Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei

by L. J. Hayward

  “I’ve been good,” he said and I believed him. “I appreciated what you said on the phone that time. It helped.”

  “I’m glad. And I’m here because…?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t waste your time too much. You’re probably very busy.”

  I shrugged. Between Ivan and Nick Carson, I soon could be.

  Ivan carefully put his mug down on the table and faced me. “Did you hear about the murder at Geotech last week?”

  “Maybe. Refresh my memory.”

  “A physicist working on one of their projects was murdered in her lab. She didn’t work for them full time. She was just doing some contract work.”

  “I think I might have heard about it. Her husband did it?”

  “They have footage of him on the security cameras going into the lab, yeah. But he didn’t do it.” Ivan leaned closer. “This is really private. The police have clamped right down on all the details because they don’t want the press finding out about it.”

  “So how do you know?” I began to wonder if Erin was involved somehow. She used to be a police officer and perhaps she’d been brought in as a consultant. If that was the case, I would be telling Ivan thanks but no freakin’ way.

  “The woman who was killed, Geraldine Davis, was my partner’s cousin.”

  Phew. I nodded for him to continue.

  “Anyway, they have footage of Chris, her husband, going into the lab at the time of the murder, but he didn’t do it. And everyone knows it. You see, he was at work at the time.”

  “Where does he work?”

  “Police. He’s an officer. He was on the comms the night it happened. Dozens of witnesses. Recordings of the phone conversations he had. Images of him on their security cameras, as well.”

  “Ah, yeah. That’s a bit strange.”

  Ivan nodded. “Will you look into it?”

  I’m not an investigator. I’m a killer. If someone has trouble with vampires or a troll, or imps that like a little Chianti with their cat, then I’m more than willing to jump in feet first. Give me something I can put a bullet or several in or something I can toss Mercy at, then pig plus mud equals happy. Give me a mystery to solve and I’m more likely to wander around blindly until I accidentally run into something that bites back. Of course, before that little blunder with Veilchen, I was all sorts of confident. I thought I knew shit. Turns out, I didn’t. These days, I’m a trifle more wary about situations I know jack about.

  “I don’t know that it’s in my field exactly,” I said. “Making one person look like someone else is pretty easy in this day and age, and you don’t need something extraordinary to do it.”

  Ivan’s shoulders slumped, but he rallied with an earnest, “You investigate paranormal stuff, right?”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘investigate’, as such. More point and shoot.” Or, as Mrs Arnold would call it, pest removal.

  He raised a sceptical brow, as if even though he was after my ‘paranormal’ expertise he wasn’t quite ready to admit there was actually something there to shoot at.

  “You asked,” I said, a little heartlessly. I had been subjected to that whole ‘hey, help me with my weirdo thing but don’t expect me to believe you when you tell me the puddle of gloop on the floor is the remains of a vampire’ so many times I was, hopefully understandably, justified.

  Ivan studied the coffee mug in his hands for a good while, balancing up the ‘he’s loony’ and ‘how desperate am I?’ scales.

  “But,” he began hesitantly, “what if I said that forensics have found absolutely no trace of the murderer? If there wasn’t the security footage, and the account of the guy on the gate who let this pseudo-Chris in at Gerry’s instruction, they would have to say there was no one there apart from Gerry. But the biggest problem is that the person who killed Gerry never left the lab. He wasn’t in there when her body was found, but he was never seen leaving.”

  Not an impossible feat. Doctoring the video surveillance; a hidden exit; an invisibility cloak; a mutant with the power of camouflage. All right. I was intrigued. Why go to the trouble of looking like the victim’s husband if you planned on disappearing anyway?

  “So?” Ivan asked, not even trying to hide his eagerness.

  Before I could answer, the door opened and Erin walked in.

  Fantastic.

  Chapter 5

  Erin blinked several times. She was deadly tired. She was seeing things. That wasn’t Matt Hawkins sitting on her couch with Ivan. It couldn’t be. She’d said she never wanted to see him again and he’d seemed to respect that. No matter what else she thought of him, she’d believed him to be honourable.

  Seemed she was wrong, because it was him. It was his lean face with casual stubble over his jaw, dark golden-blond hair tossed back over his forehead, wide hazel eyes. His left leg, with the bad knee, was stretched out straighter than the right.

  And he knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. There was a slightly startled look on his face. The silence of the room was very heavy.

  Beside him, Ivan stared resolutely at the carpet.

  “Ivan,” she said. “My office.”

  She stalked past them and into her office. Throwing her bag onto the desk, she went straight to the sideboard and grabbed down a decanter of scotch. Pouring a glass, she waited for Ivan to close the door, then offered him the glass. He took it a little hesitantly.

  “Drink. You’ll need it.” Then Erin chugged straight from the decanter. The heat spread through her, not exactly soothing her tense body, but at least giving her something else to concentrate on.

  Ivan sipped from his glass, more to appease her than out of desire. “I thought you weren’t coming in today.”

  “I have to finish that report for the Bracus Group.”

  “It’s not due until next week.”

  “But it still needs to be done.”

