how did she know that?
“Oh, hey,” Malika said, her voice filled with concern. “That’s Mia. It looks like she has her daughter this weekend.”
A blonde haired woman and her daughter crossed the street in front of the store.
“It was awful. About a year ago, Ron was sent to jail and his mother filed for custody. Took her away from Mia, claiming she was unfit. What’s the girl’s name? Lenore?”
Paige turned away, waiting for Malika to slip. She just needed the other woman to slip one time.
“Leah?”
Rage slammed into Paige like a wave, nearly bowling her over. The candle in her hand shook.
“Leah?” Malika stepped into Paige’s line of sight, obvious interest splashed across her face.
Regaining control, Paige set the candle on the glass shelf with a clank so loud it sounded like the shelf might break. She had what she’d come for. Malika really was on it. Any further questioning, though, would get her nowhere. The maniacal gleam shining through her eyes. That’s what she’d seen before and could put her finger on.
“No. LeAnn. That’s it.”
“I think I’m done here.” Paige gestured to the box in Malika’s hands. “Leslie will like this.”
The other woman smiled, something dark slithering behind her gaze.
Paige had her suspect to rights. Next, she needed to discover what Jones knew.
She accepted the challenge.
“Y OU READY?”
She nodded to Chief White.
Without further ado, he led her through the small station and into the back room. A single, metal table sat in the middle, three chairs around it, the walls bare.
Paige sighed took the lone chair on the one side, her eyebrows raised. “Really? The interrogation room?”
He sat in the chair opposite her. He kept his hand at waste level and pointed to the one-way mirror behind him. “No phones.”
She gave him the barest of nods. “Any particular reason why?”
“Bad reception.”
Paige ran her tongue along her molars. “So, how is this going to play?”
“Are you feeling well?”
“You honestly think you’re going to trick me into just spilling my guts to you if you’re nice to me? I’ve been on that side of the table, Chief. I know how this works.”
The door opened. Jones sauntered in, settling in the chair that sat in the corner.
“I just want to know what happened at the shack.”
“Mold.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She’d used that excuse before, not that it was a good one, but with mold, everyone reacted differently. Allergies, hallucinogens, and poisonings came from mold, so it wasn’t bad. “I’m fine now.”
“Are you sure?”
“What are we doing here, guys?”
“We’re just . . .” White’s lips flattened as he leaned back in his chair. “ . . . having a conversation.”
“That’s cute.” Paige kicked her feet up on the table. “Jones, how are you emotionally tied to this case?”
He smiled and blinked, as if buying himself time. “Ashley was my friend.”
She needed him to admit something that would make the chief understand his guilt. Though, smiling at the fact that his “best friend” was dead was a pretty big red flag in her book.
“What’s that?” Jones pointed to her bare arm.
“What?” She raised it so he could see it better. “Oh, you mean this?”
“A protection rune,” he muttered. “Interesting.”
White frowned at it. “Protection against what?”
“Mold.” She watched Jones for any tale-tell reactions. “You see, it only allows the mold in so far, then it gets stopped and pushed back out.”
Jones bit his lip. “I take it the mold is out.”
Paige tipped her head.
White’s jaw ticked as he fisted one hand, his gaze falling to the table.
Good. He was following along, but was it enough? They needed a trail to follow. Jones wasn’t the mastermind. He couldn’t be.
Jones gestured toward the sigil. “Did you have this on at the shack?”
Paige shook her head. “It’s new.”
“Permanent?”
“We’ll see how well it
“Oh, hey,” Malika said, her voice filled with concern. “That’s Mia. It looks like she has her daughter this weekend.”
A blonde haired woman and her daughter crossed the street in front of the store.
“It was awful. About a year ago, Ron was sent to jail and his mother filed for custody. Took her away from Mia, claiming she was unfit. What’s the girl’s name? Lenore?”
Paige turned away, waiting for Malika to slip. She just needed the other woman to slip one time.
“Leah?”
Rage slammed into Paige like a wave, nearly bowling her over. The candle in her hand shook.
“Leah?” Malika stepped into Paige’s line of sight, obvious interest splashed across her face.
Regaining control, Paige set the candle on the glass shelf with a clank so loud it sounded like the shelf might break. She had what she’d come for. Malika really was on it. Any further questioning, though, would get her nowhere. The maniacal gleam shining through her eyes. That’s what she’d seen before and could put her finger on.
“No. LeAnn. That’s it.”
“I think I’m done here.” Paige gestured to the box in Malika’s hands. “Leslie will like this.”
The other woman smiled, something dark slithering behind her gaze.
Paige had her suspect to rights. Next, she needed to discover what Jones knew.
She accepted the challenge.
“Y OU READY?”
She nodded to Chief White.
Without further ado, he led her through the small station and into the back room. A single, metal table sat in the middle, three chairs around it, the walls bare.
Paige sighed took the lone chair on the one side, her eyebrows raised. “Really? The interrogation room?”
He sat in the chair opposite her. He kept his hand at waste level and pointed to the one-way mirror behind him. “No phones.”
She gave him the barest of nods. “Any particular reason why?”
“Bad reception.”
Paige ran her tongue along her molars. “So, how is this going to play?”
“Are you feeling well?”
“You honestly think you’re going to trick me into just spilling my guts to you if you’re nice to me? I’ve been on that side of the table, Chief. I know how this works.”
The door opened. Jones sauntered in, settling in the chair that sat in the corner.
“I just want to know what happened at the shack.”
“Mold.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She’d used that excuse before, not that it was a good one, but with mold, everyone reacted differently. Allergies, hallucinogens, and poisonings came from mold, so it wasn’t bad. “I’m fine now.”
“Are you sure?”
“What are we doing here, guys?”
“We’re just . . .” White’s lips flattened as he leaned back in his chair. “ . . . having a conversation.”
“That’s cute.” Paige kicked her feet up on the table. “Jones, how are you emotionally tied to this case?”
He smiled and blinked, as if buying himself time. “Ashley was my friend.”
She needed him to admit something that would make the chief understand his guilt. Though, smiling at the fact that his “best friend” was dead was a pretty big red flag in her book.
“What’s that?” Jones pointed to her bare arm.
“What?” She raised it so he could see it better. “Oh, you mean this?”
“A protection rune,” he muttered. “Interesting.”
White frowned at it. “Protection against what?”
“Mold.” She watched Jones for any tale-tell reactions. “You see, it only allows the mold in so far, then it gets stopped and pushed back out.”
Jones bit his lip. “I take it the mold is out.”
Paige tipped her head.
White’s jaw ticked as he fisted one hand, his gaze falling to the table.
Good. He was following along, but was it enough? They needed a trail to follow. Jones wasn’t the mastermind. He couldn’t be.
Jones gestured toward the sigil. “Did you have this on at the shack?”
Paige shook her head. “It’s new.”
“Permanent?”
“We’ll see how well it
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