Hot Demon in the City (Latter Day Demons Book 1)

by Suttle, Connie

  You thinking it could mean exposition? I texted back. I'd pulled into a hardware store parking lot to have this conversation—I didn't want a ticket or an arrest, because Watson was having a werewolf meltdown.

  Yeah. Look, if I hear anything, I'll let you know. I thought the other, well, you know, was involved. This doesn't look good.

  I hear that, I agreed. Stay out of trouble. You're in enough as it is.

  Only because I know you, and I have to keep that to myself, he replied.

  Right back atcha, I texted, surprised that autocorrect didn't intervene in my unconventional wording.

  Sorry, man. Keep forgetting about that. I'd be in wolf heaven if it weren't for you.

  You got that right.

  Gotta go, dude. Break time's over.

  OK.

  * * *

  Lexsi

  The body looked as if it were attacked by wild animals. Police were consulting rangers and other experts, who also examined the tracks around the body.

  Wolf prints.

  Very large wolf prints.

  I knew what that meant; they didn't.

  With Claudia being Watson's boss, I suspected she was in this to the tips of her ears. At least I knew what she was, now. It was possible she was either a Packmaster, a Second or high in the pack she belonged to. She had too much authority to be otherwise.

  Watson did her bidding, I knew that much. I worried that she'd eventually tell him to do something we would all regret.

  It made me want to follow him to her new bar in Oakland, but there was probably a way around that. I turned to searching city and county records for any business in Oakland that had recently applied for a liquor license.

  In the middle of that research, my cubicle phone rang. "You have a call on line two," the receptionist du jour informed me. "They asked to speak only to you."

  "All right," I said. "Thanks."

  "This is Lexsi Silver," I said after punching line two.

  "That body doesn't belong to Brad Nolen," a voice growled. "They have preliminary ID through clothing and jewelry. That's not Brad." The line went dead before I could ask questions.

  After stewing about that information for a moment, I called Lee on my cell phone to get the name of the journalist in Vichy Springs. I then placed a call to Dan Logan, the early-morning investigative reporter.

  "Hi, Dan," I said when he answered. "You may not remember me, this is Lexsi Silver."

  "I remember you," he suddenly had a smile in his voice.

  "That's great," I said. "Look, I just got a tip that the body may not be the third kidnap victim, like everybody says. Are they doing forensics and running dental records?"

  "Yeah, but the cops think this is a done deal—the body's pretty chewed up, but the clothes match the description."

  "I'm concerned about that," I said.

  "I'll look into it. Man, if this is true, we could have a real scoop on our hands."

  "Exactly," I said. "Keep me informed, if you wouldn't mind."

  "Sure will. Thanks for the call."

  * * *

  By three o'clock that afternoon, after some pushing and harassment of the Coroner's Office by Dan Logan, we knew the dental records didn't match. In fact, they weren't even close. News Seventy-Four was the first to have the information, too.

  Hannah was almost gleeful as I handed the information to her. She began her evening broadcast with the information I'd given her, peppered it with more speculation as to what may have happened to the real Brad Nolen, and ended with the question as to why someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to make the unidentified victim appear to be Brad Nolen.

  I left work after seven that night and skipped home because Kory called saying he had an errand to run. He'd told me to take a taxi or get another driver to take me.

  I didn't intend to do either. I had a perfectly good way to get home; I just had to be careful enough that nobody noticed. That meant I walked out the employee entrance, waved at the guard on duty and then traveled several blocks toward the nearest bus stop before ducking into an alcove housing the locked door of an empty shop. After making sure nobody had noticed, I skipped to the house.

  "Bout time," Anita said when I set my purse and jacket on the island.

  "Hey, one of us was stranded at the station. I won't name names, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't you."

  "I have lasagna in the oven," Anita put on her best, self-righteous tone.

  "Then I forgive every transgression you ever committed," I sighed. "I love lasagna."

  "Any word on who the poor soul actually was? The one found east of here?"

