Pack Justice (Nature of the Beast Book 1) (3 page)

How was I going to tell her I’d be late without letting her know what was going on? I definitely didn’t want her to know about the Roberts case, although she knew I was opposing a female attorney, something she did not like. I didn’t want to know how she’d react if she found out I had gone to a police station for questioning under the guise of getting drinks.

“Probably wise,” I conceded. I dug my cell out of my back pocket, unlocked the screen, and dialed her number. Stepping to the side so I wouldn’t block traffic in the station’s lobby, I listened to the ringtone, hoping Idette wouldn’t answer.

“Scott.” As always, she barked our last name, and my cheetah put his ears back, showed his fangs, and hissed at my phone.

“Hey, Idette. I’m going to be a bit late. The Roberts case is a wrap.”

“You’re going for drinks, aren’t you?” my wife accused.

“One or two. Andrews’s partner is here.” Idette, at least, knew who Andrews and his partner were, and maybe if I hid behind them, she wouldn’t be as offended I wasn’t catering to her every want and need.

“Is he the only one there?”

It took all my willpower to swallow my frustrated sigh. “Him and just about every other cop in the division.”

There was something to safety in numbers; with so many chaperones, all of them uniformed, even my wife was hard-pressed to suspect me. “Ah, I see. When will you be home?”

A weekend vacation was supposed to be fun, but it felt like a noose was settling around my throat. I hadn’t told Idette about the trip, although I had encouraged her to take a week off. She had taken two, much to my dismay.

I had no more reasons to hide my plans for the weekend. Maybe I’d be able to find my old Idette, at least for a little while. I doubted it, but I’d try anyway. “In a couple of hours. When I’m back, I’ll be packing our bags. We have a flight in the morning.”

“A flight?” she blurted. “What flight?”

“We’re going on a trip for the weekend. Didn’t I tell you?” I forced my tone to be as playful as possible for the sake of my curious audience. Marcello narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

With a hiss at the cop, my cheetah hunched over Andrea’s feet. If she knew about my spirit beast and his claws and fangs, she’d probably run for the hills. Once she was far enough away, she’d probably have me committed.

I’d probably welcome it.

“We’re going away for the weekend?” Idette made a soft noise, which I hoped wasn’t a growl.

“I could have sworn I’d told you,” I teased, and so I wouldn’t have to look my friends in the eyes, I leaned against the wall and studied the tiles at my feet. “We have to leave bright and early, but I’ll take care of packing when I get home.”

“I’ll be late finishing up some work, too,” my wife admitted. “I need to get back to it.”

She hung up on me. Relieved I wouldn’t have to go through the ritual of telling a woman I didn’t love anymore I still loved her, I stashed my phone back in my pocket. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re going away for the weekend?” Marcello frowned at me. “His Honor told me he was going to tell you…”

“He thought it was a good idea,” I replied, careful to keep my tone as neutral as my expression.

“Well, let’s get the tedious part out of the way first.” The cop led the way deeper into the station. “I assume neither one of you know anything, correct?”

I shook my head, and so did Andrea.

“No one following you? Nothing weird?”

“Nothing. I know what to look for. I saw nothing unusual,” I replied. My cheetah hissed at me, and I didn’t need a translator to figure out he was pissed about Idette. He disliked her as much as he adored Andrea, and the fact my spirit beast echoed my personal feelings towards the women didn’t help matters any.

“They had a picture of you at the courthouse yesterday, Sean,” Marcello warned.

I stumbled to a halt, my eyes widening. “O’Mallory didn’t mention that.”

“There’s a lot he didn’t mention at our request. We gave him a photocopy to show you to convince you both of the severity of the situation—but mostly to convince you, Sean. There was nothing involving you in the package, Miss Morgan.”

Sometimes, the greatest threat of all was the lack of evidence, and considering Douglass Roberts’s choice of victims, Andrea was the perfect target for him and his accomplice.

