safe,” Votevha said abruptly.

I gave him a nod. “Thanks. Jill, why don’t you take Votevha around back. There’s no need for them to talk to either of y’all.”

She nodded and complied, mouth tight as she and the demon headed around the house. About half a minute later it was clear that Eilahn had deactivated the protections, because the men seemed to remember why they were there. They continued up the driveway, and parked about twenty feet from the house. I fought to keep a neutral expression on my face. Despite my preparations and the support of my friends, my stomach was a churning mess, and only a fraction of it was due to the cuff on my arm.

I didn’t recognize the deputy who stepped out of the St. Long Parish Sheriff’s Office vehicle. Ruddy complexion, stout build with a slight pot belly, and bright red hair cut in a flat top. His duty belt held a Sig Sauer .45 on one side and a Taser on the other. He gave me a nod and a thin, polite smile. “Miz Gillian?” he asked.

I didn’t bother correcting him with “detective” since it didn’t matter right now. “That’s me. They dug up probable cause for a search warrant? Or are y’all here to sing Christmas carols?”

He gave me a wider smile that revealed a number of gaps in his teeth. “I love me some carols, ma’am, but these folks have a warrant to serve.” It was a Beaulac PD case, but since I inconveniently lived outside of city limits they needed an observer and representative of the St. Long Parish Sheriff’s Office.

Tracy Gordon climbed out of the Beaulac PD car, looking deeply uncomfortable at the whole situation.

“You know I have to do this, right, Kara?” he said, apology etched into his dark features.

“It’s cool, Tracy,” I said. “It’s bullshit, but the sooner this is over with, the sooner I can get back to figuring out who the fuck is behind all this.”

Cory walked up to join Tracy. “It is bullshit,” he muttered. Then he swept his gaze over the exterior of my house and the decorations. “Holy shit, Gillian. You have the whole fucking north pole here.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “My, ah, roommate was expressing herself.”

My front door opened, and Ryan stepped out. He gave the various cops a polite nod, closed the door behind him, and came down the steps to join me. I gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks,” I murmured.

“Anytime,” he said, warm affection in his eyes.

A fourth car came down the driveway and parked next to Sarge’s. “Who’s that?” Ryan asked.

“That’s my chief,” I told him. “He’s cool. He’ll make sure this doesn’t become…” I trailed off as both doors opened, and the chief andMayor Fussell exited the car.

“Oh, hell no.” I strode forward. “With all due respect to both of you, Chief Turnham, he—” I jabbed a finger at the mayor “—is not allowed into my house.”

Chief Turnham gave me a pained look. “Detective Gillian—”

“No,” I stated as firmly as I could. I planted myself in my driveway between them and my house. “He’s not law enforcement. He has zero jurisdiction or authorization to enter my residence. I absolutely do not give consent for him to enter.”

I swung around to the deputy who was watching the proceedings with thinly veiled amusement. “If he sets foot anywhere inside my residence or any of the outbuildings, I intend to press charges for trespassing.”

The deputy grinned, spat a stream of brown onto my gravel. “Works for me.”

The mayor narrowed his eyes, then turned to the chief. “Robert, are you going to put up with this?”

Chief Turnham looked from me to the mayor and spread his hands. “Not much I can do. She’s right.”

Mayor Fussell’s face flushed red as he rounded on the deputy. “This woman is suspected of serial murder. Do you seriously intend to keep me from assisting in the search for evidence?”

The deputy spat another stream of tobacco juice then hiked his belt up. “With all due respect, yer mayorness, you ain’t a cop,” he drawled in his thick country accent, “and Louisiana Revised Statute title fourteen section sixty-two point three says that if she says yer ass can’t go in there and you do, then I can arrest yer ass.” He folded his arms over his broad chest and smiled a gap-toothed smile at the mayor.

Mayor Fussell’s face went cold, and he turned and stalked back to the car without another word. The chief sighed heavily. “Gillian, I respect that you have the right to ban him from your house, but was that really necessary?”