taken, no blood marks or indications of magical harm. Tara had died because she’d been
as stupid as Alex and no one had come to rescue her in time. She hadn’t found Jesus or
yoga, and no one had offered her a scholarship to Yale.
It was time to leave. She had her answers. This should be enough to appease Hellie’s
memory and Darlington’s judgment too. But something was still tugging at her, that sense
of familiarity she’d felt at the crime scene that had nothing to do with Tara’s blond hair or the sad, parallel tracks of their lives.
“Should we go?” she asked the coroner standing in the corner in his scrubs, looking vaguely at nothing.
“Whatever you like,” he said.
Alex closed the drawer.
“I think I’d like to sleep for eighteen hours,” Alex said on a sigh. “Walk me out and tell
Moira everything went fine.”
She opened the door and strolled straight into Detective Abel Turner.
He seized her arm and drove her backward into the room, slamming the door behind
him. “What the living fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Hey!” Alex said cheerfully. “You made it.”
The coroner hovered behind him. “Are we going?” he asked. “Stay there a minute,”
said Alex. “Turner, you’re gonna want to let go of me.”
“You don’t tell me what I want. And what the hell is wrong with him?”
“He’s having a good night,” said Alex, her heart pounding in her chest. Abel Turner did
not lose his cool. He was always smiling, always calm. But something in Alex liked him
better this way.
“Did you lay hands on that girl?” he said, fingers digging into her skin. “Her body is
evidence and you are tampering with it. That’s a crime.”
Alex thought about kneeing Turner in the nuts, but that wasn’t what you did with a cop,
so she went limp. Completely limp. It was a strategy she’d learned to use with Len.
“What the hell?” He tried to hold her up as she slumped against him, then released her.
“What is wrong with you?” He wiped his hand on his arm as if her weakness were catching.
“Plenty,” Alex said. She managed to right herself before she actually fell, making sure
to stay out of his reach. “What kind of stuff were Tara and Lance getting into?”
“I beg your pardon?”
She thought of Lance’s face floating above her. I’m sorry. What had they been using that final night together? “What were they dealing? Acid? Molly? I know it wasn’t just
pot.”
Turner’s eyes narrowed, his old, smooth demeanor slipping back into place. “Like
everything else related to this case, that is none of your business.”
“Were they dealing to students? To the societies?”
“They had a long roster.”
“Who?”
Turner shook his head. “Let’s go. Now. ”
He reached for her arm but she sidestepped him. “You can stay here,” Alex told the coroner. “The handsome Detective Turner will see me out.”
“What did you do to him?” Turner muttered as they stepped into the hall.
“Freaky shit.”
“This isn’t a joke, Ms. Stern.”
As he hustled her down the hall, Alex said, “I’m not doing this for fun either, you get
that? I don’t like being Dante. You don’t like being Centurion, but these are our jobs and
you’re screwing it up for both of us.”
Turner looked slightly put out by that. Of course, it wasn’t really true. Sandow had told
her to stand down. Rest easy.
They stepped into the waiting room. Dawes was nowhere to be seen. “I told your friend
to wait in the car,” said Turner. “At least she has the sense to know when she fucks up.”
And not a single warning. Dawes was a crap lookout.
Moira Adams smiled from the desk. “You get your moment, hon?”
Alex nodded. “I did. Thank you.”
“I’ll have your family in my prayers. Good night, Detective Turner.”
“You do some freaky shit to her too?” Turner asked as they stepped into the cold.
Alex rubbed her arms miserably. She wanted her coat. “Didn’t have to.”
“I told Sandow I’d keep him up-to-date. If I thought any of the young psychopaths under your care were connected, I would be pursuing it.”