by C. D. Hersh
“Taking a nap. Why?”
He guided her over to the lawn chairs and scooped the brittle, yellow and red leaves from the seats. “Sit,” he ordered. “I’ve got big news.”
She sat opposite him, her eyes rounded. “Good or bad news?”
“I’m working on that part. I’ve come from Roc’s apartment and before that from Falhman’s.”
“The Falhman?”
“Yep.”
“Are you nuts, Rhys?” Leaning forward, she punched him in the arm, eyes blazing. “Going there alone was a huge risk. They could have killed you.”
“Damn, Alexi. Did you have to hit me?” He rubbed the arm she’d jabbed. A few weeks away from her martial arts classes hadn’t dimmed her punches. She still hit like a man.
“Yes, I did, and if you pull another bonehead stunt I’ll knock you out.” She hugged him, hard. “If I lost you I couldn’t bear it.” She stopped ranting and glared at him. “What were you doing at Falhman’s?”
“Remember how Roc’s and my birth certificates didn’t have any father listed?”
“Yes,” she said, drawing the word out suspiciously.
“Well, we can fill in the blank.” He paused waiting to see if she would get his meaning without having to come right out and say the stomach-churning news.
She sat absolutely still for a moment. He could see her mind working as she absorbed his words, putting the equation together. Suddenly, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my gosh! Falhman is your father?”
“Mine and Roc’s.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
Rhys withdrew the vial Falhman had spit in. “He is, because he gave me a DNA sample.”
Alexi jumped out of her seat. “We have to tell Eli. Now!” She started toward the house, but he stopped her.
“Wait. We need a plan.”
“I have a plan. Tell Eli about Roc and Falhman and get you off this undercover assignment with Sylvia. Rhys, if Falhman thinks you and Roc are his sons, he won’t stop coming for you. If they find out you are a Promised One-”
“They know, because Roc is their Promised One. Falhman wants me to defect and rule with him and Roc.”
Alexi jerked free of him and ran into the house yelling, “Eli!”
Eli appeared at the top of the steps, broadsword drawn, ready to lop off a few heads. When he spotted her, he bounded down the stairs. “Are ye all right, lassie?” He swiveled around searching. Seeing Rhys he asked, “’Tis she in danger, laddie?”
“Not me,” she said. “Rhys.” Grabbing Eli’s hand, she guided him into the living room and shoved him onto the couch. The side of the broadsword whacked the edge of the couch with an oomph.
“’Tis a guid thing the flat o’ the blade hit, lassie, or you’d be buying another couch.” He carefully laid the steel blade on the floor, handle behind his feet, and eyed Alexi and Rhys. “Now, what ’tis sae important that ye had tae scream like a banshee and wake me from my nap sae rudely?”
“Falhman is Rhys’ father,” Alexi blurted.
“What!” Eli jumped to his feet, knocking the broadsword under the couch. It twanged against the wall with a metallic ring. “By the Druid’s beard, what in the name of all that’s holy in the forest are ye saying?”
Rhys smacked his thigh with his Stetson. “Sit, both of you and I’ll explain.”
With each word Rhys said, Eli grew sterner. By the time he’d told them everything the old man’s normally clear aura was muddy gray with negative emotions and confusion.
“Let me be clear aboot this. Yer faither’s Falhman, yer mither ’tis Kayla McCraigen, and yer identical twin ’tis the rogue’s Promised One?”
“Yes.”
“And Sylvia, Falhman, and Roc want ye to come tae the dark side?”
Rhys nodded.
“And Delaney thinks ye are a murderer?”
“Right,” Rhys said.
“Have ye any mair bad news for me?”
“Roc saw Lila in the car at the funeral when she was supposed to be dead. I guess he knows one of my secrets.”
“But he dinna know who Lila really was?”
“No.”
“Then the lassie ’tis safe, for now. But ye, however, are in mair trouble than a salmon in a bear’s mouth.” Eli rose and paced in a circle. “I need tae think aboot this a wee bit sae I can figure a plan.” He waved them out of the room. “Go on aboot yer business as normal and dinna say anything tae anybody just yet.”
As they left the room, Alexi whispered, “See, it wasn’t so bad.”
“Maybe not for you. But I’m the one about to get eaten by the bear.”
As soon as Rhys arrived at work, Harry opened his office door and hollered across the squad room, “Clear your schedule, Temple. We’ve got some serious talking to do.”
Harry watched his most talented detective stride toward his door, hat in hand. He didn’t believe a single thing Katrina Romanovski hinted at, but Rhys’ DNA matches were going to be hard to beat in court unless they could prove it was his brother’s DNA.
