Furred Lines

by Renee George

  “If Ms. Evans is any indication of the caliber of TSS members,” said Dom. “I’m not real hopeful the other two will be our killer, either. ”

  I finished off the can and belched. Oh, God. I died a little inside. “My bad.” I waved at the air in front of my mouth. I felt my face warm. Ugh.

  Dominic laughed. “That’s disgusting.”

  “As Mom would say, so not attractive.”

  “Your mom says that?”

  I shrugged. “I’m paraphrasing.”

  “For the record, you could fart and still be attractive.”

  “That’s disgusting,” I said.

  He laughed again, and the sound sent shivers up and down my spine. God, he had was too freaking handsome and funny and charming for my own good. My body language must have reflected my romantic thoughts because Dominic took a step toward me. He reached up and stroked a stray lock of hair back behind my ear. My traitorous vagina clenched.

  I sidestepped and turned my back to him afraid my lusty thoughts would be written all over my face. “I think we should stake out the compound.”

  “You’re still bothered by how easily the TSS handed over our suspects.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “They might thumb their noses at the FBI,” he said, “but they’re not stupid enough to defy the Tri-Council.”

  “Maybe. I think they’re hiding something. But it might not have anything to do with our case.” I pivoted back toward Dominic. He was leaning back on the interview desk, his long legs stretched, and his arms crossed over his chest. My throat went dry. Damn, I needed another Coke. “Maybe I should go alone.” I shook my head. “I mean, I can take Eldin. He can help me identify the people going in and out of the compound. It’s practical.”

  Dominic’s expression darkened. “Practical. Right.”

  “It’s just an idea.”

  Connelly knocked on the open door. He guided Gary Davis, a short, stocky man with chestnut brown hair into the room. After he got him seated on the suspect side of the interview table, he nodded to Dom and me. “Holler when you’re finished.”

  I nodded back. “Thanks, Michael.”

  Dominic closed the door after Connelly left the room, and we both took our places on the other side.

  Unlike Mallory, Gary was unruffled. Stoic, even. “I haven’t been to Springfield in two years,” he said before we could ask our first question. “On the night in question, I was at home watching a Mission Impossible marathon on US TV with my wife.”

  “Really? Which movie were you watching when the storm knocked out the power?”

  He frowned. “What the hell are you talking about it? The power never went out.”

  Hmm. I leaned forward. “Well, your alibi is easy enough to check out. We’ll talk to your wife. Verify US TV ran a movie marathon of Mission Impossible movies.”

  Davis started tapping his thumb against the table. “I didn’t do anything.” He sounded uncertain, nervous.

  “We never said you did,” said Dom coolly.

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Because we have evidence you dropped the TSS loyalty card at a crime scene.”

  “I told you. I wasn’t in Springfield.”

  “What makes you think the crime happened in Springfield?” asked Dom.

  Gary leaned back and crossed his arms. “It’s a small town—news travel fast, especially when human law enforcement starts sniffing around. Those shifter murders aren’t exactly top secret. Even the humans know about the Little Piggy serial killer. And we know that some guy was abducted in Springfield.”

  “Not just a guy. An integrator.”

  I watched Gary’s expression turned to disgust. He curled his lip. “Shifters are the superior species. It’s downright shameful to watch our own kind mix with humans. Integrators will be the downfall of the therians—just you wait.” Gary gave us both the evil eye. “I don’t know anything. And I didn’t do anything.”

  “I think we’re done here,” Dominic said. “If we have any more questions for you, Mr. Davis, we have your number.”

  Gary relaxed, but his gaze was still distrustful. “Can I go home?”

  Dom looked at me. I nodded. He got up and opened the door. “Deputy, can you go ahead and get the release paperwork ready for Mr. Davis?”

  After the Davis was taken from the room, Dom said, “You tried to trip him up with that power outage question. I’m impressed.”

