Creatus Series Boxed Set

by Carmen DeSousa

  Reece tilted his head, but jumped from his seat. Lyn Ashton, one of the most respected and powerful creatus on the planet, wanted him to back up his son. Mike wouldn’t have trouble bringing in one fragile human, so he didn’t understand his request. All that came out of his mouth, though, was, “Yes, Sir.” He’d been trained to listen and obey orders, and in his mind, Lyn Ashton was his superior.

  Reece darted after Mike, finding a set of stairs at the back of the restaurant with a sign overhead that read: Emergency Exit Only. He listened for any sounds of disturbance. The clang of dishes and laughter emitted from below him, nothing indicating that two men had charged by. Heavy footfalls radiated on the steel steps above him, so he charged up the flight of stairs. At each landing, the only thing that greeted him was a locked door, so he continued up. The last door had a sign indicating that it was an emergency fire exit. The roof.

  He shoved open the metal door and stumbled out into the brisk night air, his eyes raking across the rooftop until he saw Mike, standing on the ledge.

  Mike turned and shook his head. “He jumped.”

  “Reece cautiously approached Mike. “He jumped?”

  Yeah. I followed him up here, and he screamed for me to stay back. He just…kept backing away from me, and then, he just…stepped off the side of the building.”

  Keeping his distance from Mike as he looked over the backside of the building, Reece pulled out his cellphone with his left hand as he rested his right hand on his weapon. The man lay lifeless, a crumpled, bleeding mess on the concrete.

  “Emergency,” Reece said when the dispatcher answered. “I’d like to report a possible suicide.”

  Lyn Ashton’s request, I want that man alive, echoed through his mind. Why would Lyn have thought that the man wouldn’t have made it back alive?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  After hanging up from the 911 operator, Reece called Victoria. “Tell Derrick, Lyn, and Matthew to come up to the roof, but everyone else needs to leave.”

  “But—”

  “Victoria, the man is dead, and no one else at the table was a witness to his death, so there’s no sense involving the rest of you unless you’re subpoenaed. But I need to speak with the three of them.” He’d never been assertive with Victoria, but this was his line of expertise, and he wanted to protect her.

  “Okay,” she said without argument. A first for her, so he was grateful. “I’ll take Kristina home and send Derrick and the others up to you.”

  Once again, his evening with Victoria was ruined. He knew he should feel remorse for the dead guy, but seeing the utter fear in Kristina’s eyes, he couldn’t. That man hadn’t just killed her mother; Reece was certain he’d terrorized her nights ever since. Posttraumatic stress disorder didn’t just prey upon soldiers and police officers; victims also suffered its ugly grasp. He could only imagine the nightmares she must have endured after seeing her mother killed in cold blood.

  Reece clicked ‘end’, then drilled Mike with his tell me the truth or I’ll throw you over the side of the building gaze. The deathly stare had always worked on humans when he questioned them, but he doubted it’d work on Mike, so he kept his hand on his holstered firearm.

  Mike shook his head. “I didn’t push him, Reece, if that’s what you’re thinking, so you can take your hand off your weapon.”

  “You scared him, though, enough that he stepped off a building. Why?”

  Mike shrugged. “Maybe he thought I was Derrick. You know how we all look the same to humans… Derrick had hurt him badly after he stabbed Janelle. If it weren’t for the fact that Kristina had pulled his thoughts back to reality, by screaming for him to help her, I’m sure my brother would have killed him, as he should have. That son-of-a-bitch plunged a knife into Janelle for nothing. A few bucks, a ring… She lived in one of the worst neighborhoods in Boston. What were the chances that she had anything of value? She’d been taking Kristina to get ice cream for God’s sake.” Mike dropped his head. “And it’s my fault she died. I stopped Derrick from going to meet her. If I hadn’t, she’d be alive, and Derrick and I would probably be closer.”

  “Did you kill that man, Mike?” Reece asked. It didn’t matter what questions he asked or whether he read Mike his Miranda Rights. Even if Mike was guilty, he’d never go to trial. He’d disappear and have a new name. Reece had asked for his own knowledge, because he didn’t want to hate Mike—or worse, he didn’t want to be the one to exact punishment.

