by J. A. Saare
"Deadly."
"That's something new." He took a moment and questioned, "How do women know what to say?"
"The bathroom." I yanked my shirt over my head, keeping my ear and mouth as close to the phone as I could. "There's a sign on the back of the door."
"Smart."
Returning to the bed to retrieve and put on my boots, I replied, "Very."
The cell chirped. I looked at the screen and saw the battery only had a one percent charge remaining. "Steven, the phone is going to die."
"You forgot to charge it, didn't you?"
He knew me so well. "Yes, but I have the stand right here. I'll put it on there as soon as we hang up." Dreading the day ahead, I grumbled, "I'll call you as soon as I get back."
"It's fine. The sooner I finish the work here, the sooner I can get there." He must have moved his phone, because I heard something brush against the receiver. "So, before you go," his voice deepened and lowered an octave, "I love you. Tell me you love me."
The phone dinged.
Time's up.
"I love you. I'll call as soon as I can."
"Talk to you soon."
I started to respond when the phone vibrated, shut down, and the screen went black. As I placed the it on the charging deck, Noah returned. Since I didn't want to hear him complain, I avoided conversation. I went to the door, squeezed past him, and hurried downstairs. We had to have a serious discussion about Steven, but I wasn't stupid enough to have it prior to our trip.
A cranky Noah while on the job would be insufferable.
Chapter Eight
The wounds on Floyd Stamp's body didn't provide clarity on when or how he'd been changed. Most of the contusions, cuts, and abrasions could have happened at anytime as Floyd healed at an accelerated speed. What did concern us were the injuries that appeared to be surgical, meaning they'd been done with silver implements. The toxicology confirmed the presence of silver in the system, which didn't make sense. Numerous scars were present on his back, in areas he couldn't reach.
He hadn't inflicted the damage to himself.
Someone, somewhere, had done this to Floyd.
We needed to find out who.
Tom delivered on his promise, providing us with a police file. Sadly, there wasn't much to go on. Floyd spent a majority of his time with his wife and children. However, the police had discovered that the man did, on multiple occasions, visit strip clubs in and around Nashville. Although they'd thoroughly questioned Marcy, gaining a deeper insight into her husband's recreational activities, they hadn't focused on that piece of evidence. They'd noted the information with an obvious lack of interest. Instead they'd focused on the primary location they felt contained the most importance: the bar where his van had been located. People had seen him at the bar the night he went missing. There had been half a dozen positive identifications.
"People place him there," Tom said, motioning to a corkboard connected to various items he'd created in an effort to unravel the mystery. "That does check out. But no one saw him leave. The last person that saw him was the bartender when he cashed out at approximately ten o'clock."
"So we're focusing on that time directly?" Noah asked.
"No," Tom answered and motioned to a picture of Floyd's friends. "Mr. Stamp's police records were clear, but I came across something in his file. The evidence had been sealed, but with a little pressure the court gave them to me. He was charged with DUI when he was seventeen. I suppose he learned his lesson. He'd drink a certain amount when he went out. Then he'd pay his tab and stay where he was for an hour or so to lower his blood alcohol level."
"You think this or know it?" I questioned, wanting to be sure.
"I know it. When I discovered the information, I visited his wife. She verified his history and told me about his habits."
"Responsible of him." Noah cocked his head, studying the board. "Maybe he decided to take his chances that night."
"Maybe," Tom acknowledged. "Maybe not. Either way, we can't pinpoint an exact moment of departure. There's no way to investigate one window of time. The detectives in charge of the case did a decent job, but they didn't question the staff that came to work at midnight. They believed he left long before then."
"Why?"
"Again, his wife. He always came home before twelve."
"So he's extremely responsible." Noah didn't buy it, I could scent the tart smell of doubt coming from him. "Mr. Perfect."
Thinking quickly, I asked, "What about the security cameras?"
"Nothing of note, but I'm having Gareth look them over just in case."
Gareth Smith. I'd been introduced.
Tom's partner seemed nice enough.
Whether or not he would be competent remained to be seen.
"What did his friends say?" Noah continued staring at their photos. "They were with him, correct?"
"They drove to meet Mr. Stamp in a separate vehicle. They traveled together and left together. Both stated they departed shortly after Floyd paid their tab."
"So he was buying." I wondered about that. It wasn't unusual for friends to treat friends when out, but the friends usually stuck around. "They left when he stopped."
"That's one way to put it." Tom pointed to one man's photo. "This one had lost his job. Floyd often paid for his drinks."
"What about the other one?"
Tom indicated another photo. "He was the designated driver."
Well shit. "They don't have any helpful information?"
"I'm not sure." Tom sounded amused. "Maybe you should pay them a visit and ask." He pulled a index card from the board and handed it to Noah. "Their personal information is here." I was going to ask Tom why he couldn't question them himself when he said, "If they know something, it's going to take more than a human to get it of them. The police tried several times and always came up short."
"Is this information correct?" Noah lifted his gaze from the card.
"Yes, it is."
Wondering what Noah was talking about, I looked at the card. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just unexpected."
I moved closer. "What's weird?"
