by C. D. Hersh
Alarms went off in Harry’s mind. “How did you know? The information isn’t public knowledge.”
“I’m a mortician. I know what happens when an unembalmed body decomposes.” He eyed Harry with a Frankenstein-ish stare. “I do hope you are not trying to implicate my mortuary in this awful deed.”
“Right now you are at the top of the list.”
“I assure you, Captain, if I were trying to hide a body, I would not send it to Alaska in October.”
“What would you have done?”
“Bury it. With six feet of dirt on the lid, even if the casket exploded it wouldn’t be noticeable.”
Unfortunately, his argument made sense. However he wasn’t cleared completely of responsibility. “One of your people could have stashed the body. I’ll need a list of all your employees.” Harry handed him a second photo. “Can you tell us who this is and why his coffin might have been chosen?”
Larch’s eyes grew larger and his coloring went gray. He handed the photo to Delaney. “I can tell you his name, but I’m sure I can’t fathom why someone would choose that particular coffin.”
“Who is it, Larch?” Delaney asked.
“Falhman’s uncle.” He leaned forward and laid his long arms across the desktop, anxiety rushing across his features.
“Who’s Falhman?” Harry asked.
“The rogue-shifter kingpin.”
Larch’s gaze darted anxiously toward Delaney. “He knows?” He jerked his head in Harry’s direction. “I don’t want any trouble over this, Delaney. But if it gets out-”
“You do funerals for rogue shifters? What about the good versus evil bit?” Harry asked.
“Death comes to everyone, Captain, whether they are good or not good. As a mortician it’s my duty to treat all the dearly departed with respect. Even those who are not shifters.”
He spoke the last phrase with such disdain Harry took a mental step backward. Now I’m lower than an evil shifter on this man’s radar? Good thing he’d brought Delaney along. Without her beside him he’d have gotten squat from him and would have had to haul his sorry ass into the interrogation room, which would have probably set the whole lot of his shifter acquaintances against him.
He shoved the irritation at his ranking on Larch’s shifter scale away. “Okay, the guy’s related to the big kingpin. Why would someone choose his casket? Don’t tell me you don’t know.”
Larch shrugged. “To discredit Falhman?”
“Finding an extra dead body in Falhman’s casket would make the authorities investigate him,” Harry said.
“Or maybe they mistakenly thought the casket was scheduled to be buried,” Delaney suggested. “Check the records, Larch.”
He hunted through the file drawer and withdrew a folder. “No. The casket was definitely scheduled to go to Alaska.”
“Maybe whoever killed Lila damaged the casket seal on purpose, hoping it would explode en route,” Delaney said.
“Then when Lila was discovered, the authorities would suspect Falhman.” Harry turned to Delaney. “Who was Lila involved with?” The minute the question was out of his mouth, he knew the answer Delaney was going to give. Rhys.
“I’ll need the file,” he told Larch, “and anything else you’ve got on this burial.”
“Am I off the hook?” Larch asked.
He had a knee-jerk reaction to the query. Innocent people tended not to ask that question. “You’re not at the top anymore for killing Lila,” Harry said. “Your argument that you’d never put an unembalmed body into a casket goes a long way toward moving you lower on the list.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Larch said. “I’d prefer to be off the list.”
Most perps would. “There is the matter of how the body got into the casket. For all I know, you’ve got a beef with this Falhman and set him up.”
Larch blanched gray again. “Trust me, Captain, an ordinary guy like me would not intentionally put himself in Falhman’s path. I’d have to be an idiot.”
“Ordinary men often do stupid things,” Harry said, baiting the man.
Larch’s gray cheeks flushed red, his jaw working side-to-side as he clearly struggled to control his tongue. Finally, he managed to spit out between clenched teeth, “I have family to think of, sir. I would never put them in danger.”
Delaney elbowed him. “Quit taunting him, Harry. He’s telling the truth.”
Harry tipped his head in a questioning manner. What makes her so sure? Another shifter power? He shrugged and continued his line of inquiry. “Have you had any break-ins?”
“The security alarm malfunctioned about a month ago, but there was no reason to suspect a break-in. No evidence anything was taken or tampered with, until now.”
“You didn’t contact the police?” Delaney asked.
“Why should I when nothing was amiss?”
“Are there security tapes from that night?” Harry asked.
“I suppose, but they were never checked. People don’t usually break into funeral homes. They tend to leave the dead alone, Captain.”
“Nevertheless, send those tapes to the precinct.”
“I’ll see it’s done.” Larch’s gaze swung from Delaney to Harry. “Are you going to be able to keep this quiet?”
