Theo nodded at the idea. “Miranda will probably be more comfortable if she thinks the Pack has her back—and that Connor is picking the Pack over vampires.”

“Make Miranda the heroine,” Gwen said with a nod.

I glanced at Connor, who was already watching me, brow furrowed. It was easy to see he didn’t like the idea, but Theo and Gwen were right.

“I don’t like it,” I said. “But they’re right. You’ll get more out of her—more information, maybe more details—if she thinks it might hurt me. And it’s entirely understandable you’d be frustrated at vampires right now.”

“I’ll send a message to Dad,” Connor said and pulled out his screen. “It will be more convincing if he plays along.”

“Agreed,” I said. “But if you overplay your hand, you’ll pay for it later. And either way, your town house gets a coffeemaker the second we’re done here.”

He grinned at me, leaned in, kissed me hard. “You’re a cheap date, Elisa Sullivan.”

Poor boy, I thought. He’d obviously never priced Italian espresso machines.

SEVENTEEN

Connor led us inside, through the NAC building to the lounge where we’d talked to Gabriel. Miranda sat in a recliner in a tank top and fitted jeans, dark boots. A shifter I didn’t recognize applied cream to a nasty slice on her arm. She’d definitely been injured. Add to that the half a dozen more shifters in the room, including Gabriel, who watched suspiciously as I moved in behind Connor, and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“Keep that bitch away from me,” Miranda said, teeth gritted against the pain of her treatment.

“She’ll keep her distance,” Connor threw out, sending me a glare. “We don’t need any more vampire theatrics today.”

Theo moved a little closer, as if protecting me from Connor and the rest of them.

I made a show of looking embarrassed, but couldn’t quite manage a flush.

Miranda smiled, but it dropped away when she realized Gwen had followed them inside. “What the fuck?”

“Miranda, this is Detective Gwen Robinson,” Connor said. “None of us want the CPD in here, but we do want your story, your injuries, documented. And I want it official, so we can bury them with it.”

Miranda looked warily between him, me, Gwen, then managed a nodding scowl. “Fine.”

“Ms. Mitchell,” Gwen said, sitting down on the coffee table across from Miranda, gaze slipping to her laceration. Just the right amount of sympathy clouded her eyes. “I’m sorry you were attacked.” She pulled a small silver disc from her pocket, showed it. “I’m going to record this conversation, okay? That way I don’t have to take notes or ask you to repeat things I’m too slow to write down.”

“Okay,” Miranda said warily.

Gwen nodded, pressed the disc until it glowed green, placed it on the coffee table beside her. “Tell me what happened tonight.”

“Asshole vamp with a silver blade,” Miranda said, teeth gritted as more cream was applied to her arm. “I’d just come back from a delivery. Got off the bike, and he just came at me. Had a blade. I blocked, but he got through my jacket, got my arm. Nearly put me on the ground. I got in a shot, and when I pulled my own blade, he took off.” She looked past the other shifters, aimed her eyes at me. “He was a coward.”

“And where did this happen?” Gwen asked.

“Why? You don’t believe me?”

Gwen looked taken aback. “Of course I believe you. You said you got off a shot—perhaps the attacker left blood, DNA, that we can trace.”

“Outside the bar. Near the corner.”

“Great,” Gwen said, nodding. “That’s helpful.”

“What did he look like?” Connor asked.

“Mr. Keene,” Gwen said sharply. “I’ll handle the questions.”

He nodded stiffly.

“He was pale as a ghost,” Miranda said. “But I didn’t see his face. He was wearing black. They always do,” she said, gesturing in my direction.

Gwen cocked her head. “How did you know he was pale if you didn’t see his face?”

“He didn’t wear gloves. Had on a jacket with a hood, long sleeves. But no gloves,” she said again.

So it was light enough that she could tell the color of his hands, but not catch a glimpse of any part of his face?

“Got it,” Gwen said. If she found anything weird about Miranda’s answer, she didn’t dwell on it. “What happened after he hurt you?”

“Like I said, he ran off.”

“Which direction?”

She lifted a careless shoulder. “Away from the bar. South, I think. I was bleeding, and wasn’t really paying attention.”

“You haven’t shifted yet,” Gwen said. “I understand that would resolve the injury.”

“It will. I wanted to, you know, preserve the evidence.”

