Thankfully, true to Liam’s word, it wasn’t long before we arrived at the apartment complex. It was a three-story building, with a brownish-red brick exterior for the first half and cream-colored stucco for the upper floors. The brown roof extended down past the first floor with breaks to allow third-floor windows. The landscaping was neat, but sparse, and the asphalt wanted repaving.
I said a small prayer of thanks as we got out of the car, and the cool air dispelled the heat of the werewolf’s aura. Just to be on the safe side, I kept five feet of space between us as we crossed the parking lot. “Did you call ahead to talk to the manager?”
Liam led the way toward the front entrance, his stride making it clear that it was my job to keep up. “Yes. He said Anthony is in apartment 4B. Oliver Dale was to the right of him, apartment 4C. He said he’d send the maintenance man to let us in.”
Peasblossom clung to my ear, unwilling to give up the ability to project her voice directly into my auditory canal despite the strong, cold breeze blowing her wings back. “He’s walking too fast for you on purpose!”
“Yes, he is, and he can bloody well wait for me.” I slowed my pace. “Someone is going to notice our arrival. Have a look around. If anyone gets chatty when they see Liam, I want to know what they say.”
“I saw a window garden on the second floor. If any fey live there, maybe they witnessed something.”
“You are so clever. Yes, talk to them, then wait for me by the SUV.”
Preening at the compliment, Peasblossom launched herself off my shoulder and disappeared in a pink streak of light. Liam stood at the exit, holding it open for me as if he’d remembered his manners. Something akin to amusement lightened his eyes, and he dipped his head as I walked past him.
There was no one waiting for us outside apartment 4C, so we moved on to Anthony’s door. Liam knocked, and I had a quick decision to make. Stand beside him and risk letting his aura coax me into another embarrassing breach of personal space, or stand away from him and let him think I’d conceded to his protection from the human with the violent record.
I stood beside him. Liam sighed, but didn’t comment.
A woman in her mid-thirties answered the door. She had pale brown skin, and dark hair that bounced in soft waves around her shoulders. The white shirt and black pants she wore had the look of work clothes to them. Except for the dog hair on the pants. I shook my head. Black pants, white dog. Never a good combination.
The polite smile on her face wavered when she saw Liam’s uniform. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Good afternoon, miss, I’m Detective Sergeant Osbourne of the Cleveland Metropark Rangers. I’m looking for Mr. Anthony Catello?”
Canine whimpering came from the back room, soft, but insistent. The woman glanced over her shoulder, then said in a raised but smooth voice, “It’s all right, Gypsy. I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” She stepped away from the door, then stopped, giving us an apologetic wince. “I’m sorry, I should get back there. Anthony stepped out, but he should be back soon.” She hesitated. “I can tell him you called?”
“That’s Gypsy back there?” I asked.
“Yes. Anthony asked me to sit with her while he ran out for some supplies for her. He’s going all sorts of crazy trying to make her feel better after what happened to her last night.”
“Sounds like he really loves his dog,” I said.
“Oh, he does.” She cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly in the dance of someone trying to get rid of unwanted company without appearing rude.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Shade Renard.” I reached out a hand to shake hers.
She tried to smile as she took my hand. “I’m Rosie, Anthony’s neighbor.”
When she pulled her hand back, I noticed a red line across her palm. A very familiar red line. “Oh, my, what happened to your hand?”
She looked down. “Oh, that’s nothing. Gypsy got out the other day, and I tried to help by grabbing her leash.” Her smile turned rueful. “She didn’t stop.”
I shared a look with Liam. Oliver Dale had the same red line on his palm. Perhaps he’d gotten a hold of Gypsy that night after all.
“So it seems Gypsy makes a habit of getting away, then?” I asked.
“Not when Anthony is with her, no, she’s a very well-behaved dog. It’s only poor Greg. She seems to delight in giving him a hard time, and—”
She stopped suddenly and stared at Liam. “Wait a minute. Are you here because of Gypsy?” She tightened her grip on the door as if she’d slam it closed, a sudden ferocity making her brown eyes spark. “He called you again, didn’t he? Well, whatever he said, it’s not true. Gypsy stayed in the hospital all night, and now she’s on strict bed rest. She’s hasn’t done a damn thing to him.”