I tried not to think too hard about whether more than one person would help a murdering rapist get his revenge from behind bars—and what they’d do to a beautiful, accomplished woman like Andrea. My cheetah growled and stayed near the defense attorney, his hackles rising whenever anyone got too close to her.

Instead of taking us to their desks, Marcello and Dan guided us into one of the interrogation rooms. The layout was designed to make the suspects edgy, something that often helped the police during questioning. Instead of subjecting either Andrea or I to the least comfortable chair in the room, Marcello took it while Dan sat on the edge of the metal table.

I waited for Andrea to sit before sliding into the seat beside her.

With a heavy sigh, my cheetah stretched out over my feet, resting his head on his paws so he could watch Andrea. The animal’s weight made my toes go numb, but I kept still so the cops wouldn’t perceive my fidgeting as nervousness.

Once Idette was asleep, I’d have to beg my feline companion for some mercy, not that he’d listen. He never did.

“Andrea, we decided it was in your best interest to involve you with this so you knew where they had photographed Sean. If you take the same routes to work each day, you may wish to shuffle your drive to make it a little more difficult for them to find you. Try to avoid going to the same places at the same time every day or setting a defined schedule,” Marcello said, sliding a pair of folders across the table for us. “Sean, the same applies to you.”

“I already take some precautions.”

“Not enough, as you’ll see in a minute. You have a fan.”

“A fan,” I echoed, opening the file.

I recognized the photo Judge O’Mallory had shown us. The rest of the images were all of me, and there were almost a hundred of them, ranging from the first day of the trial to my arrival at the courthouse for the final sentencing. I flipped through them and felt the blood drain out of my face.

Some of the pictures had been taken at close range—far too close for my comfort, within easy stabbing distance had the photographer decided to put an end to me. A gunman with any skill could have put a bullet in my head, too.

“Okay, you have my attention.” I organized the photographs by when they had been taken.

Every day of the trial, someone had been waiting for me near my house; each day started with a photograph of me pulling out of my driveway. Those I set in a pile; I pulled out the photograph of the day I knew it had rained. I didn’t often make a stop between home and either the office or courthouse; throughout the entire trial, I had stopped five times, and each one was documented.

My cheetah crawled out from under the table, stood on his hind paws, and leaned against the table, watching me work.

“Jesus Christ,” Andrea whispered. Swallowing, the woman shook her head, reaching over to pick up one of the photographs. “You drink shit coffee, Sean.”

“What can I say? I have a stomach of steel.” In a way, I was grateful she hadn’t made a fuss about the photographs.

After dark, the pictures were limited to the exterior of my house—and a few shots through my office window. One image showed me talking to my spirit beast, but as I often wore an earpiece when on the phone, there was no way to know who—or what I had been speaking to when the photograph had been taken.

I counted my blessings that I had been too busy—and too tired—to have indulged my cheetah with a run. The last thing I needed in my life was someone realizing I was a man who could, on occasion, become a predator.

Those were photographs I couldn’t afford anyone taking of me. I swallowed, wondering if a flight out east would be enough to give my stalker the slip.

“Rethinking your trip this weekend?” Marcello asked.

“O’Mallory mentioned something about a note?”

“Yes. It includes dates and locations corresponding to the pictures, as if they weren’t enough evidence to prove someone is shadowing you very carefully. I figured the images would be enough to worry you.”

“Wonderful.” I leaned back in my chair, stretched out my legs, and worked my fingers under my glasses to rub the bridge of my nose. Closing my eyes, I reconsidered my daydreamed plan of running away as a cheetah when we arrived at the resort.

My spirit beast purred.

“I’m not going to rethink the trip; I planned it before the start of the trial. If they know the location of the resort, it’s because they had tapped my phone weeks before the case opened.”

“That’s really risky. You won’t be in our jurisdiction anymore. You know we won’t be able to do anything outside of our area. Then there’s the matter of Mrs. Scott. Are you ever going to get around to serving those papers? She’s toxic. I can’t believe you want to go anywhere with her willingly.”

