“Hey, is it true you set fire to one of the boxcars at the railroad? They can’t put it out.”
“That’s what she told me,” Captain Pelhan said loudly, startling them both as he walked in. “Smith, they could use your help downstairs. Try not to get enthralled, okay? We don’t have enough staff right now to give you a week off.”
“Yes, sir.” Hunched in embarrassment, the man took his tea and headed for the door.
Captain Pelhan eased down across from her, a heavy sigh spilling from him as the bench took his slight weight. His eye was twitching, and he looked as if he needed sleep—a lot of it.
“Sorry about the fire,” she said. “It will go out when the sun goes down. I couldn’t let them sit there and putrefy.”
He held up a hand as if asking for patience. “I’m not worried about the fire.” Pelhan scrubbed his hand across his bristled face, making her wonder if she was in worse trouble than being wanted for questioning. “And no one is accusing you of foul play,” he added, seeing her sudden worry. “I wish everyone could be as mentally capable of seeing that sentiment doesn’t interfere with health and safety.”
“I didn’t burn them because of health and safety,” she said tartly.
Pelhan chuckled, making her flush in anger. “Mars must be in retrograde,” he said. “I’m not getting my ideas across at all. I’m simply saying that it’s a mess out there right now. Someday, though, someone will want to know if their kin is alive or dead. If you have names, I’d like them.” His smile faltered. “I’m sure their family would appreciate knowing that they were taken care of respectfully and not tossed into one of those mass graves they’re turning the parks into,” he finished, a city’s worth of worry on him.
“Oh,” she said, wondering if he might be Chicago’s senior employee right now, the man with whom the buck started, stopped, and circulated around. “Ah, it’s kind of funny, but we never got to last names. The little girl’s name was April, though.” Her chest hurt, remembering her beautiful smile at Orchid before she closed her eyes for the last time. “Two boys and their uncle survived. They’d probably know.”
Pelhan grimaced. “I’ll keep an eye out for them, but it’s likely that another family saw them in the streets and took them in before we could.” He exhaled loudly, narrow shoulders slumping, the weight of the day falling on him now that he wasn’t moving. “The word has gone out to avoid anyone in a car or uniform. Even the sick hide, afraid of dying in a mass grave.”
He was silent, and she didn’t know what to say. He clearly needed more people. At least he wouldn’t get sick, being a witch. Trisk began to fidget. If they didn’t have her here because of the fire she’d set, then she was here because she was wanted for Rick’s murder. She was worried about Daniel, worried about Quen, and worried what Kal might be doing. “I didn’t murder my boss,” she said, and Pelhan’s eyes met hers. “You should be looking for Dr. Trent Kalamack. He’s on my shortlist. He’s got motive, means, and opportunity.”
“I don’t think you murdered your boss, Dr. Felecia Eloytrisk Cambri.”
He sounded like a demon when he said it all like that, but relieved, she held out her left hand because her right was cuffed under the table. “Well, in that case, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Pelhan. Call me Trisk.”
His eyebrows rose as they awkwardly shook. “Trisk?”
Her shoulder lifted and fell, a faint warmth on her cheeks. “Childhood trauma,” she said, and he thought about that for a moment before a faint smile lightened his mood.
“Boys can be idiots,” he said, then sighed heavily. “God, what a day.”
“I bet mine was worse.” If she wasn’t being detained for murder, then why?
“I wouldn’t take that bet.” Pelhan’s head tilted to the side. “Just how sure are you about this tomato thing?”
She sat up straighter, hope sparking through her. “Very. Kal—”
Waving a hand, he cut her off. “You’re lucky. Sa’han Ulbrine is alive. I got word he’s on his way here, though I don’t know how. Nothing is moving.” A rueful smile crossed his face. “He’s why you’re cuffed, by the way. If I lose you, I’m out of a job.”
She eased up to the edge of the seat, cradling her bad hand. “Did he say anything about the virus?” she asked breathlessly.
Pelhan nodded, and she exhaled in relief. “He corroborates your story about the tomatoes, but he asked me to keep you away from the press and for me to keep my mouth shut until he can address it personally.”
“How long is that going to take?” she said, suddenly unsure. People needed to know now.
“Tomorrow, maybe next week.” Pelhan’s eyes crinkled and his wrinkles deepened.