We didn’t have much time, though. CPS called and basically told us to pack. I’d already found a lawyer – not Fitz or Lawson – to start going through the emancipation progress, but what about Kanesha?

She was stuck wherever they put her until she graduated unless she got a better job, and we both thought it was more important that she actually studied.

We probably had a week. I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew Hargrove was working on it, I knew he was good at his job.

I had absolutely no clue how you investigated a murder. Holding a seance became even more tempting.

Holding a seance. I didn’t quite know how to do that either, but I was sure I could find somebody who did. For some reason Zaid came to mind. I called him. “Hey…I may need some help.”

“What do you need?”

“I’m investigating a murder.”

“Oh dear. That’s not fun – and not really my expertise.”

“I just have a feeling you might be able to help. One thought I had was…was to try and talk to the victim.”

“That’s dangerous. But not as dangerous as if it was somebody who died naturally.”

I guessed my hunch was accurate. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Witnesses?”

“Are identifying the wrong man.”

“Ah. And you know for sure this wrong man has an alibi.”

“Yes, but not a great one.” If it was better, the nightmare would already be over. “Or…”

“Got it. You know he wasn’t there but can’t quite prove it. Let’s meet up.”

We arranged to meet at a Starbucks, of all the mundane places. Zaid looked much more like a girl today – he’d grown his hair out some.

Maybe he was one of those people who changed gender identity the way most of us changed clothes. No, it was more than the hair. He was wearing makeup…and applying it better than I usually did.

Mental note: Ask him for tips. “Okay, so…”

“So. Twelve-year-old girl. Killed by a cop who’d removed his badge. Different cop is being blamed.”

Zaid nods. “And you want to make sure the right man goes down.”

I elected not to mention my personal connection to it, per se. “I don’t want somebody I consider an ally to go down for something he didn’t do.”

Another nod, short and sharp. “So…presumably the two men look at least somewhat alike.”

“Maybe. There’s a demonic influence involved.”

“He pissed off a demon?”

I shook my head. “No. I did.”