by C. D. Hersh
Mrs. Forrester paled at the request, and she grabbed the doorjamb. “It’s never good when a cop wants to come in. He’s dead, isn’t he? My Paul is dead? What happened?”
“We’re not clear on all the facts, ma’am. It might be better if you come to the precinct. I’ll tell you what we know then.”
“I’ll get the kids,” Mrs. Forrester said.
Half an hour later, Delaney and Mrs. Forrester arrived at the precinct, kids in tow. Delaney ushered them into her office. Harry wasn’t there, much to her relief.
Mrs. Forrester jammed the pacifier into the baby’s trembling mouth. The mother’s chin was shaking as much as the child’s. Delaney expected them both to start wailing any second.
“I can’t believe it. I thought sure he’d come crawling back to me this time.”
“He’s left before?”
“Only for a few hours. He’d get all mad and go off half-cocked. Usually got drunk. Sometimes he’d end up with a woman, but it never meant anything. He always came back. But not this time.”
“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt him?”
“Besides me after he’d been on a bender?” She shook her head. “No. Most everyone likes Paul. That’s how he gets away with stuff. You can’t stay mad at him.” She shifted the baby on her hip and yanked the boy to her side. “Where did you find him?”
“He surfaced at Settler’s Landing. He was strangled and his body dumped into the river.”
Mrs. Forrester let go of the boy and clapped her hand over her mouth. He scampered over to the wastebasket and started pitching out the trash. “Who’d want to kill him?”
Delaney grabbed the child as he started toward a pile of papers on her desk and steered him toward his mother. “I was hoping you could tell us.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know anyone who’d want to hurt him.” She broke out into a wail, echoed by the baby on her hip. Her son stopped fidgeting and squinted at his mother. “Can I see him?” she asked between sobs.
The door opened, and Rhys stuck his head inside. “Everything okay in here?”
Delaney waved him in. “This is Mrs. Forrester, Detective Temple. She’s come to ID the body from Settler’s Landing.”
“I’m sorry about your loss, ma’am,” Rhys said.
Mrs. Forrester’s wails increased.
Delaney took the baby from her and shoved him toward Rhys. “I need you to watch the kids while I take her to the morgue.”
He backed away. “I’m not good with rug rats. Get someone else.”
“I think this might be connected to Riley’s investigation. I need you to stay here.” She held the baby against his chest, and he took him.
Rhys grabbed the boy as he ran after his departing mother. “Make it quick.”
“That man,” Mrs. Forrester said as they walked to the morgue. “He looks like the one in the picture you showed me. The one I saw talking to Paul the night before he disappeared.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh yeah. I never forget a handsome man. It’s him. I’d lay bets on it. But Paul never said he’d talked to a cop.”
“Undercover detective. Paul might not have known.”
“Oh.”
“We’re here,” Delaney said. She pushed the door open and introduced Mrs. Forrester to the coroner, who took them to the table where her husband lay.
He started to lift the sheet, but she stopped him. “I’ll do it. When I’m ready.”
Delaney and the coroner gave the woman some privacy. After a couple of minutes, she lifted the sheet and threw herself over the body, weeping uncontrollably. Delaney felt her anguish as surely as if it were her own.
If we find Lila dead, that will be me. Her agony morphed into anger. If they found Lila dead, she would not rest until she had the killer. And if it’s Rhys, how many people will I have to go through to get him? Didn’t matter. She’d do whatever she needed to avenge her daughter.
Mrs. Forrester’s sobs quieted, and Delaney approached her. “Do you know where you want us to send the body?”
“I ain’t got no money to bury him with.” She stood, lifting her tear stained face toward Delaney. “What am I gonna do?”
The woman’s pain cut Delaney to the core. She wrapped an arm around Mrs. Forrester and gently eased her away from the body. “We’ll figure something out.”
When Delaney opened the office door, she found Rhys bouncing the Forrester baby on his ankle and the boy tossing wadded papers into the wastebasket like a mini pro basketball player.
“Guess you figured out the rug rats,” she said, smiling.
“Luckily they’re boys.” He rose and handed the baby to its mother. She buried her face in the child’s curls. “I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thanks,” Mrs. Forrester said. “He wasn’t much, but he was all I had.” New tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and Delaney braced herself for a fresh barrage of weeping.
“You have your children,” he said soothingly. “They need you. You can be strong for them.”
