Five Dead Herrings by E.J. Russell

Iparked the Honda at my place, not even able to scare up annoyance when an entire bushel of brown fir needles whomped onto the hood from apparently nowhere. Dryad spitefulness seemed irrelevant in the face of murder and betrayal.

Shouldering my camera bag, I trudged up the hill toward the cave. Jeez, would this day ever be over? It felt like it had lasted three weeks already. I hoped Zeke would have some of his amazing coffee ready at the office, because I had a feeling the day would get longer before it got shorter.

Below me, the lights of Dewton twinkled like the promise of welcome and comfort. Could I stop in at Wanda’s, the 24-hour diner where I ate more meals than I ate at home, for a to-go coffee and some doughnuts? It was tempting—especially since I suspected I’d need to tip my FTA driver with more than gold at this time of night. But the thought of walking down the hill and then back up again was more than I could handle. I’d depend on Zeke. He’d never let us down yet.

I yawned as I slogged into the clearing. Maybe I could catch a nap under one of the conference tables. Maybe I should suggest we convert one of the unused workrooms into a staff lounge with a couple of comfy sofas. But then I remembered the way the hair rose on my neck as I crossed Pierce Martinson’s pentagram. Not a workroom then. Maybe one of the conference rooms. It’s not like we needed all of them. Or maybe I could ask Zeke to requisition a cot for my office.

If I moved my desk into the corner and shoved the—

“Awp!” My startled squawk echoed in the dark woods and a massive hand clamped over my mouth.

“Matthew. It’s me.”

I froze at Lachlan’s distinctive pronunciation of my name. Terror warred with anger in my belly. Terror because this man was a murderer. Probably a murderer. Anger because he’d played Quest, played me in his little game to get his husband back.

The way my ears started to burn, anger was winning. I think I mentioned that I was a complete idiot where my heart was concerned?

I elbowed Lachlan in the belly. He uttered a muffled oof, but I suspected my elbow got the worst of it because ow. The man—or rather, the selkie—must have abs of literal steel.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Matthew, but you need to be still. It’s not safe.”

I made myself go motionless, and after a moment, Lachlan lifted his hand—although not very far. Apparently, he was having some trust issues as well.

“I know it’s not safe,” I hissed, “considering I’m alone in the woods with a murderer.”

“What?” He grabbed my shoulders and spun me to face him. “I’m not a murderer.” His Rs rolled hard enough to tumble down the hill.

“Tell that to Reid Martinson.” I glared at him. “Oh wait. You can’t. Because he’s dead.”

His eyes widened. “Reid’s dead?”

I jerked myself out of his hold. “As if you didn’t know.” I took a step backward. “And before you get any ideas about getting rid of me too to cut down on witnesses, everybody knows.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Everybody knows what?”

I sniffed. “Everything.”

He reached for me again, but when I stumbled back, the expression on his face could almost be one of hurt. But then psychopaths had to be good actors, right? “Please, Matthew. This is important. Do they suspect about Wyn?”

“You mean that you staged this whole harassment scam in an elaborate ruse to get him back?”

His expression morphed to one of…exasperation? “I didn’t— Goddess bless, I don’t want him back. If I’d wanted to stay with him, I’d never have filed the sundering petition.”

I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets. Where were my FTA tokens? If I could just activate one— Crap. They were in my breast pocket. No way I could grab one surreptitiously. “You filed it? But Wyn is the one who wanted the split. Why didn’t he do it? Is this another lie?”

“What? I’ve never lied to you.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and for the first time, I noticed that he looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes visible even in the wan starlight. “Severing the knot… For a supe it’s…bad. Especially for fae. For one thing, it means admitting that you’ve failed, and for some, being tarred as a failure is enough to turn you outcast.”

Despite myself, I was interested. “But wouldn’t that be true for both—or however many—partners are involved?”

He shook his head. “The one who lodges the request is considered to be surrendering. It’s shameful to ask to be released from vows. Wyn and I weren’t a good match, but I didn’t want him to bear that burden.”

“Yet you didn’t mind bearing it yourself?”

He shot me a wry glance from under the screen of his hair, and my heart bumped sideways. “I’m as near an outcast as makes no difference already. And I don’t care if folks dislike me or disapprove of me. I can handle it. My shoulders are broad.”

I’ll say.But I was beginning to think that just because he was capable of carrying the weight, it didn’t mean he should be forced to. “I saw you arguing with Reid earlier. I saw you on the Cridhe na Mara with Wyn.”

He winced. “Ah, bugger. Did anyone else spot us? Spot Wyn?”

“Not unless Blair did. They’re the one who...” I swallowed thickly. “They discovered Reid’s body and called me.”

Lachlan muttered something under his breath. “They were probably looking to spend the night on the boat. I let them kip there when their father’s on a bender.” He carded his hands through his hair, but it fell forward again immediately. “Has everyone cleared off now?” I nodded. “I hope this won’t keep them from taking shelter then.”

“They’ll have a little difficulty with that since the boat’s gone.”

“What?”

I’d expected Lachlan to roar loud enough to be heard in Portland, but that one word was uttered in a broken whisper. Unease writhed in my middle. He couldn’t be that good an actor, could he?

