Shattered Souls

by Delilah Devlin

  More sane to contemplate sex with Sam. She had no doubts they’d wind up between the sheets before this case was done. But his brand of fierce, fast loving wouldn’t leave her with a mystical, insatiable craving for more.

  His loving she could handle. Their embrace back in the alleyway had been incendiary. When his hand had slipped beneath her hair, she’d shivered, her nipples prickling instantly into awareness. When he’d turned her, she hadn’t been able to resist. As always, their bodies slid together naturally—hers yielding, opening, his pressing relentlessly, forcing her surrender.

  And although she still ached from unfulfilled lust, she was glad her stomach had interrupted their little reunion. She wasn’t ready. Still felt too raw emotionally from the wild-ass morning. Sam didn’t trust her. Hell, she didn’t trust herself.

  Chapter Six

  As soon as she pushed open the agency door, voices dashed her hopes for a little “me” time. Not the dead kind of voices. These voices drifted from her partner’s office. One feminine, spoke in hushed sobs. The other, male and deeper than Jason’s, filled the spaces between the woman’s choked mutterings.

  Cait thought about backing away, but footsteps pattered toward the closed office door.

  Jason Crawford stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him. “Glad you’re here,” he said, hazel eyes darkening with irritation. “What kept you? We have a new case. Something your old friend laid on our doorstep.”

  Old friend? That caught her interest. “Fill me in.”

  “Uh-uh, you first. Tried to reach you at home but you’d already left. Where’ve you been?” He studied her face. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes were soft and concerned. More than once he’d shown up at her apartment on mornings she’d slept through her alarm.

  She gave him a mock frown. “Since when are you my keeper?”

  “Just curious.” His head canted, eyes narrowing as his gaze raked her face. “You’re blushing.”

  “For your information, I was working on another case—also new. Something that might actually pay the bills.”

  His blond brows rose. “Looks like we’ll be busy. Better come meet the Farmingtons first. Later, you’ll fill me in on your new project.”

  Cait ran fingers through her hair. “Got any coffee? I’ve been dying for a cup all morning.”

  “Sure, get yourself one, and then come join us.”

  In the kitchenette she poured a cup, took a fortifying sip, and returned to Jason’s office, letting herself inside the door. The Farmingtons, a well-dressed, middle-aged couple, sat side by side in straight-back armchairs across from Jason’s desk. Both of their expressions were haggard; deep half moons like purple bruises cupped their lower lids. Cait’s chest tightened. People only ever looked like that when a child was missing.

  Jason made the introductions, and she slid into a chair beside his desk.

  “The Farmingtons,” he said, facing her directly, “haven’t heard from their daughter in a week. Bill here called an old friend of his who used to be on the force, Henry Prudoe.”

  Cait’s heart stuttered, and she stiffened, realizing instantly this situation was what had brought Henry to Memphis.

  “Henry mentioned you to them,” Jason continued. “Said he’d be getting with you to do some of the groundwork.”

  A numbing chill crept up her spine. “Your daughter lives here?” she asked, breaking with Jason’s stare to meet the parents’ troubled gazes.

  “Lisa’s a student at the University of Memphis,” Mrs. Farmington said, slipping a photo from her wallet and extending it.

  Cait glimpsed a pretty girl with long blonde hair. “Have you contacted her friends and the school?”

  “We did that days ago. They’re worried too.”

  She sipped at her coffee. “What about the police?”

  “They took the report, but we know they can’t give her all of their attention. That’s why we called Henry. Only now we can’t reach him either, and we’re worried.”

  Cait didn’t figure it would be a good time to tell them Henry was dead—not before the police released the information. Besides, she detested notifications, could never shake the memories of her own parents’ deaths, which inevitably arose when she had to deliver similar bad news. Better she leave it for Jason, later. “I’ll need her address and a key to her apartment, if you have it.”

  “We’ve been through her apartment,” the father said, a sharper edge to his voice. “And nothing seemed out of order. Her day planner had listed a class and a dig here in Memphis this weekend, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “A dig?” Cait asked.

