"This is Ophelia," Comacho said to the little girl. "Ophelia, my niece, Isabella."

"h.e.l.lo, Isabella. Happy birthday," I said, smiling.

Isabella gave me a shy smile and a tiny wave from the safety of her uncle's arms.

"What do you say?" He gave her a slight jiggle while we moved up the walk.

"Thank you," she said, giggling. "It's nice to meet you."

At the door his sister threw her arms around her brother and daughter, hugging them both.

"Ki-kay. You made it," she said, patting his arm.

Ki-kay? Comacho's sister called the Iceman, Ki-kay Ki-kay! Wouldn't his fellow officers love to hear that one? I tried to hide my smile, but he caught it.

He tilted his head slightly and gave me a look that said: Don't you dare say a word Don't you dare say a word.

Grinning, I diverted my attention back to his sister.

"Isabella has been watching for you. And And ignoring her guests," she said, shaking her finger playfully at the little girl. ignoring her guests," she said, shaking her finger playfully at the little girl.

"Sorry, Mama."

"Well, he's here now, so go play. You can open your presents later," she said and turned to me.

Comacho put Isabella down and she took off down the hallway.

"Belinda," he said to his sister, "I'd like you to meet Ophelia Jensen."

Belinda took my hand and shook it warmly while she sized me up.

I could see the questions running through her mind. Who is this woman? And why is she with my brother?

"Nice to meet you, Belinda," I replied, meeting her frank gaze with one of my own.

She nodded slightly and smiled, releasing my hand. "This way," she said, motioning down the hall.

We walked down the hallway where it opened to the family room and kitchen. Windows covered the back wall and I saw several children playing in the backyard. Looking to my left, I noticed their mothers sitting at the kitchen table.

Isabella ran back inside and grabbed her uncle's hand. "Please, come outside," she asked, tugging on his hand.

"Go on, Ki-kay Ki-kay," Belinda said. "Isabella wants to show you off to her friends."

Laughing, Comacho allowed his small niece to pull him out the door and into the backyard, where he was immediately the center of attention.

"Please." Belinda waved me toward the kitchen. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee." She stopped. "Or would you care for something else."

"No, coffee's fine," I said, sitting down with the other women.

I heard Belinda behind me as she opened and shut cupboard doors.

"You're a friend of my brother's?" she asked.

I almost said, "I guess-if you don't count the number of times he's tried to arrest me." I clamped my mouth shut and nodded.

"How long have you known each other?"

He wasn't kidding about his sister pumping me. The talent must run in the family.

I cleared my throat. "About five years."

Not a lie-I had had met him five years ago when he wanted to charge me with Brian's murder. met him five years ago when he wanted to charge me with Brian's murder.

"Funny, he's never mentioned you," she said, placing the coffee in front of me.

"Oh," I stumbled over my words. "I meant I was introduced to him five years ago. We only recently ran into each other again."

The conversation was not going well. I grabbed my cup and took a big sip and the hot liquid scalded my tongue. I spluttered and coughed while Belinda pounded my back.

"Sorry," I said and wiped away the coffee dribbling off my chin with my napkin.

I noticed the raised eyebrows of the other women, the sly glances they exchanged. Boy, oh boy, am I making a good impression or what Boy, oh boy, am I making a good impression or what?

Belinda moved to the other side of the table and sat.

While the silence stretched on, I struggled to think of something to say. Clearing my throat, I looked at Belinda. "Isabella is charming."

"Thank you," she said, watching her daughter and her friends in the backyard. "She adores Enrique."

My eyes followed hers and I saw the little girls swarming all over him like a jungle gym. I was pleasantly surprised to see that Comacho was good with children. Go figure Go figure, I thought. My next words just seemed to slip out on their own. "And he's always seemed like such a hard-a.s.s."

I slapped my hand over my mouth. Oh G.o.d, I didn't say that aloud, did I Oh G.o.d, I didn't say that aloud, did I?

Yes, I did.

A stunned silence hung over the room and I felt the red creep into my face as I saw the other women staring at me.

Belinda broke the silence.

"You think?" she said and chuckled.

She smiled at the shocked look on my face.

"Try having him for an older brother," she said and laughed. The other women laughed too.

Leaning forward in her chair, she placed her arms on the table. "'Harda.s.s'?" she said and rolled her eyes. "You should've seen him with my boyfriends. It's a wonder I ever got married."

Turning back to the window, I noticed something had changed. The little girls no longer climbed all over Comacho. He stood near a tree with his cell phone to his ear. Snapping it shut, he put on his sungla.s.ses and, after giving Isabella a quick hug, he marched to the house.

