Hot Trick (A Detective Shelley Caldwell Novel)

by Patricia Rosemoor

  If not…why would a self-professed banshee tell me about the murders?

  Once I finished the reams of paperwork ahead of me, Casey Brogan and I needed to talk. We were going to become best buds until this case was solved to my satisfaction. If I found out he’d been jamming me up, I’d have his butt in a sling so fast it would make his little banshee head swim.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I was just finishing up the report when Norelli walked into the office and stopped at my desk.

  “Bobby Rafferty wants to see us both. Now.”

  “Before dawn? How did he even get a bead on what’s going on?”

  “When you’re a judge with clout, you get whatever you want.”

  I supposed that was true.

  So I soon found myself riding shotgun for Norelli again.

  “I gave Forrest’s family the bad news,” he said. “My least favorite part of the job. Jeez, his wife collapsed. And he had three little kids…” Norelli cursed under his breath.

  “That had to be tough. I assume she had no clue that he was in trouble?”

  “Nope. She thought he was working late and went to bed. I got a team ready to knock on doors and question the neighbors as soon as the sun comes up. I’ll get back to Mrs. Forrest later when the sedative they had to give her wears off.”

  A bubble of guilt that I couldn’t save the widow this grief settled in my chest. If only I had nailed the bastard after the first murder…

  Judge Bobby Rafferty lived on the northwest side of Chicago, across from the forest preserves. His home was a neat two-story brick set back on a double lot. Though he had a garage, two cars sat in the drive.

  One of them was Mom’s.

  Great. What the heck was she doing here?

  I put on my game face and entered the house behind Norelli. If he thought anything of Mom sitting in the judge’s masculine leather and dark wood living room, a mug of coffee in her hand, he didn’t react.

  The judge gave me a once over and I returned the favor. Rafferty was an attractive man for someone who looked to be approaching sixty, fit, tall and broad-shouldered. The silver wings in his dark hair and the few lines seaming his face made him look distinguished rather than old.

  Norelli made the introductions. “Judge Rafferty. I’m Detective Mike Norelli and this is Detective Shelley Caldwell.”

  “I’m acquainted with Detective Caldwell,” Rafferty said.

  Though I didn’t like the tone of his voice, I tried not to show it. “Judge.” I nodded at him and then at Mom. “Commander.”

  “Detective.”

  Mom’s voice was clipped, her expression worried, making my gut cramp. I felt like I’d swallowed a rock.

  “Take a seat,” Rafferty commanded, and as we did so, he said, “I hear there’s an interesting development related to my sister’s murder.”

  Though the judge was looking at me, Norelli took the lead. “Yes, sir. Another victim connected to a Sebastian Cole escape. The brother of the prosecuting attorney on the Rivera murder, so the two murders are tied together.”

  Rafferty never took his eyes off me. “I understand you had prior knowledge that this was going to happen.”

  “I got information from an informant, yes,” I admitted. “Not who, just where and when. Well, approximately. The information was vague.”

  “But you acted on it. Why?”

  I could feel my pulse beating in my throat. “Because this wasn’t the first head’s up the guy gave me.” I took a big breath. “He gave me information about the first murder as well.”

  Rafferty’s voice went cold. “You’re talking about my sister’s death?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you act on it?”

  The tension in the room became palpable. All eyes were on me. Great. I’d learned to juggle fast but I hadn’t been under such close scrutiny before. Well, except from Mom. Her eagle eye was never off me, no matter how good my work was.

  “Not enough information,” I told him. “And I didn’t know this guy. He came out of nowhere, approached me in the parking lot. I thought he was one of the full moon crazies.”

  “Why?”

  Seconds ticked by before I answered. “He had nothing to support his story. He simply claimed to be a banshee who could predict deaths.”

  “A banshee,” Rafferty echoed. “I suppose that’s a good enough job description for an informant who correctly warns you someone is about to die!”

  My pulse surged. The judge blamed me? Mom too? I didn’t dare look at her. As long as Rafferty had eyes on me, I wouldn’t look away. I had no reason to. I was a good cop, a good detective. I would do whatever it took to nail an offender. But I wasn’t psychic.

  Okay, maybe a little, just not in a way that would help me stop a murder before it happened. I’d tried that hours ago and look where it had gotten me. The victim still died, even if not exactly the way his murderers had intended.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss, Judge. I want you to know that as a homicide detective, I take murder very personally. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have stopped your sister from dying. All my informant told me was that someone was tied up in a trunk and that he saw water.”

  “Did you try to get anything more from him?”

  “I did but he was so very vague. There was no way I could have known where the murder would happen.”

  “But obviously you got that much the second time.”

  “Just a reference to tall buildings and winged creatures. When I learned that Sebastian was performing an escape at the library, I realized the winged creatures had to be the owls on the roof.”

  “So why didn’t you call for backup?”

  “I did. I had them looking for a suspicious security guard. They never found him. And Sebastian’s escape went off without a hitch.”

  “But when everyone else left, you stayed behind.”

