by LeAnn Mason
“We are heaviest from about eleven to about twelve thirty most days.”
I looked around the diner, remembering it filled to capacity with hungry town-members, and cringed. I couldn’t handle it. That was just the type of mental situation I would try my hardest to avoid. My perusal showed more activity around the front of the diner, people starting to congregate on the sidewalk, talking amongst themselves and thinking of coming inside again. Well, that was my assumption. They were too far away for me to actually glean the particulars mentally.
I caught a glimpse of copper hair amidst the gathered heads, the sunlight glinting off the vibrant strands like Jasper’s hide in the pasture. I smiled, a secret knowing. I had found Holden. He would know the likeness in color and that I would make the comparison to Jasper, my favorite horse at the barn. That man, I just can’t stay mad.
“Cara, you doing alright, love?” came a gruff male voice from the kitchen area. Footsteps followed, getting louder as they came closer. An older, balding man with a bit of a paunch came ambling up from the hallway we’d just been discussing. He stopped once we all came into view. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, sir,” Devlin walked over to the man all authoritative-like. “We’re with the Enforcers, investigating the death of the Primal male in the alley behind this business.”
The man, a cook it appeared, looked at Devlin from toes to overly styled blond hair and shrank. All the bluster he carried when coming to Cara’s rescue was released in one heavy exhale, his lips puckering and eyes downcast. “We can talk in the back.” He looked around Dev and spoke to Cara. “Think you’re up for customers, Care?”
Her answering grateful smile and open thoughts let me know that Cara trusted this man. He’d always been kind to her, kept an eye out for her, and was forgiving of her demeanor. She thought him a good man and didn’t mind the nickname.
“Sure, Walt.” Cara excused herself to flip the sign in the front picture window to open. That was the cue for the mass on the walk outside to start piling into the diner. Was this place that good, or were these people just more gossip mongers looking for dirty details on the death of one of our own? People’s morbid curiosity still had me shaking my head. I just didn’t get it.
My mentor made sure to ask his girl if she would be all right to man the crowd, and she eased his worry with a comment about backup arriving any minute. Funny how a word could be used in such a variety of situations. Backup. You could always use some.
For Cara, she needed another server like I needed my Primal team members to watch my six, also known as watching my back – another nifty term I'd picked up in my training. Many things were transferable between military types and enforcement. Who knew?
I shot a quick glance at my red-headed Holden, receiving a wink and a semi-dirty thought, which had me running into the corner of a standalone table opposite him as I passed his spot in the corner closest to the hall. He chuckled as I attempted to recover gracefully, pulling the table back to its former position. The loud scraping sound drew attention and added even more red fire to my face. I aborted my attempts at straightening in order to follow Walt and Dev into a small, plain, and cluttered room which looked to double as a supply closet.
Walt entered before waving Devlin and me into metal chairs opposite a foldaway table that looked to be acting as the desk in this situation. We obliged him, Dev taking the further chair, leaving me with the other, nearer one.
I silently reminded myself of a similar situation I had been in, sitting in my then employer’s office where I’d nearly toppled myself to the floor by trying to play it cool for Commander James. The day I’d been pulled into the enforcer realm. The day that changed everything.
With the reminder of my blunder fresh in my mind, I took my seat and waited patiently for Walt to decide he was ready to speak. I was all about hearing what he had to say… I just wasn't putting stock in what he said verbally. I'd see what his head told me.
After another few moments of perfunctory straightening, Walt finally ceased and gave us his attention. Clearing his throat, he asked, “So, who was the guy?”
“The guy? Oh, you mean the man who was found dead behind your establishment? That's ‘the guy,’ right? Well, if he hadn't been such a douche when he was living, I might give you a harder time about it but…” I shrugged.
I couldn't dredge up the emotion to feel sorry for the guy right now. He was a creep who had been trying to assault an already broken woman in an alley behind the diner where she worked. Not cool. I still would have liked to see him rot in Enhanced prison though. Death was too easy as well as too harsh an end for my liking.
Dev chided me mentally before sitting forward and resting his arms atop the makeshift desk, closing the gap between him and Walt.
“Trey Sullivan, ring any bells?” he asked and then studied our interviewee for reaction. I knew Dev was going on instinct and training, but he had me now. I was like the ultimate trump card. Pull me out, and watch everyone squirm with anxiety. It was kinda fun.
Walt shook his head. “Sullivan sounds familiar, but I didn't know him.” Truth.
Devlin and I had figured out a system for our interviews over the last two months – if I brought the backs of my fingers to rub under my jaw, the answer was a lie. No discussed cue for the truth. We didn't need it. If I didn't say he was lying, then it was the truth by default. So I did nothing, and Dev continued his questions.
“Who found the body?”
“Jesse, nice kid. Works with me keeping up with the place, a kind of utility position,” Walt answered smoothly.
“But you called emergency services?” Dev continued.
“Yeah, the poor kid was hollering at me from the back doorway. He wouldn't come in… like he felt he needed to keep an eye on the guy.” Walt snorted sadly. “Like the guy was going to move or something.”
“Where is Jesse now?” Dev went on.