  Bill Farmington raked a hand through the stiff bristles of his short gray hair. “She’s an anthropology student. There’s a Civil War site the university is excavating.”

  Cait nodded. “I’m sure you were thorough, but we’d still like to take our own look around. Another set of eyes and all…”

  Bill dug into his pocket for his key chain and slid a key off the ring. “Whatever you need,” he said, sighing. “We’re staying at the Peabody for the duration.”

  Jason made more notes—the name of the officer who’d taken the report, of the friends they’d already called—then he herded the couple out of the office with assurances they’d be in touch again that night. He turned and fisted his hands on his hips. “What’s up, Cait? You turned white as a ghost when I mentioned Henry.”

  Cait gripped the wooden arms of her chair. “You’re not gonna believe it, but I’m assisting the Memphis PD in investigating the murder of Henry Prudoe.”

  Jason whistled silently and strode to his desk. He sat on the edge and peered down, studying her face. “And you didn’t want to mention this to our clients. Why?”

  “Because it’ll take time for DNA testing to come back and prove all the blood in his hotel room was Henry’s—and to match prints with the thumb we found at the crime lab.” At the sudden rise of his eyebrows, she added, “There was an explosion. It’ll be all over the news. Besides, I wanted to make sure both incidents are related first. Why add to their worries now?”

  “Because they’re gonna find out sooner or later. Fuck. What a goddamn mess.” He moved to his chair and tugged at his tie, loosening it. He only wore it when meeting a client for the first time. Jason was the face of the agency.

  Cait never bothered to dress the part of a successful PI, whatever the hell one was supposed to look like. Jason came from money and knew how to project the right image even though he hadn’t followed his father into the family’s law firm. A street cop, he’d advanced to vice until his career had been preempted by a shooting. He’d rushed into a dark alley after a drug dealer who shot toward him, and Jason fired into the darkness—unfortunately, hitting a high school kid necking with his girlfriend.

  Sam had put her in touch with Jason, one disgraced cop to another, and they’d hit it off instantly. Jason had seen past her surly demeanor and sensed her need to keep doing the kind of work she’d been destined for, even if she didn’t wear a badge and refused to carry a weapon.

  They’d fumbled their way through their first cases until they’d discovered each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Now they hummed along like a well-oiled machine. Except for those rare mornings she couldn’t drag her butt out of bed due to a late-night bender.

  Jason was her friend, understanding her weakness if not the cause.

  “Sorry about Henry,” he murmured.

  “Thanks,” she said, giving him a weak smile. “You’re the first one to say that to me today.”

  “Sam on the case?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why’d he drag you in?”

  “Because I left a message for Henry at his hotel. I called him last night to arrange a meeting.”

  “You make it?” he asked, arching a brow.

  Cait closed her eyes and shook her head. “I didn’t even remember making the call.”

  Jason dragged in a deep breath. His fingers drummed over his
lips. “Sam heard the message.”

  A brief nod. “Must have thought I’d been involved.”

  “Not as the killer, I hope?” His lips curled in a stiff smile.

  She lifted her shoulders. “There was so much blood. He came to my apartment and dragged me out of bed. Must have checked my clothes and bed first. He knew I couldn’t have been there.”

  “But you don’t really know.”

  “Not for sure.”

  “How was he killed?”

  “That’s the tricky part. You’re gonna have to take a leap of faith here, same as Sam did.”

  Jason’s eyes sharpened. “This gonna be one of your ‘special’ cases?”

  “Yeah.” Cait sighed. “Henry wasn’t in the room when we arrived. But his blood was all over it. There was a handprint in the mirror. The forensics guys from the bureau’s lab took it back to process. But something happened in the lab. Looked like an explosion went off. The mirror was shattered, and Henry’s body was there—in little bits.”

  Jason’s brows furrowed together. “You know more than you’re telling me?”

