“What do we have?” she asked.
“Marcus was apparently working late tonight, or rather this morning considering the hour. It doesn’t look like there was much of a struggle, but how much of that was due to him knowing his attacker or just being outgunned I don’t know.”
“Outgunned?”
“Werewolf versus human.”
“So we know it was a Were attack for certain?” she asked.
Casey grimaced. “Three claw marks across his sternum and another set sliced his throat open. You’ll have to be careful where you walk. There’s blood everywhere.”
Devlin sighed. “Well, let’s get this over with. I’m assuming the P.F.P.D. has already taken pictures?”
Casey looked offended. “Of course we took pictures. I’ll have a set emailed to you first thing in the morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, later this morning.”
Devlin pushed open the office door and took in the scene. Everything was just as neat as it had been during her interview with Marcus Bender, except for the dead body and pool of blood behind the desk. All of his papers were in a somewhat organized pile, and his briefcase was on the credenza, as if he’d been preparing to leave. Her eyes scanned the floor, hoping for a footprint, a strand of hair – something, anything! But aside from poor Mr. Bender, there was no evidence a crime had been committed.
She approached the body, making sure to stay out of the pool of blood surrounding it. Just as Casey had said, there were claw marks across Mr. Bender’s sternum, but what had killed him were the ones across his throat, slicing him wide open. There was no doubt the marks were that of a Were, but the question remained – was it Jameson Starke or another Were? It seemed a little fishy that she’d mentioned having witnesses earlier in the day and now one was dead. Devlin frowned. But, she hadn’t told him who the witnesses were. A coincidence? No, this was definitely related to the first crime, but how?
As much as she hated to admit it, maybe someone had followed her. There was only one way they would know she was on the case though, a leak in the department. She hated to even think such a thing. Of course, it wasn’t exactly a secret she’d been assigned the case. Maybe someone had just been blabbing to a friend and the perp had overheard. She hoped that was the case. The thought that one of her co-workers was crooked left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Have you dusted for prints?” she asked, looking up at Casey.
“Yeah, we dusted for prints.” He gave her a disgusted look. “You know, we have done this before.”
She ignored his snarky comment and went back to her observations. Looking at the tear marks, she realized they were at a downward angle, putting the perp a good head taller than the vic. Starke was tall. Of course, most Weres were, so that wasn’t saying much. She still didn’t have a lot to go on, and if she didn’t make some headway soon, Needles was going to have her ass. He’d wanted this wrapped up as quickly as possible, but Devlin had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen.
Looking around the room, she was hoping for a security camera. Seeing as how the building was an older one, something told her she wouldn’t be that lucky. There wasn’t even so much as a sprinkler mounted on the ceiling. The fire department would probably love that little tidbit.
“Go home, Devlin,” Casey said in a tired voice. “There’s nothing here. I’ll make sure you get everything we have, but for now just get some rest. You won’t be any good to anybody if you’re falling over from exhaustion.”
She snorted. “You know me better than that. I might be grouchy, but I won’t fall over.”
Casey cocked an eyebrow. “Grouchy? Is that what you’re calling it these days?”
See, this is what happened when you had relationships with local law enforcement. They gave you shit at crime scenes. If she weren’t so damn tired, she’d knock him on his ass, in front of his peers. It would serve him right. Giving him one of her patented “go to hell” looks, she walked out. She had no doubt that he would keep his word and she’d have all of the notes and photos from the crime scene in her email when she got in to work at eight o’clock.
Devlin didn’t drive quite as fast going home, but she still made it home in less than twenty minutes. As the garage door closed, she kept watch in her rearview mirror. With a killer on the loose, you could never be too careful. Once the area was secure, she got out and went into the house, turning off her alarm on the way in. She reset it almost immediately, not wanting to forget.
Tossing her keys and purse on the kitchen counter, she yawned and then made her way back to the bedroom. She stopped inside the doorway and pulled off her boots, dumping them on the floor. Without bothering to undress, she crawled back into bed and closed her eyes. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.
