Mind Sweeper (22 page)

“Yes. She works with you as well.”

“Yep. She helps with identifying the supe clients and convincing humans to find another agency to do their detective work.”

“I find it interesting you refer to humans as if you aren’t one of them.”

Had he and Dalton been comparing notes? “I guess it comes from working almost exclusively with the supernatural community. Most of my friends are supes.”

He leaned closer to me. “And male.”

“
Excuse me
?”

He held up his hands. “Oh, I mean no disrespect. I can smell them. A vampire and a Shamat…which isn’t too difficult to guess, since I know about Jean Luc and Misha from Dolly.” He paused. “But right now, the stronger smell surrounding you is a human male and, if I’m not mistaken, he is very interested in you.”

I sat up straighter. “I think you’re off base.”

“Did you know shifters have been accused of being able to smell emotions? In truth, we smell hormones, and the chemicals which are released when we are angry, scared, sad…or aroused.”

“What is this, a shifter version of eHarmony?”

He laughed. “I’m sorry if I have made you uncomfortable. I forget how repressed humans are about their emotions. Shifters aren’t shy about voicing our interest in someone else. Now, let’s get down to the reason you’re here today. My assistant told me Nicholas called.”

I started to protest, but he interrupted me. “I have seen you with Trina and know you have her best interests at heart. But you are also a woman of action, and I suspect if you saw the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, as it were, you would take advantage of it.”

I didn’t bother with denials. His lie-detector nose would probably pick up on my deceit anyway.

“We are investigating the vampire murder at the Erie Bar, as well as Byron’s murder.”

His eyes narrowed. “I am assuming they’re related.”

“Yes, we believe Byron was killed because he was the only supernatural witness at the bar.”

“I was not given the specifics of what happened to Byron. Would you please explain?”

“He was tortured and then murdered.”

Griffin’s jaw tensed and he stared at me for a second before responding. “Do we know by whom?”

“Not yet.”

“Where is Byron’s body?”

“At our storage facility.”

“I would like him returned to us as soon as possible.”

I nodded. “I’ll speak to Nicholas. I don’t see any reason we couldn’t release him to you.”

“And what can I do to help find Byron’s killer?”

“Right now someone is offering three million for Charles Hampton’s missing head. He was the vampire decapitated at the bar. There are only a few members of the community who would be able to produce this type of cash.”

He frowned. “And now you’re telling me I’m a suspect?”

“I’m asking you if you know why a vampire’s head would be worth that kind of money.”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Once a vampire loses his head, there’s no coming back. Why someone would pay for the head is a mystery to me.”

I moved on to another tack. “Can you tell me more about Byron?”

Griffin picked up a paperweight from the desk. “Byron was relatively young and had not figured out what he wanted to do with his life. He was a bit of a wanderer.”

He bounced the glass ball in his hands, tossing it back and forth. I realized in shock it contained some fierce-looking canines. A shifter’s version of baby teeth? I refocused on Griffin’s face.

“Ah, has he ever been in any trouble?”

“Minor scrapes as a youth. I thought you said his death was related to the dead vampire, so what would Byron’s past have to do with it?”

“I need to rule everything out. I don’t want to make an assumption which might lead us down the wrong path.”

“And what does Nicholas think this is about?”

“I don’t know if he has a specific theory. He’s working with us to find out who did this and stop them from hurting anyone else.”

He put the paperweight back down and stood. “Byron died days ago, and yet you have very few answers. I’ll be forming a group of my own people to open an investigation into what happened.”

Lord, the last thing we needed was a group of pissed-off shifters. “I know how frustrating this is for you. But we’re all trying to accomplish the same thing here, to stop humans from finding out the truth.”

“Actually, my goal is to find out who killed Byron. His death will not be swept under the rug.”

“You’re right. But if we have another event like the Erie Bar, I don’t know whether we’ll be able to cover it up. And then what? Humans far outnumber supes, and if our past shows us anything, it’s that they will lash out. Scared humans means deadly humans. I’m just asking for your cooperation.”

He shook his head. “Instead of being here with me, why aren’t you questioning Sebastian? I refuse to believe he’s innocent of what’s going on here.”

“We’ll be talking to him as well. Please give us some more time before you guys come out with guns blazing. The last thing we need is a supernatural civil war.”

Griffin’s eyes bored into mine. “You might think shifters are mindless animals. Rest assured I
will
control my pack. Tell Nicholas I’ll be in touch concerning Byron’s remains. Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised Trina I would tell her about my trip.”

He opened the door and I watched his retreating back. I’m not sure how things had deteriorated so much in a matter of minutes. It was now official. I had pissed off the entire supernatural community.
 

Yay, me!

Chapter 22

I remember watching cartoons when I was little where the character’s face turned red and steam came out of his ears when he was mad. I had always thought it was the funniest thing, until I got a good look at Dalton’s face when he found out I had met with Griffin on my own.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he growled.

I plopped down on the office sofa. “I was thinking we need information. You were the one who said we should meet with Griffin next.”

“I didn’t mean for you to go off half-cocked. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Now you’re being melodramatic. I wasn’t in any danger. I met with him at a family’s home in the suburbs, for God’s sake. We had cookies and lemonade.”

“And what did you find out from him?”

“He denied having anything to do with the events at the bar.”

“What about the head?”

“I don’t think he’s looking for it,” I responded.

“So he isn’t going to cause any trouble?”

