Jealous? I stared at the phone after the call ended. Nahin, that feeling wasn't jealousy. Shock at Mys being an escort, perhaps. Tegan breezed by and tossed a stack of papers on my desk along with something from the vending machine. "What's this?" I griped.

"It's a working lunch before your meeting with Mrs. Edison. Eat and read." She started rubbing my shoulders. Glancing around the station house, I peered at her quizzically, but she waved at the report. "Confirmation Paul Jameson was Aurie's Instagram stalker, @R1d3rH4rd_2018, and Paulie's got priors eerily similar to our hit-and-run."

"Hmm." I tore open the cellophane wrapper on a chicken club sandwich. My eyes rolled skyward at the first bite. I wasn't jealous—that feeling was hunger—so I told myself. I dusted my fingers and leaned forward from my partner's impromptu massage to study the papers she indicated. "Says here, Mr. Jameson found out where his love interest worked and went to, quote, 'surprise her.'"

"The idiot asshole popped from a dark alley and gave her the scare of a lifetime. The vic ran right into traffic."

Tegan moved in front of my desk. Her clear, unblemished skin and earnest cornflower eyes made her appear years younger, or her excitement did. She was itching to chase the lead. Her ginger hair caught the sunlight, and a few strands fluttered in the electric charge of her restless energy.

Similar restlessness bustled at every other desk in our department. Cases were being opened and shut. Given the fact we had nothing but dead ends, I should've been the same level of pumped for the lead, but I raised eyebrows and tossed my head.

"Uncanny."

"Too uncanny," she said.

"But I don't know, Tegan. It doesn't square with what we have," I said as I pulled up notes on my computer.

Video surveillance and busted headlight casing had confirmed the vehicle that hit Aurie Edison was a custom-modified Ford Escape from the late nineties. I turned my screen to show my partner the serial number from a shard of plastic. We had loaded the number into a parts database and, by some stroke of luck, traced it to the person who had ordered the light.

"What about it? The SUV was reported stolen by the owner years ago," Tegan countered. "The cardiologist who used to own it, his alibi checked out. He was in surgery."

"Yeah, he obviously lacked a motive to hurt Aurie," I agreed. "My point is that I don't see Paulie flying into New Orleans that evening, procuring a stolen truck in an unfamiliar city, and using it to hit our victim in the timeframe indicated."

"It's not impossible." Tegan shrugged.

"All the same..."

"Hey, Jameson already pled guilty to manslaughter for some other girl. Mayfield likes him for this one, too. This guy's the poster kid for troubled youth." She tilted down her small nose at me. "Why not see where this goes?"

Paul Jameson was, indeed, an angst-ridden, disturbed teen. I studied his greyscale mug shot, and a muscle ticked under my orbital socket at the thought of him harassing Aurie. He had come on our radar when he volunteered the info he was in New Orleans on a lark and hadn't contacted the Edison sisters. The helpful tip made him appear more suspicious.

Still, I didn't think Paul had anything to do with this. His involvement couldn't explain why Darcy Cyprian drugged Aurie. My gut told me the vampire was our unsub. I simply had to prove a billionaire corporate investor, an upstanding who's-who of New Orleans philanthropists, had committed a horrendous crime.

Otherwise, this semi-innocent kid would take the fall.

Seeing the time, I hurried to my feet and shrugged into my suitcoat. "Schedule him back for another interrogation, make sure he stays in touch. I have to see Mrs. Edison, and I'll check if Haley has anything more to add about Jameson. Wanna come?"

"Ugh, Ravani." Tegan groaned.

I grinned at the look she gave me. Mrs. Edison and I got along famously. Conversely, the director had raised a fuss about Tegan trying to hug her and apologizing profusely for what had happened to Aurie. It didn't help that my partner slid in an autograph request.

"What's the matter? No longer Nannette Baudelaire's biggest fan?" I joked as she fell in step with me.

"Ha, funny. More like Nannette Baudelaire isn't a fan of me."

"Nah, she's just focused on putting the person who did this to her daughter behind bars."

"Yeah, but does she know this isn't Hollywood?" Tegan asked. "We don't always get a happy ending."

As we headed down the brightly lit corridor of Bayou General Hospital, Tegan stage-whispered, "I spent my childhood in and out of these places. I was a clumsy dingbat."

"I don't believe it." I smiled and scanned the wall directory.

"Broke an arm, knocked out a tooth." Trailing off, my partner locked her pinky finger with mine like she did whenever she was anxious. We had been friends long enough for the gesture to be meaningless now, but there had been a summer fling years back. Nothing serious.

Once I established the correct route, we took the elevators to the uppermost floor, and Emily Leigh Edison met us outside a private room. The door was partially ajar behind her. I caught a glimpse of the teen in the hospital bed.

