Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct (30 page)

“You do,” she whispered huskily, “and you’ll howl two octaves higher at the next full moon.” She pressed the business end of her Glock into his crotch to punctuate her point.

Something close to admiration chased the momentary shock from his face. Lucian’s fingers released their hold as he took a slow, cautious step backward. His lips twitched into a sly smirk.

“My brother has...interesting taste in women.”

Rubbing her throat, she kept the gun aimed at the leather-clad Stone brother.

“I’m not his woman.”

The man raised a brow, but said nothing.

“Neither am I a plaything for your pack. Why the hell are you following me?”

“Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?” Unconcerned by the gun aimed at his chest, he leaned against the opposite wall of the alley in a nonchalant pose arrogantly similar to his eldest brother.

“Answer the question.”

He shrugged. “People choose different forms of entertainment.”

“Don’t give me that. Rafe sent you. Why?”

“What did you expect him to do after you destroyed the global positioning device?”

“I expect him to take the hint and leave me the hell alone before I haul him in on charges.”

Lucian scowled. “You’d arrest an innocent man just because he pissed you off?”

“Innocent?” She laughed. “He bugs my car, interferes with a multiple-murder investigation, and sends his crony to stalk a detective of the Chicago Police Department.”

“He didn’t put the GPD on your car. I did, without his knowledge.”

She snorted. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe whatever you like. The truth is, he didn’t tell me to bug your car. And when he learned of it, he only agreed to leave it there
after
he determined you might be in danger.” Lucian pushed away from the wall and approached her.

Mackenzie’s grip tightened on her firearm.

“The truth is, he allowed you to repeatedly invade his privacy, attack his character with multiple search warrants, and nearly get him killed. And after you throw his concern and sacrifices back in his face, he sends me to look out for your welfare with orders to give my life for yours, if necessary.”

“I didn’t...”

“You didn’t what? Expect him to choose you over his own flesh and blood?” His chest nudged the end of her pistol. The man looked more willing to take a pound of her flesh than risk a drop of his blood on her behalf.

She holstered her gun and met his gaze. “I didn’t ask for his protection. I don’t want his blood or yours on my hands. All I ever expected from him was to respect me enough to tell me the truth. Why should I trust you when he’s given me nothing but lies?”

“Is that really all he’s given you?”

Lucian’s accusing glare infuriated Mackenzie. He would not make her feel guilty for expecting Rafe’s honesty.

“Now who’s lying?” he asked softly.

“He took a bullet aimed for me. For that, I’ll keep his race a secret and consider us even. But I will not tolerate you or your brother’s interference in my investigation any longer. This is your last warning. Tell your brother that.”

“You want to tell him something, tell him yourself.”

She ground her teeth in frustration. “If I see you following me again, there will be hell to pay. You got it?”

He nodded once. “You’ll not see me again.”

She left him in the alley, somewhat satisfied with the outcome of the confrontation. She’d returned to her car and pulled out into traffic before she realized Lucian hadn’t said he wouldn’t follow her, only that she wouldn’t see him.

Mackenzie kept one eye on the rearview mirror all the way back to the station.

“I got zilch,” Cooper grumbled as he pushed aside a folder to clear the space for his butt on the corner of her desk.

Mackenzie hung up the phone and with a smile, leaned back in her chair. “I found a missing link.”

“Do tell.”

“What does a well-to-do politician and staunch opponent of gambling have in common with an ex-con bookie from the Southside?”

“Besides toe-tags in the morgue?”

“A missing wedding ring.” She handed him the platinum band. “That was the Widow Robertson. She confirmed their bands were a custom-made, one-of-a-kind, his-and-hers set.”

“Where’d you get this?”

She held up the pawnshop receipt. “Our dead bookie had sticky fingers and...”

A light beamed in Cooper’s eyes. “How do you teach a ‘low-life thief’ a lesson?”

Mackenzie touched her nose with a fingertip. “A missing hand.”

Cooper grinned. “All right. Follow the bread crumbs. Victim number two, Shumaker, owes money to victim number three, Harden—”

“Or his boss...”