I hesitated. “I wouldn’t say that. He wants to know who killed Byron. Shifters are big into revenge.”

“Great, so now we have a pissed-off shifter leader thrown into the mix. I think you should interview for a job at the UN, Kyle.”

“All right, I get it. I’m sorry. I tried to call you to see if you could go with me and the guys at the station told me you weren’t there.”

“Why didn’t you try my cell?”

“I couldn’t get through. It wouldn’t even let me leave a voice mail.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I was in a dead zone. Please, don’t go see these guys by yourself again. Take Jean Luc or Misha with you if I’m not around.”

“Fine. So did you get your work done at the station?”

“Not the work I was planning to do, no. We got a hit on the FBI database on the Father Cowell murder.”

“What does that mean?”

“When a murder occurs, police enter relevant data about the death in a centralized FBI database. Cause of death, crime scene, etc. Our detectives loaded the details into the database and it matched another recent case. A body was found a month ago in Chicago with the same figure eight mark on the back of his neck. Because of this second body, the FBI will begin profiling in the event it might be a serial case.”

“The last thing we need is FBI involvement,” I sputtered.

“I agree, especially since the odds are Hampton killed the guy when he was still in Chicago.”

“Have they determined who the victim was?”

“Yeah, they have a positive ID. We should be able to compare the Chicago information with what we have shortly. It’s coming through my secure email.”

I nodded and checked the clock on the office wall. “I wonder where Jean Luc is?”

A voice sounded behind me. “He had to come pick me up.”

“Misha!” Spinning around, I ran over and threw my arms around him. A little girly, but I couldn’t help myself. He picked me up and hugged me back. I always forgot about his extraordinary strength until he tossed me around like a rag doll.

“Are you feeling good enough to be at work?”

“Little one, I
need
to be back at work. It’s good to be out of Doc Miller’s clutches. She is a beautiful female, but a tyrant.”

I laughed. “I’m sure you were the model patient, causing her no grief.”

“Humph,” Jean Luc muttered.

Misha’s eyes widened.

I laughed even harder. “Jean Luc just harrumphed you.”

Misha scowled. “If you have something to say, Jean Luc, spit it out.”

“My dear friend, you are a terrible patient. Doc should have given you a sedative just to stop the whining.”

Before Misha could respond, I played peacemaker. “All right you two, enough with the squabbling. Dalton and I need to fill you in on a few things.”

I told them about my meeting with Griffin. If I thought Dalton had reacted badly to my going there alone, Misha almost turned purple. But Jean Luc was the worst. Instead of getting mad, he gave me his disappointed face. I hated when he did that to me. Disappointment was a preemptive strike against any and all sarcastic comebacks.

Luckily Dalton distracted them with his info regarding the body in Chicago. “Misha, I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to check my email and then we can start going over the case notes.”

Misha sat down at the table, flipping open the waiting laptop and powering it up. “I’ve been working on something as well. I have a composite of the man who shot me and tried to mow you down. I’m going to run it through a facial recognition program and see if we get a hit.”

I leaned forward. “Let me see him.”

Misha inserted a flash drive into the USB port and pulled up a file. The man was Caucasian, with close-cut brown hair, blue eyes and a hawk nose. I had never seen him before. Dalton leaned in as well and shook his head.

He checked his phone. “I got the file from Chicago PD.”

“Send it to my email address and we’ll open it on the laptop.” Misha volunteered. After a second, he clicked the file and grimaced. “The picture of the corpse is the top file, and it’s not pretty. There is a closeup of the back of his neck, and it looks like the same mark we saw on Cowell.” He clicked on the next page.

“The victim’s name is Jonathan Brubaker. Age twenty-five, single. He was a lawyer by trade. He worked in contract law for Smith & Turner, a large law firm in Chicago. His body was found in an abandoned warehouse set for demolition. According to the contract foreman, the crew always does a preliminary sweep to chase out vagrants before they tear the buildings down, and they found him hanging from one of the rafters.”

I grimaced. “It sounds like something from a bad gangster movie.”

Misha continued. “According to the report, the police didn’t find anyone with a motive. Even though he was a lawyer, he worked more behind the scenes. He was not trying criminal cases. He had no jealous exes, or anyone else they could find who might have had a reason to do this to him.”

Dalton spoke up. “I’m going to go through the case notes thoroughly. Now that we know who this guy is, can you research his background to see if he was connected in any way to our first victim, David Cowell?”

“Yes.” Misha’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

Dalton turned to Jean Luc. “Have we heard from Nicholas about a meeting with Sebastian?”

“He has not been able to reach him to discuss a time or place yet.”

“What about the translation from Cowell’s book?”

“Misha provided me with a translation software program, but so far we have not been able to even figure out what language it is. I will work on it some more now.”

I waited for an assignment and when none came—thank God—I decided to take advantage of the situation to escape for a while. “Guys, I’m going to go run some errands while you work on the case.”

They nodded in tandem as they bent over the computer screen and I headed for the door before one of them thought of something for me to do.

Dolly sat out front reading
Popular Mechanics
.

“I’m heading out for a while. Do you need anything?”

“Dark chocolate and string cheese.”

“I’ll bring some back.”

Since it was midmorning, the parking garage was quiet when I exited the elevator and walked toward my car.

“Ms. McKinley?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when that smooth voice called out. I turned. Sebastian stood a few feet away from me. This was
so
not good. He was the last supe I wanted to be alone with.