Page 98 of One Shattered Crown
Ashner sets his knuckles on the table. “We were told exactly where to look. That gives us credibility. The warrant was for a very small patch.”
That sounds reasonable. I’m done talking. I need to get Ella alone and safely away from this mess, and we still haven’t discussed the fact that she hijacked my fire suppression system.
Fergus stands, his chair feet rasping across the floor.
Ashner blocks the way with a flat palm. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Are you going to arrest me?” I stand, towering over him. He’s probably only six feet tall.
He swallows.
Detective Caldwell pushes away from the table andrises with economic motions. “I don’t think we need to arrest you at this point, especially since it would cause a media frenzy. Surrender your passport, and we’ll continue to build this case against you.”
She doesn’t think I killed him. I can appreciate that. She knows I’m smart enough not to bury a body on my own property. Passport surrender means they want control of my range and time. It also means they don’t have what they want yet.
Like I need a passport. “Of course,” I murmur.
“Who do you think killed him, if it wasn’t you?” she asks. The question is predictable.
“I have no idea,” I say. “If I were looking, I’d guess Sylveria Rendale got pissed at her lover for some reason. She’d bury a body on my property.”
Caldwell closes the file with two fingers. “We’ll interview her stepdaughter, Ella Rendale, next.”
“No,” I answer.
Caldwell smiles. “I don’t think that’s up to you.”
“Let’s go.” Fergus steps to the door and holds it open. I move into the hallway with him. Ella stands next to Wynd, blowing her nose.
I’m worried the run through the rainy forest has given her a cold. The woman needs sleep.
Rosalie Mooncrest strides toward us, flanked by Alexei’s men in a tight, practiced formation. Polished shoes hammer a steady beat on the tile. The corridor narrows under their approach.
Ah, fuck. How did Ella get word to her friend?
Rosalie lifts a hand. “Ella. I’m here.” Her black hair is loose over her shoulders. She wears cherry red lipstickand a navy suit, looking sharp and professional, even at this late hour.
“Thanks for coming,” Ella says. "Sorry no drinks tonight."
Detective Caldwell steps out from behind me. “Ms. Rendale? We’d like to speak with you.”
Rosalie moves in front of Ella and angles her shoulders to block the lane. Alexei’s men come alert and space out along the wall. “I don’t think so,” she says. “I need to speak with my client before she talks to anyone, and you have no right to hold her.” She cuts me a quick smile. “Hi, Justice. How’s it hanging?”
I don’t like this at all. “Ella, you’re coming with me,” I say.
“I don’t believe so,” Rosalie murmurs. “She’s coming with me.”
Alexei’s men tighten their formation. Hands hover near jackets.
Wynd shifts his weight toward Ella and stiffens when two guards slide a half step forward.
Ella gives me the sweetest smile imaginable. “It’s been fun, Justice, but I’m going to go.”
She knows I won’t throw her over my shoulder in the middle of a police station. I take one step closer and keep my voice low. “I strongly recommend you come with me. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Nope,” she says, chipper as ever, and threads her arm through Rosalie’s. “Like I said, it’s been fun.” She turns with a quick grin. “I’m starving, Rosy. Have you eaten dinner?”
I watch her and Rosalie walk down the hall, the line of Alexei’s men sealing around them.
