“If she was even here at all, which isn’t proven except on Shane’s word,” Hess said, and closed his notebook. “I’ll look into it. If it was Monica Morrell, I’ll arrest her. But you two, keep your mouths shut about this. I don’t need the town going vigilante. Monica’s not that popular in the first place with certain . . . classes of people.”
Meaning Eve’s class—the wrong-side-of-the-tracks, poverty-level kind of people. Eve nodded, unwillingly. Detective Hess was a good guy—she knew that—but she also knew that nobody who worked for the town of Morganville could be considered exactly impartial. The mayor—Monica’s dad—had his job not because he was popular but because the vampires had picked him for it, and they would keep him in power as long as he did what they wanted. The cops enforced rules that didn’t really apply to people like Monica, with position and favor from the bloodsuckers. There were two levels of humans in Morganville, and Eve knew where she, Michael, and Shane really stood: at the bottom.
Whatever Hess promised, she didn’t have much hope Monica would ever see the inside of a jail cell, even if they caught her on camera setting the fire.
Michael watched the cop walk away, and Eve’s attention stayed riveted on his face. Just for this one moment, she felt it was okay to stare, openly, without feeling like she was somehow invading his privacy. They still felt connected—and they were, she realized. Somehow, she’d never let go of his hand.
And then he let go. It was a gentle sort of release, a regretful slide of his hand down her arm, but then the contact was gone, and she felt . . . alone. Really, really alone, even with the crowding of firemen working the dying fire. Even with the police cars flashing lights. Even with the gaggle of neighbors still gossiping at the barricade.
“You should get home,” Michael said. “I can’t believe you came out alone in the dark, Eve. You know better than that. I’ll walk you back.”
“No,” she said. “No, you don’t have to look after me, and besides, your house is only a few blocks away in the other direction. I’ll be okay. Really. Look, I’m wearing vampire Kryptonite.” She flashed her leather bracelet, which was what minors got to wear to show they had family Protection from the more predatory Fang Gang set; Michael had his on, too. His, she suspected, was slightly more legit. Protection from her family’s Protector, Brandon, wasn’t exactly reliable.
Michael, knowing this, was shaking his head. He waved over one of the cops—a pale vampire dude Eve didn’t recognize, with eerie light blue eyes—and asked if she could have a ride home. The cop didn’t object, just impatiently waved Eve over to a waiting police cruiser.
She turned back to Michael. “I— Please tell Shane . . .”
“I know,” he said. “I will. Get home safe, Eve.”
That was all. No great declaration of feelings, nothing she could put her finger on, but there was a tone in his voice, a gentleness, that made her think maybe, maybe . . . And then she felt horrible even thinking it, because, Jesus, talk about bad timing. Shane’s sister was dead, and she was obsessing about whether Michael Glass liked her. What a horrible person she was.
As she joined the cop at his car, she saw her brother, Jason, lurking in the shadows near the barricade, and urgently gestured for him to come with. He shook his head and vanished. No police rides for Jason; well, she should have seen that coming, probably.
The bad news, though, was that the vampire cop giving her a ride had a partner. A human partner, which ordinarily would have been good news, at least personal-safety-wise.
That partner was, however, Richard Morrell. Monica’s big brother.
Richard opened the back door of the cruiser for her as she approached, and she couldn’t tell anything at all from the utterly blank expression on his face. He wasn’t bad-looking, for an older guy, but he was definitely dangerous. A Morrell with a badge and a gun? Nightmare waiting to happen. She fully expected trouble.
Sure enough, when the car started, with the vampire cop driving, Morrell turned back to look through the barrier at her. It occurred to her that this might have been the all-time worst idea ever, because she was locked in a cage with doors that didn’t open except from the outside, but she tried not to panic. At least outwardly.
“I heard someone saw my sister at the scene,” Morrell said. “Is that true?”
“I wasn’t here,” Eve said. “I got here later.”
“That wasn’t what I asked. Did someone see Monica here when the fire started?”
Eve shrugged. She sure wasn’t going to rat out Shane Collins, not to a Morrell. Let him find out on his own; he wouldn’t have any problems doing that.