I sat. The hood was yanked off my head and a light glared in my eyes. I could make out the outline of men with short hair and dark suits in a military stance in front of me.

“Who are you and why did you kill Ford and Cricket Poindexter?”

“She was already … she was gone when I got there. Ford slipped and hit his head. I was giving him CPR,” I said in a flat voice, stunned by going from one death to two others.

“Ford Poindexter said that vampires had killed her. What did he mean?”

“I don’t know.” I stared at nothing and caution slapped me out of my shock. “I’d like to talk to an attorney.”

The first man said, “What’s your name?”

These men weren’t law enforcement, nor were they U.S. military. If they had my name, they’d get my address. If they got my address, they could find traces of Wil’s blood at my loft and animal blood in the refrigerator. They could find my friends’ names and information. They would find the stack of unused wedding invitations in my closet. They would learn about my truck and eventually find the body in the back.

“I have the right to speak to an attorney.”

“You haven’t been charged with anything. Did you have a sexual relationship with Ford Poindexter?”

“No!”

“Then who are you and what were you doing at the house? Why don’t you have any identification on you? How did you get there? Do you work the streets? Is that how you met them?”

“I’m not telling you anything until I talk to my attorney.”

“Tell us what we want to know and we’ll let you make a call.”

“Tell me who you are and let me speak to my attorney.”

It went on this way for hours. We were like automatronic dolls at a theme park, reciting a limited script on a loop. Ford’s blood dried dark brown on my sweatshirt.

Eventually they became impatient. “Tell us about the vampires.”

“There’s no such thing as vampires. You may as well ask me to tell you about zombies.” One man raised his hand and I relaxed so that the slap wouldn’t hurt as much, but it still stung so sharply that my eyes welled.

My throat got dry and I stopped talking. When I closed my eyes to block out the harsh light, someone behind me kicked the chair to startle me.

They dragged me down a dark hall with chipped green walls and industrial pendant lights, and shoved me into a cinder-block room. The thick metal door had a slot for them to slide food through.