  She stoppered the decanter before she could get drunk. Even though she wanted to. God, she needed something. Hoping that immersing herself in work would distract her, she’d left the hospital and come to the office. She should have known better. When the world decided to dump on a person, it didn’t do it by halves.

  Putting his glass down, Ivan came to her side. Not wanting to upset him, she tolerated his closeness.

  “Erin, you don’t look so good. How’s William?”

  “Stable. He’s going to recover.”

  Ivan sighed. “Thank God. Wow, never would have thought a simple cold could be so bad.”

  “He’s got no immune system,” she said wearily. “It’s a miracle it didn’t kill him. He’s got to stay in until they’re sure it’s completely gone. A week they say.”

  And in that time, he could die from the cancer in his bones. He might never come home again. Erin was too tired to cry. If she did she might break then and there and never be able to get up again. Instead, she glanced through the window to where Hawkins still sat. He studied the ficus with fake intensity, but at least he was giving them privacy.

  He could have left. That would have been better.

  “Why’s he here?” she asked Ivan.

  “I asked him here,” Ivan said. “He wouldn’t have come if he’d known you were going to show up. He knows how you feel.”

  She gave him a patient look that nevertheless said it had a short expiry.

  “I want him to look into Gerry’s death.”

  “Oh, Ivan. We’ve spoken about this.”

  “I know, but I can’t let it go. I know something strange is going on.”

  “Let the police—”

  “The police don’t know what to do. It’s been a week and what have they managed? To let Chris out on bail. They can’t even admit he’s innocent.”

  “Ivan, the police will sort it out.”

  He set his jaw and crossed his arms. “Brad’s taking it really hard. They won’t release her body for a funeral. She’s the only family he’s got left, Erin. They were really close. He won’t eat, he won’t sleep. I can’t keep watching
him do this to himself. It’s killing me.”

  Erin could have hated Ivan in that moment. She loved him dearly. He was like a younger brother to her, which meant he knew her really well in return. Everything he’d just said had been shaped and aimed for maximum impact in her heart. Especially now.

  “Get out,” she said.

  His hard expression wavered, but then settled back down. “I’ll do whatever I want, Erin. I just hoped you would understand.” He slammed through the door, strode past Hawkins and went out of the office.

  Hawkins stared after him, half out of his chair to follow. Erin opened the door to her office.

  “Don’t follow him,” she said softly. “He needs to be alone. Come in.”

  He eyed her warily, then came in. She waved him into a seat and sat opposite.

  “He wants you to look into the Davis murder,” she began.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  Erin straightened the diary on the blotter. “I don’t think it’s your sort of case at all.”

  An understanding smile curled his lips. “You think it’s more your sort, and you’re upset because he came to me instead of you.”

  “Of course not.” She’d modulated her voice, but still it sounded too defensive. Damn Hawkins and his stupid psychic abilities.

  The smile died. “I’m sorry, Erin. I might not be a trained investigator, but if I feel I can offer Ivan and his family something, then I will take the case. No matter how you feel about me, or about Ivan hiring me. I wouldn’t have come here today if he hadn’t assured me you wouldn’t be in. I respect your wishes in that regard, but beyond that, there’s nothing stopping me from having any dealings with Ivan. Least of all you.”

  Ivan had stabbed her and Hawkins twisted the knife. She wouldn’t go down without a fight though.

  “I might not be able to do anything as his boss,” she replied, tone icy. “But as his friend I can talk him out of it. You said it yourself, Hawkins. You’re too dangerous. I don’t want Ivan dragged into your world. He’ll get hurt and I won’t have that. Not again.”

  “My world is your world. It’s Ivan’s world. You just don’t accept it yet. After all you saw and went through, you at least should understand that.”

  The weariness in her limbs was quickly being replaced with tense anger. She curled her hands around the armrests on her chair. “I do understand. All too well. That’s why I don’t want Ivan involved. I lied to him about everything that happened six months ago. He knows you investigate paranormal events, but he doesn’t know it’s actually real. I couldn’t tell him a vampire tortured him or that a werewolf nearly killed me. It wouldn’t be fair on him. He doesn’t need to be put in that sort of danger.”

  “You don’t understand, Erin. This is what I’m trying to say. He’s already in danger from the freaks of the Old World, from the supernatural monsters that are only supposed to be myth and folklore. Everyone is in danger from them. Just because you don’t believe in them doesn’t mean they’re not there. They are, and they always have been. People just choose not to see it these days. If Ivan learns about them, then he can learn to protect himself. Right now, he could be getting bitten by a werewolf and his ignorance is not going to protect him from changing at the next full moon. You know that.”

  It hurt that he was right.

  Hawkins stood. “This conversation is going nowhere.” At the door, he stopped and faced her again. “Erin, despite it all, it was good to see you again. After that night, I worried about you.”

  She swallowed hard, refused to look at his face. He’d seen her at her lowest point, so far into the dark she hadn’t even known if she could, or even wanted to, get back out. That was part of why she hadn’t wanted to see him again. It would remind her of how close she’d come to giving up completely.

  “But,” he continued softly, “you’re a strong person. I knew you’d be all right. Your husband is lucky to have you.”

