Night Games Page 6

  He winced and nodded. “Point taken.”

  When he was gone, she was left with Jack. And all the agents and cops in the house, but few of whom she knew on more than a nodding acquaintance. She drew in a breath and let it ease out. “Well, this day went to shit really fast.”

  Jack pitched his voice low. “And here I thought we’d be spared the awkward morning-after talk.”

  Coughing into her fist, she covered a startled laugh.

  “It’s sad you’re not wearing the bridesmaid dress.” His voice turned into a low rumble that made her insides clench. He’d used the same tone before he’d slid his cock inside her the night before. “It did amazing things for your ass.”

  She had to work to suppress her grin, something she’d never have guessed she’d do any time soon after she’d seen that victim’s body. “Sorry, I’m so not doing the walk of shame in front of my colleagues. There were a lot of people who saw me in that dress yesterday, who might put two and two together on why I might still be wearing it this morning.”

  “Good thing we showered the sex off of us, or the fangs would smell it.” He seesawed his hand through the air, his face sober, as if they were talking about something of vital importance to the case.

  “Uh-huh. I guess that’d be the stink of shame?”

  Now it was his turn to cough-laugh, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth.

  She shrugged. “I’ve never been with another cop. Agent. Whatever.”

  “No?” Surprise reflected on his face, as well as a flash of masculine pride. “I was your first, huh?”

  Rolling her eyes, she resisted the urge to smack him. Barely. “I don’t mix business with pleasure. Sex is a completely separate thing from my job. Otherwise things get messy, and you compromise your ability to work and your credibility to your colleagues.”

  Especially if you were a woman. She didn’t say that last part out loud, but even in Magickal branches of law enforcement, this was a boys’ club. She had to be better than the men to be considered equal.

  She only hoped she was better than this killer. She had a lot more experience than she’d had back then, and technology had come a long way in the intervening years. Considering her life was on the line here, she’d take any advantage she could get.

  They stepped out of the way while Tess had the body tagged, bagged, and loaded on a gurney for transport to her lab. The crime scene analysts would be doing their things for hours more. Now they had to wait for the forensics and magic detections to give them some clues. Until then, they had to track down Mary Winston’s next of kin and break the news.

  Always Selina’s least favorite part of the job.

  The puzzle, the mystery, the challenge, she loved. The part where she had to tell people that a huge hole had just been ripped into their hearts was right down there with wrestling a suspect into submission while hip-deep in fresh sewage. In fact, she might just pick the sewage rumble.

  Then again, this wasn’t officially her case, so she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. Something else she didn’t care for. She cleared her throat and watched the CSUs work. “So.”

  “So.” Jack tilted his head forward to look her in the eyes. “Kingston said you needed to be here. Cavalli arranged for us to have you for as long as we need you. So. Tell me what you know about all of this.”

  For as long as they needed her, huh? Great, nothing like getting loaned out indefinitely. Then again, time wasn’t exactly on her side anymore, was it? She sighed. “It would be an understatement to say that this is highly reminiscent of a series of murders we dealt with about thirty years ago in New Orleans.”

  He jotted that down in the little notebook he’d had that morning. When she’d been naked and humming with satisfaction. Just the beginning of a long string of rude awakenings this day had served up so far.

  He glanced up, his dark brows furrowed in thought. “How many murders?”

  “Four.” Her jaw worked in order to get that out. Four people died, and now another. Five people dead, and she still knew no more than she had three decades ago.

  “And you had no leads?”

  “Nothing solid.” Drawing in another breath just had his scent filling her nose. Not a good thing if she wanted to keep her mind on business. “The killings stopped as abruptly as they started, and with nothing new to go on, I was told to drop it by the upper brass.”

  “No DNA was left at the scene?”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “DNA evidence didn’t come into police investigations until the latter half of the 1980s. This was before that time.”

  He blinked for a moment, and she realized that during his career, he had always had DNA evidence. This was before his time, too.

  Damn, she felt old.

  He shook himself. “Okay, walk me through what you remember, and I’ll request the original files from New Orleans be dug out, dusted off, and sent over.”

  She could probably recite everything that was in the files, but she didn’t say that. The FBI agents needed to see the paperwork for themselves. She didn’t mention that the pictures were of scenes that visited her nightmares. Looking down on Bess’s murdered corpse had disturbed her more than other atrocities she’d witnessed in her long life. War, famine, plague. She’d seen it all, but these four murders? They’d haunted her.

  Why she knew to her bones that this wasn’t a copycat, she couldn’t say. It was him. How and why he’d ended up in Seattle, she didn’t know. But she’d find out when she caught him, locked him up, and threw away the key.

  Finally.

  It was strange having Selina Grayson in his office. She took up a lot more space than she should have, considering how petite she was.

  Or maybe it was just Jack’s intense awareness of her that wouldn’t let him focus on anything but her. It wasn’t like him to have his mind drift off of work. When he was here, he was all here. Hell, when he wasn’t here, his thoughts were often preoccupied by his cases.

