[Draven's Crossing 1] Hidden Diversions (13 page)

She could still smell Torger’s exclusive cologne: pine, night air, wolf musk and pure male with just a hint of vanilla and spices. The echo of his body warmth pressed against her skin, sending a bolt of heat straight to her pussy.
Must act professional, now is not the time.
Ignoring the sensation, she refocused on Bill’s lecture until she’d heard enough.
“Fine.
Fine.
Okay, tread carefully. Got anything else to tell me that I haven’t already heard, Mom?
Nothing?
Good. Let’s go so Ed can setup.” She and Urban had decided it would be better to use a cover name rather than his real one in case the Representative’s staff got paranoid and decided to do a background check. One never knew what the Representative was thinking at the moment. In grief he could go nuts and lash out at everyone around him. She’d seen it happen and didn’t want to give him any reason to do that to them. Too much was at stake in her opinion to get kicked out. They wouldn’t get another chance unless something major happened.

The Representative’s mansion was located near the Mayor’s official residence. As they got out of the car and headed for it, Isy noticed the doors were already open and the Representative’s assistant stood in the doorway, a tight smile on her lips. Dressed all in black right down to her stockings she looked like Death’s secretary. Her features were sharp, almost hawkish. There was a glint in her green eyes that set Isy off her center. Isy’s stomach lurched at the sight. All thoughts of Torger died in the face of that woman. Long and lean like a
whip,
unreadable emotion glittered in her eyes. Her pale skin was so tight it looked stretched over bone and sinew. Isy felt as if she had been transported back to middle school, in Mrs. Tingley’s class, with her strict face and her let the ruler fly on your knuckles attitude for even putting a toe out of line. Isy stifled a shiver and marched up to the house. She smiled and stuck out her hand, “Isadora Jones, here for the interview with Representative Evanson.”

The woman didn’t return the gesture, instead, turning on her heel into the darkened interior without a word to them. Her shiny ink black hair was pulled back into a tight bun that seemed to steal light as she moved into the manor making the surroundings seem darker.

“Okay. Let’s follow the icy draft, people.” She walked after the woman and hoped things would get better.

“Isy,” Bill hissed. “Be nice. They’re in mourning.”

I’ll bet.
She didn’t say that out loud, even though she wanted to. Rather than answer Bill, she focused on the interior design of the mansion. It was nice, albeit dark and heavy on the masculine side. There wasn’t a trace of Muffy Evanson anywhere, which struck her as odd. Not even a family portrait or small pictures from their wedding. It was almost as if the woman hadn’t existed.

“It would be best to have a sunny room. Nothing to do with sound but it would look good on camera,” Urban threw out.

“No. Need a darkened room, would add to the mourning mystique,” Bill retorted.

Isy snorted. “I agree with Ed. Sunny would be better. Or at least, a well lit room. Where the hell is she leading us?”

They’d been walking for a bit without any sign that they would be stopping. The corridor seemed to be getting darker. There weren’t any windows. The walls seemed to close in on her. Beads of sweat popped up on her brow and upper lip.
Screw the makeup artists, this is just fucking creepy.
There weren’t even any pictures on the wall. There were patches of lighter squares as if there had been things there before, not now. Not even of past Representatives to Draven’s Crossing. It was weird, almost as if he didn’t want anyone to know who had come before him. Fingers of ice trailed down her spine as they came to a large, paneled oak door. The assistant stopped and turned toward them. Her disposition hadn’t seemed to improve any. In fact, she seemed even more frigid than before.

“I hope you’ll respect Mr. Evanson’s mourning period and not push him too hard. He does have other duties to attend to,” the assistant said in a chilled tone.

With those words of warning, she turned the knob and gestured for them to enter the room. Isy strode into the room before fear could make her say some sort of nonsense excuse and then run away. Things weren’t helped by the sense that Urban and Bill wanted to run just as much as she did. Representative Ivan Evanson sat in a chair by a roaring fire. He wore all black which only made his pale pallor stand out even more. His blond hair was slicked back, brown eyes downcast. She almost bought the act.
Almost.
His hands were clenched in fists on his lap, and his jaw was tight. His lips were a thin, rose pink line that made his handsome face look distant and cold. He was seated even farther away from her than during her interview with him.

Isadora held out her hand and approached him. “Representative Evanson, I’m so sorry for your loss. Muffy was truly a jewel.
A wonderful woman.
Thank you so much for sharing this time with us. Your constituency will be most appreciative.”

He rose, smoothed his jacket down and shook her hand. “Thank you for wanting to do a piece on my wife. She was an extraordinary woman, her loss is…unbearable. I just hope Torger catches this maniac.”

She didn’t miss the implication that Torger was incompetent. Isy bit back a retort defending Torger.

“Please, do have a seat.” He didn’t wait for her action; he returned to his chair and rested his ankle on his opposite knee.

Urban worked quickly to mike everyone up and Bill handled the camera work. Evanson’s people had insisted on only having three people in her entourage, as if they were going to trample around his house with a hundred crew members. For some reason Bill had volunteered to go behind the lens, as if he wanted to make sure that his star reporter didn’t step on any toes while she intruded on the grieving process. The camera was setup and everyone was ready to go within a few minutes. They had to work quickly; his assistant had made it clear that time was a luxury the Representative didn’t have. Isy kept the interview light with lots of softball questions. Mostly background information about Muffy, how people can continue her legacy and where they can send their condolences. Evanson’s answers were mechanical, no tricks that she could see but he continued to act distant.