  "Forensics has the body, and they're working to match dental records. The last word I had was that it definitely wasn't Brad Nolen. I hate that his family went through that—thinking he'd been found that way. They identified his clothes and shoes. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to do that."

  "This whole thing is just crazy," Anita agreed. "Look, change into your comfy clothes and help me put a salad together. Lasagna should be ready about then."

  "It already smells good," I said. "Be out in a few." Gathering my stuff, I took off toward my bedroom.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  "Man, you look like you moved into a cave with spiders," I said when Watson climbed into my Jeep. He was covered in cobwebs and smudged with unidentified dark substances.

  "I told you they hadn't used that cellar in a while," he grumped. I could tell he wasn't happy with his current line of work, too.

  "Who's been tending bar?" I asked.

  "Stella and Jake," he shrugged. "Half weres," he added. "When the cellar's cleared, I'll be back at work as usual."

  "Where is it?"

  "The bar?"

  "No, the cellar."

  "I promised Claudia that I wouldn't say."

  "What about the bar, then?"

  "Look, I don't want you going down there. Granger's already seen us together, remember? I don't want to jog his memory."

  "I'm surprised he hasn't looked harder for either of us," I pointed out. "Mason, too."

  "He had bigger fish to fry, with those three he snatched from the hospital."

  "Yeah, but he has them already. Doesn't he? What's to keep him from tracking us, now?"

  "What if he doesn't have them?"

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" I jerked my head in Watson's direction.

  "It's the way Claudia's been acting. Since I haven't seen Granger, I can only go by the way she is. She isn't happy about something, I know that much, and if it were due to something I'd done, she'd sure as hell let me know about it."

  "Then how can we go about finding out if Granger doesn't have his hostages, or that he's not involved in that fiasco east of Vichy Springs?"

  "No idea, and I'm not about to ask Claudia. Every day I go to work, I worry that the hammer will drop."

  "Someday, you're gonna tell me what she has on you, man."

  "Fat chance," he muttered and went silent. I'd just confirmed my suspicions. Claudia did have something on Watson, and I'd managed (in a backhanded way), to make him admit it.

  My next quest was to discover what it was. That could take time. Lexsi's text came while I mulled over my options.

  I waited until we were stopped at a stoplight to glance at my phone. "We're having lasagna—Anita made it," I said after reading the text. "It'll be waiting when we get there."

  "Aw, man, I need a bath first," Watson whined.

  "I can toss you off the bridge and into the bay," I offered.

  "I like my water warmer than that," he shot back.

  "How much longer?" I asked.

  "Huh?"

  "Until Claudia's cellar is emptied?"

  "No idea. She sold the old barrels to another winery. At least I didn't have to truck them down the valley."

  "If you hurry with your shower, we may be able to save lasagna for you," I teased.

  "You better save some."

  "You better hurry."


  "Bet on it."

  * * *

  Lexsi

  "No, completely coat the pork loin in the seasoned flour, then brown on all sides in the sauté pan. Once that's in the slow cooker, then sauté the mushrooms in more butter in the same pan," I told Farin on the phone. "Put the mushrooms in the cooker, then use the wine to deglaze the sauté pan. Add the cream and roux after that and stir until it thickens. That covers the pork loin in the slow cooker and four hours later, you have a wonderful meal."

  "You make it sound so easy," Farin sighed.

  "Come on, you can do this," I said. Kory and Watson stepped into the kitchen at that moment; Watson looked like he'd been shoved through a sewer pipe—to clean it.

  Kory grinned at me; Watson grimaced at Anita's disapproving look before loping down the hall toward his bedroom.

  I barely recalled my agreement to help Farin cook on Friday because Kory walked toward me, pulled me close and kissed my forehead.

  "I uh, have to call you back," I told Farin and almost dropped the phone.

  Daddy, I want to have sex with a human ran through my head as Kory let me go and went to the cabinet to get plates for the table.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  "Need a word, man," Mason said after dinner. He'd been up for an hour, but didn't disturb us at the table while we ate.

