Embraced by Darkness (10 page)

And why would the woman’s soul have said her fiancé made the kill if a vampire had been involved? None of this was making any sense.

But then, I guess crimes like this rarely did when the investigation was only just beginning.

“So you didn’t see this figure leave, either?”

“No. I watched until the cops came. The boyfriend left not long after I made the report, though. He had all this goo over him. Couldn’t make out what it was, but it was red, like blood.”

Probably because it
was
blood. “Why didn’t you tell the cops about the boyfriend?”

He shrugged. “It’s his house, like.”

“But didn’t you think it odd that he walked out after you’d reported the break-in to the cops?”

“No. Didn’t think about it much, really.”

I held back my irritation. “Did you notice anything else odd about him, besides the goo?”

He shook his head, then said, “He was barefooted. Odd considering the cold.”

Yeah. But at least it meant he’d leave a scent trail, which I might be able to track. “Which way did he go, then?”

“Left.” The old man sniffed. “It was strange, really, because his car is still parked up the road.”

I stared at him for a moment, not sure I’d heard right. “His car is still here?”

“Yeah. Down there.” He waved a hand over my shoulder, indicating the right side of the street.

“Mr. Hammond, you’ve been extremely helpful.”

He beamed. “Always a pleasure to help the boys and girls in blue. Just don’t forget to shut the gate properly on your way out.”

I left. The beemer was ten cars down from the house, parked in a no-standing zone. There was no one inside and the car was locked.

I dug the phone out of my pocket and dialed the Directorate. “Sal,” I said when her not-so-cheery features came online. “I need a plate check.”

“Is this official business?”

“Hell, no. I just thought I’d ring you up to piss you off.”

“
That
would be no surprise.” She sniffed. “What’s the plate number?”

I read it out, then peered inside the car while I was waiting. Two warm winter coats had been thrown across the backseat, the vibrant red of one suggesting it belonged to a woman, while the other was definitely male in design. There was also an umbrella and several newspapers.

“Okay,” Sal said. “That plate belongs to a green BMW, registered to one Liam Barry.”

So it
did
belong to the victim’s fiancé. “Could you do a background check on him? I think he might be the boyfriend of our victim, as well as her murderer.”

“A lovers’ tiff?”

“Trust me, this was more than a tiff.”

“It’d have to be, otherwise we wouldn’t have been called in.”

True. “Can you get that information to me as soon as you have it?”

“I’ll think about it, wolf girl.”

I didn’t bite, just hung up. I set the phone to record then did a slow walk around the car, detailing how I’d found it and who it belonged to. Then I placed the phone on top of a fence post, stripped off my coat, and used it as a shield as I smashed the front passenger window. Though I’m not sure why I bothered—a few more glass cuts surely wouldn’t have made much difference to my already impressive array.

Glass sprayed over the seats, glinting brightly in the cold morning light. I shook the coat free of glass, then dumped it on top of the car and opened the passenger-side door.

The car smelled of leather, musk, and the tangy, flowery scent of perfume. The date on the newspaper was yesterday’s, and it was the
Age
rather than the
Herald-Sun
. Upmarket rather than mass-market.

I reached for the man’s jacket and sniffed it. The scent was musky, entwined in an earthy, piney aroma. Not an upmarket man when it came to cologne, obviously. Either that, or the girlfriend had bought it and he was just wearing it for her sake.

I took another sniff, just to clarify the scent in my mind, then checked the rest of the car. There didn’t seem to be anything more than the usual rubbish that collected in cars—CDs, candy wrappers, and dirt.

No indication of drugs or alcohol. Nothing that would explain his sudden, violent outburst.

I closed the door, stopped recording, then called the cow to have the car picked up for closer forensic inspection.

Then I shoved the phone in my pocket, grabbed my coat, and headed back to the house. The bird-shifter was squatting in the doorway, carefully placing a piece of bloodied skin in a bag.

“Could you tell Cole I’ve just fouled one of his crime scenes?”

“Cole will not be pleased,” the shifter said, voice gruff and somewhat harsh. Oddly enough—although perhaps not, given he was a bird-shifter—it reminded me of an eagle’s call.

“Yeah, I know,” I said, with a grin. “Tell him the green BMW with the smashed side window is the fiancé’s. I’ve already asked for a pickup.”