Maybe it was the death of his wife or maybe it was having Isy ask him questions, she wasn’t sure. But it felt like she wasn’t talking to Evanson at all; he was a completely different person. There was a hitch in his voice that didn’t sound right. Every few minutes his eyes would shift from brown to green to hazel and back to brown as if they weren’t stabilized in color. She wasn’t sure if his eyes had ever done that before. A red flush appeared on his neck and in his cheeks and every so often he’d swallow or clear his throat. Then he would go back to being pale. Muscles would ripple under his skin as if he was a shifter fighting back a change. Then there was his scent; normally subtle and woodsy it would become bright with a metallic tang to it.

Her suspicions seemed to be confirmed, and now she had Urban and Bill to back her up. Well, Urban. She doubted Bill noticed anything. By the end of the interview, she’d learned nothing to indicate a setup of Muffy’s death but Ivan Evanson was hiding something big, that she was sure of.

“Sound was perfect. Um, can I use your bathroom? Drank a lot of coffee,” Urban said.

Isy looked up, thinking nothing of the request. He had been downing coffee like he had an addiction. Bill grunted something but Isy didn’t catch it. Evanson nodded and called his assistant, who showed Urban out of the room. Once everything was packed and pleasantries were exchanged they were led back down the dark corridor of depression. Urban joined them at the entry with a shit eater’s grin on his face. Isy didn’t ask but her curiosity was piqued. Bill muttered about how unprofessional Urban was but strode to the van like his ass was on fire. Isy sidled up to Urban.

“What happened?”

Urban shook his head. “Not here. At your office,” Urban said.

She bit her lip to hold back the questions that were flitting through her head. The ride back to the studio was far too long in Isy’s opinion, and Bill drove like a paranoid grandmother with a horrible sense of direction. He kept taking turns that the GPS didn’t instruct him to and he kept looking in his rear view mirror, speeding up and slowing down depending on if a car was behind them or not. When they reached the studio Isy snatched the keys from him.
“Never.
Again.
Do you understand me?
Never again.”

She marched into the studio with
Urban
trailing behind her. “And I thought Torger was a horrible driver, total road rage, but that one? Good goddess, he makes most spooks look totally easy breezy, no one following us at all.”

She didn’t ask him why he thought Bill suspected that they were followed, she was far too glad to be back on stable ground. They rushed to her office where she shut and locked the door as soon as they were both inside. “Spill,” Isy demanded. Even her dragon was curious to see what he’d found.

Urban dug into his pocket and produced a piece of toilet paper. Before she commented on his fascination with other people’s toiletries, he
unwrapped
it and held out his hand. In his palm was a tiny blue tablet.

“Viagra?”
Isy scratched her head. She’d never heard of a man becoming standoffish due to taking the little blue pill.

Urban shook his head.
“Nope.
Not sure what it is but it was in an unmarked medicine bottle, with only his name on it. No address, doctor, instructions or side effect warnings. It was in the mirror cabinet over the sink. They didn’t bother hiding it.
Makes me wonder.
I’ll have a lab analyze it. Thanks for having me along. I’ll go check out.”

He left before she could ask him more questions. Rather than go after him and demand more information, she called Torger and let him know what his brother had found. Once she hung up with him, she still felt as if she’d been left out of the loop. “Well, at least we have something.”
And there’s also what I saw,
if
I saw it.
She still couldn’t grasp what it was that she’d witnessed. It was almost as if Ivan Evanson was on the verge of a shift, but he wasn’t a shifter. No one really knew what he was as he’d never said.

Rather than pester Urban for information or call Torger for hour by hour updates, she focused on what she had to do for that night’s broadcast. There was a momentary distraction by the mail. Her fan mail bag was bigger than usual. She assumed it had to do with viewers asking for more information, any snippet of something, about the killer or what the City Hall was going to do or say next. She would have had Michaela go through everything but extra energy and a need to burn off her curiosity had her going through everything and sorting them into piles; gifts and letters. Once that was done, she ordered lunch and began going through the letters first. Anything that had to do with a photo request went in one pile, things that should be shown to the police in another, simple words of praise went into a keeper stack and the naked photos and pervy mail she didn’t want went into the to be destroyed and never looked at pile. The only thing left was an envelope that looked old and dated.
Very expensive in her opinion.
The paper was heavy and smooth; it even smelled fancy with just a whiff of her favorite cologne. Curious, she ripped open the flap and slipped out the letter.

Her hands shook as she read the missive and her stomach threatened to rebel as revulsion filled her. With a quaking, hand she reached for her cell phone and hit speed dial, willing Torger to pick up on the first ring. He seemed to get the message.

“Torger.”

“Tor, get over here. I need you!” A scream bubbled up in her throat. She wanted to cry, crawl into a corner and curl up into a little ball. Why the hell had the killer contacted her of all people?

* * * *

Torger’s heart pounded against his ribcage as he drove through yet another red light. Isy’s voice had scared the shit out of him to the point that he’d left a meeting with Draven to check in on her. It didn’t matter that Draven was threatening to give his job to someone else or what Urban had found. All that mattered in that moment was getting to Isy and keeping her safe. His wolf paced within him, whimpering,
its
impatience reverberating through him. It wanted him to get out of the car and shift and run the rest of the way.

He pulled into the studio’s parking lot with a screech and rushed into the building, flashing his badge as he went. He’d been to Isy’s office before, so he knew the way without needing directions. When he got there, Isy was lying down on the couch. She lifted a hand without looking at him and said, “Over there, top letter.” Her voice was so low it was a raspy whisper. He almost didn’t hear her at first.