"The friend that lost the job was recently employed by Xtra D Pleasure."
"The porn store?"
I couldn't believe it was still around. The human population had thrown a fit when it had opened in the mall. While the front of the shop was legit and pretty clean, mainly offering various costumes, lubricants, and flavored body gels, the back required valid identification and proof of age. Eighteen, to be exact.
Once there, someone would have access to all sorts of things.
I took the card from Noah and gave it a look.
Then I understood his confusion.
Prior to taking the job, Robert Cranston had been a bookkeeper at a well-known car lot, making hundreds of thousands of dollars per year. Now, he'd been reduced to minimum wage pay at a sex store. A small scribble on the paper stated that's how he'd met Floyd; he'd sold him the van when he worked at the lot.
"Damn," I said quietly. "That sucks."
"When you have to pay the bills," Tom stated matter-of-factly, "ego goes out the door."
True that.
I looked at the information listed for Samuel Brown. He'd been employed at Treeline Engineering for over a decade. That's where he'd met Floyd Stamp. They were more than friends, they were co-workers and had been for years. We couldn't visit him on the job, as his office was on a military arsenal and would require clearance.
We'd have to see him when he was off the clock.
"What are Robert's hours?" Noah asked Tom.
"He's full-time. Day shift."
Noah nodded, and I knew he was thinking.
When finished, he gave me a familiar look.
We were about to make another trip.
"We'll talk to him first," Noah said, gazing at Tom. "How long do we have the body? When does it have to be released."
"Don't worry, I've taken care of it."
; That was good news. Sometimes human detectives and law enforcement mucked up PBI investigations by requesting an immediate turn-over of remains. I never knew why, as cases were closed in their department once supernatural occurrences were proved to be involved. I figured it was their way of flexing their muscles. Humans liked to let us know we were stronger in many ways, but we were very fallible in others.
Noah went back to the autopsy table.
He didn't bother with gloves as he didn't touch the body.
Instead he looked at Floyd's face, then worked his gaze over the man's form. He stopped at the man's hand, and I knew what he was thinking. Someone as dependant and reliable as Floyd wouldn't have removed his wedding ring. During a shift he could have kept it in place. The muscles and joints would have reformed around the jewelry. It would be painful, but such a thing was definitely doable.
After another look at the corpse, Noah said, "I'll be in touch."
"So will I," Tom replied and went to the laptop placed on a nearby desk. "If we find anything on surveillance, I'll let you know."
Noah didn't say a word to me as he exited the room.
I knew why.
I'd shut him down on the drive to the morgue.
I'd barely spoken to him.
"He's waiting for you," Tom told me, never taking his gaze from the laptop screen. "He's been waiting a long time." The way he said it set me back, making me uncertain. There was no anger in his tone. No malice. Tom lifted his head, finally looked at me, and asked, "Don't you think it's been long enough?"
I didn't answer. Turning from Tom, I left the room.
After all, there was nothing I could say.
The PBI agent had a point.
◆◆◆
The mall was almost as I remembered.
There were new stores, but I'd expected as much
"Roma's is still here," Noah said softly. He drew a breath and kept going. "We can eat lunch there, if you want."
Roma's. Lord help me.
Whenever we'd come to the mall, we always ate there.
The restaurant had the best Italian cuisine around.
"Maybe," I replied, trying not to recall how amazing the food was.
"They still have your favorite lasagna."
That was tempting. "I'll think about it."
"Do that."
Through his response, I felt his displeasure.
We had to have a talk. Having humans around while we did so would keep Noah's temper in check.
"Roma's it is," I said but didn't look at him, going about my business.
I knew he was pleased by his scent and felt horrible knowing I was going to demolish his hope. When he learned about Steven, he'd be far less amiable. I didn't want to imagine how he'd react. Regardless, it had to be done. Steven would be arriving soon, and I had to make sure Noah was informed in order for him to tell the pack.
It was going to be a nightmare.
We made it to Xtra D Pleasure, and I hesitated before I walked in.
I'd gone to the place with Trisha what seemed a lifetime ago, in order to buy lingerie. Noah, at that time, had always treated me like fine china. He always used absolute care and caution when we made love, maintaining total discipline of himself. My wolf had become agitated by him holding back. The beast inside me felt his restraint, just as I had. Trisha had suggested a few things to break his control, which would allow him to see me as a true sexual partner. Her plan had worked, too. Noah had come at me hard and fast the night I'd come to him as I had. He'd eaten me up when he'd seen me in the Little Red Riding Hood corset, garter, and panty set.
He'd let himself go, releasing his beast fully.
I'd never forget the things he said and did.
I'd also learned why he'd held back.
I didn't want to enter, remembering that night, but worked up the courage to follow him when I saw the man at the register.
Robert Cranston.
Noah had already taken charge, walking in a direct path to the man. I scurried to catch up, not wanting to miss any of the questioning. There were only a couple of people in the store, none of which paid us any notice. By the time Noah made it to the counter, I was right beside him.
