The Devil Inside Page 8

  I wasn’t buying any of this—or at least, I was trying not to—but I figured even in a dream, it’s best to humor psycho-killers who could squash you without even breaking a sweat.

  “Why would anyone want to go through all that trouble to stick you in an unwilling host?” I asked. “There are plenty of volunteers available.”

  He frowned, and the light behind his eyes grew brighter. “I have enemies among my people. People who do not like my message. I would say someone wants to keep me quiet. Which means someone knew that I wouldn’t be able to gain control of your body.

  “Letting Valerie know I’m communicating with you was not a good idea.”

  “Now listen here, mister—”

  “If they’re trying to keep me quiet, then they don’t want me talking to my host.”

  I threw up my hands in frustration. “Who the hell are ‘they’?”

  He took a step closer to me. Again, I backed away. He might be the studliest guy I’d ever laid eyes on, but I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.

  “I don’t know. Just be careful. Whoever they are, they’re not going to leave you alone.”

  He flickered. Just like one of those old black-and-white movies.

  “Damn it!” he said. “You’re fighting me again. Please, try to relax and let me talk to you. We have to figure out what to do.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know what I was doing to fight him, but whatever it was, I wanted to keep doing it. I’d had enough of this dream, thank you very much.

  He flickered again.

  Then he was gone, and I was alone in the white room.

  Seconds later, I awoke to find myself cuddled safely in Brian’s arms.

  Chapter 7

  I left Brian’s before he woke up the next morning. Cowardly of me, I suppose, but I couldn’t see myself calmly discussing my situation over coffee. I knew I wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend nothing was wrong.

  I’d spent the night at Brian’s just often enough to warrant having a change of clothes there, though I was stuck using his Old Spice deodorant. I didn’t realize how much I’d come to associate that scent with him until I’d left. The scent was faint, and I kept thinking he was right there with me. Maybe I should have stopped by a Rite Aid and bought some of my own stuff.

  I made it to the office by seven. I’d finished the reports on my exorcisms yesterday, but there was still plenty of paperwork waiting for me, accounting details and such. I wasn’t being what you’d call productive. I kept telling myself that Lugh was nothing but a vivid dream. Okay, I’m the queen of denial. So sue me.

  At around eleven, someone banged on my office door. I’d have said “knocked,” except this sound was far more authoritative and I practically jumped out of my chair. Before I had a chance to invite anyone in, the door swung open, and a pair of plainclothes detectives stepped in. I vaguely recognized one of them. When you’re an exorcist, you deal with the criminal element on a regular basis, and that means getting to know cops.

  They were a bit of an odd couple, the two of them. The one on the left, whom I’d never seen before, looked too skinny to be a cop. He had the build of a man who could eat five-course meals on a regular basis and never gain any weight. I’d have said he couldn’t scare a five-year-old on Halloween if it hadn’t been for his eyes. They were the iciest blue I’d ever seen, and the expression in them wasn’t much warmer. The eyes alone would be enough to keep most sane perps in line.

  His partner, the familiar one, looked like the kind of guy who dressed up as Santa Claus for Christmas. He wasn’t fat, exactly, but he had a definite beer gut, and his cheeks were rosy. Not a wholesome rosy, actually, more of an I-drink-too-much rosy, but stick a white wig and beard on him and I’m betting he’d have looked jolly enough.

  There wasn’t much ho-ho-ho in him today, though. Before I had a chance to ask if I could help them with something, he was flashing his badge.

  “I’m Detective O’Reilly,” he said. His voice surprised me. He looked like he should have a deep, growling voice, but it was on the high and reedy side. “This is my partner, Detective Finn.”

  Detective Arctic Eyes nodded a greeting. Neither one of them offered to shake hands.

  I put on my most accommodating smile—these guys were making me nervous, and I didn’t know why. They had to be here for a follow-up on the break-in at my house. I should be glad to see them.

  “What can I do for you, Detectives?” I asked. Neither one of them returned my smile.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions,” O’Reilly said.

