I blinked, feeling as if I’d been in some sort of bizarre thrall. “Um, yeah. I want to let her know—”
“And see her reaction,” Knight finished with a nod. He lit a cigarette and took a long draw on it. “I wouldn’t mind tagging along again, especially if you don’t want to bother the agents.”
The shimmer of relief at his suggestion surprised me. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “That would be cool.” I lifted my phone again, then thumbed in a text message.
Adam Taylor’s computer was wiped. Am out on another murder scene—Roger Peeler. Det. Knight is w/ me and we’re going to talk to Lida. Will touch base w/ you after.
I hit the send and looked up to see Knight’s eyes on me. I expected him to give me another amused or sardonic smile, laughing at me for ducking out of having to talk to Ryan, but he merely looked completely understanding. Was he telepathic? Or merely incredibly perceptive or understanding?
“I’m not telepathic,” he said, then grinned when I raised an eyebrow at him. “I promise, I’m not, but I could tell you were wondering that.”
“So what are you?” I challenged. Enough of being kept in the dark.
He shrugged. “I can sense things. It’s hard to explain.”
“Clairvoyant?”
He shook his head, then shrugged again. “I dunno. I get vibes from people sometimes. Can sense if something’s eating at them or if they’re grieving or missing something.” He looked away again, and I wasn’t sure if he was looking at the distant figure of Jill. “Sometimes I can tell what caused it.”
“Sounds awful,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
He turned back to me. “Yeah.” He dropped the half-burned cigarette on the ground and twisted it out with his foot. “Shall we go talk to this singer of ours?”
Chapter 24
A complete stranger answered the door at the Moran house—a young woman about Lida’s age who clearly shared similar tastes in clothing and style with the singer. She was short and petite with pale blond hair pulled up into a high ponytail, heavy makeup, and numerous piercings in both ears. Worry filled her eyes as she took in our badges and official bearing. “Y’all are here to talk to Lida?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “And you are ... ?”
“I’m Nikki. I’m a friend of Lida’s.” She stepped back and opened the door to allow us in. “She was super freaked out last night after she heard about Adam,” the girl continued as we entered, closing the door behind us. “She called me up and asked if I could come stay the night with her since her uncle’s out of town.” Nikki shuddered. “I mean ... she was in the building when her manager died and she never realized it.”
“It was a tragedy,” I said. “Is Lida here?”
The blond ponytail bobbed as she nodded. “She’s upstairs. She’s been crying most of the night. Kept saying that if she’d gone to check on him, maybe she could have helped.” Nikki’s lower lip quivered.
“You were here with her all night?” I asked.
“Yeah. I tried to keep her distracted ... ordered pizza, watched pay-per-view, that sort of thing.” She bit her lip. “You really gotta talk to her now? She’s a bit of a mess.”
“I’m sorry,” I said gently, “but it’s very important.”
The worry in Nikki’s eyes deepened as she searched our faces. “It’s more bad news, isn’t it? Should I ... Can I stick around if it is? I don’t think she should be by herself.”
“It might be a good idea for you to stick around,” I told her.
Her face fell. “God. The poor thing.”
“It’s only the two of you here?” Knight asked. “Where’s her brother?”
“Trey came by and picked him up last night,” Nikki said. “Michael doesn’t know about Adam yet. He’s gonna totally lose it when he does find out, but Lida didn’t need to be dealing with that last night. Luckily Trey’s really good with Michael.” She let out a sad sigh. “I’ll go get Lida.”
She turned and climbed the stairs. A couple of minutes later Lida descended the stairs, with Nikki hovering anxiously behind her. I could believe that she’d been crying. Her face was puffy and blotchy, and her eyes were red and swollen as she turned them to me.
“Hi,” she said, voice thin and wan. “I’m a mess. Sorry. I think I’ve been crying ever since the other two cops left last night.”