  “Be impressed with my mother. It’s her technique. If I said I was at my friend Cynthia Stinger’s house, but Mom thought I was trying to sneak off with a boy, she’d say something like, ‘I ran into Cynthia’s parents at the market, and they said they went they had a power outage at their house. That must have been awful.’ And if I said, the power never went out, then she would say, oh, maybe it happened on a different day.”

  Dom raised his brow at me. “Your mom invented her own lie detector test.”

  “Yeah. If I hadn’t been at my friend’s, I would have said something like, oh yeah, it really sucked, and she would have me cold—and I’d be grounded till kingdom come.”

  “Your mom should have gone into law enforcement.”

  I grinned. “My dad says the same thing.”

  “Davis didn’t bite, though,, so we’re presuming he’s telling the truth.”

  I nodded. “For now.”

  Connelly escorted in Tolliver. The man’s thick blond hair was choppily cut, and he had an unruly beard that reached his chest. He looked angry. I knew immediately he wouldn’t fall for a “Mom special.”

  He was forcibly placed in the chair, and I noticed a red bump rising on Connelly’s forehead. The deputy grumbled. “He surprised me.”

  “Did he hit you?” I gave Tolliver a look that I hoped conveyed just how stupid I thought he was for assaulting a police officer at a police station.

  Connelly grimaced. “He tripped me and hit my head on the cell bars.” The deputy gave the prisoner a quick, light slap against the back of his head. “Behave,” he said as a final warning then took his leave.

  Dom and I sat down across from him. Dom took the lead.

  “Mister Tolliver, can you tell us where you were three nights ago?”

  His response was an abrupt, “No.”

  I hadn’t resistance after the first two interviews. This could be interesting. I nudged Dom and pointed to my folded list of questions.

  He nodded. “Mister Tolliver, do you consider yourself an honest man?”

  Tolliver looked surprised. “Uhm, sure. I guess so.” The first question was just to throw him off balance.

  Dom put his elbows on the table. “Did you play sports in high school?”

  I loved that my partner didn’t even blink as he asked. Tolliver tugged at the bottom of his shirt. His shoulder movement indicated he was wringing his hands. “I...I, no, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

  Defensive. Interesting. This guy was insecure.

  “What did you have for breakfast yesterday?”

  He tucked his chin. “A bowl of cinnamon and raisin oatmeal, a cup of skim milk, and dry wheat toast.” He glared at Dominic. “The doc says my blood pressure is too high.”

  Dominic glanced at me. That was my last question. I wanted to get a baseline for how he responded to a question that required details and description.

  “I like cinnamon raisin oatmeal,” I said.

  “Good for you,” Tolliver responded. “When can I get out of here?”

  “As soon as you answer our first question. Where were you three nights ago?”

  “I’ve been answering.” He threw up his hands. “Fine. Home. I ate dinner and went to bed early.”

  “What did you eat?”

  “Do you have a food fetish or something?”

  “Answer her question.” Dom’s voice was the scary kind of quiet, and Tolliver noticed.

  “I ate pork chops.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you, Mister Tolliver.” I loo
ked at Dominic. “I think he needs more time to think about his alibi.”

  Sweat darkened Tolliver’s T-shirt. “I don’t need a freakin’ alibi.”

  “Your prints were found at the scene of an abduction—three nights ago.”

  “That’s...no. I...who was abducted? Someone in town?” He rubbed his face. “Jesus. I’m all over this town for supplies and such. I don’t kidnap folks.”

  “Then where were you?” I pressed. The fact that he thought the abduction took place in Peculiar told me that he probably wasn’t our culprit.

  “Son of a bitch. If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone.”

  “If it’s not pertinent to the case, there won’t be any need to share the information publicly.”

  Tolliver rubbed his face again then wiped his fingers on his pants. “I was with someone...married.”

  I fought a gasp because at the heart of the matter I was still a small-town girl and this was juicy gossip. I will not tell Mom. I will not tell Mom, I repeated to myself. “Will this person vouch for you?”

  He shrugged. “I think so. But don’t approach her with people around, please.”

  “I promise.” I crossed my heart.

  Tolliver nodded. “It’s Audrey Halliver.”

