The Secrets of Lore Seymour

12. Suspect Seven

Back at the precinct, a few officers assist us in combing through the client list, searching through their crimes so we may make a list of suspects.

"Since the killer tortured Ayden, but was capable of intelligently cleaning up after themselves, we should rule out those who are exceedingly violent. This killer is someone capable of containing their emotions until the time is right. It's more likely they'll have a smaller charge or something completely unrelated to assault," I remark when we begin compiling lists of most likely and least likely.

As thoughtful as I believed my statement to be, no one immediately listens. All eyes turn to Lore, who leans comfortably on the chair across from me. He silently reads through one paper after the other faster than I can read a paragraph. Then he looks up, realizes everyone is staring, and smiles, "Seren's right. Separate the suspects based on the severity of their crime, then we'll give it another look after we're done."

Everyone gets to work immediately. What a way to remind me that Lore has the precinct in the palm of his hand. That could be another reason he's so involved. His assistance makes their jobs easier, which makes them like him more. He seems to truly excel at that above all us; charming everyone.

There isn't a damn thing about him that doesn't scream suspect. There also isn't a damn solid piece of proof that does scream suspect either. Setting such thoughts aside--for now--I fixate on the case at hand. With the help of a handful of others, we manage to work up multiple lists by the middle of the afternoon.

"Draven shall keep an eye on these few," Lore says when handing the freakishly quiet butler a stack of papers. I wonder if Draven forgets at times that his vocal cords work. I'd ask, but if he remembers, then I'd have to hear him talk. Lore's already a handful. No need to add another.

"It's unlikely they're the perpetrator we're searching for, but just in case, we'll have a pair of eyes on them. And these--" Lore slaps his hand on a large stack that, admittedly, makes me a little excited. "You and I will take care of, my sweet Seren."

I scowl at the notion of being called sweet and his, but am eager to get to work.

"We'll see if any of them are the perp or know anything that may lead us in the right direction. We can at least get through a few today," he finishes. I choose not to mention what he said, otherwise we'll look like a bickering couple. Definitely not on my to do list.

Although we're meant to interrogate, I imagine there will be less talking than earlier. I'd prefer chasing some jerk down an alley or getting into a fist fight. All this polite chatting is boring and feels like we're getting nowhere. I don't understand how priests or surveyors of the church can withstand all this small talk and inaction. My legs have been jittery for hours. I guess one could say I enjoy the hunt too. Having anything in common with Lore is slightly unsettling though.

Draven disappears instantly, leaving Lore with the car keys. Guess Draven has to hop his way across the rooftops while Lore drives us through the streets, which is a funny thought.

At least Lore's quiet during the drive, which starts to concern me when I consider why. Is he such a bad driver that he can't talk?

My question is somewhat answered when I cling to the car door for my life as Lore runs through a red light and laughs, "My apologies, you'd think a dhampir would have better eyesight."

"Haha, yeah--" We serve around a sharp corner that has my head banging against the window.

"My humblest of apologies."

"You don't sound apologe--gah!" I almost hit the dash when he slams on the breaks to prevent us from running over an old lady crossing the street. If he isn't a murderer, he's about to be with these kinds of driving skills!