“Did you find anything in Hellriver?” Ethan asked, bringing my grandfather’s attention back to him.
“No. They’d cleared out the entire building other than a few pieces of furniture. If there was anything that tied the building to Reed, it was gone by the time we got there.”
“Damn,” Ethan said. “There’d been file boxes in the dock area. Dozens of them. Merit had suspected it was paperwork, maybe records of improper business dealings by Reed.”
My grandfather’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you that we might have gotten to it if you’d phoned us earlier.”
“You do not,” Ethan said. “That was also my call.”
“Next time,” my grandfather said, “make better calls.”
The cops walked back to us again. “Mr. Merit, we need to get these two to the station, get them processed. You know how it goes.” The CPD might have given my grandfather some deference, but we were still criminals.
“I do,” my grandfather said, then glanced at Ethan. “I’ll warn Malik. And have them put the House on alert. Just in case.”
• • •
We were driven to the nearest station in the back of a cruiser, processed, and separated, stuck in separate rooms for interviews.
My room was small, with a hard tile floor and a small table with four chairs. The wall beside the door was mirrored. Probably two-way glass so people in the hallway could look in on the woman in the fancy party dress who was mentally kicking her boyfriend.
I was a well-dressed cautionary tale.
I’d been sitting alone for fifteen minutes when the door opened. Instinctively, I sat up straight.
The woman who walked in was tall and slender with dark skin, wavy brown hair, and very serious brown eyes. She wore dark trousers, and a cream silk top beneath a fitted taupe blazer that curled into pleats across the bottom, showing long and elegant legs. There were pearls at her ears and throat, and a no-nonsense handbag on her arm. She set down the bag and a leather padfolio on the table, pulled out a chair for herself, and sat down.
“You’re Merit.” Her expression was as no-nonsense as the bag.
I nodded.
“I’m Jennifer Jacobs. Arthur Jacobs’s daughter.”
Arthur Jacobs was the CPD detective and ally my grandfather had mentioned. He’d actually been the cop who responded to Reed’s previous call.
“Did he send you?” I asked.
“He asked me to check in on you, make sure you’re all right. I’m an attorney,” she said, checking her phone when it buzzed, then sliding it back into a slim pocket on the side of her purse. “Not your attorney. I’m not offering you representation, nor am I representing you with respect to any criminal complaint that Adrien Reed may file. I’m just doing my father a favor.”
A favor, by her tone and lengthy disclaimer, that she wasn’t thrilled about. But since she was here, I could be gracious.
“Then thanks to you both. It’s nice to meet you, if under these circumstances.”
Jennifer didn’t respond, but took a good look at me, then linked her hands on the table.
“I’m going to tell you something, Merit,” she said, her gaze direct. “My father is a good cop. A good father and a good cop. He doesn’t need trouble.”
I was getting tired of this speech. “We haven’t brought him any trouble.”
“All evidence to the contrary.” She sat back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other. “He has some kind of affinity for supernaturals, probably because he’s friends with Chuck Merit. He should be captain right now. Was close to it, until he began involving himself in supernatural affairs.”
“In my eyes, that’s something to respect him for.”
“In my eyes, it’s something that could get him killed.”
And there it was. I sympathized, but I was sick of taking undeserved blame.
“We’re not troublemakers, although our enemies enjoy painting us that way. They also enjoy targeting us because of who we are, because we’re different. I have a great deal of respect for your father, because he understands that. I’m sorry you have to worry for him. I worry for my grandfather. But their involvement is their choice.”
“You’re frank,” she said.
“I don’t see the point of not being frank.” My voice softened, considering what her family had recently been through. “I’m very sorry about your brother. I understand he was a wonderful young man.”
Her brother, Brett, had been targeted by a serial killer whose latent crazy had been triggered by unrequited love.
Jennifer’s expression tightened. “That should help you understand my concern.”
“I understand it, but I didn’t cause it, and I’m not sure what you think I could possibly do about it.”
“Don’t involve him in your troublemaking.”
I linked my hands on the table, leaned forward. “Ms. Jacobs, I don’t know you. I don’t know your father very well, but like I said, I respect him. His intelligence, his sense of fairness, and his ability to think critically about supernaturals. I would suggest you spend a little less time accusing vampires and a little more time listening to what he actually has to say. Your attitude? It’s exactly what he’s fighting against.”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m not concerned about your people. I’m concerned with mine, as they aren’t immortal. Stay away from my father, and we won’t have any problems.”