“Sent him home. Kid was traumatized.” I caught a glimpse of the boy in Walt's mind. Definitely young, sixteen-ish, a little awkward like his body was in the midst of a transformation and he hadn't gotten the hang of all the parts just yet. Innocent and hopeful was how I would describe him by this mental image, but who knew how skewed this picture was. It very often happened that how we saw someone in our mind was not the most accurate depiction of them in reality. It could make things a little confusing at times.
“We need a full name and contact information for Jesse.” Dev sat back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him. “Do you remember seeing Mr. Sullivan at all today? Cara said she had a bit of a problem with him in the dining area.”
Walt's eyebrows scrunched, his hands falling heavily to the table's surface as disbelief radiated from his entire being. “Wha—? No. I didn't know. I was working the kitchen during the rush. I had no clue what was going on in the dining room. Geez.”
Disbelief morphed into anxiety in the moment it took the older man to realize that Cara had motive. His head swiveled back and forth between Devlin and me, like a Lazy Susan being flung about by a child, as he tried to come up with his defense of his downtrodden employee.
I was not sure why the guy had taken such a liking to Cara, but he was quick to defend her. He'd come out to check when Devlin and I had been interviewing her, and now, he wanted to give us all the reasons Cara couldn't have killed anyone, let alone some giant Primal male in his prime.
“Walt. I'm sorry, Mister…?” I only then realized that I hadn't asked or known his last name. Oops. Another fail on the part of Enforcer Dae. I cut my eyes to Dev who just shook his head in exasperation before spoon feeding me the information.
Greer. Walter Greer, owner of Margo’s Diner. You need to remember what you need in the field.
I pursed my lips until I could speak without fear that I would say something to my trainer that shouldn't be said while on an interview. It was hard. Really hard.
“Mr. Greer.” I cut my eyes to Devlin at his escaped snort of humor. His mind was nowhere ne
ar that restrained. He was so not the consummate professional I'd come to know on our interviews. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Mr. Greer, why is it you’re so sure that Cara didn't do this?”
That question got both males’ attention, if for different reasons. Mr. Greer was confounded as to how I would have come up with the fact that he'd been ready to defend Cara. Dev? Well, Dev was still marooned on Lover Island and basking in the glow of willful ignorance. Normally he would have come to the same conclusion.
CHAPTER 22
CARA WAS OUR ONLY logical suspect at the moment, considering the information we had gathered so far. She had motive and opportunity for both deaths. Not sure about means just yet, and the fact that her head was conveniently blank, or inconveniently blank to be honest, was messing with me. If I couldn't confirm her as the killer, or even clear her name, what good was I?
Walt's raspy timbre brought me back to our conversation. “You met Cara. She can't even look a man in the eye. Hell, she can't even look at women most of the time. That girl has been through something horrible and tragic, and it broke her.” This saddened him. He thought of Cara almost like a daughter, especially since he and his wife were unable to have children.
Ugh. Another instance of telepathic TMI. I wasn't meant to be privy to those thoughts, but I was, and I now knew that Walt Greer was a soft hearted man who never had the chance to raise his own child and took to caring for the wounded young woman whom he employed. Sweet, but unhelpful.
“Was anyone else working the front with Cara?” Dev asked.
“Steph was the other server on today's lunch shift.”
“Where is Steph now?”
“She's a smoker. Probably out taking one of her many unsanctioned breaks.” Walt dug his hand across his mostly bald head before bringing it back to rest on the table. That employee he wasn't as keen about.
“Can you give me some more information on Steph? Like full name? Address? The same information as we need for Jesse. Where she takes her smoke breaks?” Dev was ready to find this new girl and shed some doubt on Cara as a possible suspect.
Didn't he know that denial would only get him so far?
After Walt wrote out all of Stephanie's pertinent information, we scooted out of our chairs and stood. Devlin held out his hand to shake with the now sweaty Walt, and I followed suit which seemed to shock him. Whatever. He could think what he wanted; everyone already did. I was past the point of trying to please everyone, of trying to fit in.
I was born to stand out, and I was finally embracing that fact. I wouldn't hide in the shadows any longer. I would be the sun that chased the inky tendrils away. Maybe that started with shaking a man’s hand firmly.
We left the office and hooked a right, heading toward the rear exit and the alley we'd inspected not long before. Because, of course, that's where Stephanie took her smoke breaks. Maybe she should be a suspect.
Devlin, being the gentleman that he was, led the way. We pushed through the doorway and out into the muggy afternoon heat that pushed through in the wake of the rain, making me wish for the cooler spring weather.
Sure enough, just to the left of the doorway, a young woman stood propped against the brick facade, one leg bent with the foot resting flat against the wall. One arm was across her name embroidered chest and tucked under the opposite armpit. The other was bent to deliver the toxic chemicals in her cigarette delivery device. The look on her face was pure boredom. She hadn't acknowledged our appearance though her mind took notice – briefly. This one worked hard to appear uninterested, but she noticed a lot.
“Stephanie York?” Devlin rumbled as he set up in front of the poster child for rebellious teens. Her dark rimmed eyes slowly slid to meet him, immediately sizing him up. She liked what she saw. All the tats, the height, the muscles. He lost her at the suave hair. Too prissy. I agree, girlie. I hid my smirk with a roll of my lips, pressing inward to contain the curve.
