Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct (24 page)

“What’s the trouble here?” Cooper asked.

“The creep in there,” the woman said, “left the plug in the drain and the water runnin’. Gotta rusty, wet mess leaking through my ceiling downstairs.”

Mackenzie and Cooper looked at each other. They pushed their way to the door, pulling out their guns.

“You got a key?” she asked. The manager chewed his cigar and nodded. He moved forward, slipped the key in the lock, and stopped when Mackenzie held one hand up. “Wait over there.”

As the couple stepped back, Cooper knocked on the door. “Harden? Police. Open up.” He met Mackenzie’s gaze, pointed at her and then up. She gave a quick nod, agreeing that she’d go in high. He gripped the knob, turned, and they stormed in.

Cooper landed on one knee, weapon drawn. Mackenzie, back against the wall, searched for any signs of danger. Nothing...yet.

“Ah, shit.” Cooper stood with a shake of his pant leg. A piece of cold pizza fell to the floor, leaving behind a red stain on his tan pants.

Mackenzie inched forward, dodging the open pizza box on the floor inside the doorway. As she scanned the room, her weapon followed the same path. An avocado green couch with an exposed spring in the cushion lined one wall. Nobody there. Opposite, a small TV with rabbit ears perched atop an older wood-framed television set.

Her toe collided with a stack of newspapers, sports pages. She stepped over them and between two crushed beer cans. The room reeked of booze and cheap cigars.

Cooper checked the tiny space that served as a kitchen and shook his head. Her gaze settled on the only other opening in the room. She kept her Glock aimed at the doorway.

Damp sports and sex magazines lay strewn about the bedroom. Water squished in the ugly brown carpet with each step.

She didn’t know whether the mess in the apartment was the usual décor, but the plop of dripping water led them to a scene that was without a doubt not the norm. Jimmy Harden lay lifeless and nude in a tub of blood and water.

Mackenzie holstered her firearm and sighed. “Call it in.”

The sun turned the sky a brilliant orange as it started a downward slide behind the Chicago skyline. By the time Mackenzie dragged herself into the station, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. But dispatch told her Fuller wanted to see her.

Mackenzie had stayed at Harden’s place while forensics processed the apartment. She’d questioned the manager and downstairs neighbor, and then left Cooper to talk with other residents.

She’d checked on the search for her warehouse shooter, but all they’d collected from the scene were some spent shell casings, a few bullet fragments, and trace evidence, which they’d yet to analyze.

“Hey, Lyons. Fuller’s looking for you,” a passing detective told her as Mackenzie headed to her office. She’d hoped for a few minutes to gather her thoughts, but when the sergeant called...

“I’m on my way.” Changing direction, she entered the elevator and leaned against the back wall with eyes closed until the doors slid open.

Fuller sat behind his desk, surrounded by pictures of family, certificates of commendation, and stacks of paperwork.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

He looked up and removed his bifocals. “Shut the door, Lyons.”

That didn’t sound promising
.

“Sit down.”

She eased into the chair, tried not to clutch the arms in a death grip, and eyed his expression for any clues to his thoughts.

“You’ve been very busy.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get my written report to you before I go off duty.”

He leaned forward. “Why don’t you fill me in now?” Although posed as a question, that order brooked no argument.

“Victim’s name is Jimmy Harden. Midtwenties. Rap sheet includes B and E, assault, and armed robbery. Last arrest was on drunk and disorderly a couple months ago. Pickpocket. Street hood. A bookie. Didn’t make a lot of money. The manager hassled him about overdue rent the previous night. Body found in his tub this morning.”

“Cameras?”

“Not in that place.”

“Motive?”

“Undetermined. The killer may have pretended to deliver pizza to gain entry. Coop’s checking that angle.”

“Same MO as the others?”

“Not exactly. Like the first victim, he was shot in the chest and stripped. His right hand was chopped off, but there were no signs of mauling, and the locations differ. Harden was left in his own tub...private place instead of public.”

Mackenzie tried not to read anything into the frown on Fuller’s face.

“Hand it off to Koffman. I want you and Coop focused on the Canine Killings.”

