Night Games (7 page)

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Authors: Crystal Jordan

BOOK: Night Games
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“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?”
“Well, of course,” Dorothy replied. “How else was she going to have him living with them? But ... but ... his health never did improve and he died a few years later. Mary was devastated. Cried for weeks, I’ll never forget it. But that was so long ago. Why would anyone hurt her because of that? She helped an orphan boy. She took him in and loved him and gave him a good life for the time he had left. And someone killed her for
that?
”
“We think so, yes,” Jack said quietly.
“Oh, gods. Oh, gods, who would do such a thing?” Her chin quivered and another tear spilled down her cheek. She looked every bit like a sad, lost woman who’d had the rug jerked out from under her. Her sobs were tragic, painful rasps of air, and Jack felt each of them punch him in the gut.
He glanced at Selina and the feeling of being gut-punched doubled. The look on her face was frozen horror. Not from this woman losing her cool, but in remembered pain. He’d seen that look on his own face in the mirror too many times not to recognize it. A flashback to memories he’d sooner forget, that wrenched at something deep and dark and ugly inside of him. Parts of himself that he’d rather let lie. It was part of the job, but he’d bet this memory was a lot more personal.
This case hit home for her in some way. He wanted to know how.
“Thank you for helping us fill in the missing pieces, Dorothy.” He rose to his feet and drew her up with him. “We really appreciate it.”
He walked her out toward the reception area where security would process her out of the building. Just before they got there, she turned to him. Her hand clutched his tightly, her owlish eyes reflecting desperation, anguish, and anger. “Promise me you’ll catch this man. Promise me he’ll never be able to hurt anyone again. My sister was a
good
woman. She didn’t deserve this.”
“I know she didn’t.” He touched her shoulder. “We’re going to do everything in our power to put this man away for the rest of his life. I promise you that.”
Because there was no way he could promise he’d catch anyone. Some criminals got away, just as this one had escaped Selina once. They could only do their best and hope to hell it was enough.
When he returned to his office, Selina sat where he’d left her, staring off into space.
“What was that about?”
She startled, her gaze snapping up to meet his. “What was what?”
“You were all gung ho to find the connection between your old crimes and this one, and when the sister arrives you barely ask a single question. What happened?” Everything he’d seen or heard about her said she was confident, driven, and not one to step aside in her investigations.
But vulnerability flashed in her gaze. The emotion was gone as quickly as it had come, but he knew he’d seen it. She shrugged and looked away. “You were doing a good job. No need to get in your way.”
“I don’t buy it.” He sat in the chair beside her rather than return to his side of the desk. “Something about this case gets to you. Something about Dorothy got to you.”
Her chin lifted, her gaze cooling. “Nothing gets to me. Not anymore.”
“I find that difficult to believe.” He reached out to brush a finger over her cheekbone. “And I won’t think less of you if you tell me when something is bothering you.”
Tears sheened her eyes. Then horror flashed over her face and she jerked away from him, turning to face the wall and clearing her throat. “I’m fine.”
Since he could understand not wanting to cry at work, he let that blatant lie slide, but every protective instinct he had roared to the surface. It went beyond what he’d feel for a colleague—the depth of the emotion stunned him. He slammed the lid down on it. No. He hadn’t felt anything like that for someone he was sleeping with since ... Shit, not since his wife. And look how well that had gone.

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