Inevitable Disclosure (Valor and Doyle Book 4) by Nicky James

Author:Nicky James [James, Nicky]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-01-29T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Quaid

It had been a late night. After I’d finished with Carter, Aslan had taken another go, using a different angle, accusing Carter of lying and telling him he didn’t kill Saphira. Carter was a mess by that point, and his slim details varied with each retelling until he was frustrated and confused.

Aslan didn’t let up, calling him on his mistakes, directing and redirecting until Carter didn’t know up from down. By the time the kid had been in the interview room for close to four and a half hours, he’d lain his head on the table and stopped talking.

After ten, Torin tossed him back in a holding cell, and we’d called it a night.

For reasons I couldn’t understand, the whole process had gotten Aslan excited, and we’d gone back to his place, forgone dinner, and spent most of the night in a tangle of sweaty limbs until neither one of us could get it up again. I had hickies and bite marks in places that were hard to hide. When I’d given him shit, he’d laughed, slapped my ass, kissed my neck, then tossed me in a shower, having another go.

I was sore and tired.

Aslan was meeting Torin at headquarters to go over some things for another case they were working, so I’d decided to take the opportunity to do some quiet reconnaissance.

It was Wednesday, and a large crowd had gathered at the Anderson and Whitlock Funeral home for Saphira’s funeral. After an argument, Dawson had successfully managed to get his daughter’s body released for burial. Often times in a homicide investigation, there was a lengthy holdup. Whatever method of coaxing Dawson had used must have worked.

The Nottinghams had forgone a church service, which seemed odd considering Dawson’s position as a pastor, resigned or not.

The parking lot was packed. I waited in my car until the majority of the mourners had entered the building. All kinds of high-school-age students were present, dressed in black, gathering in small groups to support one another as they cried and hugged.

I’d worn black trousers, and my wool coat was black, so I blended in when I snuck inside. It was packed. Folding chairs lined both sides of the room, leaving an aisle down the middle. The family was upfront, accepting condolences. There was no casket. Saphira had been cremated, and a pink urn sat on a podium with a framed picture of a vibrant teenager beside it. Dozens of bouquets of flowers had been artfully arranged around the room, their perfumy scent combating the burning incense.

I took a seat in the back row and scanned, seeking Gryphon, Teagan, Elijah, or Lark. Carter could claim he was guilty until he was blue in the face. I wasn’t buying it, but his sudden appearance and knowledge had rung some bells. He had information that made me think he was connected to one of these teens. I didn’t know what kind of game they were playing, but someone had convinced Carter to take the fall for them.

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