Glenn shifted, making a soft sound of warning. Edden stiffened, his jaw clenching until white spots appeared on his forehead. “Rachel,” he said with a soft threat, “this is an official FIB investigation, and we are going to do it my way. You’ve allowed yourself to become emotionally involved, and your judgment is compromised.”

“My judgment?” I shouted. “He stuck me in a freaking cage and put me in the rat fights!”

Edden took a step closer. “I’m not,” he said, pointing at me, “going to let you waltz into his office and telegraph your vendetta-based suspicions while we’re gathering evidence. Even if we do question him, you will—not—be—there!”

“Edden!” I protested.

“No!” he barked, rocking me back a step. “This conversation is over.”

I took a breath to tell him it wasn’t over until I said so, but he had walked out. Angry, I struck out after him. “Edden,” I called after his swiftly vanishing shadow. For a squat man, he moved fast. A door slammed. “Edden!”

Ignoring the watching FIB officers, I stormed through the open offices, past Rose, and to his closed door. I reached for the handle, then hesitated. It was his office; angry or not, I couldn’t barge in. Frustrated, I stood outside his door and shouted, “Edden!” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You and I both know Trent Kalamack is able and willing to commit murder. If you won’t let me talk to him through the FIB, then I quit!”

I took off my visitor’s badge as if it meant something and threw it on Rose’s desk. “You hear me? I’ll go talk to him by myself.”

Edden’s door jerked open, and I took a step back. He stood before me, his khaki slacks creased and his plaid shirt starting to come untucked. He loomed out into the hallway, pushing me almost into Rose’s desk with a stubby finger. “I told you if you came into this gunning for Mr. Kalamack, I’d sling your witch ass back across the river and into the Hollows. You made a commitment to work with Detective Glenn on this, and I’m holding you to it. But if you talk to Mr. Kalamack, I’ll toss you in my own lockup for harassment.”

I took a breath to protest, but my resolve faltered.

“Now get out of here,” Edden almost growled. “You have a class tomorrow, and I’ll deduct the tuition from your compensation if you don’t go.”

Thoughts of rent money intruded. Despising that money, not what was right, would be what stopped me. I glared at him. “You know he killed those people,” I said tightly.

Shaking in unspent adrenaline, I walked away. I passed through the silent FIB officers at their desks on my way to the front. I’d take the bus home.

Twelve