“Vivienne,” Faye says, “I can end this pain for you. I can end it and let you go back to work. Just tell us your master’s name.”

“Never,” Vivienne says through gritted teeth. Spittle hangs from her chin.

Faye focuses and Vivienne screams this time, arching and sparking.

“Someone will hear her,” I say. “We’ve got to get her out of here.”

“Doesn’t matter where you take me. I’ll never betray him,” she says.

“You already have,” I say. “You told us his whole plan.”

The realization blooms across Vivienne’s face, her grimace turning to a frown and then to a look of panic. She turns her head, as if she expects him to be there, to punish her for sharing so much information. I watch with curiosity as she sorts it out, but when her face takes on laser-sharp focus, I begin to worry.

She chants in a low, fluid language I do not understand. I look at Faye and she seems as confused as I am, her head tilted as if she’s trying to hear someone who is whispering. Her eyes narrow as she leans closer to Vivienne, who repeats her chant, getting louder and louder until she just…stops. She stops chanting and falls to the floor.

I reach down and feel for a pulse. “She’s dead,” I say. “What did she do?”

“I’m not familiar with whatever language that spell was in, but I heard her heart slowing. I think she stopped her own heart.”

I let out a sound of frustration. Faye looks at me sharply.

“Faye,” I say. “You’ve got to get out of here. Vivienne is a colleague of mine. She works at the police station. You don’t need to be associated with this.”

“What about you?” Faye asks.

“I’ll just say she said she wasn’t feeling well. That I came to the restroom to check on her and found her like this.”

Faye nods. “I’ll go back and research the ritual she described, see if we can stop it, or if I can find word of a warlock who might be a purist.”

“Thanks,” I say as she grabs her bag and slips out. I’m hoping she isn’t seen. This isn’t going to look good, no matter what, but definitely not if someone says they saw a third woman come in to the restroom.

I call 9-1-1 and then run out into the restaurant, trying to muster fake tears and panic. “My friend!” I yell to the hostess at the front door. “My friend has collapsed in the bathroom. She’s not breathing!”

Chaos ensues as staff run to see what’s going on, as patrons stop their meals to watch the drama unfold. The ambulance comes just five minutes later, but they pronounce her dead at the scene. The police take photos and statements. Rick shows up, his eyes wide when he sees me, when he realizes the dead body, now loaded onto a stretcher under a white sheet, is Vivienne.

He doesn’t say anything as we leave the restaurant, as we walk the few blocks back to the station. Once inside, though, he points to an interrogation room. I wander in to the bleak, lifeless box. It’s got concrete walls on three sides, a two-way mirror on the fourth. There is a table and two chairs. And apart from the camera in the corner, that is it.

I’m familiar with these rooms. I’ve been in them quite a few times – usually as an investigator. Now twice as a suspect.

“Amy,” Rick says, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “What the hell?”

“She said she didn’t feel well, got up, and ran to the restroom. I followed to check on her a few minutes later and she had collapsed.”

“That doesn’t check out,” he says. “There are several staff from the restaurant that say you followed almost immediately. That you were both in there for at least five minutes. One said he thought he heard screaming.”

“I didn’t hurt her,” I say. “You know me. I wouldn’t hurt someone like that.”

“What was going on?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “I already told you. She got up and ran for the restroom. She looked like she might vomit. I followed a few minutes later. She had collapsed.”

He nods but I can tell he doesn’t buy it.

“Just wait for the autopsy, then,” I say. “It will prove that whatever happened to her was just a horrible accident.”

He licks his teeth and narrows his eyes. “I’ve heard reports that you and Vivienne do not get along, is that a fair assessment?”

“It’s true, she’s been rather rude to me several times these past weeks,” I say. “She offered to go to lunch to apologize. I accepted her apology.”

“When you say rude, what do you mean?” he asks.

“She insinuated that the other investigators say I’m having a nervous breakdown. She made incendiary comments about Damon leaving me. It was like she was trying to bait me,” I answer.

“For what purpose?” he asks.

“I have no idea,” I say sharply. “She’s young. Perhaps she likes to stir the pot, create drama. How the hell would I know? I almost went to HR about it, honestly, but when she said she wanted to apologize, I decided to take the high road.”

“There has to be something you’re not telling me,” Rick says.

I consider blurting the truth. I’ve thought about it before, been so close to telling him about all of the things I’ve seen in the past year, about the existence of the supernatural. I consider telling him that I’m a witch, that Vivienne was a witch – a powerful one – and that she was part of a dark plot. That she chose to end her own life rather than share information with me.

I settle for: “Rick, there are things in this world that you would not understand.”

“What?” he asks, almost mockingly. “Girl things? I wouldn’t understand that women can be cruel to one another?”

I sit forward abruptly. “You’re going to make this about women? Women’s drama? Women being bullies?”

He lifts a shoulder in response.

I laugh out loud, a bitter bark of a sound. “That’s rich. I have never thought of you as sexist, but that’s one of the most sexist things I have ever heard. What? I didn’t like that she was mean to me, so instead of pulling her hair, I, what? Killed her?”

“I would love to say that the scenario you just presented wasn’t plausible,” he says. “There was a time I would never have thought it possible, Amy, not out of you anyway. You have always been my rock, my best, my smartest. But you’re not you anymore. You haven’t been you in a long time.”

“Well, I didn’t kill Vivienne,” I say. “That’s for damn sure. No matter what else you think, you need to at least know that.”

“What. Happened.” Rick repeats.

“She felt sick at lunch and got up to run to the restroom. She looked like she might vomit. I followed a few minutes later. She had collapsed.” I fold my arms over my chest and sit back, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“So let’s go back to this statement you made about there being things in the world I wouldn’t understand. Could you clarify that statement?”

“I just mean that there are bigger forces at work, sometimes. That if you knew some of the crazy things that affect my work, touch my work, lately, your hair would curl.”

“There is nothing you have seen in your work that I haven’t seen five times over, Amy,” he says. “Be specific. Are you talking about God, Amy? A higher power? I thought you were an atheist.”

“I am a scientist, Rick. No, I am not talking about God,” I say. “But beyond that, I…can’t. I can’t say. You wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

He breathes in, out, through his nostrils. “I’m so disappointed in you, Amy.”

This breaks my heart. Rick is not just my boss, he is my mentor. He is my friend. He is a father figure. Disappointing him hurts. I meet his eyes, trying to convey my innocence, to tell him to believe me. He shakes his head.

“Your vague references to something bigger and something I won’t understand are giving me heartburn, Amy,” he says. “Either you tell me what the hell is going on, or I put you on thirty-day leave of absence while we sort out just what happened to young Vivienne.”

“You can’t put me on leave,” I say. “People are dying. People will continue to die. You need me on the Centerfold cases.”

“People die every day,” he says, weary. “It’s called job security, unfortunately.”

“That’s cynical,” I say. “And stupid. I’m very close to cracking this case.”

“Thirty days,” he says. “Go see a shrink, get your head sorted out. Don’t come back until you’re whole again.”

He gets up, walks out, and leaves the door open. I guess I am done being questioned. I guess I am free to go. But I don’t. I just sit there for a long while.

Finally, an officer comes in and touches my elbow. He gives me a sympathetic smile and ushers me out of the room, saying they need it for an interrogation. He walks me to the front door.

I don’t know how to process this. I have been on thin ice with Rick before, but not like this. He said he doesn’t know me anymore.

I have to crack this case and get back in his good graces. I need to tap into my powers. I need to use every tool at my disposal, magic specifically.

I know just where to go.