“I said I’m going to look into it, and if I find something, I’ll let you know.” He let go of me. “Just hang tight. You’re no help to me if you’re in jail.”

Dropping back a step, I watched the ambulance crew bring Serena out. They had used a witch spell to trigger her return to her human shape. From what I could see, she looked like the women in the morgue, a trim outline showing under the stretcher’s sheet, her long brown hair in disarray. David clearly had a preferred look to his women. Though she was unconscious, pain had drawn her face into lines.

“David didn’t hurt her,” I whispered as the ambulance crew loaded her in the back.

“Then he’ll be released when she regains consciousness and tells us that,” Glenn said.

I turned to Glenn, tears of frustration blurring my vision. “If we lived in a perfect world.”

My nose tickled with the scent of incense, and I spun. Denon was behind me, clearly amused that he had startled me. He looked better, almost his old self and dressed in his usual polo shirt and slacks that showed off his narrow waist and his muscular legs. Obviously some dead vamp had been at him, giving a little back to boost his morale. It was in his attitude. My pulse quickened at the reminder of the I.S. officers bundling David into cuffs, and I backed up into Glenn. “Denon,” I said stiffly, telling myself I wasn’t afraid of him but of what he could do to me under the flag of I.S. justice.

“Morgan,” the big man said, his deep, beautiful voice sounding like chocolate milk given sound. His gaze slid to Glenn behind me. “Detective Glenn.”

I shivered, his voice creeping up my spine with the subtlety of velvet. Damn, someone had been playing with him, all right. Glenn seemed to have noticed, too, for all he did was nod.

Denon smiled to show his flat teeth. “Morgan, it gives me great pleasure to take you in for questioning in conjunction with the murder of Brett Markson.”

My breath caught when he reached for me, and I fell back into Glenn’s solid weight. Flustered, I pulled myself straight. “I have an alibi, Denon. Back off.”

People were watching, and Denon arched his eyebrows. “The time of Markson’s death was put at seven. You were asleep, and I know no one was with you. Seeing as both your boyfriend and your roommate were with Piscary at the time.” He leered.

I didn’t want to think about it. I couldn’t think about it. “I was having an early-morning meeting with Mr. Kalamack,” I said, keeping my voice soft so he wouldn’t hear it shake.

Denon’s eyes widened, cracking his cocky attitude and giving me a measure of strength.