I didn’t know.

Now I’d met a mostly normal human guy with whom I felt a few sparks, and I didn’t know what to do about that, either. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d gone on a date, and I was getting way ahead of myself just thinking about it. I didn’t even know whether he was single, let alone interested.

I drove around town, looking for a parking space. “Focus, Daisy,” I murmured to myself. “It’s not about you.”

It helped.

If I was right, if Mom’s reading held true, there was an eldritch creature being held hostage out there somewhere, not so very far away. La Sirena. And I had a good idea that she was suffering pretty badly.

My shoulder blades prickled at the thought, and I felt a surge of anger that left me light-headed, although as I finally found an empty spot and maneuvered the Honda into place, it occurred to me that the latter might have something to do with the fact that I was running on adrenaline and fumes. After a dinner of beer and pretzels, I needed more than one not-so-fresh hard-boiled egg to keep me going.

Luckily, there was a hot-dog stand on the way to the station. I grabbed a chili-cheese dog and ate it on the go, dodging tourists on the sidewalk. Say what you will, but as far as I’m concerned, while fake cheese sauce may be seven kinds of disgusting, it’s also one of the ultimate hangover foods.

By the time I reached the station and squeezed past the protestors, I felt calmer and more grounded. Yep, I definitely needed food.

If this were a movie, I’d have a chance to watch Cody and the chief interview Mollenkamp in the interrogation room through a one-way mirror before staging a timely intervention, but the Pemkowet Police Department doesn’t have a one-way mirror, or even an interrogation room.

“They’re in the conference room,” Patty Rogan greeted me. “Chief says he’ll send Cody for you when he’s ready.”

“Thanks, Patty.”

She dabbed significantly at the corner of her mouth and gave a discreet nod in the direction of the restroom. “You might want to freshen up first.”

Oh, great. The bathroom mirror revealed a veritable clown smile of chili grease and cheese sauce plastered over my lips. Thank God I’d had a chance to shower earlier, and was no longer sweating out stale beer and twelve-year-old single-malt. I washed my hands and face and rinsed my mouth in the rust-stained porcelain sink.

When I emerged, Cody was waiting for me, his expression somber. “Hey, Daise. This guy’s got some major attitude.”

“Yeah, I know.” I wiped my still-damp palms on my jeans. “He’s not cooperating?”

He shook his head. “He’s denying everything. You and I are trading places. The chief figures it’s time to spring you on him. Ready?”

I touched dauda-dagr’s hilt again. The coolness it radiated was reassuring. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Inside the conference room, Matthew Mollenkamp was slouched in a chair. Although he looked a little worse for the wear after a hard night of drinking, everything about his body language exuded the same sense of privilege and entitlement. Still, he stiffened perceptibly when I entered the room.

“Hail, true son of Triton,” I said to him. “Nice to see you again.”

His eyelids flickered.

Chief Bryant smiled a slow, sleepy smile. “Well, now, son. I’d like to introduce you to our special associate, Miss Daisy Johanssen. In fact, I believe you may already be acquainted. Are you still inclined to claim you’ve never heard of the Masters of the Universe?”

Mollenkamp gave a short, choked laugh. Stalling for time, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “I take it you’re not a potential transfer student, are you?”

I took a seat. “Nope.”

His hazel gaze fixed me. “Where’s the other Trask sister? The hot one?”

It was meant to hurt, and to be honest, it did. But that was exactly what he intended. I had a feeling he liked his women off-kilter and insecure. I decided to give it right back to him. “Do you know who you remind me of?” I asked him. “Matthew McConaughey.”

He smirked at me. “Yeah, I get that sometimes. The name helps.”

“Did you ever see Dazed and Confused?” I asked. “No? It’s been a while, but I watched it with my mom years ago. McConaughey plays a guy who still hangs out with high-school students even though it’s sort of pathetic at his age. Glory days and all that, I guess, you know?” I shrugged. “You remind me of him. Only he pulls it off better. But then, it’s a movie. Real life is different. Don’t expect a happy ending here. Thad Vanderhei found that out the hard way, didn’t he?”

Mollenkamp glanced at the chief, his smirk fading.

The chief ignored him, examining his fingernails and maintaining a heavy, impassive silence.

I think it was at that moment that Matthew Mollenkamp knew he was in trouble. With the weight of silence pressing on him, his gaze flitted around the room, coming back to me. “Okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, his tone striving for bitter levity. “Okay, you got me. Busted. I made up some bullshit and a few of the alumni brothers played along. You didn’t actually believe it, did you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I did.”

“It wasn’t true,” he said in frustration. “It’s not my fault if Thad Vanderhei believed me! It was an accident!”