He sank to the ground. Or rather his knees seemed to buckle, and he dropped like a boulder with really good hair. “They stole my boat. The bastards stole my boat.”

“Everyone assumes you took it out.” The combined desolation and anger in Lachlan’s expression was like a punch to the throat. “Th-they figure you went all seal-y and took Wyn over the side.” I tried to keep my game face on. I’d have to have a good-cop/bad-cop vibe to be an effective investigator, right? Although I probably couldn’t even manage cop-with-a-donut vibe. “Did you? Take him into the water?”

He shot me an irritated glance. “Of course I didn’t. I don’t have my skin, do I? And besides, Wyn couldn’t survive. He’s not my mate anymore, and he’s a fresh water bloke. Salt water would do him in.”

“That’s kind of what they think you did. Him. In, I mean.”

He surged to his feet, and this time anger was front and center. “So you think I killed two people? Why in bloody blazes are you standing here talking to me then? Shouldn’t you be hauling your sweet ass as far and as fast as you can run?”

There he went again with comments about my ass. Now was not the time to delve into that…as it were. “Are you saying you didn’t kill them?”

“No, I bloody well didn’t.” He stomped across the clearing like a charging bull. I was surprised the ground didn’t shake. Or maybe it did, because a few fir needles pattered onto my shoulders. “Wyn showed up with a black eye, all right?”

My eyes widened. “Reid hit him?”

“Aye,” Lachlan growled. “And it wasn’t the first time. That’s why he broke up with Reid to begin with, back before he married me.”

“Is that why you married him? To keep him safe?”

Lachlan jerked a nod. “Partly. He was looking for a protector, which is probably why he hooked up with Kendrick first, figuring a bloke with his status could keep the Martinsons at bay. Wyn’s a sweet man, though. And it wasn’t as if I had blokes lining up to court me. I can be a tad prickly, it seems.” He sighed. “But even prickly bastards get lonely now and again.”

“Was he…” My throat was suddenly thick. “Was he there to get back together with you? To put a stop to the sundering?”

This time Lachlan’s expression was exasperated. “No, he wasn’t. But wouldn’t matter if he did. It became pretty clear we weren’t suited. A brackish union, Kendrick called it. An unlikely match, and he wasn’t wrong. If I’d stopped to think about that before we tied the knot in the first place, I’d have saved both of us a lot of bother.” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “He did ask for my help though.”

“What kind of help?” See, I was getting the hang of this interviewing business. It wasn’t because I just wanted to keep talking to Lachlan. Nope. Not at all.

“What do you reckon? To get away, of course.” He laughed softly. “I should have thought of that the first time, instead of tying him to me so he’d be right where Reid could find him, did he want to look.”

“I take it he wanted. To look.”

Lachlan lifted an eyebrow. “Looked and found. His fiancé, wasn’t he? That’s what Pierce bloody Martinson said. Although why he would agree to that…” he said softly.

I wondered the same thing myself. “So he came to you because he knew you’d help him?”

“Aye. We shouldn’t be married anymore—it’s not doing either one of us any good—but I don’t want him to be some rich blighter’s punching bag either.”

“I doubt Reid’ll be doing much punching now,” I muttered.

“So he’s really dead, then?”

“As a herring. And by the way, there was a fifth dead one nailed to the Cridhe na Mara’s stern, so I hope you got Wyn’s promise to cease and desist on that little hobby.”

Lachlan frowned. “He said he didn’t. None except the first.”

“Have you ever heard of Occam’s Razor? Simplest solution is probably the right one. If you’ve got one vandal sending you chum love notes, you hardly need to look further for a second or a third.”

“But he couldn’t have.” Lachlan ran both hands through his hair. “He met me in the parking lot and went aboard with me. Left with me too.”

It was my turn to lift an eyebrow. “Don’t suppose you could have been distracted by his presence and not noticed it?” I tried not to wince. Was that jealousy in my tone?

Another disgusted look. “Aside from me smelling it, I’d have noticed something nailed to my boat.”

“But it was there while you were both inside. I saw it. Didn’t you smell it when you left?”

Lachlan’s forehead creased and his mouth turned down, but more from confusion than anger. I hoped. “No. Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. I took photographs, and they’ll be time-stamped to prove it.” I crossed my arms over my chest. My hand was closer to my pocket now, so I might be able to liberate an FTA token surreptitiously. “So where’s Wyn now?”

His gaze slid away from me. A tell. “I don’t know.”

“Really? You don’t know? You realize if you can’t produce a living Wyn, the evidence will point to you…disposing of him?”

Lachlan pressed his lips together in a firm line, his jaw doing a fine impression of granite. “I promised I’d keep him safe. I made that promise when we tied the knot, and I’ll not break it now just because we’re about to sever it.”

“Lachlan—”

“And I really don’t know where he is. I…” His gaze slid sideways again. “I gave him my truck.”

“You gave him your truck,” I repeated woodenly.

“Not for good,” he said, his tone implying I was an idiot for thinking such a thing. “He’ll leave it for me to pick up. After he…”

“After he what?”

