Clay headed straight for the door, and I followed, with Asa trailing me.
“People react better to Clay,” he explained when he noticed me taking stock of our positions.
Hindbrain was a funny thing. Prey species, like humans, got a tickle in the back of their minds that let them know when they were being hunted. They might not have natural predators, but they had plenty of supernatural predators that fed on them or off them.
Despite Clay’s tough-guy exterior, and Asa’s more subdued appearance, human brains picked up on signals their conscious minds missed and transmitted them to their bodies in the form of flight-or-fight reflexes.
It said a lot about me, none of it good, that Asa hadn’t pinged on my radar as a threat.
I needed to reevaluate the pecking order if I wanted to keep breathing. I had to prick my ego, let it burst, then poke the deflated remains to determine how much power I still held and where I ranked magically.
Otherwise, one day I would pick a fight I couldn’t win and lose in spectacular fashion.
Used to be that butting heads with me was like bringing a knife to a gunfight.
Now I worried it was like bringing a hot knife to a room temperature stick of butter.
We witches were famous for melting, after all.
The door swung open before Clay could knock, which had me searching for cameras out of habit.
“I’m Agent Kerr with the FBI.” He kept his expression bland. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
The twist on our identification meant Clay saw or heard a potential human within the dwelling.
“This ain’t about child support, is it?” The man glared at me like I had brought Clay to hold him upside down and shake him until coins fell out of his pockets. “Tell that woman I’ll pay it when I feel like it. I didn’t want no kids. She did. Now she’s got ’em. It’s not my fault she’s too good to work to pay for ’em.”
His open hostility toward women meant I had to keep my mouth shut for us to get answers.
However, that didn’t prevent me from whispering a spell to nudge his responses in the right direction.
Not a truth spell, exactly, more like a light compulsion to make him comfy enough to confide in us.
No wand or contact required. Just the way I liked it.
“That’s a local matter,” Clay assured him, his voice tight. “We’re not here about that.”
“Oh.” He scratched his bellybutton through his threadbare shirt. “What’s this about then?”
The way he shifted to block the door made it clear he didn’t plan on letting us in. Or putting on pants. His boxers were plaid, holey, and made me wonder if it was too soon to ask for a raise. They were also the only thing he had on, other than his tee.
“The bodies of three girls were discovered near one of the sites where you work,” Clay explained. “We came to ask if you saw or heard anything or noticed anyone acting peculiar.”
“Three girls?” The color drained from his ruddy cheeks. “I got five girls myself.”
Girls he had no interest in supporting, if his tirade was anything to go on, but the spell had loosened his tongue.
“Which site?” He snapped back from the shock quicker than a rubber band. “I work all over.”
Clay rattled off the address from yesterday, and we watched the light bulb click for our machinist.
“I worked there, yeah. For three, maybe four days.” He tugged on his earlobe. “Didn’t hear a peep as I recall, but I wouldn’t with the earplugs in. Don’t remember seeing anything odd either. Just me and the same old guys doing the same old thing.” He shrugged. “The lots blur after a while. Just a bunch of trees and dirt. All that changes is the address.”
“Thank you for your time.” Clay pasted on a good ol’ boy smile. “We appreciate your help.”
We kept silent until we piled into the SUV. As one, the guys looked to me for my opinion.
“He’s not our guy.” I set my laptop on my knees. “The spell nudged him, and he gave us nothing.”