“Rachael,” Humbolt replied. “I’m sorry to say she died over a year ago.”
Which only left one person, as far as I knew.
“So my father.”
“Or a cousin or other relative,” Humbolt replied. “I understand your mother had siblings.”
Did she?I knew she’d had parents, but I couldn’t remember Momma ever talking about any brothers or sisters. “I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “She didn’t talk about her family before the Community.”
Humbolt pressed his lips together. “Your mother was concerned that this Community might try to circumvent her will,” he said.
“I’m sure they will,” I replied dryly. “Since they don’t believe that women can hold property.” Not that I’d known any of the land we’d lived on had been bought by her.
Humbolt’s expression was stubborn, and I liked him the better for it. “The law says otherwise,” he replied coldly. “I will make sure you have what is rightfully yours. You and your… brother.”
I liked him even better after that.
A deputyfrom the Augusta County Sheriff’s Office was waiting in the hotel room when I got back, standing awkwardly by the door while Elliot glared at him from the rickety desk chair.
“Mr. Mays?—”
“My lawyer has informed me that you want a DNA sample,” I interrupted him. “Did you bring the swab, or do I have to go in?”
“You should make him get a warrant,” Elliot growled.
I sighed. “My DNA is already on file with the state of Virginia,” I replied calmly. “Because I worked CSI out of Richmond for the state. So it isn’t like they couldn’t pull it anyway.”
It was both an explanation to Elliot about why I was just going along with this, but also a dig at the Augusta County Sheriff’s Department for not doing their due diligence.
The deputy’s face flushed, and I knew my jibe had hit its mark. I forced myself not to bare my teeth at him. Being overtly hostile to the police isn’t generally a good idea, particularly if you’re on—even briefly—the suspect list for murder. I wasn’t going to manage to avoid being passive-aggressive, but I could at least not be overtly aggressive. Especially as a known shifter.
“If you could come with me, sir,” the deputy mumbled.
“We’ll follow you,” Elliot interrupted. “But I’m driving him.”
“I—” The deputy had clearly been told to bring me in.
“Is he under arrest?” Elliot demanded.
“No…”
“Then he’s coming in of his own free will, demonstrating good faith and compliance, so you’re going to let me drive him.” Elliot stood directly in front of the deputy, and if he’d been in fur, his hackles would have been raised.
“I’m going to follow you in, then, sir,” the deputy said, clearly annoyed that he was caving to Elliot’s demands, but also intimidated by Elliot’s hostility.
“Fine,” came the snapped response.
“We’re parked in back,” I told the deputy. “Blue FJ Cruiser.”
The deputy nodded once, a little mollified. But only a little.
Once we were in the car and pulling out of the parking spot, the deputy’s marked car waiting behind us, I turned to Elliot. “It’s not a good idea to antagonize the police.”
“It’s not a good idea for them to antagonize me,” he retorted.
“Elliot, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