  I fought off another gasp. Audrey and her husband Halliver owned Halliver’s Hilltop Motel. Did he and Audrey do it in one of the rooms? I will not tell Mom. I will not tell Mom.

  “You’ll stay in custody until we verify what you’ve told us.”

  Tolliver nodded.

  “Okay, then.” Dom pushed back from the table and stood up. “Be nice to Deputy Connelly, or you might end up staying another night on principle.”

  When the room was cleared, I sagged against the wall. “That was a colossal waste of time.”

  “Lunch?” Dom asked as he packed away the case files.

  “Sure.”

  Connelly knocked outside the open door and poked his head in the room. “Something’s happened.”

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Brandon Messer just showed up with his dad.” Connelly shook his head. “Brandon found a dead body near his trailer.”

  “Did he know who it was?”

  Connelly took a deep breath and blew it out noisily. “He’s real shook-up. I don’t think he got more than a peek.”

  “If it’s Lieberman, it’ll support our theory that the killer lives in Peculiar.”

  I didn’t want to believe anyone I knew was capable of being the Little Piggy murderer. “The unsub dumps the bodies at their homes. Dumping a body here would be completely off script.” I looked at Connelly. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Sheriff Taylor is already on his way.”

  Dominic strolled toward the door, his body charged with raw energy. “We’re going too.”

  Connelly stepped out in front of him. “Sheriff Taylor says that until they know who the victim is, this is town business, not FBI business.”

  “Then file it under Tri-Council business. Every therian death falls under my jurisdiction.”

  I looked at the squirrel shifter who was standing between a rock and a hard man. “Look, Michael. I know this involves your in-laws. You should go be with Roger and Brandon until we get back. Roger’s probably a wreck.”

  Connelly’s eyes reddened. “Selena keeps calling and texting me. I’m worried this stress is going to affect her pregnancy.”

  “Then you need to do what you can to protect her brother.” I put my hand on his forearm. “You may not trust my partner but trust me.”

  He stepped back from the door. I looked past him to Dominic, who had waited for me with his back turned. He’d heard what I’d said to the scared deputy. “Thanks. It’ll be okay.”

  “No, it won’t,” said Connelly, “but thanks for saying it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  We got the address and headed out to the crime scene. Doc Smith was there, along with Mark Smart, the coroner and the owner of the local funeral home. My dad wore a grim expression as he knelt down next to the body. Two pale, naked feet stuck out from under the tarp. Was that how Brandon had found it? I didn’t believe the man had anything to do with this particular death. If he did, he’d be up for the Darwin Award for what not to do when you’re trying to get away with murder.

  Dom simmered with anger on the way over, and he’d barely spoken two words to me. I think my dad trying to keep us from the scene burned his ass a little. I think because I wasn’t mad made him even more irritated. I didn’t agree with him, so I would have to let him calm down on his own. It wasn’t in me to try and placate his mood.

  “Is it Lieberman?” Dom asked first thing.

  Doctor Smith answered. “No. It’s Lloyd Evans.”

  The blood drained from my face, leaving me cold. He’d been a cantankerous ass, but it still punched me in the gut that I knew the person laying at our feet. “We saw him last night. What the hell happened in the last twelve hours?”

  “Good question.” Dad nodded at Doc Smith. “How long would you say he’s been dead?”

  The tall, silver-haired werewolf knelt down. “The cold weather we had last night skews the time, but I’d hazard a guess between eight and twelve hours based on the lack of rigor.”

  “Any idea on the cause of death?”

  “He has abrasions on his arms, legs, and the bottom of his feet. There’s a laceration on his left hand and three on his torso. He has a nasty wound on the back of his head. Right now, it looks like the head wound might’ve been the fatal blow. ”

  “Minimal blood,” said Dom, studying the body. “None on the tarp, either.”

  “Rain might’ve washed it away,” said Dad.

  “Or he’d been dead a few hours before getting dumped here.”