  “I just had this feeling…”

  Rafferty finally dropped his gaze and I felt like a balloon with the air let out until he said, “You know, Internal Affairs should take you off the case.”

  The pressure rebuilt and doubled. I didn’t agree but I bit my tongue. No use reasoning with grief.

  I glanced at Mom, who wore her game face. She hadn’t said a word yet. No doubt her opinion was right there with her friend, the judge.

  “I’m going to make certain you remain on the case,” Rafferty said, surprising me. “Obviously you have a source who can help lead us to the murderer.” He looked from me to Norelli. “I want this solved, Detectives.”

  Brought back into the loop, Norelli said, “That’s what I’m planning to do, Judge. The bastard who got to your sister isn’t going to walk on my watch.”

  Nice. He’d managed to squeeze me out. I took the crap and he was looking for the credit.

  “This is one case that had better get solved,” Rafferty threatened. “Because if it doesn’t, you’ll be finished with the CPD.”

  His gaze bored into me when he said the last.

  No pressure…

  Rafferty turned to Norelli. “I understand Julie’s murder is actually your case.” When Norelli nodded, the judge said, “I want you to run me through everything you know so far. Let’s go into the kitchen. I need a cup of coffee.”

  Norelli went, leaving me with Mom. I wanted to ask what she was doing here, but I wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence between us. The seconds ticked away and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. I loved my mother and knew she loved me, but she held me to higher standards than any copper on the force.

  Finally, she murmured, “So it’s a banshee, is it?”

  Of all the things she could have said, that wouldn’t have been my first guess. “Casey Brogan. That’s what he called himself.”

  “Brogan.” Mom frowned. “The name’s familiar. Do you believe him?”

  Whoa. She wasn’t telling me I was crazy. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re even more like you
r father than I ever guessed.”

  “I’m like Dad?” Silke never stopped telling me how much I was like Mom. “Brogan said Dad would have believed him.”

  “What?”

  “He came to me because he said I was a sensitive.”

  Mom shook her head. “I hoped it was just your sister…”

  Hoped? “Silke’s not like any of us,” I said, digesting her acceptance of banshees and sensitives. “She’s her own person.”

  “You were young when your father died, so you don’t remember. Frank wasn’t very pragmatic for an officer of the law. He believed in things we couldn’t see, and I don’t simply mean things related to religion.” Mom sighed. “It’s what got him killed.”

  My pulse jumped. “But he was killed on the job.”

  “Exactly. Frank was chasing some fairy-tale lead, some creature he claimed was both man and beast, and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like you did tonight. What were you thinking, Shelley? How could you have gone on that roof and waited for murderers alone?”

  “I was trying to save a life and I didn’t think anyone would believe my explanation.”

  “Don’t be like your father—”

  “Dad was a good cop!”

  “Who died on the job because he wasn’t thinking straight.” Mom took a big breath. “You’ve always been so level-headed. Don’t let the dark side touch you like it did your father. Murder is a human vice of the blackest kind. Keep that in mind and don’t go chasing what you can’t see. I can’t lose another person I love to the job.”

  I absorbed what she’d just told me. My father chasing a suspect who wasn’t exactly human. Dying in the process. And then there was her easy acceptance of Casey Brogan. She sounded like she believed what most people would say was unbelievable. My District Commander mother. Too much to take in.

  “You’re not going to lose me,” I assured her.

  Another round of silence.

  Uncomfortable, I wished Rafferty and Norelli would come back into the room.

  “Your father was psychic too, you know,” Mom said. “It’s not a twin thing, it’s a Caldwell thing. And your father’s death is why I discouraged you from developing it.”

  I gaped at her. Of course Mom knew about Silke’s and my silent communication. She’d caught us at it often enough when we were kids. And tried talking us out of it every time. But she’d never, ever before told us we’d inherited the ability from Dad’s side of the family.

  Had Brogan known the Caldwells were psychic? Damn, why hadn’t I been able to get the truth from the snitch? I wanted to squeeze it out of him by his scrawny neck.

  The men chose that moment to return.

  “Don’t worry, Judge,” Norelli said, shaking his hand. “We won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  Rafferty nodded and opened the door. No handshake for me. No expression of faith. Just that look that made me feel like crud he’d scraped off his shoe.

  He had to blame someone, I guess, and until we’d nailed the murderer, I was it.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  We ate breakfast on the way back to the office, both of us too tired, me too debilitated, to discuss the case in detail. Norelli called in, gave orders to round up Sebastian and company for questioning ASAP.

  I wondered if Sebastian would come or if he would “suggest” the officer in a different direction. I had no clue about his employees, whether any of them were mages or other supernaturals. Maybe Silke would know or be able to tell if I gave her the high sign.

  They were still no shows when we got back to the office, though. Whether they chose not to cooperate—coming in would be voluntary since they weren’t under arrest—or whether they were on their way, I didn’t know.

  I tried calling Brogan. I wanted him to come in to the station to get a gander at Sebastian’s crew. Maybe he’d seen one of them in a vision and a face-to-face would jog his memory.

  His voice mail greeted me. “I’m wanting to talk to you, but now is not the time, so leave me a message.”

