Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct

by Brandi Broughton

  “That’s why we’re investigating. Do we have your permission to have a forensics team check out your house and garage?”

  “What for, if he was in his car?”

  “It’s procedure, Ma’am. Your home was the last place he was seen alive.”

  “All right. Yes, of course.”

  “Do you mind telling me where you were Saturday night?” she asked Richard.

  “On a date with my girlfriend.”

  Cooper looked up from his notes. “Her name and address?”

  “Is all of this necessary? I don’t want her disturbed.”

  Cooper said, “We need to confirm the whereabouts of anyone connected with the victim.” He quickly wrote down the name and address Richard spouted.

  Mackenzie asked, “Does anyone in your family own a large dog?”

  Pearl looked confused by the question but answered, “My daughter and her husband own a poodle.”

  “What about friends, employees, neighbors?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe, why? Oh wait, one of Richard’s friends has a big dog.”

  He shook his head. “I doubt that’ll help, Mom.”

  “Why don’t you tell us anyway?” Mackenzie asked.

  The son shrugged. “When Mom stopped by my place, I was keeping Anthony’s dog temporarily while he arranged to move back East.”

  “They met at Princeton,” Pearl added.

  “Mom, please. That’s hardly important. When he moved, he took the dog with him. He’s not here anymore.”

  “When was this?”

  “Week before last. Anyway, he’s a friend of mine, not my father’s. He and my father didn’t know each other, never met, so I don’t see how it could be relevant.”

  “Okay. Did Mr. Robertson have any enemies? Anyone who may want to hurt him?”

  Pearl frowned. “No. My Victor is...was such a precious soul. He worked to help people. He was a good husband, a loving father, and a proud grandpa. I can’t imagine anyone being so angry that he’d want to kill him.” Silent tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She dabbed at her eyes.

  “What about fights? Arguments? Did he seem disturbed about anything recently?”

  “He was a politician, Detective. I know people don’t believe in honest politicians, but my husband was an honest, caring man, and he liked what he did. He worried...” Pearl bit her bottom lip, cast a quick glance at her son, and shook her head.

  Richard said, “He was always arguing over this bill or that proposition. This was not his first term. My father knew how to play the game. His negotiations were always on the up-and-up.”

  “He did get a phone call,” Pearl began, but her son interrupted with another suggestion.

  “Mom, what about the guy he had words with at the fundraiser?”

  “A minor disagreement is all. It was nothing, really.” Pearl waved a hand as if she wanted to dismiss a bad idea.

  “Do you recall the nature of the disagreement?” Mackenzie asked, her senses going on alert.

  “Two contributors having a difference of opinion. That’s all.”

  “Can you tell us exactly what happened?”

  “We were at the dinner, having the worst chicken-fried steak I’ve ever tasted, but all for a good cause, if you know what I mean. It lasted quite a while, numerous speeches from counselors and former addicts.”

  “Ma’am, what happened between him and the contributor?”

  “When the dinner broke up, everyone milled around, shaking hands and talking politics. Victor took a phone call on his cell and afterwards, he motioned that he wanted to go. On the way out, I could tell he was upset about something. He saw the young man and got a bit steamed over him being there. As we passed, they exchanged words.”

  “Can you recall what was said?”

  “Victor called him a hypocrite and accused him of being no better than a loan shark, promoting an industry that takes fortunes from innocent people.”

  “How did the man respond?”

  “He was remarkably calm about the whole thing, considering.” Pearl looked apologetic. “It was such a minor thing, really. He’s normally much more circumspect, my Victor, never one to grandstand.”

  “Do you know the man’s name?”

  “It was just a disagreement. Nothing I hadn’t seen Vic have with any number of people whenever something got his dander up.”

  Mackenzie summoned her patience and took a calm breath. “Any disagreement, any contact Mr. Robertson had with others recently, no matter how incidental it may seem, has the potential of being the clue that helps us track down his killer.”

