control . . . ? I canât believe she really set out to kill anybody.â
âIf she was even here at all, which isnât proven except on Shaneâs word,â Hess said, and closed his notebook. âIâll look into it. If it was Monica Morrell, Iâll arrest her. But you two, keep your mouths shut about this. I donât need the town going vigilante. Monicaâs not that popular in the first place with certain . . . classes of people.â
Meaning Eveâs classâthe wrong-side-of-the-tracks, poverty-level kind of people. Eve nodded, unwillingly. Detective Hess was a good guyâshe knew thatâbut she also knew that nobody who worked for the town of Morganville could be considered exactly impartial. The mayorâMonicaâs dadâhad 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 didnât 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 didnât 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 Eveâs 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 connectedâand they were, she realized. Somehow, sheâd 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 firemenworking the dying fire. Even with the police cars flashing lights. Even with the gaggle of neighbors still gossiping at the barricade.
âYou should get home,â Michael said. âI canât believe you came out alone in the dark, Eve. You know better than that. Iâll walk you back.â
âNo,â she said. âNo, you donât have to look after me, and besides, your house is only a few blocks away in the other direction. Iâll be okay. Really. Look, Iâm wearing vampire Kryptonite.â 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 familyâs Protector, Brandon, wasnât exactly reliable.
Michael, knowing this, was shaking his head. He waved over one of the copsâa pale vampire dude Eve didnât recognize, with eerie light blue eyesâand asked if she could have a ride home. The cop didnât object, just impatiently waved Eve over to a waiting police cruiser.
She turned back to Michael. âIâ Please tell Shane . . .â
âI know,â he said. âI will. Get home safe, Eve.â
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. Shaneâs 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 ridehad a partner. A human partner, which ordinarily would have been
good
news, at least personal-safety-wise.
That
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