Now that he thought about it, this young woman had provided one of the better accounts of the kidnapping, with details that the others had only hinted at, although even those details had been mostly background, rather than names or faces. He examined the photo more carefully. The woman was dressed casually for a Saturday night, but not every human went out dancing on the weekend. Maybe she’d been meeting friends for a pizza . . . that would fit her clothing choice of a plain white tee and what looked from this angle like ordinary jeans. The T-shirt had a V-neck, and she wore a necklace—a simple chain with a round pendant in an abstract pattern that was saved from being ordinary by the single diamond mounted on the . . .
The proverbial light bulb lit up over his head. It was the pendant. Or not the pendant, but the design. He’d seen that somewhere else. Where, where, where?
It had to be one of the photographs he’d seen. A description wouldn’t have itched his brain this much. Another witness wearing the same pendant? No, why would he care about that? But he went through the images just to be sure, running fingers through his thick hair and messing it up as he considered where else he might have seen it.
“Problems?” Eleanor asked quietly.
He spun around, surprised she’d been able to sneak up on him.
“I didn’t sneak up on you,” she said with amazing acuity. There was no way she could have read his thoughts, but it did indicate a certain intuitiveness on her part. “You looked frustrated.”
He regarded her a long moment, trying to decide how much to share. He wasn’t used to having a partner, and wasn’t sure he liked it. Not even Eleanor. Especially not her.
“A photograph,” he said finally with a shrug. “I know I’ve seen this design somewhere.”
“Something connecting witnesses?” she asked, coming over and sitting across from him, placing her own folder on the table, stuffed full of similar bits and pieces of evidence.
Lucifer shook his head. “I can’t rule it out, but I don’t think so. A link between two witnesses wouldn’t have any significance. There were a lot of people on that street, and most of them were with other people. A link between a witness and one of the kidnappers, on the other . . .” He paused. No light bulb this time, but the realization was far more profound.
“The kidnapping videos,” they both said at the same time. The videos were the only images they had of the kidnappers, so if there was something, it had to be on the video. He grinned at her. “Great minds, bella. Want to watch a movie with me?”
She grimaced. “Not those movies.”
He tipped his head curiously. “But you do want to watch a movie with me,” he said, flirting shamelessly. She wanted him. But he’d have to break down the walls she’d erected against the truth of what they’d once meant to each other. What they still could, if only she’d be honest with him. And with herself.
She seemed flustered for a brief moment, but she covered it quickly. “I’ll watch whatever it takes to get the job done,” she informed him stiffly.
He nodded, trying not to grin. Oh, yeah, he was getting to her. But if she didn’t want him to know about it, he wasn’t going to force her to deal. That wasn’t the way to her heart. So, he simply said, “We can probably throw the video up on the big screen there,” he said.
A few keystrokes and a lot of expletives later, he had the video from his laptop playing on the big TV monitor in the penthouse’s main room. It wasn’t pleasant watching. Colin Murphy’s captors were being deliberately cruel, wanting to hurt Sophia as much as they did her mate. Lucifer had to give Murphy credit, though. He was enduring the torture as well as any vampire could have. Even better when you considered the fact that a vampire’s pain threshold was much higher, and that any damage the torturers inflicted would heal itself eventually.
“Murphy is a tough son of a bitch,” Lucifer observed, trying to keep the admiration out of his voice. He did admire the human’s strength and courage, but showing it seemed too much like cheering on his team in a sporting event. And there was nothing sporting about what was happening on that screen.
Eleanor nodded. “Sophia had good reasons for making him her security chief, and not just because she loves him.”
Lucifer shifted uneasily. “Yeah. I’m sorry to say this, given the circumstances,” he said, lifting his chin to indicate the torture video, “but it was a mistake for Sophia to make him her lieutenant. It—”
“Darren Yamanaka’s her lieutenant, not—”
“In name only, Elle. You know it, and so does everyone else. Including Yamanaka himself. I’m not saying—”
“You’d better not be saying what I think you are.”
He made an impatient noise. “I’m not blaming anyone,” he said clearly. “But as badass as Murphy is, vampires won’t accept a human giving them orders. And you can’t ignore—Wait. Stop right there,” he said, grabbing the remote to move the image frame by frame. “Back up a little,” he muttered to himself, slowly putting action to words. “And there. Right there. I noted this earlier. Whoever positioned the camera for this video pulled back a little farther than the previous one. It widens the frame, so you occasionally get glimpses of the off-screen actors. No faces, or anything, just a sense of movement, something the videos before and after this one were careful to avoid. We all know there are vampires doing the torturing, but we haven’t seen anything of them. Until . . . this.”
Eleanor was studying the frozen image, her eyes moving as she scanned every inch of it. She frowned. You mean—” Her frown deepened. “—that hand? What good is that? It’s just the back, and not even all of it. Just a couple of knuckles and a finger”
“Not the hand itself, baby. The tattoo. See how it arcs down over his finger, how it ends with a sharpened point like a curved knife or sword.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I still don’t know what good that does us. Is it unique, like a logo or something?”
