Cold, I stepped off the covered walkway and into the sun. Hands gripping my elbows, I came to a halt in the sawdust parking lot, surreptitiously watching Trent from around a wisp of hair that had escaped my braid. He had put on a lightweight cream-colored hat against the sun and changed his shoes to boots in deference to our trip out to his stables. Somehow the mix looked right on him. It wasn’t fair he should look so calm and relaxed. But then he jerked at the sound of a car door slamming. He was wound as tight as I was; he just hid it better.

Glenn said a few last, loud words and the group broke up. Tails waving, the dogs began a methodical search: two in the nearby pastures, one through the building itself, I couldn’t help but notice that the handler assigned to the stables was using his skills, too, instead of relying on the dog’s nose alone, looking up into rafters and opening latched panels.

Captain Edden touched his son’s shoulder and headed toward me, short arms swinging. “Rachel,” he said even before he was close, and I looked up, surprised he had used my first name. “We’ve been over this building already.”

“If it isn’t this building, then it’s near here. Your men may not have been using my charms properly.” Or not at all, I finished silently, knowing the prejudice humans felt was often covered up in smiles, lies, and hypocrisy. I knew I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, though. I was fairly sure Trent had used a ley line charm to cover up her whereabouts, and so my spells would have been less than useful. My attention went from the dogs to Trent as Quen leaned to speak into his ear. “Shouldn’t he be under arrest, or detained, or something?” I asked.

Edden squinted from the low sun. “Keep your panties on. Murder cases are won and lost in the collection of evidence, Morgan. You ought to know that.”

“I’m a runner, not a detective,” I said sourly. “Most of the people I tagged were charged before I brought them in.”

He grunted at that. I thought that Captain Edden’s adherence to “the rules” might lead to Trent vanishing in a puff of smoke to never be seen again. Seeing me fidget, he pointed at me and then at the ground, to tell me to stay where I was before he moseyed down to Quen and Trent. The squat human’s hands were in his pockets but not far from his weapon. Quen hadn’t a weapon, but looking at him shifting lightly on his feet, I didn’t think he needed one.

I felt better when Edden subtly moved the two men apart, snagging a passing officer and telling him to ask Quen to detail their security procedures while he talked to Trent about the upcoming FIB fund-raiser dinner. Nice.

I turned away, watching the sun shine on the dog’s yellow coat. The heat soaked into me, and the smell of the stables was warm with memory. I had enjoyed my three summers at camp. The scent of sweaty horse and hay mixing with the hint of aged manure was like a balm.