“I’ll do my best, for her sake,” Harry said, nodding toward Delaney. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“Maybe I can use my FBI resources,” she added. “Keeping the society out of the news is paramount.”
His heart dropped to his stomach at her comment. Did she mean she put Eli and all things shifter before anything else? If so, their relationship had no chance. Or was she simply trying to hide her real feelings and need for revenge to keep him from questioning her, and she could go Dirty Harry on him and kill Rhys? He disliked both possibilities.
He took the files from Larch and steered her toward the door. As he left, he glanced back into the office. Larch sat hunched over, head cupped between his hands, worry deepening the lines in his face into canyons. Falhman must be one sick dude for Larch to be this concerned.
Harry gazed at Delaney, and his heart ached. A few calm months before his retirement was all he wanted. Now he had a screwed-up relationship he desperately wanted to save, and a series of hellacious cover-ups he would be forced to continue in order to protect the people he loved. Could it get any worse?
Chapter 40
“Hi, Mom. It’s Roc.”
Caroline Decker’s smile could be heard through the phone as she squealed. “Roc! You called. I’ve missed hearing from you, honey.”
“Is Dad home?”
“Sure. I’ll get him.”
“I didn’t expect to hear from you again,” Cecil said apprehensively. “Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. I got some unexpected news about my birth parents.”
“I didn’t know you were searching for them,” his father said, the disappointment evident in his tone.
“I wasn’t. You’re never going to believe who I am.”
“You’re Roc Decker, our son. Don’t forget.” He paused, and Roc heard his father’s trepidation despite his firm declaration of parentage. “Is it okay if I put your mom on the phone for this news?”
“Sure.” He heard his father’s muffled explanation then the line quality changed as his mother picked up an extension. “I want you to know, Mom, this news doesn’t affect the way I feel about you. Okay?”
“Okay,” she answered with a tremor in her voice.
“What did you find out?” his father asked.
“My birth mother was Kayla McCraigen, and my father is Falhman.”
“What!” his parents gasped in unison.
“Hang on, son. I need to get your mother seated before she faints.” Scuffling
sounds drifted across the line. Then his father’s voice returned. “I got her settled.”
“Is she still on the line?” Roc wasn’t sure how much his mother knew about her husband’s cover-up for him, and he didn’t want to shock her any more than he already had.
“No. Does Falhman know about this?”
“He was the one who told me.”
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” his father exclaimed. “You stay away from him. You hear me?”
“Not exactly what I expected you to say,” Roc replied. “I figured you wouldn’t be thrilled, but it’s one more notch closer for you to the big leagues. Right? I’ll be the kingpin prince and The Promised One. You and Mom will never want for anything.”
“You are meant to be the king, not a crappy prince, and don’t you forget.” His father muttered another obscenity. “This screws everything.”
He wasn’t sure how, since it played right into Cecil’s and Caroline’s grandiose scheme. “One more thing. I wanted tell you I’m sorry I didn’t believe you earlier about Lila. They found her.”
“When?”
Roc hesitated before answering. His father seemed awfully calm for a man who had just been told the corpse he stashed had resurfaced. Roc’s insides had been full of jellyfish ever since Rhys had told him. “A few days ago. Why did you have to stick her in a casket with someone else?”
“I had my reasons. Listen, you stay as far away as possible from Falhman. I don’t want you caught in the sewer when he goes down.”
“You’re not making any sense. How is he going down when I’m the one who killed Lila? The way I see it, he’s the one with the power to keep me out of trouble, especially since you seemed to have botched the job.”
“I told you they would never catch you, Roc. Lay low until this blows over.”
“It’s not going to blow over, Dad. Lila was pregnant with my child. Her mother is FBI, and I don’t think she’s going to stop until she finds the killer.”
“I fixed it, Roc. They will never pin her murder on you.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I’m coming to help you out of this.”
“Don’t. Stay with Mom and protect her. If I reject Falhman, I don’t want him coming after you two as bargaining chips. Now might be a good time to take the European trip you’ve always talked about.”
“I’m coming.”
“Don’t, Dad. You’ve always bailed me out. It’s time I became the man I’m supposed to be. Give Mom a kiss for me.” Before his father had a chance to protest, Roc hung up the phone, his mind spinning a hundred miles per hour.
It was one thing to say he was going to take care of his own problems and quite another to admit to them and find a solution. He punched in Sylvia’s number on his cell phone. Time for a fishing expedition.