“Unique, but not a logo. Now, look here . . . look at this woman’s necklace.” He handed her the still photo of the woman he’d locked on earlier. “Look at the pendant she’s wearing.”
Eleanor studied the two images, going back and forth, her lips pursed enticingly. Lucifer had fond memories of those lips, of that mouth. Kissing, sucking—
“I need to re-interview that woman,” he said, dragging his thoughts back to the task at hand.
“I’m not sure they’re the same,” Eleanor said slowly.
Lucifer ignored her doubts. He was used to that kind of reaction from people around his investigations, and it never stopped him. He knew what he was seeing. It was precisely that kind of catch that made him a better hunter than anyone else.
“I am,” he said confidently. “But we need to bring all of the witnesses back. If she’s connected to one of the kidnappers, I don’t want to raise her suspicions. You should make the call. These are Sophia’s vamps. But have them schedule this woman right away. Tonight, if possible. But not the first interview. Make it later. I want her relaxed, maybe even a little irritated at the inconvenience. A pissed off witness is more likely to make a mistake.”
Eleanor shrugged. “It’s your investigation. For now anyway,” she added, with a dark look. “Besides, it’s not like we have a shitload of other leads to follow.”
“I’m touched by your confidence in me,” Lucifer said absently, his attention on the information sheet that Sophia’s security team had provided on each witness. “I want the rest of the witnesses brought in, too, but let Sophia’s vampires do that, unless we find something else. Tell them to start bringing people in tonight, but not until they’ve successfully contacted our pendant girl. I don’t want any schedule conflicts. She works retail in the Underground City,” he noted, reading the info on the back of the photo. “She probably has irregular hours, but . . . wait. Here’s her cell number. Why don’t you give her a call?
She might respond better to you.”
“Because I’m a woman?” she demanded.
“Well, yeah,” he said honestly. “What’s wrong with that? We need to use every tool at our disposal, and you being female happens to be one of those tools in this instance. Is that a problem?”
“You’re the charmer here, not me,” she muttered.
“That’s true,” he said cheerfully. “But my charms work best in person. Which is where I want to be with Miss—” He peered down at the witness info form. “—Fiona Denis. So . . . give her a call for me, okay, bella?”
Her luscious mouth tightened irritably, and he knew it was because he persisted in using endearments, as if they were still lovers. He was doing it intentionally, forcing her to confront her feelings—good or bad—where he was concerned. She’d been trying to keep him at a distance, to put him on a business-only footing, ever since he’d shown up at the airport. But hell if he was going to let her do that. She’d run once rather than confronting whatever bugaboo had crawled up her ass, without even trying to talk to him about it. Not this time. If she wanted to go their separate ways once this hunt was over, to forget he existed, that was fine. But before that happened, she was damn well going to face what they’d had together, what they still had together. And she was going to tell him what the fuck had made her run all those years ago.
“What’s her number?” she snapped.
He grinned as he read off the phone number, and he was still grinning an hour later when he and Eleanor set out to interview some witnesses, including one Fiona Denis.
ELEANOR WALKED into the small interrogation room and cast a deceptively casual glance at the human woman waiting for them there. Fiona Denis was in her twenties. Blond, with brown eyes, and wearing a V-neck blouse that exposed considerable cleavage along with the necklace that Lucifer was so interested in.
“Speak of the devil,” Eleanor thought privately, as Lucifer strolled in several steps behind her. He was a study in masculine perfection, with his black hair and striking eyes, his broad shoulders and narrow hips, every muscle moving in concert with the others. She dragged her attention back to Fiona, and caught the woman eyeing Lucifer with blatant hunger in her gaze.
What the fuck? If Lucifer was right, the human had a lover of her own. There was no cause for her to be eyeing Lucifer like something delicious that she wanted to take a bite of. Lucifer was hers.
Her thoughts screeched to a halt. Lucifer wasn’t hers. Not anymore. And he never would be. That bastard Derek had closed off the possibility forever when he’d decided to make her a vampire. It hadn’t been her choice, but that didn’t change anything. Not when it came to her and Lucifer.
She closed her eyes against the familiar pain, shoving it down where it was less distracting. It never went away, not completely, but at least she could bury it deep enough that she could do what was necessary. And tonight, that meant interviewing a woman who was currently leaning forward, arms bracketing her breasts, all but shoving them into Lucifer’s face.
His gaze rested briefly on the offering, before he met the human’s eyes and gave her a devastating smile. “Fiona Denis, is it?” he asked, looking down at her file, as if he didn’t already know who she was.
“That’s right,” she responded with a friendly grin of her own. “Can you tell me how long this will take? My boss is a bitch, and I have to get back to work.” She was speaking English, but with a heavy Quebecois accent.
“It takes as long as it takes,” Eleanor snapped, irritated beyond reason at the nervy bitch. The reason was Lucifer, of course, but she didn’t want to acknowledge that. Or why it was so.
“Don’t worry about your employer,” Lucifer crooned, softening Eleanor’s harshness. “We’ll take care of all that. She’ll understand.” He took a seat that put him directly across from Fiona. The seat also happened to put him far too close to Eleanor, his shoulders so broad that her arm was pressed up against his. So warm, so very solid with muscle.
