Page 89 of Found Objects

“I don’t think questioning me about my personal life falls within HR guidelines.”

“Well, it’s certainly lucky we don’t have any HR anything, then.”

“I think we should. Don’t you think we should?”

She was quiet a moment. “I’ve worked here for ten years and we’ve never had an issue, so I’m gonna say we just don’t worry about it, and furthermore, when you come into work tomorrow, we’re going to expect all the details.”

“Killing me.”

“Just say yes or I’m driving to your house.”

I groaned. “Yes. Fine.”

She was cackling when she hung up.

I realized as I stood there and stared at my cell phone that for a powerful primordial being, no one I knew was scared of me in the least. That was probably a good thing.

Thinking we were going to need coffee, I got busy in the kitchen making some. I used the blend with chicory because it was really good on cold, rainy mornings. Cole was still talking to everyone on the doorstep, giving me time to pull down an assortment of mugs, since nothing of mine matched. The Bower got all the pieces that came out of the kiln perfectly shaped and glazed. The experiments, the ones where something had dripped or a color came out just funky, those lived with me in a wide variety of shapes and sizes.

When I finally turned, I was surprised to find Abel, Narah, and Justin in my living room as well as the police officers.

“Good morning, Mr. Baker,” the younger of the two women said, striding over to me with her hand out. Her black hair and dark brown eyes were quite striking. “I’m Detective Rosario Fuentes, I’m a homicide detective from Manhattan, and this is my partner, Yolanda Washington.”

“Good to meet you.” I took her hand and then her partner’s. “How do you two like your coffee?”

“Milk, no sugar for me,” Fuentes said, smiling, not doing the thing law enforcement did sometimes where they turned down a warm beverage on a cold day. “And milk and cinnamon for my partner.”

“Absolutely. Would you like to sit in here or over by the fire?”

“By the fire, please.” Washington smiled at me as well before making a beeline for the sectional.

“Mere—” Cole gestured at the troopers. “—this is captain Nolan Soames of the West Virginia State Police, and troopers Dom Sorvino and Blake Fulton.”

“Good morning,” I greeted them. “Would you like coffee?”

“Please,” Soames said quickly. “That would be great.”

I set up a little area on the island in the kitchen with creamer and sugar, then carried the mugs over to the detectives already seated.

“This is a gorgeous mug.” Fuentes lifted it up so she could see the bottom.

“It’s mine,” I told her. “I mean, I made it. That’s my potter’s mark.”

“It’s got a great weight to it.”

“That’s high praise,” Washington told me. “She’s very picky about her drinkware.”

I smiled as I sat down near them, and Cole and the others joined us. He had brought me a mug with cream only, which I appreciated.

Fuentes straightened up and looked at Cole with her dark brown eyes. “Mr. Swann⁠—”

“That’ll get confusing fast,” he told her. “Please just call me Cole.”

“Cole,” she repeated. “As your uncle, Abel Swann, is the contact on record who was given the death notification when your father died in a car accident, we wanted to include him. We appreciate you allowing him and his wife and your cousin to be here, as it saves us time.”

“Of course.”

“We went to their home first this morning, since that’s the address we had on file for you. We were told when we arrived that you and your brother are staying here.”