  “It’s all you need to know right now. When I’ve got something that makes sense, I’ll fill you in on the rest. In the meantime, it looks like our two cases might be related.” She held up the key. “Let’s hit the girl’s apartment and kill two birds with one stone.”

  Sam stood behind a tech running a print from the lone digit Cait had found through the FBI’s fingerprint ID system.

  “Got anything yet?”

  Sam glanced over his shoulder at Leland. “Not yet. DNA testing will take awhile, but we’re hoping to get a hit on the fingerprint. If it’s Henry’s, we’re gonna work on the assumption that the rest of the body parts are his.”

  “You get hold of any of his buddies in Vero Beach?”

  Sam nodded. “I contacted the local police and had them canvass his neighbors. He was working a case. A missing person. They didn’t know the name, but I’m hoping something will pop up while the team’s looking through his belongings. We already found a cell phone. Jimmy’s calling everyone he contacted within the last couple of days.”

  “You have someone looking at recent missing persons reports?”

  “On it already,” Sam said, stifling the urge to bite back because Leland was checking after him like he was a rookie.

  Leland clapped Sam’s shoulder. “Good work. What’s Cait working on?”

  The one thick brow Leland lifted had Sam tightening. “We’re going to meet tonight, compare notes. This hit her hard. She knew Henry better than anybody. Her dad and Henry were tight. She’s known him since she was a kid.”

  “Better keep her close.”

  Sam nodded, irritated at yet another reminder of Cait’s uneven track record. He still needed to make that trip to her apartment.

  “Got a hit,” the tech said, sliding away from the screen.

  Leland and Sam leaned close. Sam’s stomach took a slow dive south. He’d known what they’d find, but he’d still held out some hope.

  “Well, we got our answer,” Leland muttered. “Now if we could just get an explanation for how Henry’s body ended up frozen and looking like ground meat, we might get some sleep tonight.”

  “Might be hard to explain to the DA’s office.”

  “Just figure out something that won’t get us plastered on the front page of the National Enquirer.”

  So Leland had an inkling something supernatural had occurred. Sam wondered what had swayed him—the odd conflagration of clues left in the hotel room or the shattered body? Sam cleared his throat. “Cait and I will find out what really happened, then we’ll figure out how to spin the story.”

  Leland rubbed the back of his neck. “Damn shame. He was a good cop. He didn’t deserve this. Shoulda been kickin’ back, drinkin’ beer on his front porch.”

  Sam sighed. “Yeah, well, the only way we can make this right is to find the bastard who did this. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “I want this closed. Want it wrapped up tight. No leaks to the media.”

  He couldn’t agree more. “I’ll make sure my guys know to keep it close. But you’ll have to take care of the lab rats and the uniformed patrolmen who were the first responders.”

  “I’ll handle that end. Keep me in the loop, hear?”

  “Really want to know everything?”

  Shaking his head, Leland grimaced. “Just anything that might make the evening news.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Can I get you the usual?”

  Pauly, the bartender, was already reaching for her favorite scotch. So damn easy just to let him follow through, but Cait cleared her throat. “Just a Coke.”

  A shaggy eyebrow rose. “You takin’ the pledge?”

  She snorted. “As if. I’m on the job.”

  “Damn, there goes tonight’s take.”

  Inwardly grimacing, she chuckled and walked away. Cait breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar and comforting scents of O’Malley’s: alcohol, perfume, and cologne intermixed with wood polish and Pine-Sol. This had been her father’s pub—not that they’d ever shared a drink here. Patrick O’Connell had died in the line of duty when she was twelve. She could imagine his spirit here and hoped he was one of the many voices blending amiably into white noise.

  Still, being in O’Malley’s nursing a Coke was a lot like wearing a hair shirt. Morin might have cured the physical craving, but she still wanted a kick in her drink.

  Jason sat at their regular booth, a shot of whiskey in front of him.

  Cait eyed her own glass and sighed as she took her seat. “We should hit it early tomorrow morning. We don’t have much to go on so far,” she muttered.

