“Jenks, then. Can we get you anything? Sugar water, peanut butter…” He turned, smiling from behind his mustache. “Coffee, Ms. Morgan?” he drawled. “You look tired.”

His grin banished the last of my bad mood. “That’d be great,” I said, and Edden gave Glenn a directive look. The detective’s jaw was clenched, and several new welts ran down his jawline. Edden grasped his forearm as the frustrated man turned away. Pulling Glenn down, Edden whispered, “It’s too late to wash the pixy dust off. Try cortisone.”

Glenn gave me a closed stare as he straightened and walked back the way we had come.

“I appreciate you dropping in,” Edden continued. “I got a break this morning, and you’re the only one I could call to capitalize on it.”

Jenks made a scoffing laugh. “Whatsa matter, got a Were with a thorn in his paw?”

“Shut up, Jenks,” I said, more from habit than anything else. Glenn had mentioned Trent Kalamack, and that had me itchy. The captain of the FIB drew to a stop before a plain door. Another equally plain door was a foot away. Interrogation rooms. He opened his mouth to explain, then shrugged and pushed the door open to show a bare room at half-light. He ushered me in, waiting until the door shut before turning to the two-way mirror and silently shifting the blinds.

I stared into the other room. “Sara Jane!” I whispered, my face going slack.

“You know her?” Edden crossed his short, thick arms on his chest. “That’s lucky.”

“There’s no such thing as luck,” Jenks snapped, the breeze from his wings brushing my cheek as he hovered at eye level. His hands were on his hips and his wings had gone from their usual translucence to a faint pink. “It’s a setup.”

I drew closer to the glass. “She’s Trent Kalamack’s secretary. What is she doing here?”

Edden stood beside me, his feet spread wide. “Looking for her boyfriend.”

I turned, surprised at the tight expression on his round face. “Warlock named Dan Smather,” Edden said. “Went missing Sunday. The I.S. won’t act until he’s gone for thirty days. She’s convinced his disappearance is tied to the witch hunter murders. I think she’s right.”

My stomach tightened. Cincinnati was not known for its serial killers, but we had endured more unexplained murders in the last six weeks than the last three years combined. The recent violence had everyone upset, Inderlander and human alike. The one-way glass fogged under my breath and I backed up. “Does he fit the profile?” I asked, already knowing the I.S. wouldn’t have brushed her off if he had.

“If he were dead he would. So far he’s only missing.”

The dry rasp of Jenks’s wings broke the silence. “So why bring Rache into it?”