Hugh didn’t visibly react. “ ‘Not promising’ in what sense?”
The elder councilor hesitated. “The investigators concluded that the fire originated inside your apartment, which we already knew. The smoke alarms had all been deliberately disabled, along with the sprinkler system. A witch’s spell had rendered the building’s own alarms inaudible within the apartment.” Another pause. “The investigation indicated a demon perpetrator. They discovered no signs of outside intrusion.”
Gwen’s lips parted in shock. If she was interpreting his words correctly…
“They think I set the fire,” Hugh stated flatly, “and left Gwen there to die.”
She plastered both hands over her mouth, stifling a horrified gasp.
Goodling didn’t contradict Hugh’s conclusion. “They’re speculating as to whether you’ve become unstable, and your publicdisplay of fisticuffs with a troll yesterday isn’t helping matters. There’s been talk about whether the Blacke clan might have…well, a family affliction.”
Hugh’s jaw had turned to stone. “Because of Eloise.”
The cheerful twin sister who’d chatted happily with Gwen in that Delphi waiting room and given Hugh his Prince outfit? What did she have to do with any of this?
The older male gave a genteel grunt of affirmation. “And, Hugh, the reason they think you might have become unstable…it’s unfortunate. Yourgirlfriend…”
Hugh’s finger hovered over the speaker icon. Evidently he didn’t want her to suffer through any slights Goodling might unknowingly utter in her hearing, and Gwen was glad for that. The distaste and displeasure in the older demon’s voice were insult enough, honestly.
“Josiah—” Hugh began.
Goodling spoke right over him. “They think her pregnancy tipped you over some emotional edge.”
Absolute, suffocating silence descended on the car, and Gwen froze in utter shock.
How had they accessed her medical records? Wasn’t that illegal?
And what in the world would Hugh think of her now?
18
Gwen couldn’t look at Hugh. She lurched forward, propped her elbows against the gleaming dashboard, and buried her entire face in her hands.
Still, his stare seared the side of her head like a flamethrower. Or maybe that was just her imagination combined with the incinerating heat of her utter humiliation.
“Please explain to me, Josiah.” By all rights, the utter chill of Hugh’s tone should have transformed the sweltering car into a refrigerator. “Why would the investigators think that?”
Goodling sounded highly reluctant to answer the question. “The going assumption is that you’re either unwilling to have a child or unwilling to have someone like her as that child’s mother.”
“And they believe I tried to solve that ostensible problem bykilling her in a fire”—those five words emerged with particular icy precision—“as she slept?”
“Correct.” Goodling didn’t sound overly saddened by the prospect. “Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to establish an alibi for you. As surveillance within SERC headquarters indicates, you left the building between meetings, shortly before the time investigators believe the fire began.”
Where had he gone? Because she knew to the marrow of her bones that he hadn’t visited his apartment for oracle-murdering purposes, no matter what his colleagues believed.
The ever-rising temperature in the car revealed the volcanic intensity of Hugh’s emotion, but his voice remained entirely calm. “I was meeting an informant.”
The sensation of eyes boring into her head had ceased at some point, and she snuck a glance his way. He was staring through the windshield now, his expression as hard as the cobblestones on the sidewalk.
She didn’t know which she feared more: Hugh refusing to ever look at her again or Hugh directing that expression at her. Both would hurt far, far too much.
“Where?” Josiah asked. “Perhaps there’s video evidence of your presence there during the time in question.”
“I can’t say.” Exactly the response Gwen would have predicted. “Sharing that information would endanger my informant’s safety.”
“Do you have any cameras within your apartment, then? Security footage that might reveal the presence and identity of another culprit?” Goodling sounded worried. “Without proof of an intrusion, convincing the investigators of your innocence might be difficult.”
“No. It’s easy to tamper with video or buy a glamour, so I invested in foolproof wards instead.” Hugh’s jaw ticced. “Theoreticallyfoolproof wards.”