  I didn’t like the way that sounded. “Sure. Please, have a seat.” I motioned to the pair of chairs in front of my desk, but neither of them made a move to sit.

  “I think it would be best if we did this at the station.”

  I blinked up at the two of them. “What’s this about?” Surely they didn’t need me to come to the station to talk about the break-in.

  Finn took over talking. He had the kind of voice I’d expected from O’Reilly. “There was an illegal exorcism last night. Your name came up.”

  I shook my head. “What? Why?”

  “Ms. Kingsley, please come with us,” O’Reilly said. “You’re not an official suspect yet, but we really do need you to answer some questions, and this isn’t the place for it.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want to make things difficult for our heroic men in blue. I have a great deal of respect for law enforcement officers—Adam White being one of the few exceptions to that rule. Still, this whole thing was making my skin crawl.

  I glanced at my watch. “I can meet you there in half an hour.” Just enough time to contact a lawyer—as long as I happened to be dating said lawyer. I didn’t think I had time to find someone else. At least, not someone I trusted. I don’t trust easy. Surprised?

  O’Reilly leaned his hands on the chair in front of him while Finn tried to freeze my marrow with his eyes.

  “We’d appreciate it if you came with us now,” O’Reilly said.

  But the vibe on these guys felt wrong. I didn’t want to get into a car with them. I mean, I knew they were really police officers and all, but still, something was bugging me. I’d feel a hell of a lot safer meeting them at the station. Even if that would piss them off.

  I was very calm and nonconfrontational when I responded. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you’d like. In a half hour, and with my attorney.” I didn’t ask if they had a warrant, because if they had, they’d have told me already. So far, cooperation on my part was entirely voluntary.

  Finn looked like he wanted to say something nasty, but O’Reilly silenced him with a tiny shake of his head.

  “We’ll see you at eleven-thirty, then,” O’Reilly said, looking at his watch. “I’m sure you won’t keep us waiting. Right, Miss Kingsley?”

  If he was trying to get a rise out of me, he had to do better than that. My fuse isn’t that short. I smiled at both of them. “I look forward to it.”

  Finn snorted softly, but the corner of O’Reilly’s mouth lifted as if he found me amusing.

  The second they were out the door, I was on the phone, praying Brian wasn’t in a meeting.

  He wasn’t in a meeting, but he wasn’t overjoyed to hear from me, either. Apparently, he hadn’t been happy to wake up and find me gone. I decided I’d apologize later, when I wasn’t begging for a favor so it wouldn’t sound so self-serving.

  Brian’s not a criminal attorney, but he’s extremely competent. I figured as long as I wasn’t officially under arrest, he’d be able to protect me from any major legal faux pas.

  We met at the police station at right around eleven forty-five. We weren’t late on purpose, it just took Brian a little longer to tie up his loose ends at the office than I’d hoped. O’Reilly seemed to take it as a personal offense, though, and glared holes in my skull when I was shown into his office. At least Finn wasn’t there to give me frostbite with his eyes.

  “Wh
ere were you last night between three-thirty and five?” O’Reilly asked without preamble.

  I glanced over at Brian, who raised his shoulders in a hint of a shrug. I took that to mean it was okay to answer the question.

  “With my boyfriend,” I said.

  O’Reilly scribbled something on his notepad. “Name?”

  My inner smart-ass wanted to say “Morgan Kingsley,” but somehow I didn’t think O’Reilly would find that funny. “Brian Tyndale.”

  O’Reilly wrote that down, then looked at Brian with narrowed eyes. “You her lawyer or her boyfriend?”

  Brian’s expression was mild, as if he didn’t mind the cop’s belligerence. I minded, but I kept my mouth shut. “Both,” Brian said. “If you’re going to press charges, I’ll find someone else to represent her. Are you going to press charges, Detective O’Reilly? And if so, what are they?”

  O’Reilly ignored the questions and asked one of his own. “Can you vouch for her all night?”

