“Something’s not right, Ryan. I don’t know why he confessed, but there’s too much left dangling. The only explanation I can think of is Eddie’s protecting someone. How about his sister, Lorraine? Have you questioned her?”

“No, not in person, but she’s coming here in about an hour. The officers who went to her house last night said she fell apart when they broke the news. Can you stay for the interview?”

Ari slowly shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d rather visit the crime scene first. I’ll catch Lorraine at home. Do you have a sketch of the parking lot?”

He used the machine in the hall to make copies for her, and upon his return he leaned over her chair to point out the different positions on the drawing. “Given the trajectory, this is where the shooter stood. Next to the building.” He shifted his finger to another spot. “And this is where Eddie was standing when patrol arrived.”

He didn’t have to show her where the victim had fallen. A squiggly form, vaguely humanoid in shape, the kind they show on TV shows and book covers, marked the location. If the cops were right, the shots hadn’t come from the street. That’s why Ryan had ruled out a drive-by.

“You said there were witnesses?”

“After the fact. About two dozen customers from the bar and a handful of neighbors. Anyone who didn’t hear the shots at least heard the sirens. They all came out to have a look.”

“But no one claims to have seen the shooting,” she mused. Eddie’s defense lawyer could work with that. Without an eyewitness to identify Eddie as the killer, there was always room for doubt.

“So, what happened between the shots and the time the cops arrived? Surely a guilty man wouldn’t stand there and wait.”

“This time he did. According to a bar patron,” Ryan pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket and flipped the pages, “a Lewis Hampton, the first person out the door, Eddie seemed frozen, just staring at the body. Maybe he was shocked by what he’d done.” Ryan returned to his desk and sat down. “You can look for mitigating factors, maybe affect the penalty, but a jury is going to take about ten minutes to convict.”

Ari shrugged. Maybe not, if Ryan couldn’t produce a weapon. And Eddie’s lawyer could get him to retract the confession. The juries in human trials were human. While they’d try to be impartial, she felt they’d be hesitant to convict on such slim evidence. Especially considering the consequences. Of course, nothing would help Eddie if he pled guilty. He’d never get to trial. The case would go straight to the penalty phase, and Eddie would be turned over to the vampires for disposition.

Ari’s gut clenched. Vampires could be very inventive.

She strengthened her resolve and wrote down Lewis Hampton’s number and address. His testimony would be critical to the prosecution’s case. If she wanted to save Eddie, she had to find a way to punch holes in his confession.

What they knew so far led to an unacceptable conclusion. She intended to start over from the beginning. Give it a fresh look. Collect new facts. Vampires—overly confident, arrogant or just plain belligerent, depending on your point of view—had a way of making enemies. There had to be other, better, suspects than Eddie. Ryan didn’t know the reporter the way Ari did. Eddie was a law-abiding guy, the kind who paid his parking tickets and didn’t fudge on his taxes. Much more likely to write a vitriolic column than take a gun in his hand.

But if Ari was right about his character, why was Eddie lying?

Chapter Two

As she drove away from the police station, Ari turned her Mini Cooper west toward the river district. The Woodland Inn was a small, neighborhood bar on the east edge of Olde Town. It stood in the zone next to Goshen Park that bridged the modern city with its dominantly human population and the original town, which in the past twenty years had been taken over by those who possessed and used magical abilities. The owner and any frequent patrons of the bar would be familiar with both divergent worlds.

When she arrived, Gillian was already there.

“Ari, so glad you called. Good excuse to get out of the OFR. What’s the story here?” The twenty-something lab tech, dressed casually in white jeans and a pink blouse, hurried across the parking lot with light, graceful steps. Tangled wisps of short blonde hair softened Gillian’s sharp, elfin features.

“I hoped they’d send you.” Ari grinned at her. A fragile looking species, but under that facade lay unusual strength; any elf could bench press 1,000 plus, if he or she was so inclined. Gillian chose to rely on her mind. The two women had been friends since Gillian joined the Otherworld Forensics & Research laboratory four years ago.

Ari explained what she knew about the case, the confession, the lack of physical evidence, and together they gave the scene a once-over. The bar was the only business in an unpretentious brown stucco building with the parking lot east of the front door. The crime scene tape was down, and a clean-up crew had already finished their work. Gillian began to walk around the edge of the paved area. Much of the surface was dotted with old oil stains. That made it easy to identify where the body had fallen. The spot-free area left by a clean-up crew was a dead give-away. Although it was early in the day, four cars were parked in the lot, but the scrubbed area remained empty. Superstition, or a show of respect for the victim?

