"Maybe, but it has nothing to do with Gabriel."
"It has everything to do with Gabriel. Everything you want to ask me about? He's part of it. James was a threat, so he murdered him. If your new boyfriend becomes a threat, he'll do the same to him. If you don't toe the line and give Cainsville what it wants, Gabriel will turn on you. They'll make him turn on you."
"If the Cwn Annwn are telling you this--"
"They don't need to." She leaned forward, her hands still on the table. "I can't help you from in here, baby. All I can do is give you the most sincere piece of advice possible. Run. Get someplace they can't find you."
I got up and walked out.
--
Gabriel was waiting in the hall. As I came out, he caught my expression and said, "She told you something?"
"Yes. You're evil."
His brows shot up. "That's news?"
I smiled as he fell in step beside me. "Sadly, that was the gist of the entire conversation. She wouldn't talk about the hounds and the omens, because it was far more important to warn me against you."
I'd decided I wouldn't mention the ridiculous murder accusation, because even to put it into words seemed as if I gave it some credence.
I continued. "Pamela's bloodline might be fae, but she has a connection with the Huntsmen. They seem to be warning her about you, just like they warned me. The question now is the nature of that connection. Edgar Chandler was involved in the murders of Peter Evans and Jan Gunderson and he was involved with the Cwn Annwn. Does that mean the rest of the murders could have been connected, too?"
We walked through a set of doors.
"Then there's the significance of what was done to James," I said. "We haven't discussed that."
"That's what I was thinking about while I waited. Some aspects of the earlier crimes weren't released to the general public. The court records are open, which means anyone could duplicate the crimes, but the way he was murdered does open a strategy for freeing Pamela."
"Even if she hates your guts?"
"If I failed to give my best defense to every client who hated me, I'd have a very poor record indeed."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The rest of Friday was quiet. Ricky and I went to a movie in the city. Big, loud, and action-packed, it was the perfect mental vacation. Afterward, I had to visit the police station with Gabriel for a follow-up on James's case. The case was now being handled by the CPD. Gabriel explained why, but . . . let's just say that as soon as I had a moment to relax with a book, I'd be eschewing novels for a few basic legal and law enforcement texts.
Saturday morning, Ricky gave me a lift to my parents' house so I could find something appropriate to wear to the funeral. Gabriel picked me up at the house. He had his new car now, having retrieved it that morning. About five minutes before we arrived, Ricky texted that he'd found a shaded spot for us to stand, a couple of hundred feet from the grave site.
Grave site.
James's grave.
James was dead.
Even after three days, the reminder hit with the force to nearly double me over. When my father died, I'd had warning. He'd suffered a series of heart attacks, so I'd had time to say everyt
hing I wanted. I had never realized how important that was until now.
I'd loved James. More than that, I'd cared for him. Love was about what I felt. Caring was about James--the life I wanted for him, whether I shared it or not.
I had pictured another future for James and me, one where he'd come to accept our separation, and gone on to meet the perfect woman and become senator, and then we'd meet on the street, years later, him with a little girl holding his hand and a boy on his shoulders and I'd tell him how good it was to see him, how happy I was for him, and I would be happy. I would look at him, with everything he'd wanted from life, and I'd be so pleased that he had it.
And now there was none of that. His life--his future--gone. Because of me.
Gabriel parked where Ricky had suggested, far enough away that we could walk through the trees, in hopes few would notice us.
"I realize this is inconsiderate of me to mention, but . . . James won't know you're here, Olivia," Gabriel said, studying my face before we got out. "Do you really want to go through with this? You had your goodbye. I firmly believe you did. And you did absolutely nothing to cause his death."