Maggie looked as though she was about to put me in my place, but she didn’t get the chance. The door to the morgue opened and the inspector and Chief Constable Morgan stepped out. We watched the inspector walk down the hall. Only when he’d rounded the corner and his steps had faded did the chief constable speak.
He scratched his mustache. “So far, we’ve been able to keep the media out of this, but the individual who discovered Harrison’s body works with the newspaper in Douglas. They’re printing a story on it today.”
He seemed weary. “This is going to make the investigation that much more difficult.”
“We’ll deal with what comes at us,” Maggie said.
“I’m sure we will,” the chief constable said. “If anyone asks you all about the case, your job is to refer them to our station’s contact information. Do not disclose anything yourself.
“I’m going to head up to my office to put together a statement for the inevitable press conference.” He tapped my shoulder and looked at Maggie. “Can I borrow Gabrielle for a moment?”
I didn’t like the sound of his voice. I could already tell by his inflection that I wouldn’t like whatever he wanted to discuss.
“Of course,” Maggie said.
I gave them both sullen looks. What about my consent?
“Great, I’ll chat with you later then, Maggie.” Chief Constable Morgan began walking, while I stood in place, refusing to budge.
Maggie gave me the stink eye.
“Alright, alright,” I huffed. I jogged up to the chief constable, who didn’t appear to notice that I hadn’t been following him.
We didn’t speak until I entered his office.
I took a seat and gazed about the room. It was disappointingly ordinary. I would’ve thought that the guy in charge of policing the supernatural community would just ooze otherness. But nope. He had just your standard plaques and photographs, along with a business card holder and a marble paperweight.
Chief Constable Morgan sat down behind his desk. “Gabrielle, I wanted to discuss this investigation with you privately.”
I studied the man in front of me. I had no idea what type of supernatural he was.
“The community is going to hang you.”
I physically jolted at his words. “Excuse me?” I asked.
“Not literally—but you might wish it after shitstorm they’re going to put you through. You’re the newest vampire. And it’s no secret that you haven’t been meeting with your coven.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t realize that was common knowledge.”
Chief Constable Morgan leaned back in his chair. “I don’t blame you for choosing to avoid the coven—assisting in the death of dozens of vampires couldn’t have endeared you to them.”
Chief Constable Morgan: the epitome of tactfulness. Not.
“However,” he continued, “the community will be concerned—and the Politia is already concerned—that you aren’t learning to control your abilities appropriately.”
“You think I’m guilty.” I knew it. I knew they felt this way.
“No, no. You have an alibi and we’ve found no evidence that would link you to the crime.” His answer was not really the vote of confidence I needed to hear. “But the supernatural community will assume that you, the youngest, least experienced vampire, are behind the attacks.”
“But you’ve proven I’m not a suspect.”
The chief constable lifted his shoulders. “Public opinion can run counter to and flourish in spite of the facts. If that happens, your education and employment are not guaranteed.”
If he was saying what I thought he was, then my continued work at the Politia and my enrollment in Peel Academy rested on solving this case and preventing the supernatural community from flaying me. A sense of déjà vu washed over me. This wasn’t the first time my genetics had posed such a problem.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“You need to reconnect to your coven. You need to get ahold of Andre.”
***
Chief Constable Morgan kept talking, but I still hadn’t gotten past his words. You need to get ahold of Andre. The thought filled me with both excitement and dread.
“Gabrielle? Are you listening to me?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We want you to reconnect with the coven, both so that you can manage your cravings and so that you can keep an eye on the local vampires.”
Now that was just funny. “You want me to keep an eye on the local vampires? The ones that probably want to eat me?”
“It may seem difficult, but—”
I laughed, even though the situation wasn’t funny. “It’s not going to be difficult. Learning how to drive a manual transmission is difficult. What you’re asking me to do is suicide.”
“We need to catch a killer,” he said.
“You’re throwing me to the wolves.”