"Robert Cranston?" Noah questioned, gaining the man's attention. "My name is Noah Cameron." He flashed his badge and nodded at me. "This is my partner, Eleonora Carthy. We're here to talk to you about the disappearance of Floyd Stamp."
Robert had appeared fine when Noah had introduced us, but once he realized why we'd come to the place of work, he panicked. "Can we do this another time?" he asked, voice higher pitched than I imagined it normally was. "I'm on the clock."
"We won't take up much of your time," I said before Noah could. "It's extremely important we speak with you immediately."
"I can't right now." Robert's eyes darted over the room. "I'm working."
"You're the manager," Noah reminded him. "We want to talk with you. Now. Call an employee and have them take over the front of the store."
"I can't," Robert said. "We're short staffed."
As soon as he said it, I scented the lie.
Noah smelled the deceit as well. "Have someone take over, or I'm going to drag you into the back personally." I didn't have to be directly looking at Noah to know he'd let his wolf shine through his eyes. I could smell and identify the power of his beast. "This is a preternatural investigation. I'll call in the PBI and shut this place down before you can blink."
Robert's eyes widened, and I then smelled fear. "Don't do that, please," he said, sounding desperate. He reached for a phone, dialed a couple of numbers, and contacted someone in the back. "I need you out here." The person on the other end complained, I could hear her bitching about stocking videos, and Robert cut the female short. "Now, Melissa. It isn't a request." He hung up and said, "Give me a moment."
As he went to the register and touched the screen, I turned from the counter and studied the room. The establishment had become far more tasteful in my absence. The costumes and lingerie were placed around the center of the room as though the business had become a high-end lingerie store. They'd removed hangers entirely, opting for mannequins that displayed the goods as they'd appear on the body. Beneath them were dressers with drawers that indicated sizes for every portion of each outfit.
I turned when I heard a rustle of cloth.
A young woman stormed through the curtain separating the areas. In an instant, I was aware of the reason she was annoyed. Alcohol had made its way out of her system, but it had done damage. She was severely hung over. Probably from a hard night of partying. She shouldered Robert aside and punched at the screen with her finger.
Robert motioned to us. "This way, please."
We followed him into the rear of the store, which only had a handful of people. I tried not to look at the walls, not needing to see various dildos, butt plugs, and other such things littered around the area. He guided us through shelves and obstacles when a familiar scent hit me. Only this time, I not only placed it, I knew what I was smelling. It was much stronger now, easy to identify.
Lemon balm.
It had been so long since I'd been around the herb, I'd nearly forgotten.
"The office is in the back," Robert informed us, still moving.
But I didn't care about Robert.
I cared about the source of the scent.
The very one that had been present at the Stamp residence.
I didn't warn Noah, going on instinct. I called on my wolf, needing her guidance. She didn't disappoint. The source of the aroma came from the far corner. I changed course, heading in the direction of the scent.
"Ray?" Noah asked, and I realized he'd stopped to watch me. "What are you—"
I didn't hear the rest, locating and finding my target.
The male stood in front of DVD materials. As I approached, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. I didn't get a full view of his face. Not that I needed to.
His scent told me all I needed to know.
> The male was a werewolf.
He bolted, running through an empty row. In seconds, he blew through the curtain partition. I followed but wasn't blessed with a clear path, jumping over things in my way. I tipped over a shelf and sent vibrators and cock rings all over the floor.
"It's the same scent," I yelled, still in motion. "From the crime scene."
I hoped Noah listened to me. I followed my target.
The male was extremely fast, agile, and determined, exiting the store before I managed to get out. I rushed after him, pushing people out of my path. I could see his dark mop of hair only yards in front of me. He was rushing for the concourse. I kept my gaze on him as I continued, yelling for people to move as I ran after him. He reached the railing on the top floor and grasped the bottom wheel of a stroller with a toddler inside. A woman—the child's mother—screamed. My muscles burned as I pushed myself to go even faster. In that moment, I realized I'd shamed my wolf and myself. If we'd been in total sync and harmony, I'd have caught the man before he left the store. Due to my lack of interest in my bestial half, I'd crippled myself.
Please. I begged to my wolf, pleading. We have to hurry.
A surge of speed told me the beast had heard.
I was only a couple of feet away when he rose.
"No!" I roared in horror. "Stop!"
He didn't listen, jumping over the barrier, taking the stroller with him.
I was right on him by that point.
I reached out with my right hand as I slammed into the side of the railing and toppled over. The stroller had lifted from the bottom when the male jumped, the rear veered back, and the cushioned portion that supported the back of the object tilted down. The child wailed as I swept my hand at the stroller and managed to snatch one of the handles. At the same time, I tried to find something—anything—to stay afloat.
I'd gone over the railing head first, my chest slamming against the glass and metal. I'd kept one leg on the other side of the barrier, but my current position wasn't good. I started sliding forward. I managed to wedge my fingers around a metal bar as the position and weight of my body sent me over. Everything moved in slow motion, my hair falling into my face, covering my eyes. I focused on the handle of the stroller and metal rail in my hands, knowing I couldn't let go. The stroller jerked when my body stopped following gravity, staying in place as I fisted the plastic handle.
