“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.

“That’s out of line, Ms. Morgan,” Edden muttered, but I was more interested in the emotion that passed over Trent. Anger, frustration, but not shock. Trent glanced at Jonathan, who made the slightest shrug I’d ever seen. Slowly, Trent sat back on his desktop, his long, sun-tanned hands clasped in front of him. “I wasn’t aware that she had died,” he said.

“I never said she was dead,” I said. My heart pounded as Edden gripped my arm in warning.

“She’s missing?” Trent said, doing a creditable job of showing only relief. “That’s good. That she is missing and not—ah—dead. I had dinner with her last night.” The barest hint of worry flickered over Trent as he gestured to the two chairs behind us. “Please, sit down,” he said as he went behind his desk. “I’m sure you have some questions for me—seeing as you’re searching my grounds.”

“Thank you, sir. I do.” Edden took the seat closest to the hallway. My eyes tracked Jonathan as he closed Trent’s door. He remained standing beside it, looking defensive. I eased myself down in the remaining seat in the artificial sun, forcing myself to the back of the chair. Trying for an air of nonchalance, I set my bag on my lap and felt in my jacket pocket for a finger stick. The prick of the blade zinged through me. I eased my bleeding finger into my bag, carefully searching for the charm. Now let’s see Trent lie and get away with it.

Trent’s expression froze at the clatter of my amulet. “Put your truth spell away, Ms. Morgan,” he accused. “I said I would be happy to answer Captain Edden’s questions, not submit to an interrogation. Your warrant is for search and seizure, not cross-examination.”

“Morgan,” Edden hissed, his thick hand extended. “Give me that!”

Grimacing, I wiped my fingertip clean and handed the amulet over. Edden stuffed it in a pocket. “My apologies,” he said, his round face tight. “Ms. Morgan is tenacious in her desire to find the person or persons responsible for so many deaths. She has a dangerous”—this was directed at me—“tendency to forget she has to function within the law’s parameters.”