“Okay.” Parker raised both hands, palms facing me. “I won’t come near you, but you have to tell me what is wrong with you. Lawson—Sophie, it’s me, it’s Parker. We’re friends, remember? Partners?”
“You’re not my partner! You’re not my friend! You’re not even Parker Hayes!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet, cutting blindly at the air with my broken plate. “Parker Hayes is dead!”
Parker’s eyes went wide, and I saw his jaw twitch. His hands dropped to his sides, tightening into fists. He took another step forward, and I dove behind the other chair, holding it like a cage in front of my body. When Parker finally spoke, his voice was low.
“Sophie, you’ve got to let me explain.”
“You’ve explained enough!” I shouted, wincing at the cliché.
Parker put both fists on his hips. “I haven’t explained anything.”
My heart was pounding in my throat. “Explain it to the police!” I spat.
My eyes traveled to the phone on the end table a few feet away; Parker followed my gaze. “Sophie, no,” he said in a gravelly, deep voice. “You don’t want to do that.”
I looked from the phone to Parker, his cobalt eyes gone wild and fierce. His lips were set in a tight, thin line. I remembered kissing them, and suddenly I wanted to cry.
“Yes, I do,” I whispered hoarsely. “Get out of here or I’ll call the police.”
“Now, Sophie, listen to me. I’ll explain everything, I will. But right now I think I have a lead on Sampson.”
My eye twitched and I glanced up through my bangs at Parker. “Where is he?”
Parker shook his head and held out a hand. “We have reason to believe he headed back to his house before moving on. I need you to take me to Sampson’s house, Sophie.” He beckoned for me, curling his fingers. “Come on?”
“Is he there? Tell me. Just tell me where he is.”
Parker’s stance was firm, the muscle in his jaw twitching again.
I wagged my head, my voice lost in a body-wracking sob. I tried to blink back tears, but they came rushing over my cheeks in hot trails. “Just go.”
Parker’s feet were still rooted, and he held his palm out to me again. “I just need you to promise me you won’t call the police. If you call the police, it will ruin the whole case.”
“You mean it will ruin your little collection.”
A smile broke the ferocity in Parker’s eyes. “Is that what this is about?” He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and rolled back on his heels. “Come on, Sophie, you don’t really think I’m responsible for all these murders, do you?”
“I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know what you might be responsible for. All I know is that you’re not who you say you are, and, and, everyone says you smell weird and Lorraine thinks you know something about Sampson….”
Parker nodded slowly, savoring my answer. “Okay, truth time. I’m not Parker Hayes.”
“I knew that.”
“But I am a detective. Well, sort of.”
I nodded, silently sweeping the apartment for a way to escape. Parker noticed me eyeing the phone again and stepped to the side, his body covering my access to it. I swallowed hard, watching as his hands balled into fists at his side. “I told you, Sophie, you really don’t want to do that.” His words were stiff, cold. “I don’t want to scare you, but you really do need to trust me. You trust me, right?”
I nodded slowly, dumbly. “Sure, Parker,” I whispered, “I trust you. So, you’re sort of a detective?”
Suddenly Parker was a hairsbreadth away from me, his fingers closing over my wrist, his blue eyes focused and exploding with color. “This is going to sound strange and you should know that I’ve never told another human being this before. I don’t even think I’m allowed to.”
I raised one barely interested eyebrow. What? Now he’s a zombie? Werevamp? Shapeshifter? Wizard?
“Sophie, I’m an angel.”
There was an agonizingly long pause as Parker held my gaze. His lips were pulling into a calm smile, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed slowly. “Did you hear what I said?”
I heard myself start to giggle, and then it was a fullblown guffaw. “An angel? You think because I live with a vampire and work for a werewolf, I’m going to buy that?”
Parker’s eyes were set, the smile on his lips serene and unyielding. “Well, yes.”
“Okay, brilliant. Nice halo, by the way.”
“No halo,” Parker said, freeing my wrist and moving to the phone.
“And no wings,” I observed. “What are you doing?”
Parker unplugged the phone from the jack. “I need to be sure you’re not going to call the police.” He turned to face me. “And you’re right—no halo, no wings. I’m a fallen angel.”
I snorted. “I’ll say.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Oh no, I totally believe you. Why wouldn’t you be an angel? My roommate’s a vampire. A gargoyle cuts my hair. Hell, my great aunt was the tooth fairy.”
“Now you’re just being silly.”
“You’re right. I’m being silly.” I was also being held captive by a demented human-parts collector who thought he was an angel.
“You believe me then?”