Flame in the Dark (Soulwood #3)(88)

Rick said, “We don’t have probable cause to request that the remains be DNA tested. And I’m sure rich-as-sin Justin Tolliver and the senator would resist an invasion of privacy that might imply anyone was somehow culpable in Sonya’s death or that they were hiding something.”

Soul said, “Jones, put in a request to have extra samples taken and held for possible future DNA comparisons. If the body hasn’t been picked up and if the techs or the pathologist is in a receptive mood we might get our wish. But I won’t hold my breath.”

“Any tissue left after toxicology testing would be held for a time in the lab before disposal,” Rick said. “If we find probable cause, we’d have a narrow time frame to get a warrant and then claim the tissue. We need to talk to Justin. And the senator and his wife. And Devin, if the father approves. And the gray-skinned nanny. Because it’s possible we’re looking at this all wrong. We’re still thinking paranormal turf war. What if it’s simply nonhuman lineage and paperwork? A way to keep the money in the family. Like vampires do.”

T. Laine said, “So they burn Sonya to death? You’re suggesting that they’re long-lived and are covering their tracks by killing people? If so, then the body in the limo wasn’t Sonya Tolliver. It’s a body they picked up to arrange a legal death certificate. But that would indicate the possibility that they murdered someone in the fire. And what happened to the real Sonya? Where is she? And what about the kid? No one could have foreseen that Devin would be saved by Soul. Was he supposed to die? This theory doesn’t work.”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Rick said. “I’m saying we haven’t dug deep enough.”

“Too many unanswered questions,” Soul said. “Our goal right now is to apprehend the unknown subject who’s been shooting up Knoxville. Second order of business is to determine what paranormal species all four of the Tollivers and the Jeffersons are. Not vamps. Not gwyllgi. Not were-creature. Humanoid? Something that produces fire and might live a long time. That might have gray skin.” Soul wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes; she was wearing her working-worried-emotionless face.

JoJo said, “Pulling up my search files. A number of creatures—including Hephaestus, who was the Greek god of blacksmiths, craftsmen, artisans, sculptors, metals, metallurgy, fire, and volcanoes. Roman equivalent of Hephaestus is the god Vulcan.”

Occam said, “You think we have gods here? In Knoxville?”

“No,” JoJo said, shoving long braids over her shoulder with a clicking of beads. “But what if we have descendants of some creature that was once worshiped as a god? Sending you all my list. Go over it and see if you can make any connections. There are even a couple of Hindu gods that were traditionally depicted as being blue-skinned.”

Rick said, “Nell, update on your night out.”

I said, “There isn’t much to tell except the thing we’re looking for has been all over the senator’s property. Every single plant on the entire acreage is dead or dying. The psy-meter 2.0 gave me a level four reading. Whatever we’re looking for has recently marked territory there and showed there in the night. If the nanny is one of the creatures we’re looking for, then maybe she let another one or more onto the property. Maybe they had a party there. It’s a big piece of land and every single plant on it is dead, when they were all fine only a day or so ago.”

“Which means the senator is either colluding with her or is in even greater danger,” Rick said. “Occam, get back there. Stay on the senator like white on rice. Do not let him out of your sight, even in the shower.”

Occam sighed, a sound like a cat blowing, and added the senator’s schedule to the overhead screens. “His entire day is booked with appointments with his constituents. The first one is breakfast with the Small Business Association. The man treats his voters right. Even with a death in the family, he’s keeping appointments.”

Rick said, “Get over there. E-mail an updated schedule to us as soon as it’s confirmed. JoJo will update you via text or e-mail on anything new that comes up before we conclude the meeting and anything we find during the day. Keep your eyes open. Do some good.”

“On it, boss.” Occam stood and swung a leg over the back of his chair. He had been straddling the chair, his arms braced on the back. I carefully didn’t look his way, but I was completely aware of him as he left the room. And I felt some odd unexplained tension leave my body when he was gone.

“Nell,” Rick said.

I jerked at my name, as if I’d been caught daydreaming in church.

“Every single appearance of the shooter has been at night,” he said. “I want you at the senator’s property with your hand in the earth every single night, all night, until this is solved. I know it’s a lot to ask, but we need to get ahead of this guy and you’re the only one who has even half a chance to find the shooter before he strikes.”

I dropped my chin, indicating that I understood what he was saying, but it was also the most dangerous job on this case. It put me right at the most likely location of the next crime scene. “Backup?” I asked.

“You’ll have it. I know I’m asking something that’s difficult. Energy draining. Unlike the others, I don’t want you pulling sixteen-hour shifts. I want you home and in your bed, to recuperate between shifts. Twelve hours on, twelve off. Go home. Get some sleep.”