[Draven's Crossing 1] Hidden Diversions (6 page)

* * * *

Ivan Evanson looked over his neat as a pin second study. Disgust roiled through his gut. “Why the fuck did you kill her? She was my wife, not a threat to us. I could have talked to her, made her
see
and understand.”

The robed figure pushed down the hood to reveal a woman with midnight hair slicked back into a tight bun. Her jewel green eyes glittered as she cleared her throat. “She was going to go to the police.
To Draven.”

“So? She was my wife. Who would believe her?” Ivan hissed again and began to pace. His heart felt heavy. “This is a disaster.
A true and utter disaster.
How am I going to explain this?”

The woman came forward and laid a delicate hand on his shoulder. “You will play the part of the grieving widower.”

Ivan groaned and tilted his head back. “I know I will but this is still a mess. You cleaned everything up, yes?
All of it?
Nothing can be traced back to me?”

The woman nodded. “But of course.” She stood on tiptoe and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. “I always take care of you and always will protect you, even against your family. Don’t worry. The police will find nothing.
Nothing.”

Ivan didn’t know what to think. All he knew was that his wife was dead and the public would look very closely at him. He shook his head. “Take that shit off. It makes you look ridiculous. You know this means we can’t be together. Not yet. Do you understand that, Sadie? We can’t be seen as anything more than boss and secretary.”

Sadie swallowed and nodded her head slowly.
“Of course.
I understand.”

“Good. I need a shower. Join me?”He held out his hand to his lover. She gave him a smile that made some of the pain lessen.

“I would love to.” She placed her palm in his and allowed him to lead her out of the room. One last tryst before they would need to keep it business for propriety. He just prayed he could handle the separation. “Oh, and have someone call the police to report my wife, well, after our shower of course.”

“Yes, sir,” Sadie replied.

Everything was forgiven.

Chapter Three

Are There Any Leads to Follow?

When are we going to get an update on the case? -Isadora Jones, DC
News
 
Blast

Isy did her duty; smiling at the camera, and gave the rundown of what to expect on tomorrow’s broadcast. With her sign-off, the day was over. At least she hoped it was. She couldn’t take being in the studio much more. Her producer gave her the thumbs up before she ripped off her mic and got up from her chair. Relief swept through her. A weight was lifted. She could clean off Isadora Jones the reporter and put on Isy the regular person. There was also the matter of trying to revamp her date with Torger and it was a date, damn it, whether he wanted it to be or not. She didn’t bother to stick around and gab with the crew or her fellow reporters. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them. They were all great, professional, giving,
supportive
and not one of them had egos, which would surprise most people. Despite the misconception that everyone wanted Isy’s job, no one actually did. They didn’t want the pressure that was put on her to carry the network in bad times and in good. The ratings were good for the network, but Isy wanted more for herself. She wanted bigger name guests, not just the politicos mugging for the camera and their constituency. There were celebrities, world figures, controversial people to consider as well but they had to come to Draven’s Crossing, and for that to happen there had to be a reason for the trip. She let thoughts of how to lure in her ideal guests float away for now. Tomorrow was another day after all.

After another shower, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, she went into her office and shut the door. With a turn of the lock, she knew that she’d be left alone. She headed to her desk and opened the top of her laptop. The screen turned on and she logged into her computer. Before she could hit the hay she wanted to do some research on Evanson. The interview still bothered her. He wasn’t himself at all.
Looks like a night filled with junk food and eye strain.
She snuggled into her chair and started to run several searches, going to the more obscure corners of the internet for crumbs about the man rather than on the Representative’s website. After an hour, she had nothing of real interest. His family life was so clean it squeaked; parents were childhood sweethearts who married as soon as they left high school. His mother was a stay at home mom with no ambitions whatsoever and his father worked as a researcher for the Council. The only sad thing was that his twin brother had died after being attacked by a rabid werewolf who’d escaped from a science facility. It was sad but he’d spoken openly about his brother’s death and why he was dedicated to the protection of the paranormal community, well up until now.

A knock drew her out of her search.
“Isy?
Pizza’s here. You here
?“

Her stomach rumbled in response. She rose and walked over to the door. Unlocking and opening it she greeted Bill with a huge grin. “You’re a life saver! I was about to start eating my pen.”

Bill shook his head. “Why are you still here?” He handed over the cardboard box with dinner in it and a huge cup of the sweet tea she loved. So what if it latched onto her thighs later? That was what a gym and body cleanse was for.

“Doing research on a story.
Possible story, a history of masquerade balls.”
The lie slipped out with such ease that she almost believed herself.

Bill snorted. “The Ball, uh huh,
don’t
get our asses sued ‘kay?” He left, and for a moment she wondered why he’d taken the time to deliver her meal when Michaela was the one who was charged with her dinner. With a shrug, she didn’t look too closely at Bill’s motives.
Probably wants to make sure I’m not sucking down coffee to the point of cardiac arrest.
She cleared off space on her desk and set her drink down. There was no need for plates; she didn’t feel like being civilized. She grabbed some napkins and then freed a slice from the pit before turning her attention back to the screen. Time ticked by on slow hands as she scribbled notes with one hand and balanced pizza in the other. Her notes outlined what the public knew and what reporters had been given. Nothing really stuck out, which didn’t surprise her. Everything was polished, clean,
perfect
.
Too much so.

