Mortal Sins by Eileen Wilks

him—after the arraignment. But—”
    “Marcia,” Deacon said.
    “But there is no way I’m going to let you—”
    “Marcia,” Deacon repeated, louder. “She’s Unit Twelve and she’s claimed jurisdiction. How you gonna stop her?”
    Silence. Then Farquhar flung one furious glance at Lily and left. She didn’t slam the door behind her. She closed it carefully, as if she were too angry to let even a little steam out that way.
    Lily sighed. She was making friends all over the place today. “I guess it would be awkward for you to storm out, too, seeing as this is your office.”
    Deacon resumed his seat. “Guess it would. You going to need some work space here?”
    He’d surprised her again. “Probably. This didn’t seem like the best time to mention it.”
    He shrugged. “You burst Marcia’s bubble. I’m not Marcia. She doesn’t have a whiff of a Gift, does she?”
    “If Ms. Farquhar asks what I felt when I touched her hand, I’ll tell her.” She paused. “Just as I told you what I felt when we shook hands.” The implication being that she considered such information private.
    He nodded. “You’ve got a careful way of putting things. I appreciate caution. Marcia does, too, but she doesn’t appreciate magic. She thinks you’re grandstanding. I’ve got a little edge on her there. I can tell you believe what you’re saying, and I’ve got reason to think you know what you’re talking about. Now.” He leaned back in his chair. “About that work space—best I can offer you is the conference room.”
    “I’ll take it. Ah . . . I’ve put in for some backup, but I’m not sure when I’ll get them. Noon, maybe later.”
    “Conference room should hold more’n one person. Who’s coming to pick up Meacham?”
    “A pair of federal marshals and a medevac unit.”
    His eyebrows shot up. “Medevac?”
    “He needs medical attention. Possession tends to screw up the host’s mind. Sometimes the body, too. We don’t know that he was possessed, exactly, but something sure screwed with him. And I think he’ll travel better sedated.”
    “Your marshals will have an easier time if he is,” Deacon said dryly. “Where will you put him?”
    “Georgetown in D.C.” There was no such thing as true magical shielding, not in their realm, anyway. But Georgetown University Hospital had a couple of rooms that were circled and heavily warded. It was the best they could do.
    Deacon leaned forward, pressed a button on his phone. “Edna? Could you come in here a minute?” He leaned back. “I’ve got a few things to do that don’t have a blame thing to do with Roy Don Meacham, so I’m going to let Edna get you settled. She’s been copying the case file for you. I hope you’ll be able to bring in your own office supplies and such. The budget’s tight.”
    “SOP is for me to order in what I need, then donate to the host jurisdiction whatever’s left when I leave. Which means you’ll probably come out ahead by a fax machine, copier, and whiteboard.”
    He smiled, satisfied. “Sometimes it pays to be the nice guy.”
    “Sometimes it does. Here’s another chance to play nice.
    I’m going to need to look at the crime scene—Meacham’s home. I also need to talk to your witness, the mailman with the broken skull.” This time the name was there, waiting, like it was supposed to be. “Watkins, right?”
    “Bill Watkins. He’s still hospitalized, but stable. Shouldn’t be any problem seeing him. The key to Meacham’s place is in Evidence. Edna’ll get it for you.”
    “Great. Quick question. You said the physical evidence at the scene suggested the two kids were killed in bed. How far apart are their rooms?”
    He frowned suspiciously, as if it were a trick question. “They’re right next to each other.”
    “And the mother, Becky Meacham. Where was she killed?”
    “From the look of the blood, all over the damned place.”
    She sighed, nodded, and reached for the door.
    “Ah . . .”
    Lily