Captain Edden stood beside me, looking squat but capable in his khaki pants and white shirt. Glenn was in another of his black suits, trying to look collected despite his obvious nervousness. Edden, too, looked worried that he was going to have egg on his face if we didn’t find anything.

I adjusted my bag higher onto my shoulder and fidgeted. It was full of charms to find Dr. Anders, dead or alive. I had made Glenn wait while I whipped them up, using the paper she had written her address on as the focal object. If there was a shoe box left of her, the charms would light red. With them was a lie amulet, my wire-framed glasses to see through ley line disguises, and a spell checker. I was going to take the opportunity while talking to Trent to see if he used a charm to disguise his appearance. Nobody looks that good without help.

Outside, parked in the lot beside the gatehouse, were three FIB vans. The doors were open and the officers looked hot as they waited in the heat of an unseasonably warm afternoon. The breeze from Jenks’s wings sent a wisp of hair to tickle my neck. “Can you hear him?” I breathed as Quen turned away and began speaking into the phone.

“Oh, yeah,” the pixy muttered. “He’s talking to Jonathan. Quen is telling him he’s standing in the gatehouse with you and Edden with a warrant to search the property and he bloody well just better wake him up.”

“Him being Trent?” I guessed, and felt my earring swing as Jenks nodded. I looked at the clock over the door, seeing it was a little after two. Must be nice.

Edden cleared his throat as Quen hung up. Trent’s security officer made no bones about letting us know he was unhappy. His light wrinkles deepened as his jaw clenched, and his green eyes were hard. “Captain Edden, Mr. Kalamack is understandably upset, and would like to speak with you while your people carry out your search.”

“Of course,” Edden said, and a small sound of disbelief escaped me.

“Why are you being so nice?” I muttered as Quen ushered us through the heavy glass and metal doors and back into the strong sun.

“Rachel,” Edden breathed, tension carrying through his whisper, “you will be polite and gracious or you will wait in the car.”

Gracious, I thought. Since when were ex–Navy SEALs gracious? Hard-nosed, aggressive, politically correct to the point of being anal. Ah … he was being politically correct.

Edden leaned close as he held the door to one of the vans for me. “And then we’re going to nail his ass to a tree,” he added, confirming my suspicions. “If Kalamack murdered her, we’ll get him,” he said, his eyes on Quen as the man swung into an estate vehicle. “But if we bull in here like storm troopers, a jury will let him go even if he confesses. It’s all in the procedure. I’ve stopped traffic in and out. No one leaves without a search.”