“Close the door and take a seat,” he instructed as Rhys arrived.
“What’s wrong, Captain?”
“We got the DNA on Lila’s baby, and it seems you’re the father.”
Rhys took on a grim expression, but Harry saw no shock in his eyes.
“About that. I know I’m not the father.”
“Really? The courts won’t see it that way. Since she’s dead, and apparently you’re the baby’s father, you’re going to be the top suspect.” He watched Rhys, who fingered the brim of his Stetson, edging it around in his grip nervously. “Unless you know something they don’t.”
Laughing, Rhys said, “Like I’m a shape shifter?”
“Or maybe a fellow named Landow?”
He started, jerking in his seat. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the only thing that makes any sense of what Katrina Romanovski told me. She came in here with three separate reports containing your DNA. All three match the DNA of the child Lila was carrying.” He pushed the reports toward Rhys. “Tell me what’s going on, Temple. Maybe I can help you. Because if you don’t, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be arrested for the murder of Lila Ramsey. There’s no way I believe you killed her.”
The glazed curtain over his eyes as Rhys checked the papers convinced Harry he wasn’t seeing the incriminating evidence in front of him.
Rhys shoved the papers toward Harry. “Here’s the thing, Captain. I know who the child’s father is. I think he might be involved in her death. In spite of the evidence, it’s not me. I swear.” He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek.
Harry suspected Rhys’ brother but he needed to hear him say the words. Wanted Rhys to reestablish the relationship that had been broken by his recent deceptions by telling the truth, in this matter.
“Is he worth protecting with your life?”
“Probably not, but I’d like to save him.”
“Does it have something to do with your shifter world?”
“What difference does that make? You’re a cop. I’m a cop. We know the rules. We’re breaking them.”
“I’m already neck deep in your secrets. We’re talking about my neck here, as well. When they find out I stole a Jane Doe to create a sting to catch Alexi’s would-be killer, who we have zero leads on, I’ll probably have to retire right now and cover all our butts with a boatload of lies. I sure as hell can’t tell them we suspect she was killed by a shape shifter in some overarching battle between good and evil. This is what we suspect, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” He smacked his thigh with his hat then plopped it onto the desktop. “I’m sorry we dragged you into this, Captain.”
He waved a dismissive hand at
Rhys. “With your DNA appearing, you’d be sorrier if I didn’t know. At least now I can tell myself there’s reasonable doubt about the whole thing. You gonna tell me who this other guy is, or do I have drag it out of you in an interrogation room while you’re handcuffed?”
“It’s my brother,” Rhys said with a sigh. “My shape-shifter, almost-as-powerful-as-me, and just-as-important twin brother.”
“Twin brother? Holy cr— Wait, what do you mean by important and almost as powerful as you?”
“Means he won’t be easy to take down. He’s the future leader of the rogues. If we don’t handle this right, we could have a Turning Stone war on our hands. We can’t go after him guns blazing. I have to bring him in by myself.”
“Who else knows about him?”
“Alexi and Eli. He’s trying to figure out what to do. Alexi wants to tell Delaney, but I’m afraid she’ll go hunting for him.”
“She probably will. In fact, when she finds out your DNA matches the baby’s she’s going to come for you. Wait a minute.” Harry fumbled through the DNA papers in the folder. “How many of these are really yours?”
“Only one. The other two belong to my brother.”
“Then he’s the father of Lila’s child.”
“Yes.”
“We can clear you with that new DNA sequencing test that can identify the differences between twin DNA. We’ll need to keep tabs on your brother.”
“The problem is if we expose Roc as the father, Delaney will go after him.”
“Did he kill her?”
“I’m not sure. He hasn’t admitted to it and seemed genuinely shocked when he learned she was dead. The bit about the casket really upset him. If he did kill her he probably didn’t dispose of the body.”
“Then he’s a dead end in trying to find who stuffed her in the casket. Does he have a record?”
“No, he’s clean, but his dad could have kept him out of trouble. The family is filthy rich. Roc lives pretty well on Dad’s money. Picasso paintings. Ritzy penthouse.”
“Does he have a job?”
“No. His whole life has been groomed for leadership of the rogue shifters. He did say something about having a falling out with his father and owing him an apology.”
“Could it have been related to Lila?”
“Maybe.”
“I hate to say this about him, since he’s your brother, but I think we should keep him as a top suspect in Lila’s murder. Do you think he knows anything about Alexi?”