That would have been Ryan and Crawford “It’s understandable,” I said. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
She seemed to shrink in on herself, but obediently sank to sit on the couch. “You have more bad news, don’t you,” she stated, voice flat.
I hated giving death notifications. Hated them with every fiber of my being. But I knew that drawing it out or couching it in comfortable euphemisms only made it worse. “Roger Peeler is dead,” I told her. “He was murdered sometime this morning.”
She closed her eyes and clenched her hands together tightly. “Oh my god,” she whispered. Nikki gave a soft cry of alarm and wrapped arms around her.
“Murdered?” Lida asked without opening her eyes. “You’re sure?” Her voice cracked.
“Evidence at the scene points to that, yes,” I stated. “We also believe Adam Taylor was murdered as well.”
Her eyes snapped open at that and she gave me a look of pure shock. “But ... but why? Why would anyone want to kill them?” Then she paled. “Oh, shit. Someone’s going after the band. I could be next.”
“That’s a strong possibility,” I admitted. “We have reason to believe that the same, um, person who attacked you at the concert is also responsible for these murders.”
Luckily she didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. “I ... I need to call my uncle. I need security, bodyguards, right?” She gave me a bewildered look.
“We can’t provide you with full-time protection here, though we could possibly arrange for you to stay in protective custody for a short while.” I hoped I wasn’t talking out of my ass, and that the FBI had some sort of safe house arrangement that might be available. I knew that little old Beaulac PD didn’t have anything like that, nor did we have the budget to pay officers to protect her around the clock.
To my relief she shook her head. “No, Uncle Ben has a security company that he’s used before. ATK Security. They do a bunch of high-profile stuff, rock stars and corporate execs.” She gave a shaky smile. “I didn’t think I’d need anything like that for a long time, if ever.”
“I’ve heard of them,” I told her. “They have a good reputation.” They were also shockingly expensive, but I wasn’t the one footing the bill. “Where’s your uncle?”
“In New York, meeting with bank big shots about the buyout. He’s helping with the whole transition.” She pushed a hand through the mess of her hair. “I haven’t told him about Adam yet. He’d want to fly right back, and I know these meetings are really important for his position on the board. But I guess I gotta now.”
“I think he’d want to know,” I said with what I hoped was quiet reassurance. I glanced to Nikki. “You’ll stay with her?”
She hadn’t budged from her arms-around-Lida position. “Damn straight,” she said with a firm nod.
“All right.” I stood. “Lida, get that security as soon as possible. For now, lock the doors, keep a cell phone on you at all times, and call at the absolute first suspicion that something might be wrong. I’ll get a road officer to stay in the area until your security people can get here.”
Lida managed to give me a brave smile. “Thanks. I appreciate everything you’re doing.”
I nodded. “Be careful,” I said. Maybe with enough warnings and precautions I wouldn’t be back here to investigate another murder.
I turned and left without another word, haunted by the mental image of the singer lying twisted at the bottom of those stairs.
I walked down the driveway feeling wrung out and exhausted.
“Can you tell when people are lying?” I asked Knight as I reached my car.
He paused with his hand on t
he door of his vehicle and shook his head. “Not really. Sometimes I can get a feel for what questions to ask, that’s all.”
Well, that explained why he’d asked about Michael.
“I do think that Lida was genuinely shocked,” he continued, then he frowned. “But ...”
“But?” I prompted after a few seconds of silence.
He shook his head. “Dunno. She’s real worried about something or someone besides herself.”
“Probably her brother,” I offered.
He paused, still frowning. “Nah ... it was there when she was talking ’bout her uncle.” He shrugged. “I dunno,” he repeated. “It’s more of a feeling than something specific. Sorry.”
“It’s cool,” I assured him. “Thanks for coming with me today.”
The smile he gave me was warm and genuine. “It was my pleasure.” He paused and looked away over the lake. The sun shimmered across the water and I could hear the faraway buzz of a motorboat. “Sometimes it’s tough to tell who the bad guys are,” he said, voice oddly rich. “Evil is often a matter of perception.”
