“How could you not know?”

“Because…” She heard Chase step beside her. I was just kissed senseless. Because my senses are on hiatus. Taking a deep sobering breath, she shoved the kiss to the bottom of her mental problem tank and yanked up her big-girl panties to think about the case. “Because I’m pissed. Why did you pull us out?”

“As soon as the gang leader left your table, he called someone and told them to summon the whole gang there. They had plans to overtake you.”

“How do you know this?” Chase asked, now standing so close she felt his hip next to hers.

“He had agents there,” Della answered, staring at Burnett, not willing to look at Chase. Not yet. She needed just a few more seconds to put the kiss from her mind. Unfortunately, the damn memory buried its claws and hung on, refusing to be pushed aside. The way he’d felt. The way he’d smelt. The way his lips had …

“What?” Chase asked. “And neither of you felt I needed to know that?”

“I didn’t know. I only knew when I saw them there,” Della said, offering him a quick glance. Her gaze went to his mouth, still wet. She looked away.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Chase asked Burnett.

The camp leader didn’t react to Chase’s attitude. He answered calmly. “I never send new agents out alone if there’s a chance it could be dangerous.”

“I could have handled it,” Chase said.

Della hated to agree with Chase, but after seeing how fast he could fly, and after seeing him handle the creep last night, she wasn’t sure it was an exaggeration. Was there anything he couldn’t handle? Fighting? Flying? Kissing?

“Maybe,” Burnett said. “But it was a chance I wasn’t willing to take. What matters is we got him. The fresh turn, a Billy Jennings, showed up seconds after you two left. The gang leader asked him about his rendezvous with Della.” Burnett looked at her. “When he left with only a couple of other vampires, my agents followed, and I just got word that they were able to detain him. They’re taking him to…”

Della stopped listening. They got him! Relief fell over her like a soft rain. We got him, Lorraine. Della wasn’t sure why she felt like the girl could hear her thoughts—hell, she really hoped she couldn’t—but she said it anyway. We caught the creep who did that to you.

“I’ll need you two to come confirm it was his trace you got that night.”

Shit! A slow burn of panic started to build in her gut. If her sense of smell was still on sabbatical, how was she going to know for sure if it was him? But if she told Burnett she’d accepted this mission without having all her senses in full operating order, he’d have her head on a chopping block.

If not her head, for sure her career.

Burnett opened a door and motioned for Della and Chase to walk inside a small room. Painted a dull gray, the room felt gloomy. Sad. One wall was made of glass, where you could see in another room. An empty room.

“They’ll place the suspect in there in a few minutes,” Burnett said. “You can see him, but he can’t see you. And there are air vents so you two should be able to get his trace.”

Should be able to, Della thought.

“I’ll be right back.” Burnett walked out. The sound of the door clicking shut played on one of her last nerves. Or maybe it was her last.

“You okay?” Chase asked, as if reading her every emotion.

She nodded and tried to stop what felt like chatter in her head. Inhaling, she tested the air, hoping her sense of smell was back. Nothing. She couldn’t even pick up Chase.

A sound came from the other side of the glass. An agent, the female agent, led a boy into the room and pointed to the chair. Not just a boy, she reminded herself, but Billy Jennings, the suspect. Very possibly the person who’d viciously killed Lorraine and her boyfriend.

Della inhaled again, hoping to catch a scent. Still nothing. Her gut knotted.

She looked at Billy’s face. She recalled trying to pick out a killer earlier, but not in a million years would she have picked him out. Sure, he had short dark hair, but he looked younger than her, and clean-cut enough to belong in a high-school band—a trumpet player, or maybe the clarinet.

He exuded innocence. His cheeks were even rosy like some portrait of a straight-A model kid. The kind of kid who’d never even tasted beer, much less blood.

She felt Chase staring at her and knew the question he was about to pose.

She’d already decided she wouldn’t lie. She couldn’t. She might not tell Burnett that her sense of smell was on the fritz, but she wouldn’t condemn anyone without proof.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She looked back at Billy. He looked scared, really scared. She remembered how it felt a week out from being turned. Her life as she’d known it had been yanked from her. She hated herself, hated what she’d become.

Innocent. Innocent. Innocent. The word played over and over in her head.

In spite of being cold, the room suddenly felt stuffy, as if the gray walls were closing in on her. Blood rushed to her ears and she started getting dizzy. She had to get out of there.

She swung around, yanked open the door, and walked down the hall until she saw a door leading outside. She didn’t breathe until she cleared it—until she stood in the parking lot, the moon and stars flickering down on her from above.

“Hey.” Chase came up behind her. “Calm down.” He put his hands on her shoulders. His touch was cold, but comforting. She almost wanted to fall against him. Then she remembered their kiss. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “I can’t … I can’t do this. My … I don’t know if that’s him. I’m not that sure.” Then it hit: She didn’t have to be sure. She swung around and looked at Chase. “You got his trace, too. Is it him? Is he the one who killed that couple?”

He paused, then slowly nodded his head. “Yeah.” But even in the darkness she noted his left brow twitched.

Della shook her head. “You’re lying. You don’t know for sure.”

“I may not be a hundred percent sure, but I’m sure enough.”

Innocent. Innocent. Innocent. The word started playing in her head again.

“No, if you aren’t sure, then you can’t put that on the kid.”

“Della, stop and think.” He took her by the shoulders. “Listen to me, okay?” Only when she looked up did he start talking. “I know it’s hard to be sure, but he fits the description and MO of the person the FRU thinks did this. Before they condemn the kid, they’ll get the DNA, so if we’re wrong, he won’t go down.”

