Alex blinked. “Right now? No. I’ll get around to looking at this after we bring Alyssa home.”
I felt a flicker of anger growing at the pit of my stomach. “But this could help. If we find out what happened to these girls, we might be able to find out who—or what—is responsible. I’m trying to help you, Alex.”
“Look, Lawson, we’re doing all right, okay? Believe or not, the police department here can function without your help.”
The sting shot through me and my cheeks burned. “Wait, what?”
“We have plenty of leads. We know we’re looking at a serial.”
“But the carving—and the witchcraft!”
“Probably happened after the fact.” He slid my paper into a manila file folder and laced his fingers on top of it. “There really isn’t any evidence that Cathy Ledwith’s killer and the person who desecrated her corpse are the same people.”
“You know that they are!”
Alex shrugged. “There’s no evidence to support that.”
“Let me just take a look at your files. I can show you mine.” I yanked my notebook from my shoulder bag. “We found spell books and a pentagram. And a carving.” Even as I said it, I knew how weak Will’s and my “evidence” really was. “I didn’t believe it either, but there’s something there, Alex, I’m sure of it. Check the names. Look at this.”
“Lawson, what do you want me to do? We’re”—he pointed from himself to me—“not working together. And we’re”—this time he circled a finger, indicating the police department—“not interested in finding a group of witches.”
“A coven.”
“What was that?”
“A coven. A group of witches is a coven.” I zeroed in on Alex. “I can’t believe you won’t let me help you. We’re friends, remember? Maybe even more than friends. Somebunny in San Francisco loves me?” I quoted the cheesy words from the plush hat he had given me, doing my best to squelch down an embarrassed burn.
“You had a concussion.”
Heat snaked up my spine and I gritted my teeth. “What’s with you? One day, you’re kissing me and saving my life, the next day you’re all fallen, no angel.”
His expression stayed hard. “I’m sorry I’m not everything you dreamed of.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“That’s supposed to mean that you and I have a working relationship. Period. You remember what that means, right?” He narrowed his eyes, the tiny muscle at the side of his jaw jumping.
“Are you—are you accusing me of—”
“What else can I help you with, Lawson?”
I was too angry to sputter back at him, to throw his own on-again, off-again behavior back in his face. “What happened to you?”
“You know what I am, Lawson. You’ve known since the beginning.”
I stood up, seething. “Yeah, but I didn’t peg you for such an asshole.” I turned on my heel, but not before seeing Alex’s cheeks flash red and something—sorrow, apology—flit through his eyes. He opened his mouth but closed it again, silent.
I stomped through the police department, livid.
“Who does he think he is? I mean seriously, who? He just—he just—and cast me aside like—like—”
Nina pushed a glass into my hand.
“What is this?” I wanted to know.
“Booze. It will help stabilize you.”
I took a giant glug, then winced. “Uh, what kind of booze? Where did you get it?”
Nina frowned. “From the cabinet. It’s sherry.”
“It’s cooking sherry!”
Nina shrugged. “Same thing.” She sashayed past me, the cool breeze that wafted from her marble skin sending goose pimples all over mine. “I think the whole thing is really romantic, actually.”
I gaped before swiping up ChaCha and flopping on the couch. My little pup did her requisite three circles, then curled up in my lap. “What the hell is romantic about this? Alex acts like an ass after acting like an actual romantic hero?”
Nina popped up on the coffee table, and sat down hard, Indian style. Her dark eyes glittered. “Don’t you see, Soph? That’s the only way he can react. He can’t be with you because you are the one thing that is keeping him from grace. See?”
She sat back, awash with candy hearts and hope, her hands clasped against her cheek.
“So he has to be pissed at me because I’m some sort of supernatural roadblock to where he wants to go. Sorry, but I’m just not seeing the romance.”
Nina rolled her eyes and kicked her legs out in front of her, resting her bare feet in my lap, pushing her toes under ChaCha’s warm fur. “He can’t have you. And he can’t kill you, because he loves you. And you’ve got Will—the other romantic hero. Oh my God, it’s so amazingly romantic, I think my uterus is going to explode!”
“I’m still not seeing the slightest romantic element here.” I wrinkled my nose. “And less so should your uterus explode.”
“Romance?” Vlad thundered through the door. “Fuck romance. You know what I got today?” He shook the thin, flat box he was carrying.
Nina shriveled. “If that’s another dead bird . . .”