Gillian returned, stopping next to Ari. “Not picking up much. How about you?”

“Haven’t tried yet.” Ari concentrated, reaching across the parking lot and around the building with tendrils of witch magic. She found residue of Otherworld energy, enough to raise the small hairs on her arms, but it was no more than could be accounted for by the victim’s presence the night before or even by Otherworld bar patrons. Vampires, wizards, lycanthropes, halfling demons, to name a few. Any of them might leak enough magic for trace readings. It had been too long since the incident for her to identify anything specific. She turned to look at Gillian. “Not getting enough. What’s your ES reading?”

Gillian peered at the screen of an Energy Sensor (ES), an instrument no larger than a cell phone. It was a relatively new piece of technology that could detect even minor amounts of magical energy from the presence of magical beings or from conjuring.

“Point zero one. Minimal. But it’s been almost fifteen hours. Wouldn’t expect a very high reading, no matter what happened here. Why weren’t we called last night?”

“Bureaucratic snafu.”

“Theirs or ours?”

Ari glanced at her, but Gillian was grinning.

“Not us, this time. Something about the number of calls on a holiday.” Ari shrugged. “It happens.”

“Not as bad as when our lab blew up the evidence.” Gillian chuckled. “That’s what I call experimental. Bits and pieces everywhere. Taught us not to use untried procedures on court cases. I’ll see if we can do better this time. You got a scene sketch?”

Ari gave her a copy, and they scrutinized the PD’s drawing. It was easy to re-create events. The victim must have come from the east toward the front door, which was on the northeast corner of the building. The parking lot would have been on his left. Ari walked over and stood in the spot.

The killer came from the south, staying between the building and the first row of parked cars. No doubt the lot was filled at that time of evening, but she still had a clear line of sight. The vampire would have seen his attacker. With those incredible vamp reflexes, why hadn’t he saved himself? Maybe the killer hunkered down in hiding behind the cars and jumped up firing. Ari thought about it. Nuh-uh. Not with the kind of accuracy that would take out head and heart, not unless he was an expert marksman. And that ruled out Eddie.

More likely the vampire hadn’t been concerned by the killer’s presence. She could see where the prosecution would go with that idea. They’d argue the victim knew his killer, didn’t anticipate an attack, and that pointed to Eddie, the brother-in-law.

“How’d this happen?” Gillian asked, as if reading her mind. “The victim should have gotten away. Vampires are too quick, too wary to get caught like this.”

“He wasn’t expecting it.”

“But the moment he saw a gun, why wouldn’t he take off or disarm his attacker?”

Good question. Jules had to know how upset Eddie was. Wouldn’t he at least be wary around him? Or had Jules succumbed to a moment of vampire arrogance, thinking no human could possibly be a serious threat?

“Police are positive this was a shooting?” Gillian wore a skeptical frown. “The ES mech isn’t giving me that kind of reading.”

“Witnesses said they heard shots. But I’m with you. This is weird.” Ari walked toward the position where the killer must have waited next to the building. “Shooter would have been right here.” She stopped in front of what would have been the first row of parked cars and crouched to search the ground. It was unlikely the PD techs had missed anything important, but she ran her hands over the area.

“What are you doing?” a gruff voice demanded. “This is private property.”

Ari straightened. A bulky male with a short beard stood in the bar doorway and surveyed her with suspicion.

“You a reporter?”

“Official investigation.” She palmed her ID and held it up. “Guardian and criminal investigator for the Magic Council. This is Gillian, from our forensics lab.”

The man squinted at the ID. “Uh, sorry, Guardian.” He stepped outside and let the door slam behind him. “Had a lot of folks nosing around. Reporters. Gawkers. Story made the morning TV news. Oh, I’m Joe Morris, owner and bartender.” He extended a hand, and they shook.

“You were working last night?”

“Me? Always working. Can’t afford much help. The economy, you know.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Sure. Didn’t see the shooting, but be happy to tell you what I can. Let’s step inside. I got customers. Not many, but I try to keep them happy. Every penny counts when you run a business this small.” He held the door open.