I shook my head. “Not the kind his buddies claim it was.”

Mollenkamp sank deeper into his chair. “So why don’t you talk to them? I wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened.”

“You sent them there.”

He shrugged. “I made up some bullshit story about a secret society within the brotherhood. What the hell? It sounded good at the time. They got punked, okay? No one was supposed to die, and believe me, I feel like shit about it. If I could take it back, I would. I’d give anything to take it back, okay? But it was just another kind of hazing. I didn’t dare Thad to swim the river. For Christ’s sake, I don’t even know why—” His voice cut off.

I glanced at the chief. He nodded at me, giving me permission to continue. “You don’t even know what Thad and the others were doing at the river, do you?” I asked softly. “Because that’s not where you sent them. That’s not where you expected them to be.”

Mollenkamp looked away. “I wasn’t there,” he muttered. “Why the fuck are you talking to me? Talk to Kyle and Mike.”

“Oh, we are.” The chief shifted his bulk, making his chair creak ominously. He was good at that. “But you could be charged as an accessory, son.”

“To what?” His voice rose. “Thad’s death was an accident!”

“Maybe,” the chief allowed. “But like Miss Johanssen observed, it wasn’t the kind of accident it seemed. Not the kind those boys claimed it was. Wherever Thad Vanderhei drowned, it sure as hell wasn’t the Kalamazoo River. And covering up the cause of death, even an accidental death, is a crime.”

In the aftermath of Thad’s death, there hadn’t been any opportunity for Kyle Middleton and Mike Huizenga to confer with their Triton brothers face-to-face, but they could have exchanged calls or texts or e-mails. I didn’t know whether they had, or if so, how much they’d revealed about what had transpired. Until that moment, I hadn’t been sure whether Matthew Mollenkamp knew exactly how Thad had drowned.

Now I knew he hadn’t. I saw the realization dawn over his features, a sickening awareness he couldn’t hide. “Thad didn’t drown in the river?”

Chief Bryant gave me an imperceptible shake of his head.

I kept silent.

“Oh, God.” Mollenkamp swallowed, turning pale and sweating visibly. “Oh, fuck! I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Wordlessly, I passed him the wastebasket. I was kind of hoping the whole about-to-puke thing would turn out to be an idle threat, but it wasn’t. My stomach lurched in sympathy as he gagged and retched, bringing up a thin stream of clear liquid and bile.

The chief cleared his throat. “Daisy, would you be so kind as to fetch Mr. Mollenkamp some paper towels?” I rose. “And maybe something cold to drink?” he called after me.

I grabbed a couple of paper towels in the bathroom and rummaged in the departmental fridge for a can of 7UP.

“Are you getting anywhere?” Cody asked me impatiently. “Is Mollenkamp showing any signs of cracking?”

“Yep.”

He sighed. “God, I wish we had a one-way mirror!”

In the conference room, I passed Matthew Mollenkamp the paper towels and the can of soda. He wiped his mouth, then rolled the cold 7UP can over his temples before cracking it open and drinking thirstily.

“Feel better?” Chief Bryant asked solicitously.

“Yeah.” Mollenkamp set down the can. “Thanks.”

“Ready to tell us what you know, son?” the chief inquired.

Now that he was refreshed and restored, his expression turned defensive. “About what? Thad’s death? I keep telling you, I wasn’t there!”

The chief gave me a slight nod.

I leaned forward in my seat. “So tell me, Matt. How do you feel about rape charges?”

He blanched. “You can’t—”

“Why?” I asked steadily. “Because she wasn’t human? Because she was a mythological creature without a birth certificate? Because she has no legal rights? But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist, does it? How did it feel? How did it make you feel? Like a god? King of the world? Like a true son of Triton, a Master of the Universe?”

“Don’t—”

Righteous anger stirred in me. “Don’t what? Tell the truth? Tell me, Matt: How did it make you feel? We’re not talking about a naiad. We’re talking about a mermaid, aren’t we? Don’t lie to me; I know she’s out there. Thad drowned in salt water, Matt.” As my wrath rose, the air pressure in the conference room intensified, smelling of ozone. Seven Deadlies be damned; I could use this. Stefan had once told me that in and of itself, passion was no sin. It was deeds that mattered, and this was a deed worth doing. I felt the pressure building against my eardrums and the insistent pulse of my blood beating against them. Chief Bryant grimaced and Matthew Mollenkamp winced, drawing his shoulders in tight, his hands gripping his opposite elbows. I stared at him, keeping my anger intent, focused, and under control. “Go on—tell me! I’m curious. Did you know she was unwilling? A captive? Did she struggle? Did that make it good for you? Did that make it better for you?”