  A blond brow arched. “Early morning?”

  Cait gave him an “eat shit” glare and then ignored his smirk.

  They’d combed through Lisa Farmington’s apartment, looking for clues. Cait had kept the girl’s planner, which contained her schedule and address book. Come morning, she’d start making her own calls to everyone in the book living locally.

  “What about the list?” Jason asked, holding the folded scrap of paper that contained five names, apparently all members of one family. The list was short and headed by the name Jonas Worthen with “Edgemont” scrawled at an angle beside it. Four female names set off by hash marks followed Jonas’s name.

  “It probably doesn’t mean a thing, but we can check the phone book tomorrow and call every Worthen we find.”

  He gave her a tired smile. “You know the start of any investigation is wide open until we get that first hit. We should probably check Worthens near Edgemont Cemetery first.”

  “It’s as good a lead as any, I suppose,” she replied.

  Jason stuffed the list in his shirt pocket. “Might not be anything at all, but we’ll follow it until it goes cold.” He lifted his glass and drained it. “I better head home. I might get on the Internet tonight and see what I dig up.”

  Cait took another sip of her drink and made a face. She’d wait until the bar closed, but she’d kick Sam’s ass if he didn’t show tonight. She was itchy being here without a scotch to soothe away the rough edges. At least with him here, she’d have something else to think about—like how the new lines etched on his stony face only made him that much sexier.

  Jason slid across his seat to go, and then his eyes widened. His lips thinned as though he were trying to hide a smile. “We got company.”

  Cait glanced over her shoulder to find Sam striding toward them. His tie was askew, jacket gone, his shirtsleeves rolled up his thick forearms. His expression was dark and moody. Cait’s body thrilled to the challenge.

  Sam halted beside their table. “Scoot over, Cait.”

  “No please?” she asked sweetly but moved, giving Jason a quick glare because his smile was widening as he settled back in his seat, in no hurry to leave now.

  Sam lifted her glass and took a sip, holding her gaze all the while.

  “Just Coke,�
� she drawled. “Want me to order you something stronger?”

  “I’m not thirsty. You fill Jason in?”

  Cait nodded. “Yeah, although we got a little sidetracked today.” She kicked Jason under the table to make sure he didn’t share just what they were working on. She wanted to string out this encounter as long as possible. Holding back, even for a few minutes, would irritate the crap out of Sam.

  Why she wanted to get on every last one of his nerves she wasn’t sure. Playing with Sam was like teasing a hungry bear. She could only expect to be mauled. And perhaps that was the point.

  Sam’s cheeks billowed as he released a deep breath and slumped in the seat beside her. “Henry was here working a missing person case. We narrowed the possibilities down to two recent reports of missing girls, both in their early twenties. We’re trying to contact the parents now to find out who might have hired him.” Sam glanced sideways, his expression losing its grumpy edge and softening. “Cait, we got a match on the fingerprint from the body in the lab. It’s definitely Henry’s.”

  Cait gave a quick nod, then sniffed and straightened her shoulders. Didn’t matter really that Henry had ended up looking like something passed through a meat grinder. Dead was dead.

  Jason’s foot smashed down on her toes, and he glared across the table.

  Cait angled her body toward Sam and cleared her throat. “Henry came to look into the disappearance of Lisa Farmington. That’s one of your girls, right? Her parents showed up in our office today. Henry had given them my name.”

  Sam blinked, and then his gaze ripped into her. “And you couldn’t have called me today to let me know? I’ve had a whole team trying to figure out what he was working on.”

  Cait shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Dammit.” Sam slipped a hand into his pants pocket. “I’ll be right back. Have to call the guys and let them know so they don’t have to stay at it all night.” He slid from the booth and stalked away.

  Jason leaned across the table. “Why didn’t you call him?”

  Her gaze wouldn’t meet his. “I needed a break. I spent the whole morning with him manhandling me and making demands.”