“Who are you talking about?” Liam asked.
She crossed her arms. “Oliver Dale. That miserable man.” She gestured at the apartment in question. “I don’t know what his problem is, but this is beyond ridiculous. Gypsy is not a wolf; she’s a Czechoslovakian wolfdog.” She gritted her teeth. “I can’t believe he called the police. Just because animal control doesn’t believe his lies about Gypsy, he felt he had to go over their heads? Well, tell him I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to cater to his fantasy today. I have to take care of Gypsy.”
She started to close the door. Liam stepped forward, holding out a hand to stop her. “This isn’t about Gypsy, miss, and if you—”
A door slammed at the end of the hallway, cutting him off. An angry male voice boomed down the hall.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Chapter 5
Liam’s aura skyrocketed from cozy fireplace to roaring bonfire so fast that I fell back a step. He angled his body to put me behind him, forming a protective wall of alpha werewolf between me and the man barreling down the hallway. I opened my mouth to object, but snapped it closed when I peered around him to get a good view of Oliver Dale’s neighbor.
Anthony Catello was huge. Not big-boned, or fat, but muscular in a way that screamed violence. Unlike Liam and Stephen, this man had worked hard to turn himself into a tank, and every muscle vibrated with purpose, screaming his strength, his power to the world. The beard shadowing his jaw said he hadn’t gotten around to shaving in a few days, and grease smudges on his cheeks made some patches darker than others. A black tank top stretched to cover a wide chest, and blood stained his pale grey sweatpants. The blood was faint and smeared, giving the impression he’d gotten it from holding his injured dog as opposed to being wounded himself.
“Who are you?” Anthony repeated in the same booming volume. He marched up to Liam, not stopping until he was well within the werewolf’s personal space.
Liam’s face betrayed nothing but polite patience, a violent contradiction to the power radiating off him. “Mr. Catello, I presume?”
“Who wants to know?” Without waiting for an answer, Anthony glanced at Rosie. His voice downshifted from fury to soft gratitude, though his body language remained angry and defensive. “Thanks for sitting with her. Is she okay?”
Rosie smiled nervously, glancing from Anthony to Liam. “She’s fine, but she’s still hurting.”
The whimpering from inside the room grew louder, more frantic. Gypsy had heard her master. Tension seized Anthony’s body, and he jerked forward, trying to shoulder his way past Liam.
Liam kept himself between Anthony and the doorway. “Sir, I need to speak with y—”
“Bite me,” Anthony growled. He didn’t try to push Liam out of the way, but his body language made it clear he was ready for a fight. “Get out of my way.”
Liam’s jaw hardened. “We can chat here, or you can ride to the station with me. Your choice.”
Anthony sneered. “This is about Dale, isn’t it? You think I had something to do with him turning up dead last night.”
“When did you find out about Mr. Dale’s passing?” Liam asked.
Anthony opened his mouth then closed it. “None of your fucking busines
s.”
Tension crackled in the air, an almost physical weight that made it difficult to breathe. Rosie hovered near the door, her eyes wide. It was obvious she wanted to leave, but was afraid to move. Anthony looked ready to punch Liam if he didn’t step aside. Liam didn’t seem inclined to clear the way.
Gypsy chose that moment to resume whimpering, her cries growing louder, more insistent. Anthony twitched, leaning toward the door.
“I’m not gonna ask you again,” he ground out. “Get out of my way.”
“We need to talk. Now. The dog can wait.”
My mouth fell open. Anthony snarled, fingers curling into a fist, rising toward Liam’s face. Liam didn’t move, just stood there as if he’d let the other man hit him.
“I’m here about Gypsy!” I said quickly. My voice came out higher than I’d intended, more panicky than I’d like, but there was no helping that. My heart pounded as Anthony’s dark brown eyes slid to me, and he paused with his fist clenched and trembling at his side.
“What?” he demanded.