  Richard took his mother’s hand. “Mom, why don’t you tell them? It could be important. You do recall the contributor’s name?”

  “Of course, I recall his name. I am not so old that I can’t remember a man’s name.”

  “What is his name?” Cooper asked, with pencil ready.

  “Rafael Stone.”

  Chapter Three

  “A pleasure to meet you, Detective.” Dr. Gabriel Stone extended a hand. “Welcome to the Lykos Institute.”

  One glance at the man in the white lab coat convinced Mackenzie that dark, handsome looks were engraved in the Stone family’s genes. He was tall, tan, and fit, with chiseled features and a dry, firm grip.

  “Thank you for seeing me so early.”

  “Anything for Chicago’s Finest.” His smile was charming.

  “Impressive sculpture.” She turned toward the centerpiece of the expansive atrium.

  “Yes, isn’t it?” He glanced at the large marble carving of a wolf looking out over the edge of a rocky outcrop and read the engraving underneath. “O praeclarum custodem ovium lupum!”

  “Latin.”

  “Yes, a quote from a Roman philosopher. Roughly translated, it reads, ‘An excellent protector of sheep, the wolf!’”

  “Humph. Interesting concept.”

  He laughed. “Yes, it is. Why don’t I give you the VIP tour while we discuss your case?”

  Mackenzie nodded and walked beside him down the hall.

  “Rafe tells me that a man was found mauled to death.”

  He didn’t know about the bullet, and she had no intention of sharing that information with the brother of a potential suspect. “There were wounds on the body consistent with animal bites and claw marks. Tell me about the Lykos Institute’s canine training programs.”

  He stopped. “Do you think one or more of our dogs did this?”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not making any assumptions at the moment. Just seeking information about how one might use such animals as weapons to kill.”

  “I see.” He started walking again, pointing to large portraits on the wall. “We’ve worked with a variety of law enforcement and security agencies to develop successful training programs for drug enforcement, search and rescue, and guard dogs. Some of our graduates serve as K-9 officers on your force.

  “Dogs have a variety of talents that prove quite beneficial to humans. For the medical field, we train guide dogs for the blind, companions for paraplegics, and some can even detect cancer cells in patients. Remarkable really, when you think about it.”

  She paused to study a picture of a mansion; two marble wolves guarded the front walkway. Rafael Stone stood in the center, a hand resting on a real wolf, large and black. Underneath the portrait, a brass plaque identified him as the Institute’s founder. “A firm believer in ‘a dog is man’s best friend,’ isn’t he?”

  “Certainly. We both are. Our training facilities aren’t here. This building houses our administrative offices, as well as the veterinarian school, laboratories, and public visitor’s center.” He motioned for her to precede him through a door. “We have numerous educational programs for children and adult enthusiasts. This is our most popular exhibit.”

  Her gaze followed his lead, and she froze, her lungs seizing. Hair-raising panic sizzled along nerves, her body urging her to flee. But she couldn’t. God, she couldn’t move.<
br />
  A natural woodland landscape filled one side of the room with a life-sized wolf pack encircling a large boulder. But the wolves, caught in midsnarl, didn’t hold Mackenzie in place. No, her focus locked on their prey. A fang-baring mountain lion sat atop the boulder, its sharp, painful claw raised...and ready to strike.

  Her hand covered her thigh.

  The wild golden carnivore remained motionless, while Mackenzie’s heart raced. Her brain frantically tried to communicate to her terrified system that the cat wasn’t alive. Her pulse and gut ignored the signals.

  “Detective Lyons? Are you all right?”

  Gabriel’s voice shook her enough for her to break eye contact with the feline predator. She blinked, took a steadying breath, and tried to relax. Focus. On the man, not the cat.

  “I—” Damn, she had to get out of this room. She cleared her throat. “I can see why it’s so popular. Very lifelike.”

  He cast her a worried look, and she gritted her teeth. She rubbed her thigh, remembered, and tried to forget.

  “Where are your labs?” she asked, hoping that would spur him to get her the hell away from the cat.

