Feeling cocky, I slipped my hand into Trent’s. Though his green eyes were cold with the knowledge that I’d forced him into touching me, his grip was warm and firm. I wondered how long he had been practicing it. Satisfied, I loosened my grip, but instead of doing the same, Trent’s hand slipped from mine with an intimate slowness that wasn’t at all professional. I would have said he had just made a pass at me but for the slight tightening of his eyes, which spoke of a wary caution.

“Mr. Kalamack,” I said, refusing to wipe my hand on my skirt. “You’re looking good.”

“As are you.” His smile was frozen in place, and his right hand was almost behind his back. “I understand you’re doing reasonably well with your little investigation firm. I imagine it’s difficult when you’re just starting out.”

Little investigation firm? My unease flashed into irritation. “Thank you,” I managed.

A smile quirking the corner of his mouth, Trent turned his attention to Edden. As the two professional men made polite, politically correct and hypocritical niceties, I glanced over Trent’s office. His fake window still showed a live shot of one of his yearling pastures, the artificial light shining through the video screen to make a warm patch of glowing carpet. There was a new school of black and white fish in the zoo-size fish tank, and the freestanding aquarium had been moved into a recess built into the wall behind his desk. The spot where my cage had been held a potted orange tree, and the scent-memory of food pellets made my stomach clench. The camera at the ceiling in the corner blinked its little red light at me.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Edden,” Trent was saying, the smooth cadence of his voice luring my attention. “I wish it could be under better circumstances.”

“Mr. Kalamack.” Edden’s sharp staccato sounded harsh against Trent’s voice. “I apologize for any inconvenience incurred while we search your grounds.”

Jonathan handed Trent the warrant, and he looked at it briefly before handing it back. “Corporal evidence leading to an arrest in the deaths known as the witch hunter murders?” he said, his eyes flicking to mine. “That’s a little broad, isn’t it?”

“Putting down ‘dead body’ looked crass,” I said tightly, and Edden cleared his throat, the barest hint of worry we might find nothing staining his professional stance. I noticed Edden had fallen into a parade rest, and wondered if the ex–Navy SEAL even knew it. “You were the last person to see Dr. Anders,” I added, wanting to see Trent’s reaction.