***
Sunlight streamed through the window, and Devlin squinted. She felt as though she’d just gone to sleep, and it was morning already. The alarm hadn’t gone off yet, which meant she had a few more minutes of sleep. Rolling over, she fluffed her pillow and went back to sleep. Or, at least, she tried to. Her phone rang, keeping her from her much-needed rest.
“Yeah,” she said by way of greeting.
“St. Claire, you want to explain to me why you aren’t at your desk doing your job?”
Shit. The boss. “I’ll be there by eight o’clock, Chief.”
“Really? That’ll be interesting since it’s nine o’clock.” He shouted the last part, and she winced.
“Sorry, Chief. I must’ve slept through my alarm. Mitchell called me out at three this morning for a crime scene, so I’m wiped out.”
“I don’t want excuses, I want your ass at your desk. Get here and get here now!”
Devlin disconnected the call and sighed. So much for her few more minutes of sleep. Dragging herself out of the bed, she went to the bathroom and made a face at her reflection. There was a pillow crease across her left cheek, and her hair was sticking up all over the place. She knew if she brushed it, it would just get super frizzy. Instead, she sprayed some detangler in it and worked a comb through the knots and curls. It still looked like crap so she put it up in a ponytail. Not her most professional look, but what the hell did she care? She was too damn tired to give a crap.
Scrubbing her face with cold water, she decided to forgo makeup. Not even bothering to change clothes, she pulled on her boots from her late night call and headed out the door. The sooner she got to the office, the happier Needles would be. And if Needles was happy, everyone was happy.
Traffic was light since she was leaving so late, and it didn’t take her long to reach the office, thankfully. She didn’t have her usual curbside parking though. Instead, she had to park in the lot across the street. When she entered the P.I.T.S. office, she pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. She flopped down in her seat at her desk, and Parker gave her a grin.
“Late night?”
“Got called out to a scene. By Casey Mitchell, no less.”
“And how is dear Officer Mitchell these days?”
Devlin snorted. “Just as much of a pain in the ass as he was when I was sleeping with him. The only difference is that I’m not benefiting from the relationship anymore.”
Parker laughed. “Speaking of relationships, Remi misses you.”
Devlin gave her a baleful glare. “You keep that horndog away from me. Your precious pooch has a serious hard-on for me, and it’s revolting.”
“He just loves you.”
“Uh-huh. I can get that type of love from a real man, thank you very much. If I’m going to get screwed, I’d rather it not be one-sided.”
Parker just smiled.
Devlin sighed. “I wish you were working this case with me. I have a suspect, but I’m not so sure he did it. The evidence is damning, but something feels off. I still want to know how the perp knew about the witnesses. I know I didn’t have a tail yesterday, which means…”
“That someone in the department gave out the information.”
Devlin nod
ded. “I hate to even think that such a thing is possible, but what else could it be? I mean, unless the Were is psychic too.”
Parker’s eyes widened a little. “God, let’s hope not. I’ve never heard of such a thing, but that would make them damn near impossible to catch.”
After a few taps on the keyboard, Devlin pulled up her email and accessed the photos and notes from the crime scene. She ignored the note from Casey asking her out for coffee and printed everything out. The body count was going up, which meant Needles was really going to be on her ass to wrap things up.
Parker frowned at the photos from across the desk. “That’s strange.”
“What is?”
“There’s hardly any blood from the chest wounds. You can see where the arterial spray spattered onto his chest, and there’s definitely blood that oozed down from the neck wound, but the bottom of the chest wound is dry.”
Devlin studied the pictures again. “You’re right. It’s like Bender’s throat was sliced first and then the Were sliced his chest. But to what purpose?”
“Beats me.” Parker smiled at her. “Want some help? We could always grab an early lunch and discuss the case over a salad.”
Devlin arched a brow.
“Or, in your case, a burger, nearly rare.”