Gwen nodded with approval, crossed one leg over the other. Just two women having a chat. “That was smart. Very smart. Now, did you recognize anything about the attacker?”

“Other than the fact that he was a vampire?” Her tone was dry, and had several of her allies chortling.

“How do you know that?” I asked, and all eyes in the room turned to me.

“Remember where you are,” Gabriel said, voice low and threatening. If I didn’t know Connor had clued him in, I’d have slunk right out of the room.

“Hey, watch the tone,” Theo said, moving a little closer to me. “It’s a reasonable question.”

“Can we please focus on Ms. Mitchell?” Gwen asked. “This isn’t helpful.”

Miranda’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I can tell when some asshole’s a vampire. I can feel the magic.”

“Did you see his fangs?” I asked.

“I said he had his hood up. Did you not hear me?”

“Elisa,” Connor said, sharply, and I closed my mouth, made a point of glaring at his back.

“Did the vampire look familiar to you?” Gwen asked, drawing Miranda’s attention back to her.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” She looked at me speculatively. “Maybe there was something familiar about him.”

“What something?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t know. I said ‘maybe.’” The words were quick, impatient. And didn’t sound very convincing. What would have been familiar about a vampire whose face she couldn’t see?

Gwen sat up straight, brows lifted. “So, do you think he was a local vampire? Not one of the vamps from the AAM?”

“I don’t know. Could have been either.” A shoulder rose, fell. “I don’t pay attention to that political shit.”

Another lie, and I could see it in the shift of her eyes.

“Believe me, I get it. It’s always something with them.” Gwen’s eyes narrowed, then she slid her gaze to Connor. “Weren’t you attacked by a vampire yesterday right outside the building?”

“We don’t know it was a vampire,” Connor gritted out. “Not for sure.”

“He was nearly run over,” Miranda couldn’t wait to say. “They damaged his bike, too.”

Gwen turned off the recorder, slipped it into her pocket. Then rose, straightened her jacket. “Thank you, Ms. Mitchell, for your time. Rest assured, we take these allegations very seriously.”

“Will you tell me when you catch him?”

“We’ll absolutely advise you of the results of our investigation. I know you’ll feel better when it’s complete.” She turned, looked at me, gaze narrowed. “Ms. Sullivan, let’s step outside.”

Her tone was harsh, the words an obvious order—and a threat. Behind her, Miranda’s smile was deep, victory in her eyes.

“Why?” I asked, feigning suspicion.

“Because your . . . colleagues . . . have been implicated in the attack on Ms. Mitchell. We’ll need to discuss that.” She stared at me until I relented, cast Connor a look of betrayal, and stalked to the door, magic in my wake.

* * *

* * *

I took a moment to shake off the heavy shifter magic, and when I emerged into fresh air, found Gwen standing beside her vehicle. She gave instructions to uniformed officers and a crime scene technician, who began the process of inspecting the crime scene.

Then she turned to me.

“I’m going to do a lot of pointing and accusing,” she said mildly. “And you’re going to look sheepish.”

I looked at the ground, as if chagrined. “Why am I doing this?”

“We’re keeping up appearances while we’re still in their view, because she definitely doesn’t like you.” Gwen pointed at the car, as if demanding I get in it.

I shook my head, glared at her. “You’re pretty smart for a cop.”

“I guess you owed me that.”

“I guess I did. Why does how she feels about me matter to you?”

“Because it provides her a motive to lie.”

I knew it. “You didn’t buy it?”

“Not even with a coupon. Now I’m going to chastise you. Do that sheepish thing again.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“It’s made those two years of community theater worthwhile,” she said, and pinned me with a glance.

I waited for a moment, then took a step back, lifted my hands as if in peace. My face was a model of contrition.

“You aren’t bad yourself,” she said. “Vampire thing?”

“Constantly playing a role,” I agreed. “Why don’t you buy it?”

Gwen looked back at the door. “Because I’m a skilled and experienced investigator. She shows none of the typical characteristics of a person who’s been assaulted—no fear, no concern. She seemed very eager to put the blame on vampires without any hard evidence a vampire was involved. The attacker might have been familiar, except she couldn’t actually see his face. And there’s nothing near the corner of the bar that indicates a fight took place. None of her blood, none of his. Given the size of her cut, she should have left something behind.”