“Or his boss. Then victim number three winds up dead after he fences stolen merchandise from victim number one, Robertson.” He rubbed the five o’clock shadow on his chin. “But that still leaves us with two suspects, each with definite ties to two of the three victims. Stone to Robertson and Shumaker. And Caprini to Shumaker and Harden.”

“But Caprini admitted that he’s had competitive run-ins with Stone, some of which he lost. What if...”

“You’re thinking this is some kind of a vendetta?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing—”

“Hold that thought.” Her chair creaked as she pushed back from the desk and stood. The normal chatter from outside her office was nearly absent. The faint sound of a television broadcast was all she heard.

“Turn it up,” someone said from the gathered viewers.

Mackenzie leaned against the door, her gaze fixed on the television and the familiar face of the reporter, Evalyn Drake.

“The son of the late senator, Victor Robertson, lashed out at Chicago’s Police Department today. He criticized the handling of his father’s murder investigation, after promising big rewards to anyone who could provide further information to help solve the case.”

“My family and I are hopeful this generous reward will result in a break in the case,” Richard said into a bouquet of microphones. “I feel I need to do more because the police aren’t doing enough.”

“What makes you say that?” a reporter asked.

“My calls for information have gone unanswered. They won’t name any suspects, despite having valid leads. I won’t stand by and let the killer get away with it just because he’s a powerful businessman.”

Drake’s voice cut in over the flood of questions. “You know who killed your father?”

“I have strong suspicions, which my mother and I shared with detectives weeks ago. But so far nothing’s been done about them.”

“Care to name names?” another reporter challenged.

“And have his lawyers after me? No. I want the police to do their jobs. You’re all journalists. Follow the same leads.”

Mackenzie moved closer to the TV, slipping between a few uniformed officers, with Cooper right on her heels.

Drake asked, “What leads are you referring to?”

“He had a public argument with my dad the day before the murder. It was in the society pages. They’ve been long-time opponents over gambling legislation, and now that my dad’s out of the way, his company stands to make millions in government contracts for security software.” Richard looked from the crowd directly into the camera. “And how many businessmen own a pack of dangerous wolves?”

Mackenzie muttered a curse under her breath.

Drake’s face reappeared on screen with the word LIVE over her right shoulder.

“Although Robertson refused to name who he suspects killed his father, his clues leave little doubt that the person is none other than renowned billionaire bachelor, Rafael Stone, the CEO of Stone Corporation. The controversy comes at a crucial time for the businessman. This week, Stone's company is expected to announce the long anticipated release of Cyber-Guard, touted as the next generation in secure, online gambling software.”

The camera shot returned to the studio where a well-groomed news anchor asked, “As we first reported exclusively on this station, there is growing speculation over the search warrants executed at Stone’s L.I. headquarters. They seem to confirm, at least for some, that Stone may be involved. Evalyn, what’s the word from the police?”

“We haven’t had much more luck than Robertson in that regard. Attempts to reach the lead investigator, Detective Mackenzie Lyons, have gone unanswered.”

“I’ll show her ‘unanswered’,” Mackenzie said, spinning around to march back to her office. Before reaching the door, the authoritative bass of her sergeant’s voice stopped her cold.

“Lyons. Cooper. My office. Now.”

A few minutes later, she and Cooper filed into Fuller’s office. Both of them remained standing as their superior took his seat behind his desk.

“I suppose you caught the coverage of that so-called news conference?” When they nodded, he continued. “The superintendent is calling for another one today. He wants the lead investigator there to answer questions.”

“Sir, I—”

“We’ll deal with your concerns in a moment. First, I want to get to the bottom of where you are in the case. What do we have on Stone?”

“Nothing. He’s no longer our prime suspect.” Mackenzie sensed Cooper tense in reaction to her statement.

Fuller responded by leaning back in his chair. “Oh?”

“Every lead to him comes up dry. Ballistics cleared his firearm. The DNA reports cleared every canine the man owns, and there were no matches to any from the L.I. database.” She counted off her points by raising a finger for each one. “We’ve found no forensics connection to Harden at all. Stone’s record is spotless, and what motive we do have for two homicides is so full of holes that an elephant could walk through it.”

