The question was direct and one I could answer easily. She could have worded it much more broadly, forced me to admit my connection to the crimes, but she didn’t, and I recognized that, although the Amazons still lining the court didn’t seem to. Every eye was focused on me, every finger tightening around some weapon.

“No.”

The exhale of air was audible, the disappointment and confusion tangible. It startled me, made me realize how thoroughly they had wanted me to be guilty. I was an easy target-no longer one of their own, but not completely foreign either. I was the safe choice, the only one that would mean nothing in their lives would truly change-and with one word, I’d blown that dream to hell and back.

I turned, ready to leave.

“You have a question for me.”

I looked back. Bubbe lifted a brow. “Make me answer it.”

I frowned. What did she want me to ask? What truth did she think needed telling in front of witnesses?

The questions I’d had for Alcippe rushed to my mind. Are you killing the Amazons? Did you kill my son?

Too specific. Yes-and-no answers seldom gave you the full truth.

I licked my lips, concentrated on what I could ask that would tell me something I needed to know and needed to know was true.

“Why did you take this challenge from Alcippe?” It was a simple question, one very likely unrelated to anything, but it was the one that I couldn’t answer alone, couldn’t fathom by myself.

Bubbe smiled; a quick light of victory gleamed in her eyes. “I told you. I’m the one who has the answer to your question.”

I closed my eyes. I’d let her trick me, given her a question she could answer truthfully without revealing anything at all. I didn’t have time for this, had wasted enough as it was. Perhaps now that the Amazons knew I wasn’t the killer, they’d listen to my case against Alcippe.

I turned to face them, but Bubbe wasn’t done.

“Alcippe didn’t kill your son.”

My breath stopped; my eyes focused on nothing.

“He isn’t dead or wasn’t, at least, when I left him at a human hospital.”

There was a whooshing in my ears, a decade of hate rushing up to greet me. I could barely hear the rest of my grandmother’s words-how she’d used magic to make him appear stillborn, taken him from my arms, bundled him up, and delivered him to some human hospital. How no one but she had known. How she’d done it because she loved me, loved Harmony, and hoped with my son out of sight and mind, I’d settle down, get back to who I’d been, accept being an Amazon.

After that it was just static, the annoying buzz of misplaced trust and false love swirling around me. I stumbled from the gym, or felt like I did. I didn’t fall, and no one came after me. I wandered alone to my truck, got in, and drove.

I hadn’t even made it to the first stoplight before flashing lights glared at me from my rearview mirror. Madison cops aren’t big on traffic stops; I was instantly wary. I pulled over anyway.

Reynolds stepped out of the unmarked car. I stayed in the truck, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly I was surprised it didn’t snap from the pressure.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I stared out my windshield; a new crack was forming where a rock had hit it on my last journey to the safe camp. I should have had it filled. Too late now.

Too late for a lot of things.

“Mel?” He angled his body, looked from me to the car he’d left. I wondered briefly if he was signaling to someone inside, if I was going to be surrounded soon. “Mel.” This time he leaned forward, almost into the truck, inches from my face.

“Nothing. I’m doing nothing,” I replied.

He breathed then, but didn’t back off. “You raced out of your lot pretty fast,” he commented.

“Yeah, well, I needed to get away.” I looked at him. “Still do.”

He cocked a brow. “Not the best thing to say to a police officer.” His lips twisted toward a smile.

I didn’t return the gesture.

He sighed. “Listen, you’re obviously upset. If it has something to do with the case, I need to know.”

The case. Zery and the dead girls. I’d almost forgotten. Turned out my brain could only concentrate on one tragedy at a time.

I pursed my lips-forced my voice to stay calm, to hide the emotion whipping through my body. “It has nothing to do with the case.” Or did it? I’d been so sure I knew what had happened to my son. Knew Alcippe had killed him-and I’d been wrong. What else was I wrong about? Was Alcippe innocent of the girls’ deaths too? If not her, who? Who else had high priestess and artisan skills? Had a reason to target me and motive to kill Amazon teens?

I pressed my fingers to my brow, completely blowing my facade of calm.

“Mel.” Reynolds glanced back at the car again. “There’s something you aren’t telling me. I think we need to go back to your shop.”

I dropped my hands, stared him in the eye. “Where’s Zery? How’s she doing?”

His tongue made a bump in his cheek. It was obvious he didn’t want to answer. “She’s in Milwaukee.”

“But you’re here.” Was that good or bad?

“I questioned her earlier. She refused an attorney.”

“She didn’t tell you anything.” I’d be shocked if she’d given him so much as her name.

He cleared his throat. “It would go easier for her if she would.”

I wrapped my hands back around the steering wheel. “She won’t.”

He watched me for a second. I could feel his eyes studying my profile. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for-the killer’s name tattooed on my cheek?

His hand smacked against my truck door. “I’m going to your shop. You can follow or not.”

I watched him walk back to his car, his legs eating up the space with long determined moves. I turned the key in the ignition, determined to keep going. Let him go back to the shop. Let him find the Amazons acting on whatever the hell idiotic plan they had brewed up.

It wasn’t my problem.

His car sped past me, performed an illegal U-turn right before the light changed and released a flood of cars all in a hurry to go Artemis knew where. I started moving, took a right on Glenway, then slammed on my brakes to the annoyance and honks of a VW Bug behind me. I twisted the steering wheel to the left, gunned my way through a tow place’s parking lot, and took another left back onto Monroe.

Damn Reynolds for already knowing me so well.

Reynolds was leaning against his car, which was parked on an angle, taking up two places, when I arrived back at my shop. I hopped out of my truck and slammed the door. It needed the extra force to latch, but it felt good too.

“This is a waste of your time.” I shoved my hands into my front pockets and stared at the detective. I didn’t want to walk down that sidewalk right now, didn’t want to risk seeing Bubbe, or any of the Amazons. The knife that had been shoved in my back was still there, throbbing, making it hard to breathe.

He slowly pushed away from his car and sauntered toward the sidewalk.

After blowing out a breath, I followed, but I didn’t hurry. Just putting one foot in front of the other was hard enough. He’d reached the midway point-at the crosswalks that led to the basement door on the right and the cafeteria door on the left. He paused then, his hands on his hips, and looked up at Harmony’s window and the tree, then over to the roof of the cafeteria/gym. Again I wondered what he was expecting to see, but shrugged the thought aside. Fact was, there was no telling what he might see.

As I came within a few feet of him, he spun toward the cafeteria door and paused again. “Do I have your permission to enter?”

I realized then he needed my permission-at least for anything he saw inside to be usable for his case. I chewed at my lip, struggling with old loyalties and newly discovered deceit.