Devlin smiled. “I appreciate the offer, but Needles will have your ass if you help me.”
Parker nodded and turned back to her computer. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”
As Devlin read through the P.F.P.D. report, she frowned. There hadn’t been any witnesses around last night, just police officers and the EMTs. So who had found the body and notified the authorities? Marcus Bender hadn’t placed the call himself. That was for certain. The man’s vocal chords had been severed. He couldn’t have called for help even if he’d had time before he bled out.
She flipped through the pages. There. An anonymous phone call. The killer, perhaps? She wondered if anyone had dusted Bender’s phone for prints. She knew they’d have dusted the door and desk, but Devlin wasn’t convinced the boys in blue had enough intelligence between the lot of them to make the intuitive leap that their anonymous tip had come from Bender’s phone.
After rifling through the papers on her desk, she found her answer. No, the phone had not been dusted. Picking up her phone, she dialed Casey’s number. When he didn’t answer, she left him a message with her suspicions and asked that he call her when he got her message.
A shadow fell across her desk, and she looked up and mentally groaned. The very prim and proper looking Jane was hovering. She reminded Devlin of an old schoolmarm from days gone by with her blouses buttoned all the way up and her skirts ending below the knee. Her dishwater blonde hair was always pulled back in a severe bun, and Devlin wasn’t sure the woman even knew what makeup was. God knew she never used any.
“What can I do for you, Jane?”
“Chief Littlefinger wants to see you.”
“Yeah, I bet he does,” Devlin mumbled.
Jane frowned at her.
“Tell him I’ll be right there.”
Jane turned on her sensible flat-shod heel and marched off in the direction of the boss’s office. For someone who was half-fae, Devlin would’ve thought there would be a little more glamour to Jane’s nondescript existence. The woman was in desperate need of a makeover.
Knowing that Needles wouldn’t wait forever, Devlin pushed away from her desk and began what she felt was going to be her walk of shame to the Chief’s office. She knew he was ready to tear into her again. It was bad enough when she couldn’t nail down a suspect and had one body, but now the killer had struck again. Needles was going to be livid.
Devlin poked her head inside his office. “You wanted to see me, Chief?”
He motioned for her to enter. “Close the door.”
That didn’t sound good. Devlin shut the door and moved farther into the room, standing in front of the large desk.
“When I assigned you to the Were case, I figured you’d have it wrapped up in one afternoon, what with your hatred of the entire race. But, not only did you not solve the crime, you didn’t close in on a suspect, one that seems rather clear from your report, and now there’s another dead body. A witness no less.”
He folded his large meaty hands on his desk. “Now, explain to me why I shouldn’t have your badge and put you on suspension? A two-year-old should’ve been able to figure this out by now, St. Claire. It’s obviously this Starke character. Now, I want you to go out today and arrest him. Is that clear?”
There were times when you should argue your case and times when you should just shut up and agree. Unfortunately, Devlin couldn’t bring herself to agree with the Chief on this one. Yes, Starke looked guilty as hell, but until she interviewed him again, she had no idea if he’d been anywhere near Bender’s office last night. He could very well have an airtight alibi.
“I won’t arrest an innocent man, Chief. Not even a Were.”
Needles narrowed his eyes at her. “I wasn’t asking you, Devlin. Get your ass out there and find him and haul him in here. Bring him in for questioning, in cuffs!”
“Guess that means I’m taking a company car.” She ground her teeth together. She didn’t like this, not one bit.
“Look, if you can think of anyone else who might’ve done this, then go with it. But, until then, we have to follow the leads we have.” Needles gave her a tired look.
Devlin nodded and backed out of the office. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to arrest Jameson Starke. On the plus side, it gave her a chance for payback for that snarky comment about her wardrobe. She stopped by the front desk and checked out one of the SUVs in the fleet. They had six. Well, five now. Reyes had wrecked one last week in a car chase.
