I nodded. At least the animals wouldn’t die, although I did wonder who was taking care of them now. I was about to ask when Humbolt spoke again.
“You should speak to the police,” he said, gently.
I nodded again. “I meant to ask you about that,” I replied, forgetting the goats for the time being. “I didn’t want to get mired up in… interviews before this, though.”
“I’m happy to serve as your legal representative, should you feel the need,” he offered. “Although I am not very experienced with criminal law as an estate attorney. But I’m happy to provide what advice I can, and make a recommendation should you need more… experience.”
“Thanks.” I sighed. “Should I show this to them?” I asked, lifting the letter.
“Probably,” he replied. “Although I’m happy to make a copy for your personal records—and my legal files—first, if you wish.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, handing it to him. “That’s probably a good idea.”
3
Seth Mays
I’m sorry this is taking so long.
Elliot Crane
Not your fault.
Can I help?
I don’t think so.
At least I still have my phone?
Do I need to go get Humbolt?
No.
Not yet, anyway.
I’d beenin the interview room of the Augusta County Sheriff’s Office for the better part of three-and-a-half hours, and I was hungry, worried, and pissed off. Elliot had walked me over, clearly worried about what I was doing. He tried to talk me out of it.
“I have to talk to them at some point,” I’d pointed out.
“Shouldn’t you wait for them to come to you?” he’d asked me.
“And be mad at me for not coming forward the second I was in Augusta County?” I shook my head. “No. I think it’s probably better if I go to them to ask what happened and offer my cooperation.” I’ve been lucky to mostly work with good cops, people like Hart and Maza and Maginot and Gale Smith. Not everybody was a good cop, though, and the more cooperative I was, the more likely things wouldn’t go terribly for me if I got the less-good kind.
Elliot had let out a skeptical grunt. He didn’t have a very good history with police—given that his father had been killed by three men who’d had connections to police work, I couldn’t say that I blamed him. But he also had me and Hart—who I hope were more positive examples of people who worked in the justice system.
I’d asked him to investigate lunch options for me, hoping that I wouldn’t actually be spending that much time in the Sheriff’s Office.
Clearly, I’d been overly optimistic about how quickly they’d be done with me.
On the positive side, I’d learned several useful things from my three-and-a-half hours.
First, that they were fully aware of both my existence and the fact that I, like Noah, was a wolf shifter. They just hadn’t yet been able to track me down.
Second, drawing from the first point, that they weren’t terribly good at their jobs, given that I wasn’t exactly trying not to be found. In fact, I’d conveniently come tothem, telling my employers—also in the criminal justice system—exactly where I was going and why, so it really shouldn’t have been hard. And yet, I’d had to walk in their front door. I couldn’t say that I was impressed.
Third, they were visibly annoyed when I provided them with a rock-solid alibi in the form of multiple Shawano County Sheriff’s Department employees, since I’d been at work for the whole possible window of my mother’s death.
Fourth, they clearly thought that a shifter was responsible for killing her. They hadn’t specifically stated whether or not they thought it was awolfshifter or if they had specific evidence of shifter involvement, but if they were trying to pin it on Noah, they probably hadn’t considered anything else.
