Four
Restlessness overtook me until I sat at my desk forty-five minutes before the start of my shift, reading Tricia’s report on Mrs. Mendoza. Her injuries were consistent with being crushed by something heavy and the same strange dust particles had been left on her clothing. To me, that all pointed to the same killer. There was also a note about possible partial fingerprints left at the scene. And like Mr. Cho, whoever had called 9-1-1 hadn’t stuck around to be questioned so we had no leads to speak of.
My mood hadn’t improved since the morning and the unwanted well wishes from my father. The sense that we were dealing with a serial offender only amped up my annoyance level. I knew there was magic involved. If I could get close enough to whoever was slinging spells, I’d be able to ident