  "Where?" I asked.

  "Somewhere private."

  "Then come outside. We'll go down the hill a little way."

  We walked for a block before I skipped him to a local hangout and ordered a beer for both of us.

  "What do you have?" I asked.

  "Word that the three kidnap victims aren't really victims. It was a proactive grab, from what I hear."

  "By whom? And how would they know?"

  "Klancy has connections," Mason lowered his eyes. "He notified somebody, but didn't expect anything to come of it. Something came of it. He only found out tonight—after sundown."

  "Are these unknowns on our side?" I asked.

  "He didn't say. All he'd say was that they were in a safe place—at least that's what he was told. Nobody can know this, you understand? Word could get back to Granger."

  "I can keep a secret," I lifted my beer glass. "Keep me informed, if you wouldn't mind. I hope this isn't some kind of turf war with Granger. I don't like it when people are used as pawns."

  "I don't think it's like that," Mason frowned. "At least I hope not."

  "Too bad we can't tell their friends and family. Just to give them some relief."

  "You can't; it could get Klancy killed," Mason pointed out. "He's a good guy. Don't want that to happen."

  "I hear you. Look, if Klancy thinks he's in danger, tell him to contact me. I'll see what I can do."

  "I'll let him know," Mason agreed. "Finish your beer; we ought to get back."

  Chapter 9

  Lexsi

  Tuesday, in between running errands for Hannah, (which included a latte and dry cleaning) I searched public records for recent liquor license applications.

  I found six, two of which were dated the day before. Still, I included them in the list to check out. Claudia wasn't a stranger to breaking the law; it wouldn't surprise me if she'd opened another place before doing the necessary paperwork.

  I was standing in line at the coffee shop when Dan Logan called. "Hi, Dan," I said after seeing his name pop up as the caller.

  "Hey, Lexsi," he said. "I just got something from my friend at the Coroner's Office. Turns out our dismembered corpse was a wanted man."

  "Really?"

  "Sure is. LA County's been looking for him for a while, but everybody figured he'd escaped to Mexico. Nobody heard from him in a while, I know that much. Wanted in a couple of murders, and suspected in a few others."

  "No way," I said. "Who could have done that—traded a criminal for a kidnap victim?"

  "Nobody knows. Police don't have a clue, but won't admit it. They're just clearing out their files on Gentry Mullins."

  "Wow," I said. "Do you want to take the lead on this? Your contacts gave us the scoop."

  "I've been informed that Hannah gets spoon-fed everything we find. I wanted to call you instead of her—for the obvious reasons."

  "I'm so sorry they're doing this to you," I moaned. "It's just not fair."

  "Neither is her attempt to get you fired over nothing," he responded. "Word gets around, you know."

  "Yeah, I guess it does. Look, I'll get on this quick. Otherwise Princess Hannah won't get her lead-in for tonight."

  "Thanks, Lexsi. I just didn't want to talk to Dragon Lady if I could avoid it."

  "Not a problem. Thanks, Dan."

  * * *

  "Information on Gentry Mullins," I set Hannah's latte on her desk and handed her a tablet with all applicable data on the criminal.

  "Why should I be interested in that?" Hannah lifted the latte and drank.

  "Because that's whose remains were found east of Vichy Springs," I informed her. "Somebody dressed him up as Brad Nolen before he was torn apart by predators."

  "Really?" I didn't like the glint in Hannah's eyes as she lifted the tablet and began to scroll through the information.

  "Came straight from a source at the Coroner's Office," I said. "The police are doing a happy dance because they can close the files on Gentry, but they still don't know why all that happened or where Brad Nolen and the others are."

  "Set up an interview with Brad Nolen's parents," Hannah said. "We need to milk that grief."

  "Huh?" I stared at her in shock.

  "What I said. Set it up, little bitch. Tomorrow, if possible."