There wasn’t even any dirt found in the obscure corners of the net like the conspiracy forums, the open info sites and such. She decided to switch gears, turning her focus on the members of his family, what information there was of them. It almost seemed as if he’d hidden them and kept them out of the spotlight as much as possible. Despite the information on the site, she did learn something new. His mother and father had died soon after his brother. No word on the cause, which made her wonder what Evanson was trying to hide. The rest of his life had been spent with his uncle, who had been a member of the Council until his retirement a few years ago. Evanson had taken over that seat unopposed. Any other relatives seemed to be missing or had shied away from the spotlight. Whether it was a request by him or
their own
desire, she didn’t know. Isy turned her attention to his wife, Muffy Evanson. Muffy would have been considered the epitome of Stepford if she wasn’t such a lively, bubbly woman, who was sassy and had energy to spare.

She was a member of the Tourist Board and Isy had only two moments to talk to her, both brief and both under the watchful eye of Evanson’s people. Once things got personal, Muffy would be escorted away under protest, while Evanson’s posse told everyone it was due to another engagement. Despite dressing in pearls without a blond hair out of place, she didn’t let the restrictions of being a Representative’s wife keep her down. She could be seen talking to average citizens and was considered a treasure. Muffy Evanson nèe Rogers did all the housework, had dinner on the table and managed to attend all her activities and her husband’s special events. She had been quoted once, when asked how she did it, that she was secretly taking speed. Evanson and his people weren’t amused and told everyone it had been a joke, which was obvious.

Isy didn’t know how the hell anyone could mistake Muffy’s answer as anything but a joke. As for Muffy’s background, there wasn’t much there either. She’d been born into money. Her father supported the financial backing for every political run Evanson had done but stayed out of the picture. Carter Rogers was a mover and shaker with big money and a huge name back in Europe, other than that there was no information on him either. It was almost as if Ivan Evanson’s family was made up, well if it wasn’t for Muffy. Isy shook her head. She couldn’t see the cracks even though Isy knew they were there.

She picked up another slice of pizza and mulled over her notes. Everything made sense and yet nothing did. Politicians weren’t this perfect. They had flaws, weaknesses, Achilles’ Heels and yet Evanson didn’t appear to have any.
Until today that is.
But even that didn’t make any sense. His behavior could be racked up to stress. It was an election year, after all, but that didn’t explain his need for tight control. He could have taken on Draven in the area of the serial killer and yet even that wasn’t addressed.

“Maybe I missed something,” she muttered to herself. Clearing her browser, she started again, this time looking up information on everyone around the Representative rather than the man himself. After an hour, she felt she’d found something. Before becoming a Representative, Ivan had been involved in a minor scandal in which he’d cheated on his then fiancée, Muffy, with a model before they came to the US. There had been rumors of an aborted pregnancy but even that set off Isy’s alarms. It seemed too cliché. Her gut told her that was to give him some roughness, a bit of an edge. His wife had stood by him during the minor incident, as the press and his team had called it. The scandal was just too convenient. It rang warning bells.

She did a search on the supposed mistress and came up empty. The woman didn’t have a website, Facebook page, Twitter account, she wasn’t even represented by an agency, no look books, nothing. Isy
grinned,
she felt she was on to something. A few calls waking more people up, she found out the supposed mistress in question was actually an actress. A few more calls and emails, and she found out that there had indeed been a pregnancy, but the gossip was that the baby hadn’t been Evanson’s baby but the heir to a massive oil fortune. That got Isy’s brain cells spinning. She settled back in her chair and allowed her thoughts to float. “Could it be that Evanson took the fall for someone else in exchange for favors later to be named? That would make sense and it would explain the Teflon on him.”

A search of the name of the heir and some more digging got more gossip than she knew what to do with. She only jotted down the relevant facts. Anytime the heir had been involved in something, Evanson got him out of it in one way or another. Nothing stuck to the man himself, which was of interest to her. She couldn’t understand how someone could be associated with that much trouble and not have it stain them. It was all speculation, and no one would corroborate her theories but she got the feeling that she was right. A yawn interrupted her thoughts. A glance at the clock showed it was close to one in the morning. Thoughts of her bed and fantasies about Torger filled her head. Liquid heat slid through her body as her pussy swelled. Arousal slipped into her veins. She shut down her laptop and got up. Her bed and Torger were calling her. Isy reached for the door when it flew open almost hitting her. With a squeal she stumbled back, and her heart raced as her dragon reacted, pushing the shift onto her before she could call it back.

“Isy, you’re still here; thank the gods. We’ve got breaking news. Representative Evanson’s wife is dead! Get in makeup and hair. You’re going to be the one to break the story.” Bill dashed off before Isy could respond.

She blinked as the news sank in. A chill chased away notions of sleep and Torger. Only a few hours ago she’d spoken to the man and now his wife was dead. She wasn’t sure how to react, but she knew that something was wrong. Very wrong and yet she wasn’t sure what it was. Her stomach dropped. She sent up a prayer that it wasn’t due to the serial killer. The town didn’t need another victim to that freak. Her thoughts went to Torger. She didn’t relish talking to him, if it was the killer. His lips would close tighter than a drum until they had something to say.
Looks like we won’t be having dinner or sex or even coffee
, she thought as sadness trailed after her as she left the room and headed for hair and makeup.