by C. D. Hersh
“I’m Falhman. Your host.” He poured a glass of wine and brought it over to Owen. “Thirsty?”
He kept his hands at his side, his face as hard and cold as her heart felt.
Sylvia poked him. “Be nice,” she hissed.
He took the proffered drink, boldly staring at Falhman. “Why am I here? I’m not a shifter.”
“Your mother is in my employ training a Promised One. You do know about Promised Ones and Turning Stone members, don’t you?”
“Enough to know I don’t want any part of it.” Owen drained the glass in one swallow and handed it back to Falhman.
“How different you are from your mother, or your father for that matter.”
“Exactly. That’s why I don’t understand why I’m here. I don’t buy into your magic crap or your Alexander the Great complex.”
A slim smile slipped across Falhman’s lips, sending a chill racing down Sylvia’s spine.
She shot a warning glance at Falhman, her anger at his methods overtaking her fear. “I think it’s time for Owen to go home, Falhman. I got your message.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “I’ve only begun my visit with your son.” He waved her toward the door. “You go take care of the business we discussed. Owen and I will wait right here for you.”
He motioned Owen to an overstuffed chair. When her son didn’t move, the guard behind him muscled him across the room and shoved him onto the seat. Taking a threatening stance behind him, he crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl wrinkling his forehead.
“Mom?” Owen tried to rise. A beefy hand shoved him down.
“Play nice,” she told him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Racing to her car, Sylvia cursed her luck. If you play with the big boys, you’re going to get hurt. She didn’t mind if she got hurt, but messing with Owen was another thing. Slamming the car door, she shoved the key into the ignition. There had to be some proof at the hospital that Alexi was dead. Something in medical records. Something in the morgue. She had to find it. Fast.
After parking the car in the hospital lot, she grabbed the bag containing her medical scrubs. Thankfully, she hadn’t discarded them yet. A quick change of clothes in the bathroom and a mimic shift and she would be ready to snoop. She scanned the nurses leaving the hospital, choosing one wearing the same color scrubs, who acted as if she was headed home for the day, and deliberately ran headlong into her.
“I’m sorry,” Sylvia said as she righted herself and her target. “Are you okay?”
“No harm done,” the nurse replied.
Sylvia scooped the emptied contents of the nurse’s bag off the sidewalk and handed them to her. “I’m really sorry,” she said again.
The nurse smiled at her. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really.”
With one last brush off to her target, Sylvia headed into the hospital. Inside the bathroom stall, she changed clothes and mimic shifted. After clipping the nurse’s stolen badge onto her scrub shirt, Sylvia checked her appearance in the mirror then headed for the morgue.
The young college-age male attendant raked his eyes over her appreciatively as she came in. “Can I help you?”
Male hormones. Exactly what she needed. Angling her stance to provide him an unobstructed view of her curvy, mimicked body, she said, “I’m trying to find a deceased patient. Alexi Jordan.”
He put the papers he’d been working on aside, stood, leaned against the front of the desk, and gave her his full attention. “Reason?”
Moving in closer, she positioned herself beside him. “She was my patient. I wasn’t there when she died yesterday and I wanted to say good-bye.” Sylvia sniffed and wiped at a crocodile tear rolling down her cheek. “Such a sweet girl.” She walked her fingers coyly across the top of the desk until she nearly touched him. “Do you think I could take a peek at her?”
“I don’t know,” he said, watching her fingers inch closer. “I could get in trouble for something like that.” His eyes hooded in a meaningful assessment. “Such a huge risk has to have some compensation.”
She broke out into full sobs. “I knew you were going to be a heartless male. You men simply don’t understand female bonding. There’s so much death and sorrow around here. I wanted to say good-bye.” She amped up her wails and threw herself against his chest, tipping them sideways. His arms circled her as he righted them.
“Holy cow. Don’t yell. Somebody’s going to think something’s wrong.” He handed her a tissue.
Sylvia drew away from him, her hands crossed tightly against her chest. “There is,” she said. “You suggested something inappropriate then you touched me.”
“I did not,” he said.
“The come-on you gave me certainly didn’t suggest a monetary bribe as compensation for seeing my patient.” She wailed again, even louder.
“Shut up!” He scrabbled sideways away from her, the tendons in his neck bulging.
“Show me my friend’s body and I will.”
“I could lose my job.”
“You will lose it if I file a sexual harassment complaint.”
He walked to the rear of the desk, opened the file drawer with trembling fingers, and flipped through the contents. “You’re crazy, lady.”
“I know.”
After two sorts through the files, he finally withdrew a thin folder. He opened it and reviewed the contents. “She’s not here.”