Magic crackled against my palm, the instinct to call a defensive spell tingling against my fingertips. I cleared my throat. Magic was never a first resort. So said Mother Hazel.
I pointed to the open bedroom door behind Rosie, where the whimpers emanated from. “I know you didn’t have the money to keep her at the animal hospital for very long—not that you would have left her there anyway. You love her too much for that; everyone at the hospital said so. I’m here to do what I can to help.”
Anthony’s gaze flicked to Liam, then to me. “You’re from the animal hospital? You’re not with him?”
His suspicion rang out crystal clear, and I was very, very certain that lying to him would be a bad idea. “I don’t work at the animal hospital, no. I just help where I can.” I stepped away from Liam, using physical distance to highlight the disassociation. “Gypsy sounds scared. She’s getting worked up, and that’s not good for her condition. She might tear her stitches.”
Anthony’s face tightened, as if he were the one in pain. He looked toward the bedroom door.
“I’d like your permission to go inside and check on her.” I gestured to the pack around my waist. “I have a salve that would make her feel better. No charge. I just want to help her.”
“The dog can wait,” Liam interrupted.
I stifled a groan. The dog? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Liam was goading Anthony into hitting him. Anthony growled, and his fist rose higher in the air, once again angling toward Liam’s face. The promise of violence hung between them, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
Sod it.
I called my magic, and purple energy rose through my body, spilling into my voice. “It’s hard to see someone you love in pain.” I slid in front of Liam with the care of someone easing into a bath that’s a few degrees too hot. His aura bit into me like embers drifting off a bonfire, but I ignored it, concentrating on filling my words with as much power as I could. “I promise you, if you let me see her, I can make her feel much, much better. I can help Gypsy. Right now. Let’s go inside. I’m sure the nice officer will wait out here while we take care of Gypsy. Then the two of you can talk.”
Lavender energy tinged the air between me and Anthony, easing past his defenses. Some of the tension eased from his jaw, and his hand fell to his side, fingers no longer curled in a fist. He hovered on the edge for a second, still angry, still wanting to lash out at Liam. A fresh wave of whimpers was his undoing. Rosie was right. Anthony loved his dog.
“She’s in the back room,” he said gruffly. “Follow me.”
I stepped back, forcing Liam back a step as well. Unlike Anthony, Liam was no calmer now than he’d been before. In fact, his energy grew even hotter, and I smothered a hiss of surprise as I jerked away from him. Anthony stepped into the apartment, and Rosie took the opportunity to give him a small wave goodbye and then slip into the hallway. She gave me a nervous smile, nodded at Liam, and then scurried down the hall to vanish into her own apartment.
Anthony headed for the back bedroom, leaving me to follow him. Before I could take a step, Liam’s hand closed on my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” He kept his voice tight and low so Anthony wouldn’t hear him. “We talked about this.”
“You remember the beginning of the conversation, but obviously not the end.” I waved toward Rosie’s apartment so it would look as if I was saying goodbye to her if Anthony happened to glance back. “I’m trying to calm him down so he’ll answer our questions. He wasn’t going to say one word to you with his dog crying for him in the back room.” I gave in to the urge to give him a disapproving wag of the finger. “I doubt he was going to cooperate with you at all after you kept telling him ‘the dog can wait.’ I swear, it’s like you wanted him to hit you.”
Liam took a deep breath, flexing his hands at his sides. “As you may have noticed, Mr. Catello isn’t feeling particularly helpful. As a witness, I can’t force him to cooperate. However, if he had hit me, it would have been assaulting a police officer. I could have arrested him and taken him to the station where we have observation rooms. I could have held him in an interrogation room whether he liked it or not.”
I shut my mouth, a flush warming my cheeks. “You did want him to hit you. You were goading him to make him mad.”
“Yes.”
I lifted my chin. “Well, now we’ve learned the importance of communication. It’s all right, though; my way will work just as well. He’ll talk to me—freely.”
“You aren’t a cop.” The vein in Liam’s temple pulsed, but he kept his tone low and controlled.
