Black Is Back (Quentin Black Mystery #4) (4 page)

I glanced down at myself quickly, suddenly doubting that I wasn’t. Naked, that is.

But I still wore Black’s clothes.

I exhaled, overcome briefly by relief. Then, remembering Black wouldn’t react well to Nick’s presence here, I looked back at the three people staring at me, trying to decide what to do. I didn’t invite them in. Instead I stepped all the way out into the hall, forcing them to back up. Once I’d gone out far enough, I shut the door behind me.

Then I faced Nick.

“Why are you here?” I said.

Nick blinked at me in honest-looking surprise.

I felt a little guilty when I caught a whisper of hurt there, too.

Maybe to buy himself time, Nick glanced at Angel, his expression showing him to be at a loss. Then he let out a humorless snort, focusing his dark eyes back on me.

“Miriam. What the fuck is going on?”

“What is going on?” My voice came out sharp, louder than it should have. I looked between them. “You came here. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Nick’s expression grew even more incredulous, his brow furrowing as he stared at me. He subdued his voice, seemingly with an effort.

“You’ve been totally off the grid for two weeks. Your voicemail won’t accept new messages. I know, because I’ve been trying to reach you just about every day since a few days after we got back from Paris.” He stared me up and down. “You look like...” He trailed, like he’d thought better of finishing that sentence. He stepped closer to me and wrinkled his nose.

“And Jesus... you stink, Miriam. Did you and Black decide to turn his ten million dollar apartment into
Lord of the Flies
, or what?”

I just stared at him.

Then I lifted my own arm, sniffed it, and frowned.

“Is he in there?” Nick said, jerking his chin towards the door. “Black?”

“What do you want, Nick?” I lowered my arm, staring at him.

Nick looked at Angel then back at me. Shifting his weight, he made his voice more professional. More cop-like. “We’re actually here on business. Are you going to let us inside? Or are you going to make us do this in the hall?”

I looked from face to face.

It occurred to me only then that the tall man in the back with the broad shoulders and the big jaw and the sandy blond hair was Glen Frakes, Nick’s partner in the homicide department. I hadn’t seen Glen in so long, especially outside of the police station, I found myself staring at him like he was a species of wild animal I’d never seen in its native environment.

I couldn’t help recognizing the concern in his eyes. If anything, that concern was harder to deal with than the shock and near-anger still expanding off Nick.

Then Angel touched my arm. Cautious. “What’s going on, Miri?”

I flinched a little, stepping back.

It didn’t occur to me why until the motion was complete. Some part of me didn’t want anyone else touching me. I knew Black would feel it, and I didn’t want him coming out here. Looking between the three of them, feeling a cloud of concern coming off each of them in different flavors and amounts, I fought to think, to make some kind of decision.

“What kind of business?” I said, looking back at Nick.

He gave me another disbelieving look, glancing at Angel and Glen before looking back at me. “What
kind
of business? Do I need you to show you my badge, Miri?”

“I mean... what does it have to do with me?”

Nick folded his arms, still staring at me like I was speaking an alien language.

“You want my help,” I said, answering my own question, at least in part. There was something else there though, something I would have had to read him to discover.

Since I had a strict policy of
not
psychically reading my friends, I didn’t.

I glanced at Glen instead, and it crossed my mind that Nick might have brought him along to make it harder for me to say no, since I couldn’t talk freely in front of him. Then again, Glen was Nick’s partner. If this was an open case, of course Glen would be here, which begged the question of why Angel had come. Either way, this felt different than Nick’s usual
modus operandi
of dropping by my office to talk me into coming with him to the station to interview a potential perp or key witness.

“You want my help with... profiling?” I said, raising an eyebrow at Nick.

Angel spoke, drawing my eyes.

“That’s part of it.”

“What’s the other part?” I frowned, again feeling they weren’t telling me something as I looked between her and Nick. “Am I supposed to guess?”

“You know the victim,” Nick said. He folded his arms, shifting his weight between his feet a second time, making the leather crinkle in his jacket.

I stiffened. “How? How do I know him?”

Angel held up a hand, giving Nick an annoyed look. “It’s fine, doc. He’s no one you’re close to, I don’t think. He’s one of your patients.”

“Ex-patients,” Nick corrected. He continued to watch me with that denser scrutiny, his muscular arms crossed, bulky in the leather jacket. “He filed a complaint about you actually. Recently. He also called you... a lot. What I would call an unusual amount, Miri, both before and after he filed the complaint. So we need to bring you down and talk to you about that. And whatever else you can tell us about him.”

I let out an incredulous laugh.

“Am I a
suspect?”
I said.

Angel shook her head vehemently, again holding up her hand and glaring at Nick. “No, doc. Not at all.” Letting the first glimmer of a smile touch her full lips, she glanced at the closed door behind me. “...Anyway, I’m pretty sure you have an alibi.”

“What’s his name?” I said. “The client. It’s a man, right?”

“Norberg. Jeffrey Alan.” Nick continued to stare at me with that frown on his lips. “Ring a bell?”

I grimaced. “Yes.”

