The Sleeper's Harp (The Arcane Artifacts, #1)

Chapter 5 - Suspect

Bastian fixed me with a cold, hard stare and said, "Surely you see how this looks, Sugar."

My ears rang and rang and rang. I blinked. "How...how this looks?" I squeaked. My throat stuck together. I licked my lips and swallowed.

"Well, yes. Professor Miller left everything to you. Out of anyone, you have the most to gain by her death."

I sputtered. "Wait. You—you think I did this?!"

"As I said, how well do—did—you know her?"

I exhaled, all the fight sliding right out of me. "Am I under arrest or something? Are you an undercover cop? Are the Fae trying to bring me in? Trying to off me? Do I need to hire a lawyer? Should I—"

Bastian growled. "Enough! I'm a bounty hunter not a police officer. All of this is off record, for now. But yes, I'm looking for Professor Miller's killer and I admit, you're at the top of my list." He set his empty snifter on the side table and leaned forward, resting his tattooed forearms on his knees.

My skin crawled beneath that severe gaze. Those green eyes didn't feel hot and enticing anymore. Instead, they left me panicked, heart racing.

I opened my mouth to speak. A choking sound came out. "I...I didn't do it. This is..." A deranged laugh bubbled up from my chest. "It's ridiculous. I haven't spoken to Jane in two years, at least."

"So, you do know her, then." He lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah, I mean, years ago."

"Uh-huh. And...why haven't you spoken to her since?"

Hot guilt dropped into my belly. "I...we fell out of touch, I guess."

"Right." His tone said he didn't believe me. "What was the nature of your relationship? How did you know each other? Why would she leave everything to you?"

"I knew her from the university," I said, my voice falling quiet.

"How so?"

I gave him an idiotic glare. "How do you think? I was a student there." I rubbed a hand over my face.

"A student. Right." He bobbed his head. "Funny, because when I looked through the university records, there was no trace of you."

I swallowed. Shit. I'd forgotten about that. My nostrils flared.

His expression spoke volumes. His eyes raked over me, convinced. Like he'd already made his mind up about me earlier and was merely pretending to play along. This asshole thought I was lying. That burrowed beneath my skin, making my muscles go tight. I didn't mind being misjudged by people, but I hated, absolutely hated, when someone didn't believe me. Luke had never believed me; never taken me seriously.

Clenching my teeth, I said, "I'm sure you look at me, and all you see is a party girl with pink hair who doesn't care about her future, who has no greater ambition than exotic dancing, half naked in a cage, starving for tips,"—he frowned, possibly at the venom in my voice—"but once upon a time, I was a master's student at WU, working on my thesis."

The truth was, I had a passion for art history and archeology. The study of people and what they found beautiful. The types of things they crafted that had survived them over the ages. That dream had been taken from me.

"You expect me to believe that?" Bastian asked. "That you were a master's student."

My eyes bulged. I held my jaw together. "Look, asshole, I didn't realize Jane successfully removed me from the records, all right. I knew she was going to try. I never checked."