“She’s my wife, Marcello,” I growled, unable to keep the cat-like sound out of my throat. “I’m supposed to want to go places with her willingly.”

“Just because you’re supposed to doesn’t mean you should,” the cop snapped. “Serve the damned papers, Sean. I’ve told you once, and I’m telling you again. She’s toxic. I see her type in and out of here all the damned time. Don’t end up a statistic because of that over-controlling psycho bitch.”

Andrea cleared her throat, and I softly groaned as I waited for the axe to fall. It did when she said, “If you need a divorce attorney, call my firm, Sean.”

At the tap of a card against the back of my hand, I cracked open an eye. Waiting patiently, Andrea held out a business card. I twisted my wrist and took it. It had her name and office address on the front, as well as her phone number and email address. “Consorting with the enemy now, Miss Morgan?”

“Hardly.”

“Why don’t we start with the basics? If you don’t hear from me on Monday morning, you probably won’t have to worry about the stalker. Idette will have gotten me first. Fuck it, Marcello. I could use that drink about now.”

“What do you want?” the cop asked, rising to his feet.

“Make it strong and put it on the rocks.”

Maybe that way, when I hit bottom, I’d at least have some ice cubes for company.

Alcohol was frowned upon within the station as a general rule, but Marcello found me a bottle of vodka, and I managed to get four or five shots down my throat before he tried to take it away from me.

The dispute over who kept the bottle lasted all of five minutes, which I counted as a victory, considering he was bigger and stronger than me. Wrestling on Captain Ramirez’s couch for who got to control the stoppered bottle wasn’t one of my better moments, especially not when Andrea and Marcello’s boss were nearby watching, but the alcohol did a good job of numbing me to what the two women thought.

My cheetah, at least, approved of my contest with the police officer and purred his encouragement.

When my friend finally snatched the bottle out of my hand, he crowed his triumph and set it on Captain Ramirez’s desk.

“Miss Morgan, I apologize for these two idiots,” Ramirez said, shaking her head. “They have no dignity.”

“You act as if they ever had any,” my fellow attorney replied, her scowl fixed in place. While she was glaring at me, my cheetah was pleased I had managed to capture her full attention.

I needed to have a long talk with my spirit beast about the difference between good attention and bad attention.

“On occasion they do, particularly the chestnut-haired gentleman wearing the suit. I’m assuming Officer Albano is the primary instigator of this incident.”

“He needed the drink,” Marcello replied.

“My station is not a bar, Albano.”

“I haven’t had a single drop.” My friend nudged the bottle towards Captain Ramirez. “I’ll replace it.”

Ramirez sighed, grabbed the bottle, and opened a drawer. “I’m confiscating this.”

“How can you confiscate something that belongs to you? Come on, Captain. I view it as my contribution to our plans to keep Sean out of trouble. One of us
has
to drive him home now, and if a cruiser happens to patrol his block a little more than usual tonight, no one will know the difference.” Marcello grinned at me. “Hell, I thought you were a lightweight, Sean. I’ve never seen you drink this much before, and you’re not staggering yet.”

“Give me a few minutes and I will be.”

Packing while drunk would be an interesting challenge. For all her faults, Idette didn’t mind the rare times I had a few too many drinks, although I typically kept my drunken idiocy to the confines of the house when she was working late. Knowing her, she wouldn’t be home until midnight, which would give me at least six hours to sober up.

At least I could pretend I had hit one of the bottles at home while packing. As long as I poured a bit down the drain and made it look real, she’d believe it. I’d probably help myself to a few extra shots, too.

They’d help me get through the weekend.

“And he’s off in la-la land again. Look, Sean, just serve the woman the damned divorce papers. Knowing you, you’ve been sitting on them for years, updating them to keep them legal, and because you’re too damned fixated on proving not all lawyers lack integrity, you haven’t filed them. Give them over,” Marcello grumbled, holding out his hand. “I’ll file the damned things for you and pay the fee myself.”