"Come on, Ophelia, we've got to go," he said abruptly. Leaning down, he kissed Belinda on the top of her head. "Sorry, something's come up." Pivoting on his heel, he walked out.

I scrambled out of my chair to follow. "Nice meeting you," I said over my shoulder and ran to catch up with him.

He was standing by the driver's side of the car when I reached him.

"What's going on?" I asked, out of breath.

He rested his arms on the roof of the car, his mouth in a tight line. "Why didn't you tell me you threatened Beasley at the hospital?"

"I didn't threaten him." I stopped and shoved my hands in my back pockets. "Well, yeah," I said, remembering my conversation with him. "I told him he'd better not mess with me. But what I meant was I'd complain and file a restraining order if he didn't leave me alone."

"But that's not what you said, was it?" he questioned, his face grim.

"No," I said my voice sullen.

"Get in the car," he said, throwing his body into the driver's seat.

Acknowledging now was not a good time to argue, I did what he said and shut the door.

The car was in motion before I got my seat belt buckled. We peeled out of the driveway and down the street.

"Hey," I said to his angry profile. "What's happened?"

"Bill called. They found a body dumped in the sewage lagoon at PP International. Still had the I.D. in the pocket." His jaw clenched. "It's Fletcher Beasley. Someone killed him and threw him in the hog s.h.i.t." He glared at me, his face cold. "You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"

Chapter Thirty-One.

Comacho's hand hit the rim of the steering wheel with a thud thud.

"You really had me going, you know? I almost believed the psychic BS." He gave me an ugly sneer. "I was even beginning to wonder about the 'witch' thing."

He said the word witch witch as if it were a bad word. as if it were a bad word.

"How do you know Beasley was murdered? He could've been snooping around, fell in, and drowned."

His hand gripped the steering wheel. "Right. Not even Beasley was dumb enough to do that. I was the dumb one-for thinking even part of what you told me was the truth."

I slumped down in my seat. "I did tell you the truth."

"Bulls.h.i.t!" His anger expanded till it filled the car. "You've lied to me since the first day I met you."

"You think I killed Brian?" I asked, sitting up.

"No, the Harvester killed Mitch.e.l.l. But I think you liked the attention it brought you. Liked the attention you got last fall when you found the dead body in the woods. Maybe you missed the attention, missed playing the hero."

"What?" I couldn't keep the shock out of my voice.

"Yeah," Comacho said, warming to the subject. "You found Gus dead and saw the opportunity to play the hero again. Set fire to his body and buried it where you could conveniently find it." He nodded his head. "And it gave you the chance to annoy PP International and bring attention to your grandmother's group."

"That's nuts," I said, staring straight ahead.

"Well, lady, so are you. Five years ago, they must've locked you in the psych ward for a reason."

The cruelty in his tone made my head spin and I felt the pain building from deep inside me. A storm of guilt swept through me.

No! I hit the seat next to me. I I will not will not allow it. Comacho's words allow it. Comacho's words are not are not going to send me back to that dark place inside me. The dark place I lived in five years ago after Brian's death. I going to send me back to that dark place inside me. The dark place I lived in five years ago after Brian's death. I will not will not cry in front of him cry in front of him.

"Why would I kill Beasley?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice calm.

"He found out what you were doing and threatened to expose you."

"The bottle?"

"You planted it." A humorless smile stretched his lips. "It will be interesting to see whose hair is in the bottle. We'll want a sample of yours, by the way."

"The envelope in Abby's room?"

"Planted that too."

"Okay, if you think everything I've told you has been a lie. How do you explain what happened with the hawk."

He made a derisive sound. "For all I know, it's a pet you trained. As far as I'm concerned, all that psychic and witch stuff was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. I deal with facts."

I stared out the window in misery. Everything he said sounded logical. The events could've happened the way he described them-if I were crazy.

But I'm not crazy. Problem was-how could I convince Comacho? Not enough magick in the world to accomplish that task.

I shifted in my seat toward Comacho. His body was rigid and I felt waves of freezing energy surrounding him. I had to break through.

"Henry," I said, touching his sleeve, "I've told you the truth about everything."

He glanced over at me and I saw his face soften for an instant. I saw the glimmer of the man I'd watched play with children, but only for a moment.

His face frosted over and the Iceman was back.

Well, I thought while I stared at Comacho backing out of my driveway, at least he didn't pull out his handcuffs at least he didn't pull out his handcuffs. He had insisted I give him a lock of my hair. For DNA testing.

He'd given me the standard "Don't leave town" line and told me Bill would want to talk with me. Hopefully, Bill would be easier to convince of my innocence than Comacho.