“No. I’ve never mentioned her to him. Unfortunately, I have to agree with you about Lila. Promise me something, Captain.”
“What?”
“Let me go after my brother first and see what I can find out. Don’t let anyone else in on this.”
“Okay. Meantime, I’ll get Delaney and we’ll question the funeral director. Should keep her mind off the baby for a while. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep the DNA results from her. She’s bound to start asking Romanovski about the tests.”
“We’ll tell her tonight. You, me, Alexi, and Eli. If anyone can stop her from doing something stupid, it’s Eli.”
“What the heck kind of hold does the old man have on her?”
“You sound jealous, Captain. Still got the hots for Delaney?”
“You heard how Eli feels about us. It’s over.”
“Forget about him. He’s not the one you’d be marrying.”
“Who said anything about marrying?”
“You think she’s not the marrying kind?”
“She is. It’s me I’m worried about.”
“Try it, Captain. You’ll like it.”
Harry studied Rhys. He seemed happy enough for a married man, aside from this Lila business. But I’m not a shifter and, at this stage of my life, I have no intention of changing, even if I could. But what about Delaney? Would she be willing to relinquish the shifter world for love? For me?
Love was complicated enough without adding shape shifters, magic rings, and secret operations. He hated secrets. Secrets were what they’d forced him into. A life of secrets with or without Delaney by his side. Which one should he choose?
Chapter 39
“Get your coat,” Harry said as Delaney opened the door to the apartment. “We’ve got a suspect to question.”
Opening the door wider, she ushered him in. “We? I thought I’d been dismissed from the office.”
“Actually, you left on your own. Remember?”
Huffing, she said, “As if I had a choice?” She reached for her coat and purse hanging on the hall tree. “Who are we going to interrogate?”
“The funeral director. I thought it might be helpful for you to come along since he’s one of you.”
“You’re right.” She locked the door behind them, and they walked to the elevator.
Neither one said a word as the elevator descended. Harry shuffled awkwardly on the parquet elevator floor, casting about for the right thing to say. Should he ask how she was doing? That’s stupid. She’s doing crappy, I’m sure.
Offer comfort? Touch her arm? Reach for her hand?
Delaney wrapped her arms around her chest, and he decided against doing or saying anything. Her body language closed him off. She was afraid he was going to hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted to do.
The drive to the funeral home grew more awkward with each mile. Harry longed to break the silence, but couldn’t. Maybe after the interview he could broach the subject of the Turning Stone shifters and their relationship-if any feelings still existed.
“Let me take the lead on the questions,” he suggested as they parked the car in the funeral home lot.
“What am I? Window dressing?”
“No. You’re here to assure him we’re on the shifters’ side.”
She cast him a scoffing expression. “Are you?”
“The good ones, at least as much as I can be, considering the circumstances.” Cutting off the engine, he swiveled in the seat. “If I find a shifter guilty of Lila’s death, I’ll have to act according to the law. I am a cop, after all.”
Something softened in her expression. “Good to know where you stand.”
“Why?”
“Because your loyalty might be questioned in this case.” She paused and stared at him. “Are you going to keep our secret?”
“I don’t really have a choice, Delaney. Who’d believe me anyway?”
A short, bald man led them to the director’s office. When he saw them enter, the tall, broad-shouldered man came around his desk and greeted them.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he droned in monotone syllables. “Does it have to do with our last encounter?” he asked Delaney.
“No, it doesn’t, Larch,” she replied. “This is Captain Williams from the Cleveland homicide department.”
“Ah, yes. I remember you from Alexi Jordan’s funeral.” His gaze swung between Harry and Delaney. “Is this an official visit?”
Harry dug in the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew a picture of Lila’s decomposing body, handing it to the director. “Have you seen this woman?”
Long, bony fingers plucked the picture from Harry. As Larch studied the snapshot, horror filled his face. “I see she wasn’t properly cared for.” Shaking his head, he handed the photo to Harry. “Are you wanting me to arrange for a proper burial? I do take some charity cases now and again.” He returned to his desk, rummaged through a file drawer, and sorted out several papers. “Do we have a name?”
“Lila Ramsey,” Delaney said, her voice a husky whisper. “My daughter.”
Larch’s head jerked upright. “I’m sorry, my dear. Rest assured I will take better care of her than whoever did this.”
“Humph,” Harry grunted. “T
hing is, you didn’t handle her with care the first time. We found her in a casket from your funeral home, along with another body you shipped to Alaska for burial.”
“She was discovered when the casket popped open.” Larch’s comment was more a statement than a question.