  The doctor shifted the tarp so we could see Lloyd’s upper body. “I think you’re right, Agent Tartan.” He pointed to Lloyd’s left cheek, shoulder, and the side of this arm. “You see how this is all dark here from where the blood has pooled. That’s caused from being on his left side when he died. He was found on his back. I looked, and there aren’t any dark areas there.”

  Dom scanned the ground. “The killer didn’t do that great of a job hiding the corpse.”

  “If Evans wasn’t killed here, then the murderer chose to put his body near Brandon’s trailer,” said Dad. “And used the woodpile tarp to cover it up.”

  “Unless Brandon did it, and he’s trying to make out like he found the body,” pointed out Dom. “Maybe he was the one who put it here.”

  “But why cover the body if the killer wanted it to be discovered?” I agreed with Dom. There wasn’t any evidence that Evans met his demise here. But I had an idea about the tarp. “I think whoever put that tarp on Evans knew him. There’s psychological precedence for this behavior. A killer will cover up a body out of a sense of shame and guilt. They literally can’t look at the face of the person they’ve killed.”

  “Well, he’s still got his pinky toes, so I think this might be a local matter.” Dad stood up.

  “We’re still part of this investigation,” I said to my dad. “Evans may not be the victim we’re looking for, but we spoke to him last night in connection with our case, and today he turns up dead? It’s too big to dismiss as a coincidence.”

  “I’m with Agent Taylor on this.” Dominic used my title, I was certain, to remind my dad that I was a trained law enforcement agent.

  “If we discover that this crime has nothing to do with yours, then I hope you’ll take a step back. There’s no sense in muddying the waters of your investigation with another crime that’s not connected.”

  “Agreed,” I said, trying not to go up on my toes in triumph. I failed. My dad gave me a surly look. He was all too familiar with my victory stance.

  “Well, Nicole,” Dom said. “You wanted to investigate the TSS more. Lloyd Evans has just given you the keys to the kingdom. Poor bastard.”

  “Doc.” I walked over the Doctor Smith. “You said there is a laceration on L
loyd’s left hand and three on his torso.”

  “Yes.” His gray eyes assessed me. “What are you thinking?”

  “If I gave you photos of the wounds on our previous victims, do you think there is any way to tell if these cuts were made by the same weapon?”

  “That’s a tough one. I wouldn’t be able to say with any certainty, but I could give you a best guess.” He chewed his lower lip for a moment. He really was a nice-looking man. I could see why Chavvah was gaga for him, much the way I was gaga for he-who-shall-not-be-named. And with my hands at my sides, I could literally feel Dom’s presence right behind me.

  I looked over my shoulder. “Can we get the autopsy photos for the doc?”

  “Sure,” Dom said. He nodded to Doctor Smith. “I heard you say you wouldn’t be able to tell if it’s the same sharp tool or knife, but do you think you might be able to tell if the wounds were made by the same person?”

  “Not exactly,” Doc said, his deep voice rumbling. “But it might be possible to determine if the same weapon was used—and if it was used with the same amount of force .”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it. This case is coming up cold. We have a missing man that I don’t know if he is dead or alive, and this body is the only thing we’ve come up against that resembles a viable clue.” My frustration level rose. What if the loyalty card had nothing to do with the kidnapping—or with the Little Piggy killer? We could be on a wild goose chase while Lieberman was getting tortured.

  Dominic’s hands went to my shoulders, his fingers gently digging into my knotted muscles. “We’ll get him,” he said reassuringly.

  I closed my eyes for only the briefest moment before I moved away. The last thing I needed was to look like I couldn’t handle myself. “Thanks,” I muttered to Dominic. Maybe he could show me what those magic fingers could do later.

  Deputy Thompson, who had been searching behind the woodpile, waved at my dad. “Sheriff, I found something.”

  “What is it?” Dominic stepped around me toward the deputy. “What did you find?”

  Under the tarp on the backside of the pile, was a wooden crate. “I’m not sure what’s in it, but it’s hidden, and it’s got a padlock on it. Seems pretty suspicious to me.”