  Usually, he liked it that way. It kept him from reminiscing about things he’d rather forget. If he kept busy, kept moving, he could outrun his ghosts. It had worked for him for almost two decades, so he went with it.

  A short knock sounded on the door, and Peyton stepped in silently. He nodded to both of them, stroked his tie against his chest, and took the seat next to Selina. The man had a knack for fading into the woodwork when it suited him, and he made use of that talent. He was the most unassuming werewolf Jack had ever met.

  Jack scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and looked at Selina. “I know it was a long time ago, but is there anything you noticed that was different about this scene than the ones you handled in New Orleans? Anything you can remember would be helpful right now.”

  Her dark gaze cooled until not a single expression showed. “I’m pretty clear on the details. Senility hasn’t gotten me yet.”

  Peyton snorted, what passed as a smile for him fluttering the corners of his mouth, but he said nothing. Selina didn’t so much as crack a grin, her lips a flat line.

  Jack might have attempted to tease her into a laugh if they’d been alone, but they weren’t, and what she’d said at the Winston residence told him she didn’t want anyone to know they’d slept together. He kept his voice even. “That’s good to hear. Were there any obvious differences between your cases in New Orleans and this one?”

  “No.” She crossed her legs, and his gaze dropped to her slim thighs. Those legs had cinched around his waist last night while she lit him up with pleasure spells. His body reacted predictably to that little trip down memory lane, but he ignored it and forced himself to look at her face. Her gaze was clear and cold. “For each crime scene, there was an obvious entry point—window, back door, balcony. We were never sure how he got through people’s spell shields on their homes, but it’s possible his victims didn’t use them. After he entered the residence, he shot them twice. There was always a violent attack that included the use of black magic and—when the victims were Magickals�
�the application of sunlight or allergen metals, followed by draining the victim’s body in their own bed. There was never any sign of sexual assault. That seems consistent with what I saw today, though you’ll have to wait for Tess and your CSUs to get back to you for something more conclusive.”

  “You know how long it takes to process a scene, but Dr. Jones should be done with the autopsy later today or tomorrow. Or Monday, since tomorrow’s Sunday. It depends on how large her backlog is.” He shrugged. Since she was a cop, he didn’t have to explain. “Were there any connections between the victims?”

  “None that we found. Different economic backgrounds, different areas or suburbs of the city, different friends, ages, jobs ... everything. They didn’t even use the same bank, eat in the same restaurants, or shop in the same grocery stores.” She blew out a breath at the incredulous look on Jack’s face. “Yes, we were desperate enough to examine their lives that closely. Two of the victims weren’t even Magickals. One was a human who’d married a Fae, the other was a Normal who’d been adopted by a Magickal couple.” She tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair. “That was the only connection we found. All the people this guy killed were Magickals who’d married Normals or Normals who knew about magic. Since vampires are notorious for their disdain of every other Magickal species, not to mention humans, we figured it was a bloodsucker taking his hate to the next level and punishing those who dared to mix.”

  “I’ve put in a request with the NOLA PD to have those files sent here.” Peyton spoke for the first time, and Jack nodded.

  Jack steepled his fingers together in front of him. “But Ms. Winston wasn’t married to a Normal, according to our records.”

  Selina shook her head. “There has to be a connection, because that was no copycat. I’m certain of it.”

  “Copycats can have an obsession to detail that—”

  “I’m aware of that.” Her gaze bored into him. “But this isn’t a copycat, and Mary Winston had something to do with a Normal finding out about magic. We just haven’t found out how.”

  Jack held up a hand in surrender. “Maybe, maybe not. We haven’t received her files from the All-Magickal Council yet, so maybe that will show more.”

  He wasn’t sure which he hoped they’d find in those documents—that their victim hadn’t brought a Normal into the Magickal world, and this murder was just a freak coincidence in its resemblance to an older string of crimes, or that they found this was a serial killer resurfacing after decades of silence.

  Neither was a good option. And no matter what the file showed them, he still had a dead body on his hands. Merek’s clairvoyance and Selina’s experience said this was connected to the murders in New Orleans. Even if he didn’t trust them or their Magickal precognition, he trusted his own instincts. They’d kept him alive through a war and countless deadly situations since joining the FBI. The way the hair prickled on the back of his neck told him that this resemblance was no coincidence.

  They had a Magickal serial killer on their hands.

  Fuck.

  “Her next of kin might be able to tell us,” Selina pointed out.

  As if on cue, the phone on his desk buzzed, and he scooped it up. It was the receptionist letting him know that Mary Winston’s sister had arrived. He sighed when he hung up.

  Selina straightened in her seat. “The victim’s family?”

  “Yep. Dorothy Lapinsky.” He looked to Peyton. “I’m hoping you can take care of something while we question her. Do you have any contacts on the Normal side of the Seattle PD?”

  The wolf’s chin dipped in a nod, while Selina’s brow furrowed. Her fingers tapped a steady beat against the arm of her chair. “You think Ms. Winston might not be the first victim in Seattle.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “It wasn’t a pattern we were looking for until now, and you said this guy targets Normals, too.” He shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”

  Peyton rose to his feet. “I know a woman.”