  Erin met his gaze. “I gave him a cold and he nearly died. He’s extremely lucky to have me.”

  It was in his face to come to her, to give her comfort. He’d been a paramedic once, fighting to save lives against the odds. She believed but for the accident that ruined his knee, he would still be doing it. In a way, he was, only now he fought vampires and werewolves instead of heart attacks and broken bones.

  For a traitorous moment, she wanted his comfort. He would understand how she felt, watching her husband slowly waste away in front of her eyes. He felt her pain. The comfort he could give would be honest, not the pretend comfort friends tried to offer her. They thought it was real, but they just didn’t know what it was like for her. He did.

  “Erin,” he whispered.

  All she had to do was nod her head, make a little affirmative noise, and he would be there.

  “Goodbye,” she said.

  He studied her, then nodded once. At Ivan’s desk, he wrote a note and left.

  She had the urge to go tear it up. Resisting was far too easy. The black tendrils of depression were reaching for her again. Time to force herself forward then. Throw herself into work and shake it off with movement. She pulled up the draft report for the Bracus Group and then picked up the phone.

  The number was dialled before she even thought about it.

  “Detective Courey.” The voice was gruff and curt.

  Erin had met Miles Courey the same time she’d met Matt Hawkins. He’d been a detective with the Ipswich police then, swearing he’d never give in and move to Brisbane. Three months later, when his daughter from his first marriage got divorced, he’d been bullied into transferring so he could be closer to her and his grandchildren. He pretended to hate it.

  “Courey, it’s McRea.”

  He snorted. “About time you called. My balls were starting to miss their daily busting.”

  “I hardly believe that. You’ve got rocks down there. Absolute boulders. Nothing I could do could hurt them.”

  “Aw. Compliments, McRea. What’s the matter?”

  A small smile crept onto her face. “I’m ready to collapse from tiredness. I always get nice when that weary.”

  “Darling, you need a holiday. We’ll go to Vegas and get married.”

  Courey proposed at least once a month. Erin was almost ready to accept just to see what he would do.

  “That appeals to me about as much as shaving my legs with a cheese grater,” she said instead. “Anything new on the Davis case?”

  Grunting, he said, “Not really. Forensics have gone over the lab again. They didn’t want to but the captain made them. I can see their frustration. The place is cleaner than clean. Their last two sweeps have got them nothing new. No reason to think it will this time.”

  “No progress on the research side? Nothing in what Davis was doing for Geotech that might have caught her some enemies?”

  “Not unless the exciting field of soil testing and geological surveys is a cut throat industry,” Courey said dryly. “And she didn’t work for them full time. She was only in doing some contract work to help them clear up some bugs in one of their systems. Otherwise, she’d been doing some self-funded research.”

  “No one knows what the home research was? The husband?”

  “Nope and nope. They’ve been separated four months. He’s got no idea and the only reason we know she was doing work at home is because she made mention of it in some emails. There’s nothing in the house to indicate any sort of research.”

  Erin jotted that down. “Strange.”

  “Yeah. So, has your assistant finally hired you onto the case?”

  Courey had a way of asking questions so bluntly they didn’t hurt. The same question from Hawkins had twisted her up inside. From Courey, it was just words.

  “No. And he won’t. He might bring in another consultant though. How do you feel about that?”

  “Love, you’re the only private eye I’ve ever taken a shine to. If your boy brings in someon
e else, they’re not going to get much leeway. Who’s he looking at?”

  Courey knew some things about Hawkins. Not everything, by far, and Erin was reluctant to tell him anything more.

  “Don’t know yet. Any word on when they might release the body to family?”

  There was a short silence. Courey knew she’d just lied to him. He let it pass. “No time soon, I’m afraid. They’ve got so little to go on they don’t want to give up what they do have. And she’s left a will saying she wants to be cremated. No exhumation order can reverse that.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Courey. We’ll have to do dinner some time.”

  “A couple of hours having to try to talk to you? My brain would melt.” And he hung up.

  Erin put the phone down as Ivan came back into the outer office. He didn’t look at her, sat at his desk and found Hawkins’ note. After reading it, he reached for the phone. Erin rushed out before he could finish dialling.

  “Ivan, please, can we talk?”

  He dropped the handset and nodded, gaze fixed on his computer screen.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have no right to tell you what to do in your private life. If you want to hire Hawkins, then that’s fine. I really hope he can help you and Brad.”

  “No, Erin. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was a low blow.” Ivan looked at her. “And I should never have brought him here. I should have met him somewhere else.”

  Erin waved that aside. “I should learn to not be such a princess. And I had said I wouldn’t be in today. I just spoke with Courey.”

  “And?” There was dreadful hopefulness in his voice.

  “Nothing new, sadly. Still no release date for Geraldine, either.”

  He sagged back in his chair. “Do you think Hawkins will take the case?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say either way, and I don’t know him well enough to judge it.”

  Except that she felt she did. She was one of very few people who knew pretty much everything about Matt Hawkins and his life. There was a niggling sensation in her stomach that said he would take Ivan’s case.