An older couple stood inside near the door, but there was no sign of Zack or Ryan.
“They’re in the back,” the woman said before I could ask, jerking a thumb toward the opposite wall. I looked where she’d indicated and saw the outline of a door that I’d missed seeing at first. “Agent Kristoff is looking for an umbrella.” She looked out sourly at the sky. The rain had slacked off considerably on my way over here, and I personally didn’t think an umbrella was necessary for the twenty-foot walk to what I assumed was their car—the only car in the lot that wasn’t obviously some sort of official vehicle. But since I wasn’t the one who had to go hunting up an umbrella, I kept my opinion to myself.
“Thanks,” I said instead. The sour look remained on her face, though the man with her gave me a gentle smile. I figured them both to be in their late fifties or so, but there was a pallor about the man that made me suspect he was sick—and not with something that would soon pass.
The door in the back wall opened and Ryan emerged, carrying a large black umbrella. “Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Galloway. I’ll walk you out to your car.” He gave me a smile and a slight nod of acknowledgment, then held the door open and the umbrella ready for the couple. He escorted them to their car, carefully shielding them from the few drops of rain that still fell, then jogged back to the office as they pulled out of the small parking lot.
He wasn’t smiling when he returned.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He made a rude noise in the back of his throat. “Would be better if I had victims who could understand that if they aren’t willing to testify, then there’s not much I can do for them.”
I gave a sympathetic grimace. “Who are they? Or can’t you tell me?”
“Sam and Sara Galloway. They used to own a popular—and profitable—restaurant on the lakefront called Sam and Sara’s.”
I had a vague recollection of a restaurant by that name. I didn’t eat out much, so I wasn’t exactly up on the local cuisine. “They went out of business some time ago, right?”
“About ten years ago. They were forced out of business, but I can’t really go into more detail right now.”
I shook my head. “Then don’t. Where’s Zack?”
Ryan nodded toward the back door just as Zack emerged. Blond and tan, Agent Zachary Garner resembled a lifeguard more than a federal agent. It didn’t help that he looked like he was barely twenty, though I knew he surely had to be older to be a federal agent.
“Good to see you again, Detective Gillian,” he said with a broad smile.
“Likewise, Agent Garner,” I replied, then grinned as he came forward and gave me a hug. “Good grief, Zack, what did you do to your hair? Did you try to highlight it?”
He ran a hand over his head and gave me a sheepish smile. “Yeah. I was trying for blond tips, but it didn’t quite work out.”
I eyed him. “Your hair was already blond. Now you have …”
“Orange,” Ryan stated. “You can dance around it all you want, but the truth is that his hair is Oompa Loompa orange.”
“Well, just the tips,” I said, “but, yeah. Wow. You need to get someone to fix that.”
“I’ve already made the appointment,” Zack assured me with a smile. “You look quite dressed up. Court?”
“Funeral.” I made a face. “Victim from a case I had over the weekend—parish councilman who was ass end up in the shower. At first we thought it was an accidental positional asphyxiation, but now it’s looking like a homicide.” I took a deep breath and looked over at Ryan. “He was like Brian Roth. I mean, he had no essence left either.”
Ryan frowned. “Missing? Or consumed?”
I fought the urge to shiver. “Consumed. So it definitely wasn’t an isolated event with Brian.”
“Can you fill me in?” Zack asked. I did so, quickly outlining the pertinent details. Special Agent Zack Garner was also well informed about the arcane, though I had no idea if he had any particular talent for anything of that ilk.
He looked intensely troubled after I finished. “Only those two so far?”
“Yeah, but that’s two more than I’m comfortable with.” I paused. “I shouldn’t even be using the word comfortable at all. Frankly, it worries the shit out of me.”
“I can understand that,” Zack said, brow creased. “What was the councilman’s name?”
“Davis Sharp. He owned Sharp’s restaurant, among others.”
The frown deepened on Zack’s face, and he and Ryan exchanged a look. “Is there any connection between him and the other one?” Zack asked me.
“I don’t know that yet. I still have a lot of digging to do. Brian probably ate at Sharp’s every now and then, but other than that I got nothin’.” I frowned at the two of them. “Do y’all know something about this?”