Grabbing the file from him, Sylvia said, “She has to be.” Inside the folder lay a handwritten note stating the family had the body moved. Whereabouts confidential-as if Alexi was some movie star trying to keep away the paparazzi.
Family? Alexi had no one left, except Rhys. What funeral home had they taken her to?
She handed the file to the attendant and he dropped it into the drawer. “Are we square now?”
“Sure, kid.” She headed for medical records, the knot in her stomach growing. Owen’s safety depended on finding proof. She couldn’t let him down.
Medical records netted her zero, so she headed to the precinct office. Gladys, the biggest grape on the office vine, would surely know something. There would be a flower collection for the funeral. All she had to do was follow the trail and she would be home free.
The minute Sylvia hit the door Gladys was there with the bad news.
“Did you hear about Alexi?” Gladys asked. “She’s dead. Heart attack. And at her age.”
Gladys’ voice dripped with southern concern Sylvia knew was as real as her own. The middle-aged woman hated anyone Rhys Temple favored. Alexi was at the top of her list.
“I’m not one to speak ill of the dead,” Gladys continued in her syrupy drawl. “But I knew that girl was going to come to a bad end. All the grief over her uncle. And coming back to work as soon as she did.” She stuck out her hand. “We’re taking a collection for flowers, or a donation to some charity. We don’t know which one yet. Want to give something?”
“I think I’d rather give something on my own. Do we know what funeral home? Or when the service is?”
“Not yet,” Gladys said. “We’ve only got about sixty dollars. Won’t make a very big arrangement.” She tipped her head at Sylvia. “You sure you don’t want to contribute? You didn’t know Alexi very well, and it would make more sense to contribute to our little fund.”
“I’m positive,” Sylvia said firmly. “As soon as you know where she’s going to be laid out, let me know. I want to pay my respects.”
Gladys harrumphed as Sylvia left. “Whatever you say, sugar.”
“Is it true about Detective Jordan, Captain Williams?” Sylvia asked as she opened the door to the captain’s office. “She’s really dead?”
“Yes,” Harry said, in a pain-filled voice. “It’s true.”
Delaney’s gaze lifted from
her desk as Sylvia closed the office door behind her. Sylvia scanned her. Muddy blue and gray flashed along the red edges of Delaney’s predominately green aura. She’s afraid. Afraid of what? Something about Alexi? Or is she scared of me?
As Sylvia watched, Delaney’s aura changed, the blue and gray dispersing as her eyes darkened. Delaney had caught her scanning her aura and closed off her thoughts. There’d be no further auric information gathered.
Rotating toward Captain Williams, Sylvia said, “Such a shame. She was so young.”
Delaney snorted. Williams and Sylvia directed their attention at her. “Sorry,” Delaney said. “Something caught in my throat.”
She knew something, otherwise why the reaction? “When is the visitation? Will it be after the autopsy?”
The metal drawer rattled as Delaney grabbed the handle, nearly rising off her chair. “Autopsy?” she asked. “Why would you think she needs an autopsy?”
“Unexpected deaths often have autopsies,” Sylvia said with a shrug. “She was far too young for a heart attack. Besides, people die all the time from hospital negligence. I’d think the family would want to know what killed her.”
“Alexi has no family left to request any investigation,” the captain said.
Placing the palms of her hands on the front of his desk, she stared directly at him. “What about you? You could request it in an official capacity, couldn’t you?”
A flush crept above his collar as he stared at her, his carotid artery pulsing. “Who the hell do you think you are to come in here and suggest such a thing? You didn’t know Alexi.”
She straightened and took a step back. “I was only thinking about your team, Williams. Forget I mentioned it.”
The captain shuffled some papers on his desk, slapping them from stack-to-stack. “Damn right I’m going to forget it.” He glared at her. “Unless you’ve got some Homeland Security business for me, I suggest you get out of here.”
As she backed out of the office, she eyed Delaney. Innocence wreathed the FBI agent’s face.
Doesn’t fool me one bit. Delaney Ramsey is a dangerous woman. One I’ll have to deal with. Soon.
Chapter 9
“Bravo, Harry. Bravo.” Delaney clapped her hands together slowly.
Raising his gaze to hers, Harry scowled. “What does that mean?”
“You put her in her place. All that nonsense about autopsies and unnatural deaths.”
She was obviously on a fishing expedition. But why was she checking on the murder? Didn’t she trust her sources?
“She had a point. Alexi was in good health, aside from all those mauling wounds. Why did she die of a heart attack?”
“You’re not seriously considering an autopsy, are you?”
Harry’s mouth straightened into a thin line, and he stared at the stack of papers in front of him, pensive. “Maybe.”
