Page 100 of The Diamond in the Rough

“Better storytelling?” I suggested.

She snorted, but before I could get into it, our server appeared to take our orders. Violette asked for the shared appetizer plate, and then we each got a sandwich—a tomatojack melt for Violette, and a Bar ‘B’ Quban for me. It would probably be more food than we needed, but I could take half my actual lunch for dinner, which would help to justify the expense.

“So whatcanyou tell me?” she asked, when the server had delivered her Coco Rico and my limeade and disappeared again.

I sighed, slowly turning the limeade in my hands, the sides of the glass sweaty with condensation. “That I had to go back to Tranquil Brook,” I said softly.

“What?!” At least she hissed it instead of screaming, although her shock and horror were clear even without volume. “It’s stillrunning?!”

I shook my head. “No, it isn’t. At least, not where it used to be. Raj and Hart determined that the people taking your parents’ money were scammers—maybe former employees of the original facility, maybe not. But I guess that’s fraud division, so it’s not their case.”

“But somebody’s looking into it?”

I nodded. Or so Hart had told me, anyway.

“But you had to go back anyway? Why?”

“There was… a connection,” I replied.

“Other than you, you mean?”

I nodded again. “Yeah. I—can’t get more specific, but we had to go there to look for evidence that would make… connections.”

“Why didyouhave to go?” she asked. “Isn’t looking for evidence the job of the police or FBI or whatever?”

“They were there,” I replied. “But they needed me to… check who things belonged to.”

Her green-grey eyes widened. “Psychically, you mean?”

I nodded once more.

“Whoa.” She seemed to think about this for a minute. “I bet that fucking sucked,” she said, then.

I couldn’t help the slightly startled laugh that slipped out. “Yes,” I agreed. “It definitely did.”

Violette had sentme off with half of her sandwich and platanos as well as my own, given how big our shared appetizer had been, telling me that she was going shopping and didn’t want to carry it—and, besides, it would just go bad before she got it to a fridge. She’d hugged me tightly before she left, promising pictures and souvenirs from her trip and begging me to be careful finishing up the case.

I promised to do my best, but I’d reassured her again and again that I wasn’t in any danger—not any real danger, anyway, just the psychological kind—doing what I did for the FBI and Beyond the Veil. Nobody knew who I was, and undoubtedly cared even less. I wasn’t a threat, never had been, and never would be, as far as most people were concerned.

Besides, I can take care of myself.

I’m a death witch. I have the ability to kill with a touch—or without one.

I wondered what the law would say about that particular ability, if I ever had to use it again. Or, for that matter, if anyone ever found out that what had happened to my uncle hadn’t been an accident.

I knew there was no statute of limitations on murder.

Of course, the fact that I’d been six years old might make a difference. Maybe also the fact that I could argue self-defense.

I knew that’s how Ward justified it. He knew I’d killedmy uncle, even if he thought it was mostly an accident. That I’d lashed out with my magic and that it had resulted in his death when he fell.

The only people who knew different were now dead.

I’d never forget the expression on my mother’s face. The shock, horror, fear—and disgust. She’d despised me for what I’d done. I’d always wondered if that was because I’d killed my uncle or, and this was what I thought more likely, because of thewayI’d killed him. Witch magic.

The reason my parents had sent me to Tranquil Brook.

The place I thought I’d gotten away from.