“Who’s asking?”
“Devlin Harlow, Enhanced Enforcement.” He let a hand hover near his waist in case she did the whole “show me your badge” thing they always did on TV.
The wayward teen’s spongy mind latched onto that information, but nothing changed outwardly as she made a point to flick her cigarette ash to the ground. She was very good at maintaining her facade. “What can I do for you… detective is it?” Stephanie asked drolly. She had sarcasm in spades. If I weren't in the position of being authoritative and professional, I might applaud her, but as it stood? It annoyed me. One more layer I needed to get past to find answers, to deliver justice.
The next fifteen minutes were like pulling teeth. Stephanie made me feel like the pliers used in bad mob movies. I was the proverbial squeeze, the tool used to extract information. I may not have been domineering, but I was definitely effective.
Dev sighed heavily and raked his hand through his too-long tresses as we headed back into the diner after learning that Stephanie wouldn't be much help. She remembered the guy heckling Cara, and that his friends weren't much better, but nothing more. Theirs hadn't been her table or her problem, so she’d not given them much headspace.
As we neared the open dining area, I saw Holden still in his spot by the hall, his back in the corner where no one could sneak up on him and he could see the whole room. A very tactical position. His outward appearance said he was keeping to himself as he tucked into what looked like a cheeseburger he'd ordered, but his ears were open to everything around him. He tuned his senses to the room, taking in all he could of what the people here were saying. This was what Holden was used for and was good at as an enforcer.
I made it a point to ignore him as I passed, but the mental cat call he gave had me tripping into Devlin's back.
Dev paused his approach to where Cara waited behind the counter for her impending orders just long enough to glare at me from over his massive shoulder. Honestly, I was surprised that he could turn his head that far. His muscles seemed too big, too… tight to allow that much movement to the rear.
I gave him a sheepish look and hooked a thumb over my shoulder toward where I knew Holden was situated. Following my hitchhiking thumb, Devlin rolled his eyes and huffed at me like an exasperated older brother before turning forward and continuing on his way to his lady love.
Clearing my throat and surreptitiously looking around to see who had noticed my gaff, I followed in his oversized steps. Arriving at the counter a moment after Devlin, I soon realized his intentions were far more social than professional and decided to mosey out to the car. To take a moment to plug back in to my music, get lost in whatever feeling I wanted to.
Leaning against the door panel of the dark SUV Devlin seemed to favor from his pick of squad vehicles, I popped in an earbud before scrolling through my playlists and picking a song. I wanted something fun but powerful. I clicked my choice and listened to the man remind me to unburden myself, to seek God when I needed direction. To testify.
Completely lost to the music, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder, breaking me from my reverie. I opened my eyes to the most gorgeous smiling blues I'd ever see. Holden.
“Holy poo,” I complained. “You scared the crap out of me!” My hand grasped my chest where it tried it's hardest to keep my heart from escaping. Not cool.
My heart was just returning to its pre-heightened state, my temperature dropping from where it leapt, when Holden and his smiling eyes landed next to me against the SUV.
“You learn anything?”
I learned many things.
I rolled my eyes and playfully knocked him with my shoulder, “Did you learn anything useful?”
What's your definition of useful?
I couldn't help the small smirk that emerged at his playful response. I loved this man.
Wait. Love? Hold up. Not going there.
I shook the thought from my head and continued leaning against the door, silently scanning our surroundings, looking for anyone or anything that stood out as not ko
sher. Funny how this job could make you second guess everything you saw or that people said and did. When lives depended on your responses, you didn't take anything at face value. You couldn't. That's how people got hurt.
I rolled my hand in a “please continue” gesture at Holden, encouragement for him to go on.
Not much. Most people only saw the aftermath.
“Most?”
There was a woman who knew the victim. Saw him getting handsy with Cara.
“You know about Cara?”
Holden turned his body to face me, arms crossed over his chest and face as serious as I'd ever seen, as he said, I know everything.
I didn't know how to respond, and my face showed it with brows furrowed, nose scrunched and mouth downturned. I know because Holden pictured it in his mind… right before he burst out into a fit of silent laughter. People on the street who saw us might just think he was choking. The infuriating Primal was doubled over, a hand holding his stomach and leaning on the vehicle to stay upright in his mirth.
The ass. He was laughing at me!
I'm sorry. I just can't believe I made it through that with a straight face, and then your reaction just pushed me over!
Before I thought better of it, I jabbed my man in the stomach with my closed fist. He needed to come down from the high, and I was happy to oblige.
“So, what do you know about Cara?”
You're getting sidetracked.
“Am I?” I shot back. “I consider her a suspect, so knowing about her is pertinent.”
True. Holden conceded staunchly. I know that she doesn't look anyone in the eye. She’s quiet, meek, almost timid. She does her work quickly, quietly and efficiently. She gets good tips because people consider her beautiful, not because of her disposition. Smugness returned to his features as he said, She's Dev's main squeeze, wagging his eyebrows as he finished, playfulness still riding his features.