“Come with me.”
A quick glance at the clock told her it was smack at the end of his working day. He’d saved it for last. Aurora’s stomach sank, imagining the relish he was going to take in it, especially after such a public debacle.
His face was unreadable, but the others in the room sure were. Varying degrees of pity and victory called out to her. Just before she stepped into the hallway, she caught Gotho’s glance, and he gave her a sympathetic grimace. At least somebody was going to miss her.
They walked in silence down the hallway, Keenan not even turning to look at her. Was there some conference room where they did the firing? Would there be more superiors there to make it all official?
At last, he stepped through the doorway to the cafeteria. Perplexed, Aurora followed him into the open, fluorescent-bright room. Stepping up to the counter, he looked at her for the first time.
“Regular or decaf?”
“Um. What?”
He shrugged lightly at her and turned back to the woman at the register.
“Two regulars. Leave room.”
Coffee in hand, he trod over and crammed his hand into the bins, coming up with a handful of creamers and more sugar than it would take to bake a cake. That done, he picked a table in the big, empty room and slumped into a chair.
Aurora hovered opposite him, her own mug clutched between her hands like a shield. Paul ran a hand over his head and only then seemed to notice that she hadn’t taken a seat. He waved a loose hand toward the chair opposite him.
“Rough day, huh?” he said as she settled herself. “Too bad, really. Still, don’t let it get you down, Rhonelle. Some days you eat the bear and some days the bear eats you.”
She was gob smacked. His expression was sympathetic in a way she had always thought beyond him. Was it possible she wasn’t here to get canned?
“Excuse me, sir, but…am I fired?”
“Fired?” His eyebrows shot up as he peeled back the top of one of the creamers. “Are you kidding? Look, if we fired everyone who caught a bad break, this building would have a For Sale sign on it. Fuck that.”
Only then did Aurora realize she’d been holding her breath. Reaching out, she tentatively took a thimble of creamer for herself. The coffee at the Judiciary was far more bitter than what she made at Hollow House, so she watched him hard to see how he made it more palatable.
“Look, you’ve been busting your ass over this thing. Don’t think I didn’t notice. What were the chances old Abernathy would end up dead over it? That’s nobody’s fault. Well, it’s somebody’s fault, but certainly not yours. From what the coroner tells me, he was in the drink days before the trial started, so you’re off the hook for not bringing him in too.”
Relief flooded into every crevice of her body. After the fierce look she’d seen earlier in the day, it was as if she was sitting opposite a completely different man. He looked older, but far more relaxed. Almost paternal.
“You’re a good kid, Aurora. Okay if I call you that?”
“Sure.” She burned her lips just a bit, and went for more creamer to cut the acrid taste.
“This stuff is shit. Ain’t it? You get used to it, I guess. So... get used to it.” He smiled at her perplexed look. “Look, you do good work. I didn’t want to give you a big head, but more than being a smart dresser got you the gig. So this one didn’t break in your favor, but at least you found the body.”
“And... that’s a good thing?”
“Are you kidding?” he said again. “You’ve been moping around, wondering if you were gonna get fired. Haven’t you? Lemme tell you something, Aurora. What you did today was legendary. And I don’t fire legends.”
“Really?” She blushed, tucking her chin, but he just let out a full-throated guffaw.
“Come on! You pulled the body of a missing witness up from the bottom of the sea while bungee jumping. If that’s not some epic shit, I don’t know what is.”
He shook out his sugar packets, and Aurora felt an unaccountable affection for him. So much that she was even starting to find his casual vulgarity endearing.
“Not only that, but dig this, little miss. Tomorrow, I’m going to file the paperwork to make you a full investigator. No more of this junior shit for you. You’re past that.”
Aurora’s heart rose like a phoenix from the ashes. Her first thought was how excited Dane would be to hear the news, but she caught herself. Even with all of this, she needed to be careful about falling for him too hard. Her job might be saved, but her heart was too fragile to invest in a losing bargain.
“I just…” she started, but her throat locked up on her for a moment. “I guess I just want to say thank you. For trusting me.”
“Meh,” he waved her off again, “like I said, it all came down to your work ethic. That’s what those other clowns are short on.”
By now, her coffee was so full of cream and sugar, it could barely be called coffee anymore. Still, it was drinkable—even if it was going to keep her up all night. After the highs and lows of the day, sleep was going to be in short supply anyway.
“Here’s the thing that gets me,” Paul said, sipping at his own concoction. “Who would want to eighty-six ol’ Abernathy? I mean, sure, he saw that shithead stealing some potion, but that’s pretty small potatoes. Right?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Aurora said, trailing off before explaining herself, still nervous about keeping her job secure.
“Lay it on me.”
“It’s just... Okay, so the potion Finch took was powerful, but was that really enough to kill someone over? At most he would have received a year, if that. Ever since this whole thing started, I’ve been wondering why some low-grade thief like Griffin Finch would want that stuff anyway.”
“That’s first-class thinking. But still, Finch is a career criminal. He most likely thought he could earn a pretty penny on the black market. Hell, a guy like that might pull some shit just to see what he could get away with.”
“Maybe? I don’t know.” She fell into contemplation of the horrid drink in her hands.
“Gotta admit, I didn’t peg him as the type to go killing people though.”
“Oh, but he didn’t!” She was so certain, she caught Paul with his mug at his lips.
“No? So we don’t have to worry about him running around out there like Othercross’s very own Jack the Ripper?”
“No, for a couple of reasons. Finch is dead.”
Paul’s face shifted, shock flashing across it.
“Say that again.”
“It’s true. I saw his body not long ago. If I were to bet, the authorities are still working the crime scene.”
“I didn’t know that. How exactly did you end up stumbling across the scene? Tripping over two dead bodies in twenty-four is some real fucking luck.”
“It wasn’t luck, actually. After the triune closed the case this morning and Finch bolted out of the courtroom, Dane Hensley and I tracked his scent. Well, he did it in his wolf form, but we were together. It all just seemed too convenient. You know? I had a feeling all of this went deeper than a relatively minor theft. Now that Finch’s throat was cut, I’m sure of it.”