"You’re banned from leaving your ho."
Penelope’s announcent cos the mont I open my door. It’s not unexpected, so I let her in without comnt.
"I thought you couldn’t find coverage tonight."
"I closed the bar. It’s not as important as my best friend’s life." Shoving a bulky black bag into my arms as she flounces into my apartnt, she continues, "There’s sothing weird going on, and we need to figure out how to learn more about it. Right?"
"Right." Wary of her upbeat attitude, I follow her into the living room, watching as she falls into an armchair with a deep sigh, as if the weight of the world was pushing her down.
"Police determined it was a drunk driver. Nothing nefarious." Throwing the bag to the side, I settle onto the couch. Pulling my feet under , I fight back a yawn. Worrying about everything and wondering about Logan kept up all night. Now I’m zero answers closer to the truth, but more exhausted than ever.
"You told Scott you aren’t coming in today, right?"
"ssaged him before I went to see Logan." Grabbing one of my throw pillows—super cute, but made of an uncomfortable burlap material—I nuzzle my chin into it for a little rest. "I was intending to just co in a couple hours late, but..."
"Almost dying has that effect on people. I’m sure the rumor mill is exploding at work."
Thinking of how no one seed to notice I was there yesterday, I shake my head. "I don’t think anyone knows I’ve even been gone. They probably thought I just took so PTO for a ntal health break."
I’m not particularly close to anyone, so it isn’t like I’d be bombarded with questions any other ti. Unless it’s for work, anyway.
That makes wonder—if I did disappear, how long would it take soone to notice I was gone? When would soone co around to check on or have questions? It’s an unsettling thought.
At least I can rely on Penelope.
"Well, McFlirty last night—"
"What’s with the sudden Mc-nicknas?"
"Never mind. McFlirty last night seems to have a little beef with your McSexy." Penelope leans forward, her aquamarine eyes glittering with the power of gossip. "Want to hear?"
"No." But I scoot a little closer.
"McSexy’s an outsider. Brought in out of nowhere. No one’s really sure how he got the job; no one can confirm where he last worked. People are pretty salty about him getting the only open sergeant position in the past couple years. A lot of people were gunning for that promotion."
"Let guess—including your McFlirty?"
She nods.
"It isn’t unusual for a company to hire out." Resting my elbow against the arm of the couch, I yawn. "And he’s not obligated to tell anyone where he used to work. Maybe he just wants to have a clean start."
"But that’s the thing. Rumor is, he never had an interview. No hiring process. He just ca in one day, straight from the top."
My brow quirks. That’s interesting. "But is any of that information confird, or just people spreading gossip?"
"I don’t know. I didn’t sleep with the guy. Just listened to him while he stared at my tits and drank too much vodka cranberry." She grimaces. "Of all drinks."
Not only is it a favorite among the college-aged, it’s a humorous nod toward the younger crowd of fangsters—newly turned vampires. You can always find them with a vodka cranberry in hand. Or a Bloody Mary, but I guess that one’s too on the nose to be hip these days.
Or sothing. I’m not super hip myself.
"Is he a vamp?"
"No. Human, as far as I can tell. Though—you know, he’s pretty pale. Anyway, it doesn’t matter." Flapping her hand in irritation, Penelope continues, "McSexy’s pretty popular in the departnt, but there’s a group of them out to get him. Hitting a doctor while on the job was the last straw, but they’re also accusing him of fraternizing with witnesses." She points one perfectly manicured, crimson French tip at . "You."
"Witnesses?" I grimace. "I haven’t witnessed anything. He ca around to ask about a case."
"Sa thing. It’s against departnt policy. People are lobbying to get him fired. But..."
"But?"
"That wouldn’t be enough to get him detained, and definitely isn’t enough to get him fired. Isn’t that curious?"
Tilting my head, I think about it. "Doesn’t sound very fireable, but I’d have to see their HR policies to know."
"Trust , it isn’t. The things that happen in the SED—you can’t just get lobbied out of position because disgruntled coworkers want you to be. If you look at how he’s hired, it looks like he has so sort of influence on his side, right?"
Fascinated with her thought process, I nod along. "Sure." She’s spending a lot of ti on this, but none of it’s standing out as particularly gossip-worthy to . Maybe I’m broken. Or not connecting the dots properly.
I think we’ve already established that I’m not ant for mysteries. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes engineer; I like facts and magical technology. Not all this shit with creepy serial killers and bizarre company secrets.
"But it would take soone up the ladder to throw soone like that into jail, don’t you think?"
"He’s in their holding cells, not at the correctional facility," I interrupt, rembering redith’s quick explanation.
Penelope stares at , leaving a little defensive. "What?"
"Really? That’s the detail you’re going to focus on?"
I wilt a little under her gaze. "I was just saying..."
"The point is, they can’t just take him into any custody if he’s got the power to co into the company the way he did, right?"
"Right."
"And he acted weird about the caras when you visited him, right?"
I nod, repeating once again, "Right."
"Don’t you think that ans soone way higher up on the shark-o-ter is out to get him? That maybe he’s trying to protect you from soone’s radar?"
Nonplussed, I stare at Penelope, whose cheeks are flushed with excitent through her ntal mapping of the situation.
"Or... maybe he’s just a dick?" I offer. "Or there’s soone involved in this case. Wouldn’t that make more sense than having so sort of inter-office conspiracy over the company’s hiring practices?"
"But what if he’s so sort of highly influential family mber, and this is all a part of their politics, where soone’s trying to tear them down? The rich are crazy. It’s good you rejected him. You don’t want to be involved in all of that."
"Penelope..." Pressing my fingers against the bridge of my nose, I struggle to find the words to deal with her flights of fancy. "I don’t think I have to worry about any of that."
"Right. Because he’s protecting you. So, what I’m thinking is, we look into all the influential families of shifters and figure out which one he’s from. Once we know that, we’ll have a better view of—why are you shaking your head?"
I groan. "I think you’re on the wrong track. You’ve co up with this insane theory out of nowhere, all from a drunk coworker who has it out for him. Have you looked into any of this at all?"
"No." Looking a little sulky, Penelope sits back. "But I think I’m onto sothing here."
"Maybe." Appeasing her made-for-TV plotline is all I can do. "I guess we can look into that angle. But how would that fit into the dead supernaturals and the mole?"
She shrugs. "I don’t know."
Damn. I’d hoped she’d co in with so theories that were actually useful. Rubbing the bridge of my nose again, I sigh. "Since you aren’t working tonight, do you want to co check out the addresses of these victims with ?"
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