  Before Mike could answer, the door burst open and the three men he’d requested filed out onto the rooftop. Derrick was beside Reece before he could utter a word, looking over the edge. He moved as though he would jump, so Reece grabbed him.

  “No, Derrick,” Reece said. “You can identify him later. The police are on the way. The last thing we need is to explain how you got down there…after witnesses saw you go upstairs.

  Derrick nodded, but his breaths came out labored. His pupils were so dilated that Reece could have been looking into fathomless pits.

  “He’s dead, Derrick. He hasn’t taken a breath since I came up here.”

  Lyn and Matt peeked over the side, then Lyn looked to Reece, not his son. “What happened?”

  Releasing his muscles from his tense posture, Reece answered Lyn, “Mike said he jumped—or rather, he inadvertently stepped off the side of the building.”

  Lyn’s gaze drifted to his son. “He just stepped off the building?”

  “Yes, Sir. I didn’t touch him, I swear,” Mike said, suddenly looking like a little boy under the scrutiny of his father. Reece had never witnessed Mike in a weak state.

  “But you scared him…backed him up?” Lyn demanded.

  “I swear…” Mike reiterated. “I had my hands up, told him I just wanted to talk to him.”

  Derrick paced across the gravel, his head shaking back and forth, as though he were trying to put together pieces of a puzzle. “What difference does it make, Dad? That scumbag deserved to die. If it were me, I would have thrown him off the building.”

  “That’s exactly why I didn’t want you up here,” Lyn retorted. “That’s not how we handle things.”

  “No, of course not!” Derrick huffed. “We should let the justice system handle him, right? It’s been fourteen years, and the police had never caught him, even though he’d been right under their nose.” Derrick ran his hands through his hair. “The only cop who cared was Murphy O’Brian, but eventually, his captain insisted that he let it go, that the case wasn’t important enough. Really, he meant Janelle wasn’t important enough…”

  Lyn started to speak, but the wail of sirens in the distance had everyone looking at the streets below.

  Reece lifted his hand. “I called the police, so they’ll be here in a minute, and more than likely, the detective that I’ve been running into a lot will be here too. They’ll want to question Mike, and maybe us too, the reason I asked that Matt come up here. I know you won’t allow creatus to be taken into custody, but I highly recommend you agree to an interview with the detectives. There’s not enough evidence to detain any of us, so they won’t be able to hold you.”

  “That’s correct,” Matt chimed in. “And I agree, Reece. We have nothing to hide. Mike chased down a man his sister-in-law pointed out as the murderer of her mother. I can see how Mike’s six-six height would intimidate a guilty man who’d been running from the law for fourteen years. Not because he recognized him as the man who’d come to Janelle’s rescue…” Matt clarified, and Reece could imagine him in front of a judge, objecting that info be struck from the record. “Let’s forget that little tidbit, shall we?” Matt said. “We don’t need to confirm that Derrick was at the scene of Janelle’s murder.”

  Lyn massaged his temples, then glanced around the rooftop, his eyes falling on his brother. “Matthew, did you recognize him?”

  Matthew Ashton sucked in a breath and then nodded.

  Derrick’s tread over the gravel halted. Bits of crumbled white dust filled the air as he whipped ar
ound. “You knew him? How?”

  Lyn rested his hand on Derrick’s arm. “His name is Roy Baler. He was a janitor at the hospital fifteen years ago. He didn’t work for us long. About six months. We caught him stealing from the pharmacy. Matt threatened him with filing charges, but then ended up just firing him.”

  Blue lights from the alley highlighted Derrick’s slow back and forth head movement. “So…you, Dad, Matt, and Dean, as well as all of the rest of the family working at the hospital knew the man who murdered Janelle.” It wasn’t a question, Reece noticed. Apparently, Derrick had made the same connection that Reece had the moment Lyn mentioned his employment. Lyn had wanted the man alive, though, so he hadn’t been involved in whatever had gone down.