  “This way. They’re upstairs. We can take the elevator.” He led her back through the door and to the research labs.

  “Is it possible to determine what type of animal is involved in the case from a few hairs found at the scene?”

  “Yes, it’s possible,” he said. “Our researchers are experts in their field. We track wolves and similar breeds in the wild, both in the US and Canada. Our database is full of information collected from them as well as the domestics in our training programs.”

  “DNA?”

  “If DNA can be extracted from your samples, it’s possible we could determine if there was more than one or confirm whether a suspected animal was involved.”

  She passed several classrooms filled with people and heard the rumble of instructors giving lectures on various topics. When they entered a large room that reminded her of a hospital, she noticed a couple men in lab coats hunched over microscopes. A woman in the corner caught her eye. Soft whines came from her lap as she fed some tiny puppies.

  “They’re doing well, Brenda?”

  “A little cranky, Dr. Stone. But they’ve been through so much, that’s understandable.”

  “Their mother was struck by a car in Wisconsin,” Gabriel said. “She wore a collar, which emitted a death signal that helped us track her down and find the wolf pups. They would’ve died if we hadn’t.” He gently scratched one’s head with a finger. “We’re hoping to keep these two alive long enough to start a new pack here in Illinois.”

  Cute fur balls, Mackenzie thought, but how dangerous could they be when full grown? “What about the possibility of wild wolves being involved in the case? Let’s say, the body was in the woods overnight before someone found it and moved it into the city.” The scenario didn’t fit in her mind. People usually hid bodies in the woods, not the other way around, but she wanted to know his thoughts, see his reaction.

  “Wolves are virtually extinct in the remote regions of this state, so I’d have to say it’s unlikely, although there are other scavengers in the woods. Are you suggesting the man was dead beforehand, that the animals weren’t the cause of his death?”

  “Just checking all possibilities, Dr. Stone.”

  He studied her a moment before showing her into an office, lavishly furnished in deep mahogany and leather. “We can talk more in here.”

  As she sat, the door behind her opened again. Soft footsteps on plush carpet made her turn around to see Rafael Stone. His unexpected arrival sent a jolt that made her spring from the chair. She clamped her teeth together in irritation at her speeding pulse.

  Did he have to walk into a room like that? His muscles glided under a well-tailored suit, smooth and powerful, like those of the predatory animals he championed. Solid, dark colors complimented the solid body and dark features.

  Mackenzie glanced from Gabriel’s surprised-yet-amused expression to his brother, who was better adept at hiding his emotions. His face, while striking, gave away none of his thoughts. No guilt. No surprise. No interest at all. Chiseled in stone, she thought. Calculating. Cold.

  So why did his presence heat up the room? One look at him shouldn’t make her blood sizzle.

  “Detective Lyons. We meet again.”

  “Hello, Mr. Stone. I’d planned to call your office after I left here.” She shook his hand, agitated by the warmth in his firm grip and voice.

  “Then it’s most fortuitous I stopped by. And, please, call me Rafe.”

  Gabriel said, “I’m afraid I’m slacking in my duties as host. Why don’t I get us something to drink? Coffee, Detective?

  “That’ll be fine, thank you.” At least her voice was steady.

  “The same, Rafe?”

  He nodded without looking away from her.

  While Gabriel fetched the drinks, she sat when Rafe did and studied the elder brother.

  “You’re the older brother.” It wasn’t a question, although she wasn’t sure why she knew her observation to be true.

  “I am, but only by a few minutes.” His smile softened his features.

  “You’re twins?”

  “Triplets, actually. I have another brother.”

  That surprised her. “There are three of you?” She heard the words and immediately wanted to bite her tongue. Why hadn’t Cooper shared that little tidbit with her?

  Gabriel laughed. “Actually, Rafe is one of a kind. And I only claim relations with the runt part of the time.”