“What do you have?” The question came sharp, quick.

“We have a third victim with ties to both of the others. Harden was Shumaker’s bookie, and I just found Robertson’s missing wedding ring at a pawnshop. Harden hocked it. That ties them together. Harden worked for Caprini, a man the Feds have been trying to catch for years. We know Shumaker had a gambling debt. That goes to motive.”

Fuller leaned forward and motioned for them to sit. “You aren’t going to tell me the leading opponent to gambling expansion in the state was a closet gambler.”

Cooper answered, “No, sir. His financials checked out. Good credit, living well within his means. Nothing suspicious.”

“Kids get a nice inheritance. Normally, I’d say follow the money,” Mackenzie added, “but they all had alibis, and there’s no known connection between them and the other victims.”

“But there is a connection between the victims and Stone,” Fuller said.

She propped her forearms on her knees, collecting her thoughts on how best to make her case. “With the second, yes. But why would Stone murder a man he’d just fired the day before? Why use a method that on the surface could implicate him? Circumstantial evidence keeps pointing to him, but on closer examination, the forensics don’t add up. The motive isn’t there, but someone wants us to think he’s guilty.”

“So your prime suspect now is...?”

“Caprini,” she said without hesitation. “He’s had run-ins with Stone in the past and lost. He’s not the type to take such losses lightly. Why not take advantage of an opportunity and frame a competitor? Within a day of questioning him, a potential witness is found executed, and I’m shot at. Caprini has ties to gambling and a mob family in New Jersey recently busted for blackmail. And we’ve confirmed that at least one of their henchmen, who’s also suspected in the disappearance of Stone’s sister, arrived in Chicago just days before the first murder. What if Caprini had something on Robertson? The senator refused to play and wound up dead.”

“You checked Robertson’s background. Do you have any evidence to support that theory?”

Mackenzie sat straighter, squaring her shoulders. “No, sir. Not yet. But Robertson was shot first, mauled afterward. Stone’s connection to wolves is no secret. One possibility we must address is whether someone is trying to frame Stone by making it appear his canines are involved.”

The sergeant stared as if he could see through her. After a long pause, he got up and glanced out the window before facing them again. “And your decision concerning Stone has nothing to do with the man’s talent for persuasion?”

She stiffened. “As lead investigator, I make all decisions based on the evidence.”

“Do you concur with her assessment, Detective Cooper?”

Her partner didn’t glance her way as he responded. “I agree that Caprini is at the top of a short list of suspects. His connection to Robertson is weak, but stronger for the other two. I don’t think, however, that Stone is completely free of suspicion. He’s still not accounted for his whereabouts during the homicides or the attack on Detective Lyons.”

Mackenzie eyed her superior. “Is there something I should be aware of, Sarge?”

He answered by turning on a small television and pushing a tape into the attached VCR.

“This tape showed up addressed to me today. Anonymous sender. The label has a time and date on it. The morning after you were shot.” He pushed the Play button.

The front of her apartment building appeared on the tiny color screen. The picture was a bit shaky but clear enough to recognize the man who exited the building, looked both ways, and crossed the street to a waiting, platinum Jaguar.

Mackenzie stared, unable to form a coherent thought.

Who?

How?

What did it matter now
?

“What reason would Stone, a murder suspect until two minutes ago, have to be in that building...the home of the lead investigator in the case?”

She swallowed and met her sergeant’s gaze with a firm look of her own. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“I believe we will. He’s waiting in Interrogation Room B.”

Dressed in an expensive suit by Baroni or Caraceni or one of those designers with an Italian name ending in an
I
, Rafe was the picture of distinguished sophistication. And control. He looked damn good, despite sitting alone in the stark brightness of the fluorescent bulbs.

Tapping his stylus against the Formica tabletop, he studied his PDA, while she watched him through the two-way mirror. On first impression, he appeared calm. Relaxed, even as his large frame filled the uncomfortable wooden chair. But on closer inspection, she noticed the faint lines that marred his expression. His lips pressed together a bit too tightly.