Page 13 of Fire Dancer
Okay, I was getting closer. But, jeez. How long was I supposed to keep up this game of charades?
I stirred the air with my hand. “Who, Ingo?”
He glared at the table, then grunted. “A guy tangentially involved in an arson case I investigated a while back.”
I kept stirring, and oops. The candle on the table echoed the motion, swirling into a tiny whirlwind.
I laid my hand flat on the table. A good thing Ingo was too distracted to notice.
“Victor Jananovich,” he finally said. “Ring a bell?”
I let out a dry laugh. Ingo was the one who read FBI reports. I skimmed through back issues ofArizona Highways.
“The rodeo pro?” I said, just to get under his skin.
Ingo bought it for a moment, then made a face when he realized I’d made that up. “Victor Jananovich, thevampire,” he hissed.
I leaned back. Wow. A vampire with a restraining order against a wolf shifter?
“Since when do vampires go to the police to file for restraining orders?”
“They don’t. But Jananovich went to theagencyfor a restraining order.”
My eyes went wide. “Wow. What did you do?”
Ingo gripped his glass so hard, it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.
Tempered or laminated?my professional side wondered, and I tapped mine. Tempered.
“He’s the criminal, not me,” Ingo insisted.
“And yet, you’re the one with the restraining order.”
“Yeah, well. The world can be a fucked-up place.”
“I guess so,” I murmured, chewing that over for a while.
Our legs touched, but I didn’t have the brain space to move away.
“Did you have evidence?” I finally asked.
Ingo made a face. “He’s slippery as hell, but everything pointed to Jananovich.”
“Pointed to or actually proved?”
“I was in the process of collecting that proof when I was called off the case.”
“Did you ever consider that you were wrong? That he isn’t a criminal?”
“And risk another innocent person dying?”
Another? I stared. What had gone wrong? And, shoot. Did Ingo blame himself for that particular tragedy — whatever it was?
“Two bacon cheeseburgers.” The waitress plunked a plate in front of each of us while batting giant, furry caterpillars — er, fake eyelashes — at Ingo. “Can I get you anything else? Another drink? Extra ketchup?”
Me, naked?her dancing eyes added.
Ingo stuck up his hands. “We’re fine, thank you.”