We couldn’t tell the authorities that he’d killed using mind control because, well, rational people don’t believe in mind control. Or omens. Or fae. The state attorney’s office had settled on charging him with accessory to murder.

“So why didn’t Chandler get bail?” I asked as we walked from the parking lot to the prison. “I’m certainly not complaining. It just seems odd, given his age and spotless record. Is it set too high?”

“Edgar Chandler could put up a million-dollar bond as easily as I paid for that car. But he hasn’t.”

“Which means what?”

“That he’s not in any rush to get out.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Chandler looked every month of his eighty-six years. I wouldn’t have said I was sorry to see it. Not only had he ordered the deaths of Jan Gunderson and Peter Evans, but he’d used his mind-control drugs to murder Jan’s father and a friend of Peter’s as a test of his new toy. Two innocent people had died and two equally innocent people were now charged with their murders.

Chandler tottered into the visitors’ area on a cane. Not because the weight of his crimes had finally become too much to bear, but because he hadn’t recovered from being shot in the leg by Gabriel last month.

When a guard strode over to help him, Chandler peered at him.

“I don’t know you,” he said to the man.

“Name’s Ransom. I was here last week when you talked to your lawyer.”

“No you weren’t. I’ve never seen you before.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and took Chandler by the arm to help him into his seat.

Chandler shook the man off. “I don’t know you.”

“Someone’s a little paranoid,” I whispered to Gabriel.

Chandler turned to us. “Mr. Walsh. I don’t believe you were invited to this tête-à-tête. If Eden feels threatened, I can assure you both I’m quite harmless here.”

“Gabriel stays,” I said. “So you’ve decided to speak to me?”

“I have.”

“That means you want something from me. Let’s get that out of the way first.”

“I called you here because I believe we can benefit one another. This was never about hurting you, Eden.”

I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You forget I heard you give Mrs. Evans the order. Kill the girl.” He’d brainwashed Peter Evans’s wife after having their housekeeper kill Evans.

“Then you misinterpreted, which can happen when you eavesdrop, Olivia.”

Reverting to my preferred name suggested he was anxious to show his sincerity, but . . . well, I had the feeling it took someone a lot scarier than me—or even Gabriel—to make Edgar Chandler anxious.

“I offered to protect you from any fallout after Evans’s death and to help you better understand your situation,” he said. “I tried to work with you.”