He gave me an almost hunted look. “I gave him that token. The one I never used.”

“The FTA token?”

“Aye. Told him to use it to disappear for a while. He might be in Faerie, seeing as he’s fae, but he never liked it there. He’s probably found a nice river somewhere to settle in while he gets his bearings. Decides what he wants to do next.” He shook his head. “Wish I did know where he was. I could let him know Reid’s not…”

“Not a threat, seeing as he’s dead?”

He jabbed a long finger at me. “I did not kill that bugger. We squawked at one another for a good half hour. Well, he squawked and I let him. But once he realized I wasn’t about to let Wyn go with him, he got in that Maserati of his and roared off.”

A chill slithered down my spine. “You’re saying he left.”

“Aye.” He scowled at me. “Summat wrong with your ears?”

“His car was there. When Blair found his body.”

Lachlan winced. “Ah, the poor mite. They’ve got enough on their plate.”

Clearly Lachlan was more concerned with Blair’s potential trauma than with Reid’s demise. I wasn’t sure I blamed him entirely—I liked Blair better than Reid, too, but Reid was dead. Blair could at least recover with the proper support.

There was no recovering from being dead.

“Lachlan. They’re looking for you. If you didn’t kill Reid—”

“I didn’t!”

“Then maybe the best thing you can do is to turn yourself in. I’ve, er, experienced the tribunal’s truth spells. If you’re telling the truth, if you’re innocent, that’ll come out in court.”

He gave me a pitying look. “Sorry, mate, but those spells are only 100% effective on humans. Supes can work around them, with the right attitude, ability, or counterspell. They’d never believe me.”

“But if you don’t come forward, the only testimony they’ll have is from Pierce Martinson. He’s got you tried and convicted already. And Lachlan—he wants you form-locked.”

He snorted. “That’d be a good trick, seeing as I don’t have my skin.”

His skin. That wasn’t in his pack. That he sent me to find. Which was in the cave at my back. Sans skin.

“That’s another thing—”

He grabbed my shoulders again. “You’ve got to give me time, Matthew. Time to prove it wasn’t me.”

His hands were warm through my jacket. Firm, but not painful. I got the impression that I could step back and he’d let me go. I gazed into his eyes, so dark, and wished for a little more light so I could read them better.

If I did, if I let him go, I could be sending my career as an investigator down the tubes. Heck, I was still on probation with the council. If letting a suspected murderer go free wasn’t a violation, I’m not sure what would count as one. I had a location beacon on my phone, installed at the council’s insistence so they could track me at their convenience. But I could activate it from my end too.

And I should. Fire it up and let the supe justice system—such as it was—take it from here.

But the supe justice system had almost mistakenly condemned Ted. It was only Quentin’s efforts that saved him. If Lachlan truly was innocent, could I trust the system to get it right this time? He didn’t have a Quentin.

All he had was me.

The wind soughing through the firs sent another shower of needles over me. But not over Lachlan. Freaking dryads. I took a deep breath.

“Okay, look. I’ll let you go. I won’t tell anyone I saw you. But you have to promise me something.”

His smile nearly lit up the clearing. “Anything.”

“You have to promise me that if you can’t find any evidence within twenty-four hours—”

“Forty-eight.”

“Thirty-six.”

“Done.”

“In thirty-six hours, you present yourself to the Quest offices and let Mal take you into custody.”

He glared at me from under lowered brows. “Does it have to be Kendrick? Can’t I give myself up to O’Tierney? Or you?”

I tried not to make too much out of that request. It probably had more to do with Lachlan’s antipathy toward Mal than any affection for me. “It’s his brother who’ll be doing the honors, eventually. But Mal’s the one in charge of this case.”

“I thought that was you.”

Down, warm fuzzies, down!“Only temporarily. Besides, I’m a human. Humans have no jurisdiction over supes.”

“Most of the time,” he muttered, and I remembered the extremely problematic history of human interaction with his species, not to mention our abysmal track record with anyone classed as other, even if they were human too.

“Promise.”

He looked me in the eye and placed one fist over his heart. “I vow it on the heart of the sea.”

I had to assume that was a binding vow. “Okay.” I dug my keys out of my pocket. “You won’t be able to use the FTA. With the Queen’s Champion out looking for you, any driver would take you straight to him or risk…whatever punishment is standard these days.” I was pretty sure flogging wasn’t on the table anymore, but I couldn’t hazard a guess on what had replaced it. I gave Lachlan my address. “You can take my car. Although I’ll warn you, I’ve got a—” The wind blew a cluster of pine needles straight into my mouth.

“Dryads?” Lachlan asked wryly. “Don’t worry, lad. They steer clear of salt water folk like me.” He took the keys and gave my shoulder a brief squeeze. “Thank you. I’ll not forget it.”

He disappeared into the trees, and I sighed. I needed to get back to Quest and confess everything to Mal, from letting the prime suspect go all the way back to the break-in—

The break-in. The pack. The absence of skin. “Lachlan!” I ran to the edge of the clearing. “Lachlan!” But he was gone.

“Crap.” I retrieved the pack from the cave and called up my FTA driver.

Time to face the music.