  It was too much of a coincidence to believe that Roy had just happened upon Janelle and Kristina fourteen years ago, though. No, someone in the family had thought that Derrick had become too chummy with Janelle and perceived her as a threat. Someone wanted Janelle out of the picture. The question was… Was that same person also the mole fueling the rogue creatus? Reece didn’t think there could be any doubt now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Casey scratched his head as Special Agent Reece Buckley stepped around the side of the building, waving his badge in front of one of the uniforms he’d stationed around the perimeter of the dead guy.

  Reece stepped up beside him. “Evening, Detective.”

  Casey shook his head. “Why am I not surprised to see you here, Buckley?”

  “Story of my life, I’m usually in the wrong place at the wrong time. I just so happened to be having dinner with my girlfriend’s family when someone at the table recognized the man. Long story short, one of the men at the table chased the man to the roof, and he jumped.”

  Casey raised his hand to wipe at his tired eyes, but then remembered he had gloves on. Resisting a laugh, he glanced at the man who looked the same age as he was, even though, according to his file, he was twenty years his senior. “Sure he did…”

  “Well, actually, my friend said he stepped backward, right off the roof.”

  “Right…”

  The agent shrugged. “Whatever you think about me, O’Brian, I’m not the bad guy. The only reason I keep popping up on your radar is because I’ve been working the same case you are. I’m sorry about your uncle, by the way. Murphy seemed like a nice guy.”

  “So where are your friends now?” Casey asked, ignoring his condolences.

  “Still on the roof. I followed the one guy up, but the man had already jumped. I’m the one who made the 911 call. I asked his father, brother, and uncle not to leave until I spoke with you.”

  “What about your girlfriend?”

  “No one saw anything, so no sense in bringing everyone in. You have my account and four other men. That should be enough.”

  Casey inhaled a breath and blew it out. He cocked his head at the young detective. “Mills?”

  “Yeah?” his partner asked.

  “You got this?” He didn’t want to ask if he was okay in front of the other investigators. “I gotta go talk to a witness.”

  “Sure thing. I’m good,” he called back, and surprisingly, he looked okay. Maybe he was desensitizing, which was good and bad.

  He stripped off his gloves and tossed them into a box. “Let’s go, Buckley.” He knew he should refer to Reece as Special Agent Buckley, but as much as he knew Reece was hiding something, the man still struck him as just one of the guys. Reece had been a SEAL and a narcotics detective in Miami, so he’d earned his stripes to be treated like one of the guys too. He was positive that Reece probably didn’t like titles anyway.

  Casey allowed Reece to lead the way around the building and up to the roof where four men stood in a loose circle. He took a moment to absorb his surroundings. The rooftop was deserted other than the four men who, other than dark hair, could be Reece’s relatives. Each man topped six-foot, had hair as black as a raven—only one man had a spattering of gray—olive skin coloring, obsidian-like eyes, and was extremely well built. Even the man who appeared to be fifty-something had a stellar physique. Nowhere had he seen such an elite group of men. Who was this family? And how did Reece Buckley fit in?

  “Maybe we should go to the precinct…” Casey offered. The men weren’t threatening, well, except the one he recognized as Derrick Ashton. Dr. Ashton held his jaw rigid, the muscles twitching every few seconds as though he were grinding his teeth. His eyes continually darted to the tallest man in the group, a man that could be his twin other than the couple of inches in height and extra muscle. And that was saying a lot for this group.

  “Matthew Ashton,” one of the middle-aged gentlemen said as he stepped forward and offered his hand. “I think that’d be a good idea. It’s been a trying night for my family.”

  Casey stepped back after shaking the man’s hand, then gestured for the rest of them to precede him downstairs. The men quietly marched off in a line, and Reece offered him a polite smile as he walked past.

  He couldn’t help but release a breath after they all disappeared into the stairwell. Definitely not a group of men he wanted to be alone with on a deserted rooftop, even though Mills and others had seen him leave with Buckley. Something was unnerving about this family. The hair on the back of his neck was literally standing on end. His uncle had told him never to ignore his instincts, and his instincts told him that something was up with Reece Buckley and his new friends.

