Cabell leaned over and hit a button on his desk phone, picking up the handset. “Annie, please ask Mosby to come back here.”
To judge from the expectant look on his face, Hart had also heard the tinny “Yes, sir, right away,” that had come from a woman’s voice, presumably Annie.
Cabell looked back up at Hart. “I will allow you to talk to the deputy who called in the scene,” he said, his voice tight.
“You’llallowme.” It wasn’t a question.
Cabell’s face flushed, the blotches fading a little bit as the pale parts turned pinker. “I’m cooperating with your investigation,AgentHart,” he said, and the tone in his voice had turned decidedly hostile.
“Are you.”
Even I could feel the energy rolling off the elf’s lithe frame, and it was no nicer than Cabell’s.
The door to Cabell’s office opened, and I felt my nostrils flare as the clear and distinct scent ofwolfhit my nose. It was followed by a trim, twitchy man with slightly sunburned fair skin, medium brown hair that was so lackluster it almost looked grey, and light brown eyes that squinted around the room.
“Deputy Mosby,” Cabell said.
Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Hart’s lavender eyes flickered over to me, and I met his gaze squarely. He knew Mosby wasn’t human. And he knew that I knew.
“Deputy,” Hart said, turning around with a smile that I recognized as more predatory than friendly. “Perhaps you can clear a few things up for me.”
Mosby didn’t need to smell Hart to know he was an elf, obviously. The pale skin and pointy ears gave it away, and Hart didn’t bother to even try to blend in, his hair pulled back in a long braid to show off his ears, the lavender of his tie drawingattention to the color of his eyes, bright against the dark grey of his suit and white of his shirt and skin.
“And you are?” Mosby half-drawled.
Hard flashed his badge. “Special Agent Hart, FBI. Thataccidentyou found out on Scott-Christian Road had a shifter victim and showed signs of intervention.”
Mosby stared at him, tense, assessing. “Intervention?” he repeated.
“Yeah, you know…” Hart examined the fingernails on one hand. “Bits of plastic from headlights, wasn’t it, Mays?”
I twitched, not expecting him to talk to me. “Y-yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Yes.”
“What color was the plastic again?” he asked, oh, so casually.
“There was red, white, orange, and blue.”
“Blue?” Hart feigned surprise.
“Yes?”
“Huh. Does an FJ Cruiser—thatwasyour car right?”
I nodded.
“Does an FJ Cruiser have any blue lights on it?”
I didn’t really need to answer the question, but I did anyway. “No, it doesn’t.”
Cabell made a strangled noise, and when I looked over at him, I could see that his face was now turning purple.
“In fact, pretty muchonlypolice cruisers have blue lights, right, Mays?”
I let out a breath. “Most of them don’t have lights in the front or on the sides,” I replied. “But the Augusta County Explorers have a front grille that has blue lights on the bars.”
Cabell gurgled again, his eyes boring rage-filled holes in Mosby, who attempted to look derisive, but mostly just looked like he was trying very hard to not panic. But under that panic, there wasn’t fear, but anger. Hatred. I wasn’t sure if it was directed at Hart or at Elliot or at me. Or possibly all of us.