Climbing into the specially outfitted Tahoe, Devlin sighed. When she’d written up her report last night, she’d taken the time to find Starke’s home address. Something had told her she’d be needing it sooner rather than later. The funny thing was that he didn’t live all that far from her. They were practically neighbors, just one subdivision apart.
When she pulled up in front of his house, she realized it was only ten in the morning and he would probably be asleep after having worked all night at the club. Or had he been out committing a murder? Hopefully he wasn’t a sound sleeper and would actually answer the door. She’d hate to have to break in. She was sure that would go over well with the neighbors. His Harley was parked in the driveway, and no other vehicles were in sight. If he’d had company, it would’ve made this rather awkward. As it was, she doubted he would come peacefully.
Taking a breath, she steeled herself for an irate wolf and rang the bell. When she didn’t hear anything after a minute, she rang the bell again. It took four rings before she heard someone crashing through the house. From the sound of things, he was ready to tear her to bits. Imagine how pissed he was going to be when he saw who was on the doorstep.
The door jerked open, and a growling Starke filled the doorway. He looked out and then down. When his gaze settled on her, his eyes narrowed into near slits.
“What the hell do you want?”
Her jaw tightened. “Jameson Starke, I’m here to take you into custody for questioning in regards to the murders of Peter Samuels and Marcus Bender.”
“I don’t even know a Marcus Bender. It’s ten in the damn morning. I’m not going anywhere with you.” He started to close the door.
“Yes, you are.” She slammed her hand against the wood surface and shoved the door open.
He scanned her from head to toe. “What are you gonna do? Make me? You and what army?”
“Just me,” she said quietly. “Are you resisting arrest?”
“You bet I am, sweetheart.”
Devlin felt her lips curl up in a grin. She could live with that. The bigger they were, the harder they fell, and she definitely planned on him falling – right on his ass. She still owed him for his comment about her clothes.
He stared at her, daring her to make a move. She could see it in his eyes. He would be ready for her so she’d have to be quick. The only problem was that Weres were quicker. She was no dummy. She knew Starke would be a worthy opponent, but she still planned to come out on top. She hadn’t lost a fight, not since she was a teen anyway, and she didn’t plan to start now.
Starke braced an arm on the doorframe and cocked his hip in a relaxed position. He clearly wasn’t worried about her in the slightest. Devlin found that insulting, but she’d show him. She might be small, but she packed a powerful punch.
“You know,” he drawled, “you’re kinda cute when you’re angry.”
Cute? He thought she was cute? With narrowed eyes, she gave him a left jab and right cross, both of which he blocked. He merely smiled, as if he were indulging a small child, which just pissed her off further. Giving him a calculated look, she used her best spinning sidekick, aimed right for his stomach. Once more, he deflected her. Her temper spiked, and she psyched him out with a twist kick and nailed him in the ribs. He grunted and grabbed his side but didn’t appear to be going down anytime soon.
What the hell! Her hands fisted at her side, and her calm, calculating self disappeared. This obviously wasn’t getting her anywhere. She launched herself at Starke, going for his throat. He merely laughed and caught her in mid-air. He stepped back into the house with her and pressed her against the wall, her hands anchored above her head.
“Is that all you’ve got, kitten?”
Now he was comparing her to a flea-ridden furball?
She brought her knee up, but he blocked her. Using the heel of her boot, she stomped on his bare foot. He winced but held his ground, and her. She could feel his steely strength through the hands that held her. Starke moved closer, his body brushed against hers, and she shivered. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d been aware of him since the moment she’d spied him across the parking lot at O’Leary’s. But that was definitely not the direction her thoughts needed to take right now, no matter how long it had been since she’d gotten laid. He was a suspect, and she was supposed to bring him in for questioning, only that and nothing more. No brushing of bodies, no elevated heart rates, no heavy breathing and trembling… and definitely none of what all of that led to, no matter how satisfying it would probably be. She had to stay focused.
Not My Shifter/ Sinfully Cursed (Shifter Paradise) (Volume 1) Page 4