Gooseflesh crawled over my skin as I watched him. I’d used those exact words before to describe the demonkind. He continued to gaze out over the water, but his eyes were completely unfocused. “Even the most powerful get screwed,” he continued. “The world was at stake, and he had to make a terrible choice.” Knight was only a few feet away from me but there was something about his voice that made me feel that I’d be able to hear him speaking to me even if I was on the other side of the lake.
“Sometimes the punishment fits the crime far too well,” he said, then closed his eyes. An instant later he staggered, eyes flying open as he put a hand out to steady himself against his car.
His gaze snapped up to me, horror and shame warring in his features. “Kara ... I ...” He swallowed harshly. “I’m sorry if I said anything to—”
“What punishment?” I asked, blood pounding in my ears. “What did you mean? What was the crime?”
Agony rippled across his face. “I don’t know. Kara, I don’t even know what I said, I swear. I’m sorry. Please, believe me.”
I wanted to grab him and shake the answers out of him. He had to have been talking about Ryan. What the fuck had all that meant? His words were seared into my mind. Even the most powerful get screwed. Ryan?
But Knight looked like he was a hairbreadth away from a complete freak-out. It was such a divergence from his usual calm that it pulled me out of my own shock. “It’s all right,” I made myself say. “It didn’t really mean anything. It’s all right.”
Doubt shadowed his eyes, but the horror faded from his expression. He gave an uncertain nod. “I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a long time.”
“You okay now?”
He took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m cool.” He opened his car door and I could see him pulling his mask on, the lazy smile slipping into place, though not fitting quite as perfectly as before. “Y’all be sure to keep me posted on the case, all right?”
I gave him the relaxed smile he needed to see. “You got it. Be careful driving back to New Orleans.”
He winked, then climbed into his car and drove off.
I waited a few seconds, then followed suit, his strange pronouncements still echoing in my head.
What the hell had all of that meant?
Chapter 25
Rain began to fall as I drove back to the other side of the lake, but to my relief this was a normal southern rainstorm—not an unnerving thunderstorm like the other day.
The traffic was down to one lane on part of the highway due to construction, and my phone rang as I waited in a long line of cars for my turn to proceed. Ryan, I noted absently without looking at the phone. I sighed. I can’t avoid talking to him any longer and have any shred of maturity left.
“Hey, Ryan,” I answered. “Sorry I haven’t called you yet. I’ve been kinda slammed.”
There was a heartbeat of silence. “It’s cool,” he said with an odd hitch in his voice. “So the drummer’s death was a murder as well?”
“I’m positive. I don’t know when Dr. Lanza will do the autopsy to officially rule it as a homicide, but that resonance was there.”
I heard him make a frustrated noise. “Okay, so everything’s more complicated. We need to all get together and see if we can come up with anything brilliant. Have you had lunch yet?”
Yeah, a nice public place would be best. “Nope. How about East Shore Diner?”
“Works for me. Meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
* * *
East Shore Diner was a favored meal destination for law enforcement for three reasons: it was open twenty-four hours, it offered highly edible food at prices cops could afford, and it had two parking lots—one on the side where the majority of the customers parked, and a second one in the rear of the diner that couldn’t be seen from the highway. It was the parking lot in the rear that was the most appealing feature, especially for cops working the night shift. Its location offered patrol officers the chance to eat at an unhurried pace and relax a bit—radio traffic permitting—without fear that some irate citizen would call the dispatcher and complain that a police car had been parked at the restaurant for at least half an hour, and why were tax dollars being wasted in such a fashion?
The diner itself was nothing special to look at. It had originally been a bait shop, and the exterior décor had been updated not one bit since its transformation to a diner, except for the addition of a deliciously garish neon sign that proclaimed EATS! complete with the flashing arrow that pointed to the building.