“I’d like to keep this one, Sarge. I haven’t ruled out a possible connection to the Robertson and Shumaker cases.”

Fuller propped a pencil between two fingers, a holdover from his days prior to kicking a nicotine habit. “What makes you think there’s a connection?”

“Harden was Shumaker’s bookie. He claimed to work for Caprini. We mentioned his name during questioning only yesterday. Caprini denied knowing him, but he made the mistake of using Harden’s street name, Hardball. Then Harden winds up dead.”

Fuller rubbed his salt-and-pepper whiskers as he considered her words, the florescent light overhead reflecting off his bald head.

“It’s not much, but I’d like to follow it. Put some more pressure on Caprini and see what happens.”

“What about your prime suspect? Any connection between Harden and Stone?”

Mackenzie paused. Rafe hadn’t killed Harden. He’d been busy taking a bullet for her, not that she could prove it. Since he’d been with her all night, he had an ironclad alibi, but admitting as much would be the end of her career. As far as anyone else was concerned, Stone remained a suspect in the first two homicides.

“No,” she said. Her stomach churned.

“But you’ll investigate that possibility?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“All right. The count stands at three homicides. But if there’s any indication this last one is heading in another, unrelated direction, hand it off to Koffman.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t have to tell you the pressure to solve these cases...make an arrest...is growing daily.”

“No, sir.”

“Is there anything I should be aware of that prevents me from keeping you as lead investigator on this case?”

“Sir?” God, was he taking her off the case?

“Don’t be dense, Detective. I’ve no doubt Cooper called you within seconds of Hahn’s visit to my office this morning.”

“Yes.” Mackenzie couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat. “I saw Kenneth Hahn last night while I was following your orders.”

Fuller’s brows rose.

“To get close to Rafael Stone, gain his trust, pressure him until he slipped up.”

“Go on.”

“Stone stopped by the station last night to retrieve his firearm, which has been cleared as the murder weapon. I was with him when I received an anonymous tip from a snitch about the case.”

“The warehouse?”

“Yes. Since I had some time, I left with Stone. We ran into Hahn and his wife at a restaurant.”

“Hahn filed a complaint with OPS, alleging misconduct. He’s convinced he interrupted you and the prime suspect during an
intimate
moment over wine.”

“Intimate?” Mackenzie’s mind raced.
What had he seen? What could she say
? Unable to answer those questions, she let her frustrated anger show in a sneer of disgusted disbelief. Now wasn’t a time to display fragile nerves.

“That was his word choice, yes.”

“We were in a public restaurant surrounded by staff and other patrons. When Hahn walked up, I was questioning Stone.”
Which was the truth
, she told herself, even if the questions had nothing to do with the murders. “He was attempting to convince me that we aren’t on opposing sides.”
Misleading, but true
.

“Attempting...How? By wining and dining you?”

“He did offer me wine, which led to a disagreement.”

“How so?”

She frowned. “The bottle was worth eight hundred dollars. As I told Stone, ‘I’m not for sale.’”

Fuller’s lips quirked. “Did you inform Mr. Stone of the consequences for attempting to bribe a public official?”

“I didn’t exactly use those words, but neither did he admit to the attempt. I left after that.” She wanted to rub her sweaty palms on her thighs, but Fuller watched for any signs of discomfort.

“I take it Hahn missed this exchange.”

“Yes.”

“You rode there in Stone’s car?”

“Yes, but I left in a cab. I came back here for my car, tried to reach Cooper, and went to the warehouse.” She met his gaze, which didn’t waver. So far everything she’d said was the truth, and she prayed that would be enough.

Fuller’s chair creaked as he reclined. He steepled his dark fingers and peered at her for several long, uneasy seconds. “I’m already aware of the shooting at the warehouse. OPS will investigate, of course. I expect you to make yourself available tomorrow for further questioning.”

Mackenzie’s heart leaped into her throat, and her stomach plunged to her toes. Procedure called for the Office of Professional Standards to check into all shootings involving police officers, while the officers usually awaited the outcome from home. She could handle the questions, but taking leave now was not an option. Hahn would have his way regardless of his claims of misconduct. Had she cost herself the investigation?