  After reading Michael Ashton his rights and questioning him for an hour and a half, the only thing that Casey learned was that the deceased man—Roy Baler according to the restaurant manager—had supposedly been the man who killed Kristina Heskin’s mother fourteen years ago, the reason Mike had chased him up to the roof.

  “Something I still don’t understand,” Casey asked, leaning back in his chair as though he were discussing the last Patriot’s game. “Why would he run from you?”

  “Detective,” Matthew Ashton interrupted again. He’d quickly found out that Matthew Ashton was Michael’s uncle and the family attorney, the reason, he suspected that he’d made first contact on the roof. “We already discussed this. Michael has no way to know what Roy Baler had been thinking. Anything he said would only be conjecture.”

  “We’re not in court, Mr. Ashton, so it’s a simple question, and I’d allow some conjecture to help me better understand why a man would back himself right off a roof.”

  “Want conjecture, Detective?” Mike cut in. “My guess is that the man is—had been an addict. His eyes were wild looking. He probably thought I was someone who knew what he was. I’m sure Janelle Heskin wasn’t his first victim.” Mike stood up. “I’m outta here, Matt.”

  Matthew Ashton scooped up his pad of paper and pen, tossed them into his briefcase, and snapped it shut. “Do you want to question any of the other men in my group, Detective?”

  Casey shook his head. “Just Reece Buckley. Are you his attorney too?”

  Matthew Ashton winked. “Only if he gives me a retainer. I just met Mr. Buckley tonight.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jonas stretched his arm over his beautiful wife and snatched his phone off the nightstand. He’d put it on silent mode throughout the night, but he figured he’d better let it ring through by eight in the morning. He glanced at the clock: 8:00 on the dot. So, someone had probably been trying to reach him.

  “Where are you, Jonas? You promised me that he left town.”

  “I’m on my honeymoon. Who’s he?”

  “Honeymoon?”

  “Yeah…I got married… Didn’t I tell you?” He leaned over and kissed Meghan on the head.

  “No, you failed to mention that. So I take it you’re not interested in Vic anymore?”

  “Of course I’m still interested in Vic.” He kissed Meghan again when she grimaced. “Vic would be an awesome asset to our cause, especially if she brought her new beau.” Jonas held the phone away from his ear at the grumblings. When the complaints subsided, he asked his qu
estion again, “Who’s he?”

  “Roy Baler.”

  Jonas smiled. “Hmmm…past come back to haunt you, did it?”

  “You said he left town…that you made sure of it.”

  “Guess he came back,” Jonas said. “Is he causing you an issue?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Oh, well then…so what’s the problem?” Meghan’s hands roamed over his shoulders, making him want to hang up the phone. The last person he cared about was Roy Baler. Roy wasn’t his secret. He’d never even known the man. He’d been in London when he worked for the hospital. Jonas had only learned that secret a couple months ago, when Roy had come back to town, making demands after the news had mentioned Kristina Heskin.

  “I need you to check out his place. Make sure he doesn’t have any evidence leading back to me.”

  Jonas rolled his eyes, wondering when he’d become someone’s lackey.

  “I’m sorry, Jonas. I didn’t mean that to sound like an order. I know this would be you helping me. Would you please do this for me?”

  “Yeah. What’s his address?”

  “The same as before… The loser still lives—lived with his mother.”

  “What if she’s there?”

  “I have faith in you, Jonas. You can figure out how to search without her knowing you’re there. She has to be eighty-something by now. I can’t afford to leave any loose ends.”

  Jonas sighed. “Fine. I’ll go tonight, ’round midnight, so hopefully she’ll be asleep, but I’m not killing anyone, least of all an old lady.” He hung up the phone and stared down at Meghan. “You know, my love, a honeymoon…far, far away from here is starting to sound better and better.”

  She frowned. “Do you have to go somewhere?”