  Brian opened his mouth as if to say yes, then fell silent. My heart sank to my toes. Brian was too much of a goody-two-shoes even to fib for me.

  “Most of it,” he said, and I couldn’t help turning to look at him. I don’t know if my face showed hurt, or anger, or both, but whatever it showed didn’t seem to move him. “I don’t know what time she left this morning.”

  Bastard. Asshole. Brutus.

  These were just a few of the thoughts that ran through my mind. His face looked completely impassive while he slit my fucking throat. I was clenching my hands around the arms of my chair so hard I lost feeling in my fingertips. If O’Reilly had asked me a question at that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to answer if my life depended on it.

  The betrayal tasted sour on my tongue.

  “So you can’t account for her whereabouts between three-thirty and five,” O’Reilly said, just to hammer in the point.

  “Not unequivocally, no.” Brian sounded like he might be discussing the weather, that’s how much emotion was in his voice. And he didn’t even look at me. “Now would you care to tell me what this is all about?”

  O’Reilly ignored me and focused on Brian. “Sometime early this morning, there was an illegal exorcism.” He glanced at his notepad. “A Mr. Thomas Wilson. He’s a legal, registered demon host. Someone broke into his house last night, Tasered him, tied him up, then cast out his demon against his will.”

  “And why do you think it was my client?”

  His “client.” That made my stomach turn over.

  “The exorcist used vanilla-scented candles for the ritual. Your client is known for using vanilla-scented candles.”

  “Oh for God’s sake!” I burst out, indignation now taking over for the hurt. “Lots of exorcists use scented candles! And—”

  Brian reached over and grabbed my arm in a grip so tight it hurt and startled me out of my anger. He turned those impassive eyes to me. “Let me handle this, Morgan. That’s why you brought me along.”

  “Yeah, you’ve been a big help so far,” I snarled.

  His grip on my arm tightened even more. If he squeezed any harder, he’d leave bruises. In my state of mind, it should have made me go ballistic. Except it was such unusual behavior for him that I had to stop and think. He was still wearing his lawyer face, and there was no special boyfriend-to-girlfriend look in his eyes. But his fingers were crushing the hell out of me. I realized suddenly that he was gripping my arm from behind—so O’Reilly couldn’t see how hard he was squeezing.

  I swallowed hard and shut up, hoping this meant he was still on my side and was trying to keep O’Reilly from seeing it. Brian let go of my arm with a self-satisfied little nod.

  “Detective O’Reilly,” Brian said, “I’m sure if my client had performed an illegal exorcism, she wouldn’t have left her candles behind to be found.”

  Oh yeah, that was a rousing endorsement.

  “Maybe she was interrupted.”

  “That’s hardly enough—”

  There was a knock on the door, and Finn stuck his head in. I didn’t like the smile on the detective’s face as he motioned to O’Reilly.

  O’Reilly rose. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

  I whirled on Brian the moment O’Reilly was out the door.

  “Be quiet, Morgan!” he snapped in a low, urgent voice. He’d lost the impassive lawyer look, his face now intensely earnest. “If I’d lied about your whereabouts and they’d found out about it, things could get very, very bad for both of us. Please keep your temper under control and let me handle this. We can fight later.”

  I was eager to get to the fighting right away, but O’Reilly stepped back in at that moment. He looked way too happy.

  “Very sloppy, Miss Kingsley,” he said. He uncurled his fingers to show that he had something in his hand. They were little pieces of brightly colored paper like confetti.

  Only it wasn’t confetti. Whenever you fire a Taser, it leaves a literal paper trail—anti-felon ID (AFID) tags, up to forty of them, with the cartridge’s serial number on them. I had a nagging hunch I knew whose Taser cartridge these had come from. I also had a nagging hunch that when they downloaded the data from my Taser’s data port, it would claim it had been fired between three-thirty and five.

