“Enough,” the older man said, sufficiently firm to put me off my stride. “This is us talking to you, not the other way around.”
I looked to my lawyer, “Can I be held like this, on grounds this sketchy?”
“You can be held for twenty-four hours on suspicion. If you’d like, I could reach out to the Crown Attorney.”
“How long would that take?”
“They have busy schedules. I imagine it would take a little bit of time.”
Fuck.
“There’s a bail hearing in the early afternoon,” my lawyer said. “You’ll meet with a justice of the peace, and at that point in time, you can waive or pursue a bail hearing.”
Early afternoon.
Even if it worked and I was able to get bail from somewhere, while charged with murder and alienated from my friends…
That left me very little time.
It all came down to time. I needed out now, and I needed to use the tipped scales, while the winds were still blowing in my favor.
I frowned, staring down at the table.
“Do you have more questions for me?”
“None. You can return to your cell.”
“I have a solid alibi, don’t I?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “The woman hasn’t explained who supposedly asked them to pass on instructions to you. It seems to me that you have an individual, or a group of individuals, who might be complicit in a boy’s disappearance and death.”
“You’re avoiding the word murder,” I said, seeing a chance. “Was he murdered? You have evidence?”
“The animals got to his body,” the police chief said. “We looked it over-”
“Anything? I think the term Officer Max there-”
“Officer Vargis,” ‘Max’ said, his response delayed slightly. He was just as out of it as the others.
“-Officer Vargis, he used the term reasonable doubt. If this goes to the justice of the peace this afternoon, are they going to uphold it, or are they going to hear the basic evidence and throw it out? Are you holding me out of spite? Because-”
“Enough,” the older man said. I bristled, ready to press the attack. “The charges may well be dropped. However, I trust Officer Behaim’s-”
“You’re bringing up the guy who may well be conspiring with his uncle,” I cut in. “Again.”
He bristled this time. “That’s-”
“Maybe you could contact the Crown Attorney after all?” I asked my lawyer.
“No,” the older officer said. He shook his head, as if trying to clear out cobwebs. “There’s no need for that.”
“No need?” I asked.
“For now, we can drop the charges. However, as you remain a person of interest, a possible witness or potential suspect, with the possibility of another arrest if new evidence comes forward, we’ll be in contact with you on a regular basis.”
My heart soared, even as I kept my expression stern and still.
I glanced at my lawyer.
“It sounds acceptable,” she said.
“Good. I’m sorry for the, um, confusion, Mr. Thorburn.”
“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t about to accept his apology.
They opened the door to the interrogation room, then froze.
I pushed my way out past them.
Officer Behaim stood in the hallway, head hanging, arms limp at his sides. His fingers had black blotches on them. Everyone in the area was lingering at the edges of the room, staring.
More alarming were the spirits that stood around him.
A child, a matron, an older woman, each holding one part of a length of thread.
A giant with gray skin and a veiled face.
A tin man with a clockwork body, his head rotating around three hundred and sixty degrees, moving a set distance each second, like his overly pointed nose was a hand of a clock.
A man that bore a startling resemblance to Laird’s familiar, but fainter, slightly more tattered.
Duncan held something in one hand. A container?
What was it?
“-completely lost it, sir,” someone at the edge of the room was saying.
“Behaim,” the older man said, his voice steady, gentle.
Behaim moved, and I realized what the container was. A spray can.
I saw the wall beside him, the doors, bulletin board and wall painted with black lines. A diagram.
“Fuck,” I breathed. I searched the room for options.
“Can’t let you go, Thorburn,” Behaim said.
I saw a cop with a coffee in hand and bolted.
I seized the coffee from the officer’s hand and flung it, coffee and all, at the diagram.
Duncan Behaim and each of the spirits around him moved in sync, reaching out, placing their hands on sections of the diagram.
He said something in a language I couldn’t understand, then he said my name.
The coffee cup didn’t get halfway to the diagram.
■
Blake Thorburn.
I sat upright, nearly smashing my head into the cot above mine.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” I swore, long and loud.
Blake Thorburn.
The Knights, outside.
Me, back in the cell.
“No, no, no,” I said, standing. My complaints joined those of the other prisoners in the holding cells. “No, fuck, shit, fuck, balls.”
Everything was moving in the same direction, except for one individual.
Duncan Behaim.
I could sense him converging on the woman, the Knight who could lie. The both of them moved in the direction of the other Knights. Duncan having a bit of a chat with them.
“Knights,” I said. “Nick. Nick…”
The connection broke as quickly as I formed it. Blocked.
I wasn’t sure if it was Nick or Behaim that broke the connection. The Knights, however, turned to leave.
I sensed them go. Getting into a car and driving away.
A threat, a deflection, a distraction. I couldn’t say.
Behaim headed back to the building.
Where was he going?
He stopped in one room, paused for a moment, then changed direction.
A connection flared between Duncan Behaim and Evan.
He was after the ghost.
I looked at Evan, sitting in the corner.
“Sorry you had to go through that again,” I said. “They… tore you open?”
The look of confusion on his face was enough for me. He didn’t remember the last few hours. Still, he said, “Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Just me and Behaim, then?”
He stared at me, uncomprehending.
“Nevermind,” I said. “You want me to give you something to do…”
He took it as a question, and he nodded.