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I storm over to the desk. “I want to see my client, Miss Van der Zee.”
“You’ll have to wait.”
Banging my fist down on the top of the desk, I bare my teeth at the officer. “I will not wait,” I shout, doing nothing to control or conceal the rage in my voice.
“What seems to be the problem here?” The female officer from Malia’s interview yesterday appears from the office.
“I want to see my client. Now.”
“Very well, I’m on my way to speak to her anyway. You may as well follow.”
She doesn’t say anything else, turning on her heel and leading the way back down the corridor where I was forced to leave Malia behind last night. When she peers through the peephole, something must alarm her because she jerks back from the door suddenly and starts fumbling for her keys.
“What is it?” I demand, panic rising within me.
She ignores me and hurries to open the door, and the second she steps back to swing open the heavy metal, I rush past her into the cell. Malia is curled up on the floor and my heart hits my throat as I race over to her prone form, falling to my knees and checking for a pulse.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I find it, and gently try to rouse her.
“Is she okay?” the officer asks, with what seems like real concern in her voice.
I glower at her. “No thanks to you.”
Malia stirs and I switch my attention straight back to her. “Are you okay, Miss Van der Zee?” I hate that with the officer here I have to play a role. I want to scoop her into my arms but I really shouldn’t with them watching.
She wretches like she’s about to be sick and I quickly pull her hair out of the way, but it just turns into an awful hacking cough. She’s yet to open her eyes but just from her sweat-soaked brow and pallid complexion, I can tell that something’s not right.
“What the hell did you do to her?” I growl. “She was fine when I left her yesterday.”
“I-I don’t know. She was fine when I checked on her before my shift ended.” The officer sounds really sorry, and I know she’s not to blame but Malia shouldn’t have been in a cell in the first place. Especially not a cell for supernaturals. It could have killed her.
“Who was on the night shift?” I demand, rage filling every cell in my body.
“That would be me,” a second, familiarly smug and smarmy voice adds.
“Moyes, I was looking for you. You missed our handover meeting.”
“What’s wrong with her, Payne?” Officer Moyes asks.
“Beats me,” he replies with a dismissive shrug that is a match to the short fuse of my anger. “But she’s free to go.”
“What?” Malia blinks, her face full of surprise.
“Why?” We both ask at the same time.
“There was an issue with the evidence. The witness statement has been redacted. And besides, she was found innocent last night.”
“How is that possible?” I ask sharply, my head snapping up to stare at the officer whom I really dislike. It was so easy to pick up on Malia’s discomfort around him yesterday, and I can see why she doesn’t like him. There’s something serpentine in him. He’s not to be trusted.
“She was tested.”
“How?” I grind out.
“Through trial by fire.”
He shrugs again as officer Moyes gasps and turns to stare at him in shock. My rage explodes out of me and I’m on my feet, across the room and have him against the wall by the neck in the blink of an eye.
“That could have fucking killed her!” I bellow, crushing his windpipe.