“Files say you saw him as a patient for almost a year?”

I nodded, still thinking. “You’re sure it’s murder?” I said.

For some reason, that time I looked at Glen. He didn’t answer me or even acknowledge my question but continued to stare, his lips pursed, his eyes bordering on puzzled. He wasn’t looking at my face, but down at my bare legs and feet below the boxers.

I shifted my gaze to Angel.

“You’re sure it’s murder?” I asked again.

“He was decapitated,” Nick grunted, answering for her. “With a sword. After being tied to one of those thick piles under the pier. That answer your question?”

I grimaced again. “Jesus. Why?”

“How the fuck would we know why?” Nick growled. “Do I look like I’m carrying a crystal ball? This just happened. The killer didn’t exactly leave a note explaining his reasoning.” When I continued to stare at him blankly, he scowled at me. “Why do you think we’re here, Miri? We need your help. Now are you going to go put on some fucking
clothes
and come help us? Maybe take a shower first? We’re serious about needing to talk to you. And I want you to look at the body on this one. There’s some weird... ritualistic-type crap. You and Black kind of stuff.”

When I looked at him that time, Nick gave me a meaningful stare.

I got what he was saying.

He thought this might have something to do with seers.

He specifically thought it might be related to that seer cult that didn’t like humans very much––the same one led by my uncle, who went by the alias “Mr. Lucky.” I’d never heard anything about them decapitating people with swords, but the last seer that went off the rails and started murdering people seemed to be big on symbolism, so I got why Nick would make the connection. Still thinking, I nodded, again giving Glen a brief glance.

That time, Glen was staring at my chest.

He noticed that I’d caught him staring that time and blushed, looking away.

“All right.” I tried to rake my fingers through my hair. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even get my hand into it, much less through it; it was a knotted, tangled mess on my head, probably akin to a bird’s nest filled with two angry, unbrushed cats. I had to give up halfway, disentangling my fingers and letting my arm fall to my side.

I pretended not to notice them watch me do that, too.

“Okay.” I exhaled, looking past them down the hall.

Just being around my friends was making me realize how strange I felt, how completely out of step with the world. It pulled me out of the fugue state I’d been sharing with Black well enough to realize just how deeply I’d been in it. I wondered what his staff thought, meaning the people working for Black Securities and Investigations just down the hall.

Some of them––Lizbeth, mostly, his office manager––brought us food over the past few weeks, but otherwise, we hadn’t interacted with them or anyone else in the building since we got back from Paris. Given how most of them viewed me prior to that, they probably thought I got Black hooked on drugs and locked him in here to rape him for a few weeks.

Hell, Nick seemed to think the same about Black with me.

I glanced back at Nick as I thought it. When I did, I caught his eyes raking over me, that disbelief still etched on his face. I felt worry on him too, now that I let myself be more aware of him, along with a kind of helpless fury at Black.

“Can we meet at the station?” I said finally.

Angel spoke drily, drawing my eyes. “Will you make it there, doc?”

I let out a humorless snort. It was a valid question. “Well, what do you propose?” I shrugged with one hand. “There’s a coffee shop downstairs. Would that work?”

“Let us in, doc,” Nick said. “I want to have a word with Black.”

I frowned, shaking my head. “Really bad idea.”

Nick glared at me. “Why?”

“Why?” I looked between him and Angel, making a disbelieving sound as I folded my arms. “You’re kidding right?”

“Not really, doc.” Angel’s voice was more subdued than Nick’s had been. It also held more concern. She glanced at Glen, then back at me. “I think we should come in, too.”

Looking between them, it struck me that they really had no idea what mental state me and Black were in. They just saw me looking like this, and they didn’t see Black. As far as they knew, he
could
be pumping me full of drugs and keeping me here against my will.

I fought to interpret things the way they would, given everything they’d seen and heard. I couldn’t quite do it, not well enough to form a coherent picture. I also couldn’t fathom how them seeing or talking to Black would help with any of that.

I could definitely see ways in which it might make things worse.

Black’s mind rose in mine.

What do they want?

Police,
I sent.
It’s police stuff. They want me to come with them to the station.

What?
His thoughts grew angry.
Why?

One of my clients was murdered,
I told him.
Ex-clients. With a sword.

You were here.

I rolled my eyes.
They know that.

Who’s there?

It struck me that I’d been shielding my friends. Even from Black.

Maybe especially from Black.

Angel,
I sent reluctantly.
Glen, from homicide.
I hesitated.
...Nick.

A hotter anger flared off Black in a thick cloud.

Black.
I tried to head off what I felt forming.
Calm down. This is work-related, okay? Work. They already think I’m on drugs or something, so you coming out here yelling and threatening lawsuits is only going to make things worse...

I could already feel him getting up off the bed. I felt his intent to come our way and realized he was as naked as I’d been.

Clothes!
I shouted in his mind.
You need clothes, Black! Or they’re going to arrest both of us for real!

I felt him hesitate. Then I could see him going through drawers.

I also heard him muttering,
My goddamned home. Can’t come to
my
home, arrest me for being naked inside my own fucking place...