Mrs. Forrester stared into Rhys’ eyes. He held her gaze for several seconds then her shoulders straightened and a steely determination hardened her facial expression. “You’re right. They love me unconditionally. I been living without him for over a month and they ain’t evicted me yet. I guess I can get by on my own, for their sakes.” She said to Delaney, “If you don’t need me anymore I want to go back home. It’s time for my baby’s nap.”
Delaney stared at Mrs. Forrester. Where had the weeping widow, who threw herself over a decaying corpse, gone? What had he done to her?
“Agent Ramsey,” Rhys said, when she didn’t respond. “Do you need Mrs. Forrester anymore?
She shook herself out her reverie. “No. She can go. Get one of the staff to take her home. She rode to the station with me. When you’ve taken care of her, please come see me.”
“Sure,” he replied as he ushered the family out.
She sat at her desk and studied the file she’d created on Paul Forrester. There were too many connections to Lila to let this man’s death go uninvestigated: doorman at her building, last seen a couple of days before Lila disappeared, dead as long as Lila had been missing, and Rhys had been the last person Mrs. Forrester had seen her husband talking to.
Delaney looked at a photo of Forrester. What is your connection to my daughter’s disappearance, Mr. Forrester? What am I missing?
She laid the photo in the middle of her desk, the image upside down.
Rhys plopped into the seat in front of her desk when he returned. “Got Mrs. Forrester safely on her way.” He shook his head. “Damn shame, her losing her husband. Think Sylvia’s shifters were involved?”
“Not this time.” She pushed the photo closer to him. “Ever seen this guy before?”
Rhys leaned forward, grabbed the photo, and glanced at it. “Don’t think so.” He laid it on the desk. “Why?”
She scanned him. No hint of deception in his aura. But then ‘Don’t think so’ wasn’t a clear yes or no. “Mrs. Forrester thinks she saw you with him.”
“Really?” He studied the picture again, scrubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Where?”
“At the apartment building where he works.” She pointed to an address on the file. “He is, was, the doorman.”
He laid the picture down. “Since you mention it, I think I interviewed some people in the building a while ago. She probably saw me then.” He relaxed in the chair. “Is that why you asked me to return?”
His laid-back attitude made her almost believe him. But every instinct in her body screamed no! He’s a persuader. A charmer. He can’t be trusted.
“I wanted to know what you did to Mrs. Forrester to calm her.”
He shrugged. “Made her think about someone besides herse
lf.”
“Using shifter powers? Did you persuade her?”
His features darkened. “I hardly know how to control the power on you people. I would never try to use it on anyone else.”
“You people?” He said that as if she was some kind of freak.
“You know. Shifters.”
“You’re one, too, you know.”
“I’ve been a non-shifter a lot longer than a shifter.”
That remained to be seen. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Don’t get all prickly on me, Delaney. You know what I mean.”
“You have a lot of power, Rhys. You have to be careful how you use it.”
He bolted from the chair and started pacing the room. “Don’t you think I know? Hell, I’m afraid to screw my wife when we have our rings on for fear of what will happen.”
“TMI, Rhys. TMI.” She held her hands out in front of her body to ward off any further revelations. Then her breath caught, nearly choking her. Had sexual intercourse while he and Lila were wearing their rings caused him to kill her? Was that the reason for his fear?
Delaney started shaking. She hugged her arms to her chest to stop the motion. “This is not a conversation you should be having with me.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He stopped pacing in front of her desk. “I forgot what happened with you.”
She let him think her reaction was because of pulling her life force and the orgasm. “You need to go, Rhys.”
“I swear that won’t ever happen again.” He went to the door, stopped, and glanced over his shoulder at her.
“Go.” She waved him forward, and he left. He was right. She’d kill him before she let him touch her again.
“Anything new on the Forrester case?” Harry asked when he came into the office.
“The widow ID’d him. The body is still in the morgue,” Delaney said.
“That’s it?”
“For now. The wife gave me some new information I think might be related to something I’ve been working on.”
“Not Riley’s terrorist bull?
“Nope. I’m taking this one from your case files and handling it myself.”
He dropped onto his chair and gripped the arms. “That’s it?” he repeated. “No help needed from us?”
Her gaze went to his white-knuckled grip on the chair. Better he throttle the arms than her. “Nope. This one is an FBI matter.”
He released the arms. “Guess you’ll be using your own resources?”
“I’ll still be using your facility. But I might need to bring in one of my own people.”