“The encounter does give you an alibi against any allegations Hahn may have made concerning where you went after the restaurant. You obviously didn’t wind up at Stone’s house.”

Sensing that a denial would be unnecessary, Mackenzie remained silent.

Fuller gestured toward her bandage, his face showing anger for the first time. “However, you miscalculated by going there alone. Don’t do it again.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, no, I won’t.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Sir?”

“About the shooting?”

“Uh...Unfortunately, the gunman got away. I really thought I’d hit him, but no blood. No body. Forensics is processing some trace evidence found at the scene.”

“Keep me informed.” Fuller donned his glasses and began flipping through some files on his desk.

“I’m still on the case?”

He studied her over his bifocals. “With no body, I see no reason to put you on leave. Are you requesting a psychiatric evaluation?”

“No, sir. That’s not necessary.” She made to rise, then paused. “About Hahn’s complaint...?” She didn’t want to ask but had to know.

“As you said, you were following my orders. Contrary to Hahn’s opinion, the State Attorney’s office has no control over detective assignments. Whether one’s removed from a case is the decision of this department.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me.” He leaned onto his thick forearms. “Just capture this bastard...preferably before another body shows up.”

Relieved, she headed for the door.

“One final thing, Detective.”

She paused, turning to face him.

“Keep suspect interrogations in-house from now on, or take Cooper with you...at least until this case is solved. I don’t want to give Hahn any more chances to point fingers, no matter how unfounded his claims.”

The weekend sun cast golden beams about Mackenzie’s spare bedroom. She was off duty, but with a killer on the loose, the idea of wasting the day as a couch potato in front of a TV didn’t appeal. Especially after losing much of her Friday to an interrogation on the exchange of gunfire at the warehouse.

She’d managed to keep Rafe out of it, which left her nerves frayed and her duty-bound conscience feeling a heavy burden of guilt. A rumble sounded in her stomach as if it was grumbling in agreement.

Mackenzie ignored her tummy and concentrated on her notes and crime scene photos. Pressing the record button on a handheld audio device, she tried to put herself in the mind of the killer, see what he saw.

“Three murders. Three scenes. All different, yet similar. The alley was a dump site. You didn’t kill him there, did you?” she said into the microphone. “No, but you picked a good spot to leave him. Easy access, dark, and private.” Yet, he wouldn’t be there long before discovery. She felt certain that was the killer’s intention. Otherwise, why not hide the remains? Bag the body and put it in the garbage.

“No murder weapon—gun or animal—left in the alley or the trash bin. Little evidence at the scene, except for the body. Clothes, jewelry, and car taken. Did you keep the ring as a trophy?”

She lifted a picture of the car. Trace evidence on the body and in the trunk matched, confirming Tancock’s speculations. The body had been in the trunk.

She’d canvassed the area again to see if anyone remembered the victim’s Lexus. A car like that didn’t fit in the neighborhood, would’ve been a target if it had remained in one place long. She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. If anyone saw it, nobody was talking.

“Number two. A city park. Clothes, car, and other personal items left at the scene. No gun used. Clear signs of an animal attack. Lots of defensive wounds this time.” So much blood and gore gave little doubt that the murder happened on the trail.

“Didn’t want to get blood on your hands?” Maybe, if the killer was a human with trained canines. But if the killer was Lycan...

It’s a possibility we’re looking into
, Rafe had said.

Mackenzie snapped the recorder off, slapped a hand on her desk, and began pacing. She’d have to find a way to talk to him without drawing her sergeant’s wrath. She couldn’t bring Rafe in for questioning. Not if she wanted to get answers to the questions she needed to ask.

She opened her files and scanned the autopsy reports. She needed to get her hands on those DNA reports. Would the DNA help identify a Lycan?

Tancock suspected one animal caused the trauma on Robertson and Shumaker. Consistent bite marks connected the first two, and Shumaker knew Harden, a direct link between victims two and three.

All three were men. All three were nude, but Harden wasn’t mauled. Why the difference? Another killer?