This was the real reason I didn't want Aurie seeing her family. Not until this situation was resolved. I hadn't even told Mys, yet. If Aurie learned what was happening here, she would worry herself sick. As evidenced by her recent poltergeist activity, I had to keep her level-headed and focused on crossing over.

"Detectives! Right on time. Let's find somewhere to talk." Mrs. Edison's eyes darted to my hand locked with Tegan's, and I shook loose.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet us." I smiled.

"Absolutely. I'm anxious for an update."

The attractive middle-aged director walked briskly ahead, and Tegan and I followed her to a secluded waiting area past the nurses' desk. I noticed conspicuous men in suits throughout the hall. Good. She had taken my suggestion to beef up security.

As we settled in surprisingly comfortable hospital chairs, Tegan jumped the gun. "We have evidence Paul Jameson may have been in the area the night of the accident."

Aurie's grieving mother visibly lit up. "My daughters' stalker? Now, we're getting somewhere."

"Uh, let's not get ahead of ourselves." Glaring at my partner, I gave a more realistic assessment. "We're building a case, Mrs. Edison. It could take months to collect and interpret all the evidence, but we'll get justice. As frustrating as it may be, I'm sure Aurie would encourage you to trust the process."

"Sounds like you did your homework. Aurelia was always methodical, all about the process, which is why she went into chemical engineering. She wanted to work for Big Oil like her late father. Only, she wanted to get in and develop more responsible energy solutions."

"I'm sure you were proud."

Mrs. Edison folded her hands in her lap. "I did my homework on you two, as well."

"Oh?" I arched a brow, curious. She wasn't her usual affable self. The woman's chair might have been a dais. Her eggshell hued power-suit gave an aura of unflappable self-possession. It was clear who was in the hot seat.

"Captain Mayfield assures me that you're his best," said Mrs. Edison. "Interesting enough, my assistant dug up some...footnotes in your history that call that assessment into question. Detective Stoney, you've been treated for alcoholism?"

I leaned forward in protest, but Tegan stiffened and held up a hand. Her neutral expression curdled into an unamused smile. "My journey to sobriety isn't a secret, but it's hardly a strike against me that I sought treatment for a disease."

"Hm." Mrs. Edison's frosty gaze fell upon me. "You were committed to a psychiatric facility in your teen years. Is that correct, Detective Ravani? You passed your psych eval when you were hired for law enforcement, but you have been suspended for use of force...Twice."

"Detective Ravani's personnel file is confidential!" Tegan flew to my defense before I could say anything. "Now, I don't know how you got that information, or why you think it's accurate, but—"

"Why would I waste my time with inaccuracies?" Mrs. Edison spread her hands. "I understand you both have personal mental health things happening. I wouldn't want to discriminate on that basis, but it sounds crazy to think I'd just let my daughter become another cold case."

"We would never suggest that," I replied.

"Good because we don't have months, Detective. Not up to the pace? I can request someone else take the lead. Otherwise, I expect y'all to treat this case a bit more seriously than a means to an end."

"I'm sorry, a means to what end?"

Mrs. Edison glowered at my partner's fingers on mine again, this time to make me unclench my fists. "You tell me," she said. "I saw a taping of your famous press conference with the psychics. I guess you need a fortune teller to convince you to arrest Jameson. Please, don't make a mockery of the Baudelaire name like that."

That was what this was about. I stretched out my fingers and exhaled. "Mrs. Edison, this investigation is discreet and running full-speed ahead. I assure you," I said.

"We'll see. Anything else?" She checked the time.

Tegan replied tersely, "Just tell Haley to give us a call when she's available." She handed Mrs. Edison a business card as I stormed off.

I knew the woman was desperate, but I was livid at the threat of being kicked off the case. No one else understood how deadly Darcy Cyprian could be, and this was the perfect crime to bring before the Council. The victim was human, upper-class, and important enough to make the front page. Not even Cyprian's djinn lawyers would be able to refute he had broken Overlay City privacy laws.

Unless Mrs. Edison's impatience jeopardized everything. If she got me put off the case, the side effects of being a rogue would escalate—the volatile self-control, the labile mood and deteriorating sanity. I couldn't let that happen. I shot a text to my contact in the Council, asking to move up our meeting. No more waiting until the end of September.

As Tegan caught up with me at the elevators, I noticed an angel in the hall behind us. He was a young black guy with broad-shoulders and radiant wings. Probably a Guardian at the hospital for some human.

Squinting, I realized he was the same one from the hotel, and I took a step in his direction. At the same time, the elevator doors opened, and Tegan pulled me inside. I couldn't interrogate the Super in front of her anyway. I made a mental note to return and question him when I had the chance.