This wouldn’t do. She wanted to move, but that would have been too obvious. She didn’t want him to know he affected her, but it was everything she could do to prevent her muscles from stiffening at the contact, to pretend it didn’t matter. When in reality, it was as if they were two live wires twisting around each other and sparking like crazy.
Eleanor gritted her teeth, and forced her attention back to where it belonged.
Fiona Denis was smiling at Lucifer’s reassuring words—a toothy, sunny sort of smile. Someone had been spending time with a cosmetic dentist; that was for sure.
While next to her Lucifer seemed to be . . . twitching, as if he was nervous. Eleanor frowned and glanced over at him. Lucifer was never nervous. She’d never met a more confident, arrogant son of a bitch. She looked harder. He wasn’t twitching, he was laughing, his big body shuddering with the effort to conceal it.
What the hell was so funny? Eleanor had a moment of panic. Was it her? Had he somehow tapped into her thoughts and . . . No, that was impossible. Even for Lucifer. It had been over twenty years since he’d taken her blood; they didn’t have that connection anymore. So, maybe it wasn’t her at all. Maybe he found Fiona’s blatant attempts to seduce him as ridiculous as she did.
“We’ve gone over your statement, Fiona,” he said, speaking her name like a caress. The bastard. “You’re remarkably consistent about what you saw.”
“I didn’t see that much. It wasn’t—”
“You must have excellent recall,” he said, sounding completely sincere. “I wish every witness was as clear and concise. It makes our job so much easier.”
“What is your job?” Fiona ventured, speaking in a tiny voice, as if afraid to offend the big, bad vampire.
“Well, one of our own was taken, and we have strict policies about that sort of thing.”
“But he’s not—” she began to protest, but caught herself. “That is, I heard that it was a man who was kidnapped. A regular man, not a vampire.”
“Mmm,” Lucifer agreed absently. “But he’s also a vampire lord’s mate, and that means there’s nothing regular about him. Or this kidnapping,” he added, perusing her previous statement, as if he hadn’t already memorized every word. “Tell me, Fiona—” He glanced up with a quick smile. “You don’t mind if I call you Fiona?”
“Of course not,” she said, blushing like a fucking virgin. Eleanor snorted quietly. As if.
“Initially, you said you didn’t see anything, but then later—” He ran a finger down the page. “—you say you thought you saw the getaway car.”
She shook her head. “No, I said I saw a van driving away really fast, and I thought it might be the getaway vehicle.”
“Ah, that makes sense. So you never saw Mr. Murphy’s actual abduction, nor do you know who took him?”
She blinked rapidly, as if she needed a moment to process his question, then she nodded, and said, “That’s right. I didn’t see them kidnap him.”
Lucifer tilted his head, as if the human had said something interesting, and Eleanor abruptly knew why. Fiona had carefully answered only the first part of his question. Humans couldn’t lie to a vampire, especially not one with any kind of real power. Lucifer had that power and to spare. Eleanor wasn’t as strong as he was, but she did have power. More than enough to tell if little Miss Fiona was lying. Hell, she’d had enough power to dump that creep Derek’s ass only days after her turning. A real Sire would have had the strength to stop her. But Derek had possessed far more ambition than he had power or brains. Unfortunately, his hatred for Lucifer had been stronger than either of those. She’d never even considered that he might tell Lucifer she was dead.
And there she went again, thinking about what might have been, instead of doing her job, which was to find Colin Murphy. She’d lost the love of her life long ago, but she was determined that the same thing wasn’t going to h
appen to Sophia.
“You didn’t see the abduction, did you, Fiona?”
She looked relieved at the question. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t.”
Lucifer raised his head slowly and met the woman’s eyes, holding her gaze with the force of his unusual talent. He could probably make a person tell him anything he wanted. Hell, he could probably make them do just about anything, too. Eleanor thought about it. Maybe not a vampire lord. They had their own power and talents, which no doubt matched or even, in some cases, exceeded Lucifer’s. So he probably couldn’t mesmerize them.
But he was more than a match for Fiona Denis.
“But you do know who kidnapped him, don’t you?” Lucifer asked.
“No,” she insisted, while Eleanor did some lie detecting of her own. The woman wasn’t lying, not precisely. But she wasn’t telling the truth either.
Lucifer tilted his head, giving the human a warm smile that held a touch of complicity, as if they held a secret between just the two of them. “That’s a lovely necklace,” he said.
Fiona jerked in surprise at the seeming non sequitur. She cradled the pendant protectively, as if afraid they were going to rip it from her throat. “It was gift,” she said defensively.
“A very unusual design. I’ve never seen one like it.” The woman started to say something, but sucked in a breath as Lucifer kept talking. “Had you ever seen this design before, Fiona?”
The woman’s heart was racing so fast and pounding so hard, that Eleanor feared they’d lose her to a heart attack before she could tell them what she knew. Because it didn’t take a vampire lord’s power to know that Fiona Denis was lying. And it wasn’t only about the necklace, either. It was much bigger than that.
Lucifer (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 11) Page 8