Raised voices greeted me when I emerged from the shower. It was late, a shade past midnight, and I had missed the cutoff for room service. If I wanted to eat before climbing back into bed, I was going to have to brave the diner across the street. Wrapped in a threadbare robe embroidered with the hotel’s insignia, I towel-dried my hair, twisted it up on top of my head, then followed the yelling to my door where I peered through the fisheye lens into the hall.

Harlow stood with her back pressed against the door to her room and her hand circling the knob. Thierry stood on her left side and Shaw on her right. His shadow engulfed her, and it gave that side of her face a bruised appearance. Three other people crowded the hall between our rooms. Their backs faced me. Two women and a man. At the point of their triad, a brunette with tangled hair yanked into a lopsided ponytail shook her fist while screaming at Harlow. An older woman with a long, gray braid stood behind her to the left while the brown-haired man supported her elbow.

Before I could rein in the impulse, I had taken the knob in hand and twisted until the latch gave and a crack appeared in the door. They didn’t hear the rattle or click over the shouting. They didn’t notice the gap either. Their gazes were fixed to the left. I knelt and stuck my eye to the hairline space.

“…is dead because of you…”

“…knew what he was getting into…”

“…kids grow up without their father…”

A pang rocked me when I realized they were talking about the marshal who had died in the line of duty. Why or how the woman had fixated on Harlow puzzled me. Part of me worried it was my fault. If Harlow hadn’t stayed behind an extra night in Wink to babysit me, she would have left town before the widow got a chance to confront her. The whole situation made me that much more nervous about the secrets she was keeping.

“I’ll take this up with the magistrates,” the angry woman cried. “She never should have been on the scene.”

“She’s a consultant.” Thierry sounded short on patience. “The Southeastern Conclave assigned her to help us with a difficult case.”

“She’s an abomination,” the woman shrilled.

Emerald light blossomed in Thierry’s palm. The brunette didn’t appear to notice, as she was locked in a glaring contest with her, but the older woman did, and she took a shuffling step back, dragging the man with her.

“The conclave doesn’t discriminate.” Thierry ground the words out through a clenched jaw. “I’m sorry your husband lost his life. Jasper was a good man, but you can’t hold Ms. Bevans responsible.”