“What if I don’t?” Jesse challenged. “What if I call my supervisor and report the murder? Or what if I take Scarlett and run?”
The vampires were already very still, but suddenly it seemed like the room around them was frozen. Jesse expected Beatrice to speak next, to jump in with her placating tone, but it was Dashiell who said, in a cool, unaffected voice, “That would never happen. She would never go with you.”
Jesse’s brow furrowed. The vampire was too confident about what Scarlett would decide. “You have leverage, don’t you? What do you have on her?”
He didn’t realize he was meeting Dashiell’s eyes until the vampire sent a little shiver of pull in Jesse’s direction, just enough to remind him who had the power here. “More than enough,” Dashiell informed him.
“Then my answer is no,” Jesse said firmly.
There was a long, loaded silence. Then Dashiell stood up and strode over to the glass doors, staring out at the darkened patio with his hands clasped behind his back. Jesse could see his reflection in the glass, but the vampire’s expression was unreadable. “I could force you, you know,” Dashiell mused. He didn’t turn around. Jesse said nothing, and after a moment the vampire went on, his voice toneless and detached. “It is what I have done in the past, with other humans. But my wife has persuaded me to try something different in this situation. She believes you are different.”
Jesse glanced at Beatrice with surprise. As far as he’d known, Beatrice hadn’t given him another thought since the last time he’d been in front of her. But now the female vampire gave him a small, reassuring smile and a little nod.
“So I am going to make you an offer,” Dashiell said, turning to face Jesse, “and I suggest you take it, because you won’t get a better one from me.”
His tone clearly implied that Jesse could, however, get a worse offer. “What is it?” Jesse demanded.
“I will arrange for you to have a few days off of work, no questions asked. Make up whatever excuse you like for your coworkers. During that time you will help Scarlett find the perpetrator, with my support and authority behind you. You will report nothing you see or do to any other member of the LAPD. Nothing,” he added again, pushing power into the word so Jesse flinched. “Beatrice?” he said, turning to look at his wife.
She rifled through the stack of papers on the table and pulled out a single sheet, which she leaned over and handed to Jesse. He glanced at it and looked at Dashiell. “These are LAPD transfer papers,” he said incredulously. “And they’re already signed.” Jesse had known that Dashiell had contacts in the LAPD, and he’d seen the vampire wield power over the police force before. But this wasn’t a brief, unofficial word, this was . . . paperwork.
Dashiell nodded. “If you can solve this case, and show me that you can protect our way of life despite your misgivings,” he stated, “at the end of the week I will arrange for you to be transferred to Homicide Special.”
Jesse’s mouth gaped. Homicide Special was the LAPD’s elite investigative squad, with jurisdiction over the whole city. Homicide Special detectives had fewer cases and were able to spend more time cultivating each investigation. There were only a couple dozen detectives in the unit, and every time a spot opened up there were at least a hundred applicants.
“There’s more,” Dashiell continued. “If another case should come up involving the Old World, I will have it assigned to Homicide Special. You can work on it from there, in a relatively official capacity. Depending on circumstances, you might not be able to arrest a perpetrator—”
“It’s not what you proposed, we know,” Beatrice broke in softly. “But it’s a good start, Detective.”
Will, who had been silent throughout, nodded his agreement, though a troubled expression still stained his features.
Jesse looked away then, trying to pretend for a moment that he was alone. Homicide Special . . . That was the dream for any detective who didn’t want to end up spending every day behind a desk. He had hoped to apply himself in maybe a decade. And Dashiell was offering a shortcut.
But his instinct was to refuse. It wouldn’t be fair to the other detectives, for one thing. There would also be gossip and attention over his swift rise, and Jesse hated both of those things. Not to mention the whole thing reeked of corruption. There was a line, he told himself, and they’d already gotten him to edge over it more than once. Now they were trying to force him over the line again.
And the worst part was that he sort of wanted to go willingly. That was what was really bothering him, Jesse realized. He felt guilty because he wanted to say yes.
For his entire life, Jesse had always been happy to pay his dues, but now there was a part of him that was bored with hit-and-runs. He knew that there was excitement to be had in the Old World at any given time, and the opportunity to do some real good. For the first time in his career, he was tempted to take the easy way out.
He hated that about himself . . . but he couldn’t just turn it off, either. The chance to investigate Old World crimes on the books, with department resources, was appealing as hell. Maybe if he’d been able to investigate Olivia Powell within the LAPD, things could have turned out differently. Scarlett might not have had to shoot Olivia just to save him from doing it.
Besides, if he had Dashiell backing him, Jesse could have a word with the werewolves who’d threatened Scarlett. But taking a deal from Dashiell just felt . . . wrong. Then again, so did letting people kill each other in the Old World and doing nothing.