“You don’t trust us?”
“Your people are loyal to you. Mine to me. It might be better this way for our relationship. Assuming we still have one.”
“Assuming,” he replied. “We’ve got a few kinks to work out.”
Her heart plummeted. She’d hoped for more reassurance, but after the way she’d been treating him in the office, she probably shouldn’t.
He continued, his voice all business. “If you are using my facility, I expect to be read in.”
“If I come across anything you need to know, I’ll let you know.”
“Not what I said, Delaney.”
“I know. But that is what is going to happen.”
He popped up from his chair. “Damn it, Delaney!”
“Sit, Harry. I know you don’t like this but it’s the way it has to be. I told you from the beginning, I’m FBI and there will always be something you won’t know about.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Me either.” She gathered her purse and files and locked her desk.
“Going somewhere?”
“Yes, and, no, you can’t know where.”
She waited until she left the office before dialing her cell. “Katrina, this is Delaney Ramsey.”
“Delaney! Where have you been, lady?”
“Extended personal leave. I need a favor.”
“After you saved my butt last year, I owe you big time.”
She hoped that would be the answer. Last year, while tracking Katrina to check her out, she’d accidentally discovered Katrina Romanovski’s undercover life as an occult hunter and rescued her from a rogue shifter attack. Thinking Katrina’s unique skills hunting shape shifters, vampires, and other ghoulish things roaming the streets might come in handy, she’d befriended the younger woman. Katina didn’t know about the society, but she was one of the good guys.
“What do you need?”
“Your forensic skills. Can you get away for a few days? I’m working on something, and I need someone I can trust.”
“Where are you and how soon do you want me?”
“I’m in Cleveland and in a couple of days would be fine. You can stay with me.” Her presence would put a crimp in future overnighters with Harry, but from the way things were going, there might not be any more.
“I’ll call when I get there.”
“Katrina, keep this to yourself.”
“Not agency related?”
“Not exactly.”
“You know I can keep secrets.”
“That’s why I contacted you.” Delaney hung up her phone and headed for Lila’s apartment to interrogate the workers. Someone besides the dead man Forrester had to have seen Rhys at the apartment.
The maintenance man remembered seeing someone in the building who resembled Rhys, but claimed he couldn’t be certain.
“Cataracts,” he said. “But I got them fixed. I can see real good now.” He took the card she offered and held it out at arm’s length, moving it like a trombone slide. “At a distance anyway,” he added. “If he shows, I’ll give you a buzz.”
She had better luck with the lobby clerk, Robert Cross, who had recently returned from a two-month European vacation.
“Yeah, I know this guy.” He set his coffee on the desk counter and reached for the photo. “He used to come in here all the time.”
“Did he have an apartment?”
“Nah. He’d come and go with a woman.” He cocked his head at her. “Had eyes exactly like yours.”
“Probably my daughter, Lila Ramsey.”
“Oh, yeah. Nice lady, Miss Ramsey. I ain’t seen her since I been back.”
“She’s out of town. I’m staying at her place.”
“The night clerk mentioned that to me.” He slid the photo across the desk, knocking his coffee over. It exploded across the counter, splattering Delaney’s white blouse. She snatched the photo.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” He grabbed a handful of tissues from the dispenser on the desk and handed them to her.
She dabbed at the mocha-colored dots covering her chest. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go upstairs and change.”
“Again, I’m sorry.” He took the soiled tissues Delaney handed him and tossed them in the waste can. “I hope I was able to help.”
“You were. If you see him again, please contact me.” She gave him a business card, which he tucked into his jacket breast pocket.
The key rotated easily in the deadbolt. Unlocked. She drew her gun from her purse, cocked it, and eased the door open. A man stood at the picture window, gazing out at the city view, a beer bottle in his hand. Delaney threw the door open.
“Freeze!” she shouted. “Put your hands in the air and turn around, slowly.”
The man’s hands rose, the beer bottle tipping forty-five degrees.
“Step back and set the bottle on the table next to the couch. No funny stuff. Keep your hands where I can see them or I’ll shoot.”
He lowered the bottle to his side, setting it on the side table as if he knew exactly where it was. Then he slowly turned.
&n
bsp; “Rhys! How the heck did you get in here?”
Relief flooded over his face. “The door was unlocked.”
She highly doubted that. She never left doors unlocked. “For the second time, how did you get in here?”