  I’d have said now I knew why the intruders had broken into my house—to switch out my Taser and frame me for murder—except you don’t need three masked men to steal a Taser, and you certainly don’t need two guns apiece. No, they might have switched Tasers on me, but that hadn’t been their primary mission. A backup plan, maybe?

  I suppressed a shudder. The attack on Wilson’s demon had occurred after the break-in at my house. Which suggested the bad guys had paid another visit to return my original Taser after they’d used it at the crime scene.

  I was going to have to get a new alarm system. Mine apparently was a piece of shit.

  “Miss Kingsley, you’re under arrest for the murder of Thomas Wilson’s demon. You have the right to remain silent.”

  I didn’t hear the rest of the Miranda spiel. I was far too shocked. Brian didn’t say a word as they cuffed my hands behind my back. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me, like he thought I might actually be guilty. That realization was going to hurt somewhere down the road, but I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet.

  “Brian!” I said as they tried to lead me out of the room. “You know I’m not that stupid.”

  Both O’Reilly and Finn raised eyebrows at that. I guess they thought I should’ve been telling Brian I’d never do such a horrible thing. I wasn’t sure Brian would believe that. I was pretty sure he’d believe that I wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave my candles and Taser confetti behind.

  I didn’t have time to test the theory, though, because the detectives hustled me out of there before I could say anything more.

  Chapter 8

  Later that afternoon, there was another lovely round of questioning. This time, it happened in an actual interrogation room, and Brian wasn’t serving as my lawyer. He’d referred a colleague of his—a very sharp, very lawyerly woman who’d hardly let me speak a word. The cops seemed especially interested in the fact that I had a bruise on my face. I’d have to remember to thank Val for that later.

  Some remnant of misguided loyalty made me tell them I’d gotten the bruise during one of my sleepwalking adventures. They obviously didn’t believe me, but then they were stuck on the idea that I’d exorcized what’s-his-name’s demon and gotten the bruise during a struggle.

  My attorney promised me she’d arrange bail, despite O’Reilly’s dark suggestions that I wouldn’t get it.

  Either way, I was spending the night in this lovely facility. At least in my jail cell, I had a cot and a toilet. A big step up from the containment center in Topeka. However, I sure hoped being locked up for the night wasn’t going to become a habit.

  There was definitely a part of me that was scared. If the DA could make the charges stick, there was
a very real possibility I’d go to prison. Maybe even for the rest of my life. But honestly, I had a hard time believing I’d get convicted.

  I’m not some kind of Pollyanna who thinks that the innocent never get convicted. But I figured without a motive or a witness, even the most convincing circumstantial evidence wouldn’t be enough.

  At around five in the afternoon, the guards came for me again and led me to the interrogation room. They left me there alone, in handcuffs, and my stomach felt a little queasy. Was this the part where they tried to beat a confession out of me? I really, really didn’t like that my lawyer wasn’t there, and that the guards had completely ignored me when I demanded they call her.

  I had about ten minutes to stew and sweat before the door opened and Adam White came in.

  I wouldn’t say he was the last person I expected to see, but I was definitely surprised to see him. I raised both eyebrows as he unlocked my handcuffs and took a seat across from me at the table.

  “You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you, Adam?”

  He leaned back in his chair and stared at me. I didn’t like it, but I refused to squirm. When he still didn’t say anything, the pressure was too much and I had to break the silence.

  “I’m not saying a word until my attorney’s present.”

  He blinked as if surprised. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Like hell!”

  He held up both hands. “I mean it, Morgan. This is an unofficial visit. Like you said, I’m out of my jurisdiction.”

  “Then what do you want?” I sounded a bit snarly, and he hadn’t said anything to deserve it, but being in jail didn’t do good things to my overall attitude.

  He folded his hands and put them on the table, leaning forward as if to keep it just between him and me.

  Yeah, him, me, and whoever was watching and listening through the fake mirror behind his head.

  “I want to know what’s going on,” he said, keeping his voice low but not quite whispering. His eyes locked on mine as if he could read everything he needed to know if he just gazed at me intently enough.