  Rafe’s smile warmed, widened to a full-blown grin, dispelling her initial thoughts of coldness. He was a multifaceted man and a puzzle in the extreme. “Don’t let Luc hear you say that, Gabe.”

  Mackenzie took a sip of her coffee, using the opportunity to watch the brothers interact with a playfulness usually hidden beneath the powerful, icy fortresses the men erected for outsiders. A sibling comradery she’d observed—and occasionally envied—from the viewpoint of an only child.

  Nothing in their mannerisms indicated any guilt or concern over an undiscovered connection to the murder. Still, she couldn’t rule out the circumstantial clues that pointed to a possible link between the man seated beside her and the body on a slab in the morgue.

  “You’re quite the altruist, I understand,” she said, drawing the attention of both men.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m completely selfless, but I help where I can.”

  “What about gambling?”

  Rafe’s brows furrowed, and he frowned at the sudden change in subject. “I’ve dabbled in it a time or two. But I prefer to make gambling a business rather than a hobby. You don’t get to where I am in the corporate world without taking risks.”

  “One branch of Stone Corp. specializes in security products that are quite popular with casinos,” Gabriel volunteered.

  “And yet I hear you attended an antigambling fundraiser last weekend.” She could almost see the light flick on above Rafael’s head.

  “Antigambling, Detective? I was unaware you had such a keen interest in the gossip rags, but to answer your question...yes, I attended a black-tie benefit for a nonprofit support group that offers a hotline and assistance to gambling addicts.”

  “You make a profit on the gambling industry and support groups opposed to that same industry. Isn’t that like cutting your own throat?”

  He finished the last of his coffee, eying her over the cup’s rim. “Some may see my actions as hypocritical. That accusation was made during the fundraiser, as I recall, but I see my contribution as an act of responsibility. The group is not antigambling so much as it helps those who take a form of entertainment to the extreme. I don’t deny that my company profits from its connection to the gambling industry. Why not use some of the money to help the people who indirectly contributed to that profit?”

  “So you’re opposed to the antigambling platform of Victor Robertson?”

  A sly curl lifted
one corner of his mouth as he sat his empty coffee cup aside, and she couldn’t stop the tingle of awareness. “Senator Robertson and I do not agree on the government’s role as it pertains to gambling, of which I’m sure you’re quite aware. I doubt the government can effectively legislate morality. Especially when that same government makes billions each year off the industry accused of promoting the immoral act in question.”

  “I believe we’ve veered off topic,” Gabriel said. “As much as I enjoy talking politics, I’d much rather hear more about how we may help you with your homicide investigation, Detective.”

  “Oh, but your brother is helping, Dr. Stone.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Gabriel looked from her to Rafe and back again.

  “I think the detective is saying she wouldn’t waste my time or yours.”

  Gabe gave her a worried frown. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “The senator I had a disagreement with last Saturday is somehow involved, is that not so?”

  “Very perceptive.” Mackenzie smiled. She had to give him credit. He was a keen intellectual.

  “The question is, what does a well-to-do, leading conservative legislator like Robertson have to do with a homicide on Chicago’s Southside?”

  Mackenzie’s gaze locked with Rafe’s. He knew the answer. She could see it in his eyes. When he remained silent, refusing to implicate himself further, she said, “He’s the victim.”

  Beautiful, he thought. Like a lioness stalking a vulnerable target, her eyes sparked with a passion for the hunt. And Rafe didn’t doubt for a minute she hunted him. He nearly smiled at the idea of turning the tables on the detective, of becoming the hunter instead of the prey.

  “The victim?” Gabriel’s agitated voice interrupted Rafe’s musings. “I didn’t see anything in the paper about his death.”

  “Keep reading. I’m sure it’ll make the front page soon. I notified the family late yesterday.” Although she spoke to his brother, Rafe noted she kept her eyes fixed on him.

  Focus too much on your quarry, darling, and you’ll miss the wolf pack hunting you.

  “Mr. Stone, could you tell me your whereabouts between ten thirty Saturday night and seven Sunday morning?”