The tinny taste of fear leapt into her mouth. Bad enough some shifter tried to kill Alexi. Correction, bad enough she died of a heart attack. I have to think about it like that. Now Sylvia wanted Alexi dissected like a bug on the end of an entomologist’s skewer. And he was considering it.
“You can’t do that,” she blurted.
Her outburst jolted him against his chair back, his eyes rounded and startled. “Why not? If I think something is wrong, as a city police captain I have every right to investigate this death.” His voice sounded defensive. Almost as if he truly considered the option.
Not good at all. She cast about for some reasonable excuse and, failing to think of anything, finally said, “I think her faith might be against body mutilation.”
“Her faith?” Harry echoed. “What is she?”
Delaney’s cell phone rang, sparing her from answering. “Excuse me, Harry. I need to take this.” She thumbed it on.
“Agent Ramsey?” the voice on the other end said.
“Yes,” she replied.
“This is Officer Derrick, from the hospital. Gregory?”
“Watchful vigilant,” she replied.
A relieved sigh whistled over the line. “You told me to call if anything happened.”
The metallic taste in her mouth soured. “Go on.”
“Someone’s been asking about detective Jordan’s body. And get this, the person who’s been identified as the inquirer swears she wasn’t in the hospital at the time.”
Not a good sign, but it might explain Sylvia’s prying. “Does she have an alibi?”
“Iron clad. We have a video of her at the hospital’s credit union cashing her paycheck.”
A shifter. But who? She’d bet her own paycheck the shifter wasn’t the woman at the credit union. “Thanks for the information, Officer Derrick. Keep me posted.” She hung up the phone. “Could you excuse me?” she asked Harry, pointing toward the door. “FBI business.”
He rose. “No problem.”
“Harry, please don’t make any decisions about Alexi’s body until we’ve had a chance to discuss this further.”
Nodding, he exited the room.
As soon as the door closed, Delaney dialed Eli. “We’ve got a problem. Get Rhys and A-” She had to stop thinking about Alexi by name. “-my daughter, and put the phone on speaker.”
“Go ahead, lassie, we’re all here.”
“A shifter has been inquiring about Alexi’s body.”
“Who?” Rhys asked.
“I can’t say for sure, but my gut tells me it’s Sylvia. Only a minute ago, she was asking Williams about the funeral arrangements, questioning how a healthy woman such as Alexi could have died of a heart attack. She even suggested he order an autopsy.”
“Dinna seem nae too smart tae me. Wouldnae an autopsy show she ’twas smothered?”
“If there was a body to carve up,” Delaney said.
“Nice of you to put it so delicately,” Alexi interjected. “I am listening you know.”
“Sorry.” She needed to be more sensitive about Alexi’s part in this whole thing. It had to be hard to hear people talking about you as if you were dead.
“Did ye check her aura?”
“Muddy red and green with swirls of black. A dark aura. But there was something else. Gray and blue. I could clearly see she was afraid.”
“I dinna like the sound o’ that. The Daughter o’ the Moonless Night dinna get afraid at mere shadows.”
“From the fishing expedition she appeared to be on, I’ll bet it had to do with Alexi’s missing body. She’s searching for proof of Alexi’s death.”
“I wonder why,” Rhys said.
“It canna be good. We’ll havetae give her a body.”
“This blows our cremation idea.” Frustration filled Rhys’ voice.
“I don’t think she’ll be happy with less than a full-on stare at Alexi in a casket.” That was not going to be easy to manage.
“I’m not lying in a casket.” Alexi’s voice overpowered the speaker.
Delaney continued. “Williams is considering the autopsy.”
“He wants to cut me up? Well, not me, but he thinks it’s me.”
Delaney heard Alexi’s shudder through the phone.
“That, lassie, we havetae stop.” Concern laced the old man’s voice.
“Got any ideas?” Delaney asked.
“We bring the captain in on the sting,” Rhys suggested.
“Are you nuts?” she shouted at him. “He’s not a shifter. How is he going to react when we tell him about us?” About me? “I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who’s going to accept our magical existence. More likely he’ll start chasing us.”
“Hey,” Rhys said. “If I can accept you, he can.”
“I highly doubt that.” She dropped her head into her hand to massage her forehead where a headache was start
ing.
“Besides,” Eli said, “we dinna havetae tell him aboot us. All we need tae say is someone tried tae kill Alexi. He dinna havetae know anything mair.”
“Except we orchestrated a con, left him out, and are only including him because our hand is being forced,” Delaney said. “He’s really going to like that.” He’d probably hate her forever for keeping him out of the loop. She didn’t want him to hate her. Quite the opposite.