  "All right." I left her office before she could say something else that infuriated me. I will admit to imagining all the ways Hannah might die accidentally before Wednesday. None of them were accompanied by imagined tears.

  * * *

  Brad Nolen's parents wanted a forum to beg his kidnappers to release him. Hannah wanted a sob story to increase her ratings. I predicted a head-on collision of sorts.

  In the interim, I received information on an entire busload of migrant farmworkers who'd gone missing near Tulare. Shortly afterward, a church van loaded with eight people heading across the Texas border into Mexico to do mission work, was also reported missing.

  I thought Hannah ought to cover those incidents, too, and sent her information, just to be told that it wasn't as important as other things she planned to cover, one of which was doggy dress-up day in Sacramento.

  I sent a quick text to Anita, instead, to let her know strange things were afoot. Before Anita could reply, Hannah ordered me into the editing room to review the doggy dress-up footage from a Sacramento affiliate, so I had to turn off my phone and look at pet costumes all afternoon.

  It didn't keep me from wondering how busloads of people could vanish in two different states. Altogether, nearly forty people were unaccounted for, with no clues as to their whereabouts.

  * * *

  Kordevik

  I heard about the missing buses on the radio while waiting in the designated parking lot for Watson. I dashed off a message to Lexsi, asking if she had information on it.

  I do, she replied, but Hannah refuses to cover it.

  WTF? I texted.

  I'm confused, too. Nearly forty people are missing, the vehicles can't be found and nobody knows anything. Wait, something's coming in.

  What?

  They found the migrant worker bus in a ravine. Ten are missing, the rest are dead.

  I swore, but didn't text that to Lexsi. You still at your desk? I asked.

  Yes. Hannah's been on an irrelevant tear most of the afternoon.

  No word on the bus in Texas?

  Nothing yet.

  Crazy. The other stations are getting the jump on us with this.

  I know. Lee just shakes his head and hides in his office. I've hooked up with an affiliate in Texas and have something ready to go in case Hannah changes her mind.

  That's good. Look, Watson ju
st walked up. Gotta go, onion.

  * * *

  Watson was dirty, disheveled and disgruntled when he slid onto the passenger seat.

  "Dude, you really ought to find another job," I said. "I need the carwash to spray the inside of my truck."

  "Don't start, man," Watson growled. "Claudia already chewed our butts today because we weren't moving fast enough."

  "Why's she in such a hurry?"

  "No idea. We got the place cleared out, though. Hope she's happy."

  "What's next, then? Back to tending bar?"

  "Demoted to errand boy," he huffed and turned away to stare out the window. "She said I acted rashly when Granger's vamps came into the old place with the girl."

  "And I acted rashly with you," I thumped the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. "She'd rather have you cleaning up the blood of a murder victim than calling out the ones causing the trouble?"

  "Look, I don't understand this any better than you do," he snapped. "Let it go, man. You have a price on your head and I'm doing cleanup and errands."

  "Are they actively hunting me? Granger's bunch?" I asked.

  "So far, the witnesses are afraid to connect the dots for Granger," he turned to blink dark eyes at me. "They see you as somebody who can fight vamps. After your successful bit of rescue and arson, the truth is, they're more afraid of you than him. He doesn't like that, or so I hear."

  "Then quit Claudia. You can find something else to do. Get out of town. She sees us together, that could be trouble."

  "No, man. That won't happen."

  "Which one won't happen?" I demanded. He turned away again.

  "Neither," he mumbled. "Let it go."

  "You're being morose again."

  "Shut up."

  * * *

  Lexsi

  I got home after Kory and Watson did and found them having sub sandwiches with Anita at the kitchen island.

  "What's the word on the bus people?" Anita asked.

  "Ten people still missing from the migrant worker bus, and the other passengers, according to police reports, died of asphyxiation. So far, nobody knows how that was accomplished. Hannah was forced to run the stuff I collected from the station in Texas."

  "What about the other bus?" Kory asked before tapping the barstool next to his.