“According to this,” Morales said, holding up the paper, “Pen’s car was T-boned by the other vehicle, which means she is not at fault for the accident.”
My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “Seriously?” I grabbed the report from Morales. “In addition, the car that hit her was a potion-fueled vehicle that was in hover mode. With the two full moons this month, owners of those cars have been cautioned to drive in Mundane fuel mode so as to avoid collisions caused by the unstable lunar energy.”
The kid nodded. “I—”
“Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me where the other driver is?”
He blinked once, twice. Cleared his throat. “Um, the other party didn’t survive the accident. That is documented if you’d kept reading, sir.”
I sucked on my teeth and glared at the smart-ass.
He grimaced. “Look, I’m sorry I got this off on the wrong foot. It wasn’t my intention to insult your friend.” He sounded so sincere that I lowered my hackles. “I asked if she had a history because she had on one of those recovery token necklaces.”
I glanced down to be sure my own necklace was tucked inside my shirt. “And that made you suspicious?”
“No offense, Detective”—he nodded toward my own necklace—“but being in dirty magic recovery doesn’t mean she’s clean.”
That took a lot of the wind out of my sails. “I see.” I quickly pushed the necklace back inside my collar. “Was the other driver freaking on anything?”
Murphy nodded. “As it happens, yes. There were two empty ampoules with traces of Arcane substances found in the car, and the ME said preliminary signs indicate the deceased had been using some sort of Arcane substance. Said he likely wouldn’t test it, though, since the cause of death was obviously the collision.”
“How does he know the guy didn’t have a heart attack or stroke while driving?”
Murphy shrugged. “Suppose he doesn’t, but as it happens the guy lost his head.” He mimed slicing across his neck. “So I guess the ME figured that was good enough for the death certificate.”
Not long after that exchange, Murphy escaped to go file his paperwork at the precinct.
“Went a little hard on him, don’tcha think?” Morales said.
I grimaced at him. “He deserved it.”
He raised a thick brow. “Did he?”
I sighed. “Maybe I rode him a little hard, but he was lucky I was a cop and not some hysterical civilian leading with that question.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I was saved by Nurse Smith, who called across the way, “She’s awake.”
I swallowed the last dregs of frustration from my conversation with Murphy. The last thing I wanted when I saw Pen was to walk in lugging a chip on my shoulder. I’d already dumped one of those on her during our argument the night before. I cleared my throat and ran my hands through my hair.
“Be right back,” I said to Morales. He nodded and leaned on the counter like he planned to work his mojo on the nurses. Three of them had found excuses to linger and make doe eyes at him.
Leaving him in their capable hands, I walked to Pen’s room. Because of her crappy health insurance plan, she was stuck in a joint room with three other patients. A TV droned from the wall, and the chatter of the other patients and their families rose from behind the partitions. The curtain was pulled around the bed marked as Pen’s, but a couple of weak coughs came from the other side. I poked my head though the panels.
It had been one thing to hear Smith’s list of Pen’s injuries. Seeing her battered face was a shock to every protective instinct in my body. Her left eye was totally swollen shut and her right was surrounded by abrasions. The anger threatened to erode my intention to put on an upbeat facade. I wanted kill the asshole who’d done this all over again. While I was at it, I also wanted to kick my own ass for being the reason she’d been at that sham of a party in the first place.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Hi.” The sound was a barely audible scrape of words against air.
“Next time you want to clean the street try to remember not to use your face,” I joked lamely.
The corner of her lips lifted but immediately dissolved into a pained grimace. “Ow.”
I moved forward to comfort her, but she was so banged up I was afraid to touch her. Instead I settled on adjusting her pillow a little. It wasn’t much but it was movement, and it made me feel a little less useless.
“You here alone?” she asked finally.
“Morales is out in the lobby. He insisted on coming after I got the call at the gym.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry—”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just—Look, it’s no big deal. He wanted to come to make sure you were okay.”
She nodded but looked down at her bandaged hand. According to the nurse, when her car flipped, her left arm was trapped between her body and the door. An image of her unconscious and unprotected in that car for hours made my stomach turn with fear and guilt.
I shuffled my feet. “I’m sorry.”
Her head jerked up, but the move made her wince. “Why?”
“That you’re in pain. That I’m a dick. That we fought last night. Lots of things, I guess.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s not your fault, Kate.”
I snorted out a breath. “Like hell. I—”
She held up her good hand. “Stop it, okay? I’m not going to let you make this about your guilt. I’m the one in the hospital, and frankly I don’t have the energy to try to make you feel better about that.”
My mouth fell open at the unusual bitterness in my friend’s tone. “I—” But then it hit me that she was absolutely right. I should be comforting her, not the other way around. Which was also why I wouldn’t be bringing up my surprise visit with Uncle Abe the next day. Normally, Pen was my sounding board and best advice dispenser, but now she needed me—not the other way around. “Do you need anything?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but a nurse whipped the curtain back. She rolled a cart ahead of her that was filled with a bunch of tiny plastic cups and potion vials. “Time for your pain potion, Miss Griffin.”
Without thinking, I spoke for Pen. “She doesn’t take potions.”
A hand slapped mine. Hard. I turned to see my best friend frowning at me like I’d kicked a puppy. I hesitated. “What?”