Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,2
open on the table in front of him not only contained the coroner’s report and his own notes, but various witness reports. He didn’t seem to care if I could see them.
It does make me wonder if it’s deliberate. Maybe he wants me to check them out so I can fashion my answers to suit.
That hardly makes sense given the statements you’ve already made.
It does if my father is placing pressure on them to drop the investigation.
Her snort echoed sharply through my brain. I doubt even your father has the gumption to interfere with this investigation—not when his own actions are also being looked at.
Those actions being forcing me into a marriage against my will when I was still underage. Why else would Samuel bother mentioning my father, then? Remember, the last thing he actually wants is me being charged as an accessory to Clayton’s murder. It’d play havoc with his latest scheme to marry me off for the benefit of the family.
Knowing your father, you landing in jail wouldn’t actually stop his machinations.
That, sadly, was all too true. The only thing that really mattered to him was the family’s position as the most powerful in Canberra. Of course, he also cared—rather greatly—about his own reputation, which was no doubt why he’d temporarily stepped down from the council and was now playing the “my best friend tried to kill me” card. It was simply all an effort to garner sympathy and overshadow the fact he’d illegally forced his underage daughter to marry his second cousin.
But even if they do decide to arrest you—and I seriously doubt Samuel’s here to do that—it’s not like he can get you off the reservation.
Thanks in large part to my connection with the wild magic within the reservation—and yet it was a restriction we’d never really tested. I’d certainly left the reservation for a day or so, but we only had the word of a ghost and my own intuition saying anything more permanent would be rejected.
I’d still rather avoid being arrested, thanks very much.
I’d rather you avoid that, too. Having to visit you in jail would get old real quick. Not to mention play havoc with my social life.
Because you have such a busy dating schedule these days.
My voice was dry, and she laughed. I’m working on it, but I’m also totally over werewolves at the moment.
Shame we’re in a werewolf reservation, then. I paused. I guess there is always Monty.
Who wasn’t only the reservation’s resident witch, but also my cousin—and the only relative I actually liked.
I’ll ignore that comment.
Which was a step up from her usual threat to do me damage after similar teasing comments in the past. And while it might not be an admission she actually liked him, their relationship had certainly taken a giant leap forward after Monty had not only stepped up to protect Belle, but had floored Clayton with the best punch I’d ever seen anyone throw. She was now openly going out with him, even if she wasn’t yet willing to admit they were dating or an item.
“I guess in such a situation, there are very few of us who wouldn’t act as you did,” Sam said. “That does not make it right, however.”
I took another sip of chocolate. “Does that mean you’re here to arrest me?”
“No, I’m here to question all parties involved and to examine the various crime scenes. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“But your recommendations will determine what happens next?”
“In part.” He pressed a button on his phone and stopped the recording. “In truth, there has been some pressure on the council to let the matter slide.”
“From my father?”
He smiled. It really was a lovely smile. Just as well my heart was taken, or I might have been tempted to flirt. “Surprisingly, no. It’s actually coming from Clayton’s family, who do not wish his behavior to become a matter of public record.”
“Because it would reflect badly on them.”
“Yes.”
I studied him curiously for a second. “I suspect I’m not supposed to know that, so why say it?”
He made a small shrug. “Because I can sympathize with your situation.”
“Really?”
My disbelief was evident, and he smiled again. “Perhaps I’ll explain why over coffee one afternoon.”
“I work most afternoons.”
“I meant here, of course. I’m told you make the best coffee in town.”
“We do.”
“Then we’ll talk again soon.” He rose, gathered his files, and headed for the front door.
I followed him—my gaze admittedly more on the butt his jeans hugged so damn lovingly—and locked the door once he’d left.