Sylvia appeared for their supper date at Rogueman’s Bar all dolled up in a sexy, sequined number fitting her like a second skin. Roc let his gaze roam over her, savoring the lustful feelings that came over him for several minutes before he shut them down. There’d be no sex tonight. His focus was information. Somehow it didn’t feel right to quiz her and then take her to bed.
For a minute he mused over the irrationality of the thought, wondering what was happening to the old Roc who’d take a woman for any reason in a heartbeat. His goody-two-boots brother must be wearing off on him.
Sylvia slid onto the chair next to him, scooting it closer, and he poured her a martini from the shaker Johnny had left. Roc scanned the shifter bar, letting the blinking ring auras mesmerize him. This could be all his, if he played it right. For the first time in his life he wasn’t sure he wanted it. Maybe it was because he felt it slipping from his grasp because of Lila’s body appearing. Or maybe he’d seen something more enticing than power because of Rhys.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Sylvia said.
Roc shook himself from his reverie and stared into the depths of her dark eyes. “You know, you’re a real beauty.”
“Thank you,” she said, preening. “You’re not bad yourself.”
“Too bad we met as late as we did. Things might have been different.”
She frowned and twisted around to him. “Sounds like the beginning of a ‘Dear John’ line. Are you planning on breaking up with me?”
He laughed. “I didn’t know we were a set to break up.”
“Ouch. That hurt.” She laid her hand over her breast, fingers splayed across the exposed, creamy flesh. His gaze followed her motion, and she stroked her fingers closed in an obvious attempt to lure him, smiling provocatively. “I have feelings for you, Roc. Don’t you know?”
“One can never tell with you, Sylvia.” The way she twisted him to get whatever suited her purposes seemed more like his father than a lover’s infatuation. “Don’t get me wrong, what we have is great. Great sex. Great scheming. Great plans. Why would I want to throw that away?”
She didn’t seem convinced. Leaning forward, he trailed a finger down the edge of her dress into the hollow between her breasts. She closed her eyes and sighed.
“That’s better,” she whispered. Opening her eyes, she asked, “Shall we skip dinner?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “I’m hungry.”
“Me, too,” she said, moistening her red lips with the tip of her pink tongue.
He handed her a menu. “Food first.”
Apparently satisfied he’d promised sex, she opened her menu. “Have you been thinking about Falhman’s announcement?”
“That and other things.”
“What things?”
“Our plans to take over and get rid of Falhman. My brother.” He put his menu down. “I’ve been wondering about something.”
She indicated he should continue.
“The day when you had me checking Rhys out at the graveyard, whose funeral was he attending?”
“His homicide partner’s.”
“Was she the girlfriend you mimicked when you mind shifted with him?”
“What makes you ask?”
“He’s mentioned losing someone he loved. I put two and two together.” Sylvia got a satisfied cat-with-the-cream expression at his mention of Rhys’ loss. “She was the one, and you’re glad she’s gone.”
“Ridiculous,” she snapped as an irritated demeanor replaced the satisfied one.
“Why,” he asked. “Do you love him? Is that why you mimicked her?”
“I mimicked her to save her sorry ass. I should have let him find out about her right then, and I might have saved myself a lot of trouble. While we’re asking questions, let me put one to you. Why were you sulking around the graveyard instead of staying where you’d be out of range?”
“I did stay out of range.”
“I don’t know how, but Rhys knew you were there. He hollered for the woman in the car to get down and took off running.” She paused, sitting quietly for several minutes as she watched Roc. “Did you know her?”
“Who?” He tried to still his rapidly beating heart, knowing she would scan him.
“The woman in the car?”
“Never saw her before.”
The stare she gave him told him she knew he was lying. He scraped his chair away from the table and stood. “I just remembered something I have to do.” He dropped two twenties on the table. “This ought to cover the meal.” Then he left.
Sylvia watched his disappearing backside, disappointed he wouldn’t be dessert, but she wouldn’t go home empty handed. Lila was the name Rhys had shouted the day of the funeral. Lila was also the name of Delaney Ramsey’s daughter, who was lying, partially decomposed, in the city morgue. A couple peeks at the coroner’s reports and a little stealthy probing at the precinct should net her everything she needed.
If Roc knew anything about Lila’s death, and
from his reaction she suspected he might, she’d have what she needed to keep him in line for Falhman.
Two things bothered her, though: his interest in Alexi Jordan and her mind shifting with Rhys. Was it a brotherly competition thing? Maybe he couldn’t stand the thought that Rhys might outrank him in bed.
She searched her memory for anything she might have said that could link her to Alexi’s death. She had been careful to cover her tracks.