Ryan was already there in the side parking lot when I pulled up, a scowl on his face and his phone to his ear. “I’m trying to get Zack to answer his fucking phone,” he explained after I got out of my car.
A sliver of worry intruded. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday evening. Have you?”
Ryan gave a snort of laughter. “Yeah, he’s fine. I know that much.” He lowered the phone and pressed the end call button. “But apparently he’s started seeing someone, and he’s being really fucking tight-lipped about it. I sent him a text, and he acknowledged it, but he won’t pick up the phone. Probably afraid I’ll hear him doing things that involve wet slapping sounds.”
I didn’t hear what he said next as I closed my eyes, beginning to laugh. I am the biggest fucking moron who has ever walked the earth. Yes, Kara, lots of cops drive dark-colored Crown Vics ...
“Kara? What’s so funny?”
You mean besides the fact that I’m an insecure idiot who needs to have a little more faith in her friends? “I think I know who he’s seeing.”
He raised an eyebrow at me in question.
“I, uh, was kinda bummed out last night and I was going to see if Jill was still awake and wanted ice cream. And, well, there was a Crown Vic in her driveway with government plates.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Ho-ly shit. Zack and ...” He began to laugh.
“Oh, god, Zack and Jill.” I joined his laughter. But, does Jill know that Zack is ... isn’t human?
After a moment he managed to control himself. “That’s seriously funny.” Then he gave me a more concerned look. “If you were having a tough time, why didn’t you give me a call?”
“Well, um, for a second I actually thought that it was you at Jill’s house.” I tried to shrug and laugh it off. “I mean, it was only for a second, but y’know ... And, besides, I kinda needed some girl talk.” Wow, that sounded lame.
The look of shock on his face surprised me. “You thought that I would ... with Jill?” Pain and disappointment flashed across his features, then he looked away and gave a laugh that sounded oddly forced. “Jill’s not my type.”
“What is your type, Ryan?” I said it before I could stop myself.
His gaze snapped back to me, spearing me. I wanted to take back the question, but I couldn’t think of any way to do so that wouldn’t have me sounding like a complete moron. Did I want to
know the answer? Only if it describes me, I thought in stupid adolescent hope.
We were saved by the sound of tires screeching on asphalt. We both spun to see a Crown Vic—a black one—bounce over the curb and screech to a stop. Zack practically leaped out of the car and approached us with a wide smile. I noted with amusement that he had stubble on his chin.
“Dude,” I said, shaking my head. “I know Jill’s house is small, but I’m sure she could spare some space in her bathroom for you to leave a razor.”
He stared at me in openmouthed shock for a heartbeat. “Are you a—” He stopped and then shifted his expression to a rueful grin. “Busted. Yeah, we’ve been seeing each other.”
“Did you go up a hill?” I asked innocently.
He looked at me with a blank expression.
“To fetch a pail of water?” Ryan finished, grinning.
Zack groaned. “You two are a couple of assholes.”
“It’s why you love us,” Ryan said, voice dry. “C’mon, let’s get food. Kara has a bunch of shit to fill us in on.”
We found a booth that was well away from any other customers. As soon as the waitress had taken our orders I filled them both in on the findings from the computer examinations, what I’d gleaned from Roger’s murder scene, and the interview with Lida.
Zack frowned and pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. “So, with Roger’s murder, we still have the possibility that Vic really was killed by mistake.”
I grimaced. “No, I’m having a hard time buying that. Vic Kerry is still linked to both Adam and Roger financially. I just have to pin down how. Besides, if the thing was going after Roger, why go to the City Towers where there was no guarantee that Roger would even be there?” I shrugged. “And for that matter, why go to City Towers if it was after Vic? Seems that there’d be more risk of it being seen.”
Ryan tapped the table absently. “Where did Vic live?”
“Emerald Heights condominiums.” I paused. “Which is gated and has security. Gold star to Ryan!”
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