“He might not go down, but until it comes back, he’s going to be accused of murder. And he’ll think he did it, because he won’t be able to remember.” She felt emotion tighten in her chest as she recalled being brought to this very place and being tested to see if she’d killed someone when she’d been turned. Never had she felt more like a monster than that day.

Was that how Billy was feeling now?

“This isn’t right,” she said, trying to control the shakiness of her voice. “We can’t accuse him if we’re not certain he did it.”

“What’s not right is if they let him go and then find out he’s guilty and he’s gone. And he will be gone. Do you think if he walks out of here, he won’t skip out? He will. He’d be nuts not to get the hell out of Dodge, guilty or otherwise. He won’t want the FRU on his ass. The gang won’t take him back now that the FRU are looking at him for something. It would bring the FRU down on their butts. And, statistically, when a fresh turn kills, the odds of them doing it again are twice as great as those who don’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. It’s been proven. Trust me on this.”

“How? Who has it been proven by? Why do you claim to know so damn much?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His jaw muscle clenched as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

It did matter. Everything mattered. Lorraine and John mattered. Billy Jennings mattered.

Chase took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him again. “Della, I really believe it was his trace. Trust me.”

She shook her head. “But you’re not a hundred percent sure.”

“Is anyone a hundred percent sure?” He exhaled pure frustration. “Look, if he’s innocent, all this will cost him is another day in jail. That might not be easy, but if he’s guilty, it will cost someone their life. Do you want to be responsible for him killing again? Hasn’t he hurt enough people?”

Della’s mind went back to the vision of Lorraine and John, throats gaping open. Did she owe her loyalty to the dead, or to a scared kid who might not be guilty of anything other than being turned?

Innocent. Innocent. Innocent.

“I can’t be sure,” Della told Burnett ten minutes later. All three of them sat at a table back in the adjoining room. Della stared at the two of them, trying not to look at Billy.

Burnett didn’t look happy. Neither did Chase. But why was he so upset?

Burnett leaned on his elbows and came forward on the table. “I thought you got his trace?”

“I thought I did, too. But something isn’t right. I … I’m sorry, I can’t be sure.” She kept her eyes cut away from the two-way mirror.

“I know it’s hard, Della,” Burnett said, “but if this kid did this…”

Innocent. Innocent. Innocent. “Yes, it’s hard, but that’s the problem. I don’t know if he did it. I can’t … I’m not sure.”

Burnett let go of a deep gulp of air and looked at Chase. “Please tell me you got something,” he said.

Chase nodded. “It’s him.”

Della watched him blink. Unwillingly, she glanced at Billy. Billy had tears in his eyes, eyes that expressed self-loathing. Her breath expanded in her chest and she stood up. Stood up so fast, her chair hit the tile floor behind her.

Innocent. Innocent. Innocent.

“Chase isn’t being completely truthful,” she told Burnett. “He’s not sure. You can’t blame the kid for this.” She personally knew how it felt to consider yourself a murderer. The pain, the shame could cripple you.

Burnett looked shocked. He glanced at Chase. “Is this true?”

“No,” he said.

Della couldn’t believe Chase’s nerve, his gall. “Look at him, Chase!” she insisted, and pointed to the glass wall. “He’s nothing but a kid. You’re going to let him go through this when you’re not sure?”

Chase didn’t look at Della. He looked at Burnett. “The kid did it.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

“Della!” Burnett called her back as she jumped out of his car and hotfooted toward her cabin when they returned from the FRU offices. She jogged through the gate and debated ignoring his call. But knowing Burnett, he’d come find her.

So she turned around and saw the camp leader wave Chase on his merry way. She hoped he went straight to hell, too. Or she did if Billy Jennings was innocent. But what if he isn’t? It wasn’t that she didn’t consider the possibility. She did, but … everything inside her said he was innocent.

Everything. Including that stupid voice.

When Chase walked past her he said, “I’m sorry. I did what I thought was right.”

Della scowled at him. He was lying. So how could it have been right?

Burnett walked up beside her and motioned her to walk to the office. Oh, hell, on top of being pissed, she was going to get read the riot act. She was in no mood.

She needed to be alone. Midnight had come and gone over an hour ago, and with every toss and turn her mind landed on one of her issues. She’d kissed the panty perv. And even worse, she’d enjoyed it. She was secretly worried she had the same virus that had killed her cousin. She’d discovered how inadequate she was as a vampire. And she’d assisted in ruining the life of a kid who very well could be innocent.

Holiday met them in the entrance of the office. From the look on her face, Burnett had already spoken to her and warned her of what went down.

“I know that was hard,” Holiday said as she got Della positioned on her sofa. Holiday sat beside her, resting one hand on her ever-growing baby bulge. Burnett leaned against the office desk. He looked upset, but not nearly as upset as Della felt. Or Billy, she thought, only guessing what the kid was going through right now.

“What’s hard is that he would take Chase’s word over mine!” she said to Holiday, but glared at Burnett. “Even after he told me he knows Chase’s not being honest.”

“I didn’t take his word over yours,” Burnett said.

“You kept the kid.”

“I kept him because he’s a murder suspect.”

“Wow, and here I thought you were innocent until proven guilty.”

“I said suspect, not murderer. I haven’t proven him guilty.”

“You might as well have if you’re locking him up. He knows you think he committed murder. And because he can’t remember, he probably believes he did it, too. He’s a fresh turn, he already thinks he’s a monster and now you’re confirming it for him.”

Burnett shook his head. “What happened to the Della who came to me a few days ago? All you talked about was wanting justice for the victims. You even went to the girl’s funeral. You insisted you wanted to catch the bastard who did it. And now—”