Then I gave up. Because it wasn’t so bad, really.
“I don’t know,” I said finally. “Does the name Elijah Smith ring a bell with you?”
“No. Should it?”
“You might want to look it up. Is that what you guys are doing? Looking for a cure?”
“Tell me—who do you talk to when you need advice?”
What was this, a game of questions? “Are you offering to be my bartender?”
“No. I just—I respect you. Good-bye, Ms. Norville.”
“Wait—” But he’d already hung up.
I needed a drink. I needed a bodyguard.
The phone rang again, and I nearly jumped out of my chair. I swear to God, if I wasn’t doing a call-in radio show, I’d get an unlisted number.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Norville?”
“Hello, Detective Hardin.”
“You remember me. Good.”
“I’m not likely to forget that night.” Probably the second-most-fear-intensive night of my life.
“No, I guess not. I wondered if I could get you to do a little consulting on a case.”
“What about?”
She paused; I could hear her drawing a deep breath over the phone, like she was steeling herself. “It’s a crime scene. A murder.”
I closed my eyes. “And you think something supernatural did it.”
“I’m pretty sure. But I want a second opinion before I start making noise. It could get ugly.”
She was telling me? All it would take was one rogue vampire sucking dry an adorable preteen girl. “You know I don’t have any sort of training in this, no forensics or even first aid.”
“I know. But you’re the only person I know who has any familiarity with this subject.”
“Except for Cormac, eh?”
“I don’t trust him.”
That was something, anyway, getting a cop to trust a monster more than a monster killer. Maybe the show was doing some good after all. Maybe my being exposed would do some good.
“I’ll need a ride.”
“I’m on my way.”
Hardin picked me up in an unmarked police sedan. As soon as she pulled away from the curb she started a rambling monologue. It sounded casual, but her knuckles were white and her brow was furrowed. She was also smoking, sucking on her cigarette like it was her first all day, tapping the ashes out the cracked window.
“I started listening to your show. That night we got called to your studio was so weird—I was curious. I still am. I’m learning more all the time. I’ve been going over all our mauling death cases from the last few years. Most of them are too old to have any evidence to follow up on, or we caught the animal that did it. But now—I don’t think I can ever write off one of these to wild dogs again. You convinced me. You guys are known for ripping people’s throats out.”
She looked at me sideways, smiling grimly. She had dark hair tied in a short ponytail. Hazel eyes. Didn’t wear makeup. Her clothes were functional—shirt, trousers, and blazer. Nothing glamorous about her. She was intensely straightforward.