  With that semicryptic reply, the wolf exited as silently as he’d come, leaving the door open behind him. Jack knew that was all the information he’d get until Peyton decided otherwise. Getting full sentences out of the man could be like pulling teeth.

  That was the last bit of attention he could spare for Peyton because he could see the receptionist through his doorway. Trailing in her wake was a woman with glasses that magnified her eyes so much she looked like a confused owl.

  He glanced at Selina, but her face had turned to stone. If she’d been difficult to read before, it was impossible now. What had caused the change, he didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to find out. Sliding out from behind his desk, he held out his hand to Dorothy. “Mrs. Lapinsky, I’m Special Agent Jack Laramie. Call me Jack. And this is Detective Selina Grayson. Why don’t you come in and sit down?”

  “Hello, Jack.” Her voice was as soft and fluttery as her appearance. “Mrs. Lapinsky is what we call my mother-in-law. I’m just Dorothy.”

  He stepped back and motioned to the chair Peyton had vacated. Nodding his thanks to the receptionist, he shut the door to keep the conversation they were about to have private. It was hard enough to do this without an audience.

  He hadn’t even resumed his seat when the woman burst into tears. “The voices told me that my dear sister is dead. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

  Her voice rose to a birdlike screech, and he fought a wince. “The voices?”

  “I have clair-au-au-audience.” The last word broke into pieces as she sobbed.

  Well, he didn’t have to break the bad news. Her precognitive clairaudience had done it for him. Not for the first time, he was glad he hadn’t a drop of magic in him. He didn’t want little voices in his head.

  The next fifteen minutes were a blur. Dorothy was a mess. Tears and snot dribbled from her chin onto her shirt as she talked and sobbed and gestured with the tissue Jack handed to her. Sympathy squeezed his insides. He knew what it was like to find out that someone he loved was lost forever. He knew how all the bullshit that might have occurred in the relationship fell away to nothing and all that was left was the loss. A gaping hole in the heart and life where that person had once been. Any possibility to have a better, closer, deeper relationship was gone. Time cut off. The present and future with that person ceased to exist. It was a shock to the system, and he’d seen people react to the news in many different ways. Some were stoic and calm, some fell apart like Dorothy.

  None of it was easy.

  And it was even harder when that loss came with the knowledge that someone else had stolen your loved one from you, ripping multiple lives apart. It was ugly and scary, and it twisted a person up inside. This was so clear a demonstration that the person who’d been killed wasn’t the only victim. Friends, family, co-workers. So many people could and would feel the ripple effect of loss.

  This was also part of what drove him. Justice for all of the victims, not just catching the criminal.

  He caught Dorothy’s hand, cutting off her rambling story about how Mary had always been so kind and sweet, even to their baby brother’s mean familiar. “Thank you, Dorothy. I’m so sorry for your loss. I know this is difficult, but it would really help our investigation if you could answer a few questions for us.”

  Selina stirred in her chair, the first sign of life from her since Dorothy had informed them about her inner voices cluing her in to her sister’s death and her subsequent meltdown. Jack wasn’t sure what was going on with the detective, but now wasn’t the time, so he pushed away the concern that flared to life within him.

  “We have reason to believe that the person who killed your sister might have wanted to make a statement about Magickals who brought Normals into the Magickal world.”

  “My sister would never have broken the nondisclosure laws!” Indignation sparked in the woman’s tear-glutted gaze.

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t have.” He kept his voice quiet. He’d found that the quieter he got,
the less upset and confrontational witnesses and suspects became. They had to lower their voices to hear his. “The records we have for her don’t indicate that she ever married a Normal. Is that true?”

  Dorothy shook her head, her big eyes blinking, which made her look even more owl-like. “Her husband was a Fae. He died a hundred years ago. Maybe more.”

  “And she never remarried?” Damn, he’d hoped something had fallen through the cracks. Because Mary didn’t seem to fit the pattern of the other victims.

  “No, she didn’t.” Her brows drew together. “She always said she’d found the love of her life and anyone else would just be second best.”

  “Was she ever involved in a Normal finding out about magic at all?” Selina leaned forward to ask the question.

  Dorothy’s mouth opened to deny it, he could see it on her face, so he jumped in. “Really think about this, please. It may be something that helps us catch her killer.”

  She paused for a long, protracted moment, and Jack knew they had it. The connection between this victim and the others. The missing piece.

  “No. It couldn’t be something that small that got her killed.” Dorothy’s chin wobbled. “It couldn’t be.”

  He squeezed her fingers again. “I’m afraid it could be. Tell me what happened, if you can.”

  “Mary couldn’t have children. She was born without all her girl bits working correctly.”

  He blinked at the term “girl bits,” but nodded to encourage the woman to keep talking.

  “So they decided to adopt this young Normal boy. Things back then were less formal, you see, and children were often just put on trains and shipped out west to find families. And this boy ... Evan was his name. He was a sweet little thing. Sickly and small for his age, but smart as a whip. Mary just saw him and fell in love.”

  Selina sat back. “She let him know about magic existing?”