Trevor

I could not believe I was meeting with the police again. This was becoming a recurring theme in my life.

This time, Detectives Anson and Morelli had agreed to interview us together. We’d just sat down in the kitchen where Mr. Whiskers was enjoying a particularly offensive can of cat food. At least, he seemed to think it was offensive. If I had to guess, I’d say Melina had picked the least smelly one in the cupboard, knowing he’d be cuddled up on her lap after eating. The condor was pecking at his food and occasionally flapping his wings as he glared at us. At least his antics were helping to lighten my mood some.

“Your buzzard doesn’t seem to like his food,” Detective Morelli remarked.

“He’s a condor,” Detective Anson corrected him, earning the shade a smile from Melina.

“Mr. Whiskers prefers food with a much stronger odor,” I explained.

Melina nodded. “He’s not happy about the tension, so he’ll need cuddles before I deal with his breath today. That’s why I gave him one that doesn’t make his breath quite as wretched. As you can see, it’s not one of his favorites.”

“Did either of you recognize the victim from the photos sent to you?” Detective Anson asked, signaling that we were done with the social niceties.

“I haven’t seen the messages yet,” Melina told him. “My phone battery was dead, and Trevor saw the message first, so he insisted I not look at my phone.”

“Would you say that Mr. Dupree is overly controlling in your relationship?” Detective Morelli asked.

That was the kind of shit that pissed me off about him. I knew he was trying to paint me in a bad light.

Melina’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at the detective. “Had I seen the messages first, there’s a good chance I would have tried to stop Trevor from looking at them,” she said in a cold voice.

“How do you know what you would have done?” Detective Morelli asked.

“Because I know Trevor wouldn’t have reacted that way if there weren’t something truly horrific in those pictures. Can we stick to questions about whatever is in those messages and avoid childish digs at Trevor?”

Detective Anson grinned. “That’s an excellent suggestion, Ms. Blackwood. Mr. Dupree already sent me copies of the messages. Did you recognize the victim or the phone number the messages were sent from?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “She didn’t look familiar to me.”

“You’re sure she’s not one of the women you dated?” Had that question come from Detective Morelli, I would have likely assumed it was a dig at the number of witches I’d been with, but I didn’t get that vibe from Detective Anson.

“Definitely not,” I assured him.

“Trevor’s not the type to forget a woman he’s dated,” Melina added. “We all know I’m going to have to look at the messages. It’s cute that the big strong men want to protect me, and I get why you’re all doing it, but we need to know if I recognize the woman. I should also look at my phone in case I was sent another message. It’s possible the killer sent me more messages.”

I let out a sigh and nodded. “I know, honey. I’m an idiot for hoping we could avoid having you see them.”

When Melina saw the picture, she sucked in a sharp breath, and I understood her reaction. It was difficult to believe someone could be that cruel, and even harder to believe I’d dated someone that cruel.

“Do you know who it is?” Detective Anson asked her.

She shook her head. “Not really. She seems vaguely familiar. I’m almost positive I saw her when we were at the council meeting last night.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “Now, I remember her.”

“Out of all the people who attended that meeting, you remember one witch you’ve never met?” Detective Morelli asked suspiciously.

“I overheard her talking to her friends about the affinity test,” I explained.

Melina nodded. “She argued that it was stupid that people were there to watch us like it was some big spectacle, and then she told them she was going back to her office to get some work done.”

“So, she must have worked for the Council of Witches in some capacity,” I told the detectives, feeling foolish for stating the obvious.

“That’s a good place to start,” Detective Morelli praised, and I didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice this time.

“I’m beginning to wonder if this might be about the show and have nothing to do with Trevor,” Melina mused.

I shook my head. “All the messages from the killer indicate they’re punishing you for being with me.”

Melina nodded, but still looked thoughtful. “You’re right. I know it sounds like it’s about you, but most of the victims have had nothing to do with you. I’m even beginning to wonder if the human actress who was killed at the beginning of the month may have been one of the killer’s victims.”

“Human actress?” Detective Anson asked.

“The human police were called in,” Melina explained. “They solved the crime, or at least they think they did. What if this whole thing has been about Night High?”

“It is likely that this has to do with your show, rather than Mr. Dupree,” Detective Anson agreed.

“What about the message on Lindsey’s wall?” I asked.

“According to her mother, she painted that on her own wall several months ago,” Detective Anson replied.

I took a moment to process what he’d said, wondering if it was possible this really didn’t have anything to do with me.

“We’re going to check to see if anyone else working on Night High has received any of these messages. This will tell us whether it’s a personal issue with you, Ms. Blackwood, or it’s a general issue with the show,” Detective Anson stated.

“They may focus on Ms. Blackwood because she’s been representing the show at the Council of Witches meetings,” Detective Morelli pointed out.

“While I agree that it could be about Melina’s job, I think it would be a mistake to stop looking into my exes,” I insisted.

Detective Morelli looked seriously pissed by my forceful statement. “We don’t need any suggestions on how to do our jobs, Mr. Dupree.”

Before I could respond, Detective Anson jumped in. “What he means is that we won’t stop looking into any possibilities.”

I nodded, not sure I could buy into the theory of this being strictly about Melina. Then again, maybe I’d gotten used to feeling guilty.

It took another hour to go over questions from the detectives, mostly because Morelli kept making snarky comments to piss me off. Throughout it all, Melina remained surprisingly calm. I hadn’t been expecting her to breakdown, sobbing, and beg people to protect her, but I’d expected her to be shaken and angry about the murder of an innocent woman.

After the shades left, Melina did something I never thought I’d see her do; she burst into tears. As I held her and listened to her cry, I felt more helpless than I had in my entire life. When the sobs finally eased, she was curled up in my lap.

“I need to quit my job,” she finally said.

“No,” was my knee-jerk response. “You love your job.”

Lifting her head, she looked at me. “Trevor, people are dying. Maybe it is one of your exes, but something tells me this is about me and the show.”

I let out a sigh, not knowing what to say. Would I do the same in her shoes? Probably. That meant I’d be a hypocrite to argue. Still, I hated seeing her stop doing what she loved.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re worried that I’m giving up something I love, and I am. That show is my baby, but I can find something new to love. Maybe I’ll stay home and write a book. I have enough money to go a few years without working.”

I kissed the top of her head. “I just want you to be happy, honey.” Whatever it took, I intended to make my witch happy and keep her safe.