“No, I’m a witch. And I promise you, he’ll talk to me. Unless, of course, you insist on holding me here until he gets suspicious.” I stepped away from him, deliberately moving over the threshold. “You have my card with my number. Go into Oliver’s apartment and listen through the wall. If you have something you want me to ask him, text me.”
Liam blinked, and I closed the door before I could decide if it was shock or outrage that pushed his eyebrows into his hairline. Shock. Probably.
As usual, getting a peek at someone’s apartment when they hadn’t been expecting company proved very enlightening. Anthony wasn’t much of a decorator, and his apartment was largely functional. He had a comfortable couch that, while not filthy, had likely never gotten familiar with a vacuum cleaner. His television was large and flanked by speakers that seemed a lot bigger than they needed to be. A weight bench in the corner was the most used piece of furniture in the place, and the amount of weight on the bar resting over it made me reaffirm my dedication to not making Anthony angry.
I found the man in question sitting on the edge of the bed talking in a low, soothing voice. Unsurprisingly, he’d given his beloved dog the lion’s share of the mattress, extra sheets and blankets piled up to form a cozy nest for her. Gypsy buried her face in Anthony’s lap as he murmured soft sounds of encouragement.
Gypsy did resemble a wolf. So much so that if Rosie hadn’t told me what breed she was, I would have sworn this animal could be a member of Liam’s pack in wolf form. Her fur was a beautiful cream color, almost white. Pointed ears swiveled in my direction, and she tensed, her eyes rolling to where I stood in the doorway.
“It’s okay,” Anthony soothed her. “She’s here to help you. She’s a friend.”
I waited, not making any move to come closer until Gypsy relaxed against Anthony, her eyes drifting half-closed even as she continued to watch me.
“You are so beautiful,” I told her. I studied the bandages on her leg as I crept closer, noting the fresh blood. She’d torn some stitches. “Who’s a good girl?”
I laid my hand on her head, next to Anthony’s fingers. He continued whispering to her as well, hushing her and praising what a strong girl she was. Her breathing was even, but strained, each exhale holding the ghost of a groan. Shudders ran through her body any time she tried to move her injured leg.
I called my m
agic, tracing the patterns of a healing spell over the silky-soft fur, and speaking the incantation in a soft whisper that blended with Anthony’s voice. Blue light flowed over my hand in tiny rivulets, washing over Gypsy and sinking through the bloody bandages into the wounds beneath. Gypsy melted farther into her master, her breaths coming easier.
As if they were one creature, Anthony relaxed as well. The headboard groaned as it took more of his weight, but the sound didn’t stir Gypsy. Her eyes remained closed, her head cradled in her master’s lap. For a moment, I watched them. Anthony had closed his eyes along with Gypsy, and seeing the two of them there, comforted by each other’s presence, painted a very different picture of Mr. Catello than I’d had when I arrived. He didn’t seem like a killer.
My phone rang. Gypsy didn’t move, too lost in the warm fuzziness of magically induced healing, but Anthony cracked an eye open.
“Sorry.” I pulled my phone from the side pocket of my waist pouch and thumbed down the touch screen to see a text from an unknown number.
Get his alibi.
Liam. I pressed my lips together, my thumb hovering over the buttons, ready to reply with a sarcastic Why didn’t I think of that?
“Bad news?”
I put the phone away and tried to muster a smile. “Someone who labors under the false impression he’s my boss. I’m an independent contractor of sorts, so I’m my own boss, but sometimes the people I work with enjoy telling me how to do my job.”
Anthony snorted. “Yeah, I get that a lot. I’m a mechanic, and a lot of guys who bring their car in feel the need to tell me what’s wrong with their vehicle and how to fix it.”
“If they know what’s wrong and they can fix it themselves, then why bring their car to you in the first place?”
Anthony shrugged one enormous shoulder. “People are assholes. There’s no fixin’ stupid.”
“Too true.” I unzipped my pouch and dug around for clean gauze. I pulled out a glue gun I’d been searching for yesterday, along with a jumble of paperclips and a bottle of bright pink bubble bath. Anthony raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
Monster (Blood Trails Book 2) Page 7