  Great. “Get back to me as soon as you get this.” Fighting a yawn, I told Norelli, “I’m going to take the opportunity to close my eyes for a few minutes.”

  “Catch a few Zs for me, too.”

  I nodded and wandered off into the back room, hoping that this time I could count on a dreamless sleep. And maybe that would have been the case, if, as my eyes closed, I didn’t still have Sebastian and the murders on my mind.

  His eyes are unfocused. Forrest appears to be a zombie—alive and yet not. He looks at me, eyes wide and pleading, and mouths the words “Save me.”

  God, I try.

  My hands tear at his clothing as he tilts and falls. I try to keep my grip, but his weight drags me to the edge of the building. I see the spread of wings as one of the owls awakens and floats behind him, feathers ruffled by the upturning breeze.

  The current strengthens into a rough wind and at last tugs Forrest from me. I can’t hold on. The owl dips its head and fastens onto the man’s collar. Forrest’s legs dangle and he tries to free his hands still secured behind him. For a moment, I think he’s saved.

  And then the owl opens its beak and floats away on a current.

  I let go, as if by throwing myself from the building I can save Forrest from becoming the next victim. My clothes flutter around me and the wind tears through my hair. My heart beats double time…triple…so loud the sound fills my head, drowning out the too human scream below.

  My stomach knots and threatens to empty. My heart threatens to pound from my chest.

  Then suddenly I’m drifting slower, my limbs wrapped securely and engulfed in a cocoon of black. I draw my head up and look into Sebastian’s face. His knowing smile makes my heart beat faster.

  Something so familiar about that expression…almost the same expression Jake wears when he’s feeling possessive.

  “Not you,” I say.

  But my body responds to the seduction of his flesh moving along mine, my head grows fuzzy. I fight.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  He runs a finger along the side of my cheek and down my neck. My flesh quivers, my nipples lengthen, my center grows damp. I find it difficult to speak.

  “Stop distracting me. You don’t want me.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Then you want me for the wrong reason.”

  “What is the right reason?”

  “Love.”

  “I could make you love me.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that easy to love anyone. Besides, I already love someone else.”

  “Yes, I smell him on you.”

  I fall again. He no longer holds me. I look behind me and see the ground rush up to meet me.

  “Ah!” I sat straight up and nearly collided with Sebastian, who perched at the edge of the mattress.

  For a moment, I was confused. Then I realized I was at the station.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I come where I’m called.”

  Again, he intimated I was the catalyst. But the dreams were all him. Why?

  “You have a vivid imagination.” Avoiding him, I rolled out of bed, wondering how he got in this room—teleportation?—and how I was going to get him out without anyone noticing.

  “I was told to come for questioning ASAP.”

  “That would have been Detective Norelli. He’s in charge of the case,” I reminded him. “Did you bring your production team?”

  “Not bring…but I believe they’re assembling. How are you going to work this? Question us all together? Or one at a time? Are you going to try to squeeze us? Squeeze me? If so, I want you to do the squeezing.”

  I knew he was being provocative to get to me, to shake me up, but to what purpose? Maybe this whole sexy act was meant to distract me from the case. If so, it wouldn’t work. I had questions I wanted him to answer. Some that didn’t need an audience.

 
; I slipped him out of the back room. Everyone in the bullpen was so busy, no one noticed. Oddly, no one seemed to notice as I led him toward an interrogation room, either.

  Had Sebastian put a spell on the room? Had he somehow made himself invisible?

  I looked through the interrogation room window and saw Conrad DeGroot and Tanya Janicek stewing over being brought in. Before joining them, I stopped and asked, “How did you escape the bag anyway?”

  “Trade secret.”

  “I really did think you were going to die.”

  “I remember. And I’m touched you cared.”

  “I don’t like death—murder or suicide.”

  He tilted his head, met my gaze and concentrated. I could feel him trying to get inside again.

  “Why do you bother?” I asked, tired of his games.

  “You might have a weak moment.”

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t know. Finding out would be the interesting part.”

  “I’m not interested in anything having to do with you but finding a murderer,” I told him. “And I’m starting to wonder if you’re it. You’re awfully casual about having a second murder attached to your name.”

  His visage darkened and he tried to fix me with a stare. “Do you really think I could murder anyone?”

  I blinked away his influence. He’d never said he hadn’t done it. He’d gone round the subject instead. “Some would say you could.”

  “Then someone is trying to set me up.”

  “They’re doing a good job.”

  “You have no evidence.”

  “That’s simply a matter of time, Sebastian. I always get my man.”

  His smile was faint but confident. “I’m looking forward to that.”

  “Inside!”

  I opened the door and indicated Sebastian should go first. He deliberately brushed me as he entered the interrogation room. The contact brought with it remnants of the dream. Angry at his audacity, I shook away the visceral reaction and followed him inside. Before I could close the door, I heard Silke’s voice float down the corridor.

  “Don’t worry, Oriel, my sister is the best at what she does. Shelley’s not going to railroad any of us, not when we’re innocent.”