“Will do,” he said, still concentrating on whatever was on the floor more than me.

“And keep an eye on this jacket, will you? I need something to change into after the shift.”

He grunted, making me wonder if anything I was saying was actually registering. I dumped my jacket over the fence, then called to the wolf within.

Power swept around me, through me, blurring my vision, blurring the pain. Clothing disappeared into the magic as limbs shortened, shifted, and rearranged, until what was standing on the footpath was wolf, not woman.

I nosed around the gateway and, through the many scents that crowded my olfactory senses, found the one I was hunting for.

With my nose to the ground, I followed. The chill wind ruffled my fur but did little to affect the trail. Liam obviously hadn’t run after he’d murdered his girlfriend—not if these spoors were anything to go by. Running steps tended to be longer, the distance between each step—and therefore each scent mark—greater.

Liam had walked. Casually, unhurriedly. As if he hadn’t a care in the world, despite all the blood that must have covered him.

I followed the trail into Rose Street, then crossed another road and found myself in a park. Trees lined the rim of the park and seemed to snake through the middle. Liam didn’t stay on any of the well-worn tracks, instead heading for a small but thick clump of trees in the middle.

It was there I found him.

Only he was well and truly dead.

Chapter 4

I
stopped and shifted back into human form. After tying together the ends of my torn shirt—for some reason, shirts and the more delicate fabrics like lace didn’t seem to handle the shifting as well as jeans—I took out my phone, hit record, and made a brief report. Then I set it down and squatted beside the body.

Liam had died with a look of shock and agony on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, and if it were possible for the smell of terror to linger on a body, then it did here.

Blood covered him from head to foot. It saturated his well-pressed pants and drenched his fine-looking cashmere sweater. It also painted the skin across the back of his hands and colored his fingernails. And there were strands of pale hair caught between his fingers, though nowhere near enough to cover the head of his dead girlfriend.

There was absolutely no doubt he was responsible for the girl’s murder. But why? And just how did the shadow the old neighbor had reported relate? Did we have a potential witness, or was he—she?—another sick part of this gruesome event?

I scanned him again, wondering briefly how he’d died. There was no obvious cause—no gunshot or knife wounds. It was as if he’d just been strolling through the trees when he’d fallen over backward and died.

Heart attack? It was a possibility. It had certainly taken a heartbreaking amount of strength to do what he’d done—and he didn’t smell like a were or a shifter of any kind. But if he
were
human, then his actions were even more extraordinary.

I waited for several more minutes, just squatting there, staring at the body, but nothing registered. Maybe this guy’s soul didn’t want to come out and talk. Maybe it was too shell-shocked. Or ashamed.

I rose, grabbed my phone and ended the recording, then rang the Directorate again.

“Gee, this
is
my lucky day, isn’t it,” the cow said dryly.

“I just found our murderer. You’d better send in a second cleanup team.”

“You didn’t kill him, then?” she said, in her most sarcastic tone. Someone had been reading my file again, and had obviously discovered my reluctance to kill. I’m sure it amused her greatly—though she could hardly talk. Sal wasn’t the only one who could break into secure files, and her own such reluctance was the reason she was a liaison rather than a guardian.

“He was already dead when I found him. There’s no apparent reason for the death, so we’ll need an autopsy.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

“And tell Jack I’m heading back home to finish my holiday. I’ll send him my report tomorrow.”

“He won’t be pleased.”

“Tough.”

After all, what was he going to do? Fire me? He’d spent too long getting me into the guardian ranks already.

I hung up, sent the two recordings to Jack, then turned off the phone. The minute the cow told him what I was doing, he’d undoubtedly want to talk to me, and all I wanted to do right now was go back to Kellen’s, have a long, hot bath, then curl up in bed beside him.

None of which I could do until the cleanup team got here. So I waited, keeping away the curious and the occasional dog. When the team—three shifters I’d never met before—arrived, I explained events and told them to report their findings back to Cole, so he could include it in his report.

Then I retrieved my coat and got the hell out of there.

I went home long enough to grab my ID, just in case I was called out again, then continued on to Kellen’s. He was indeed working when I arrived back at his building. He looked totally scrumptious in black pants and a pale cream shirt, both of which showed off his gleaming chocolate skin to perfection.

He looked up as I entered his office, and did something of a double take. “You look a mess.”

“With compliments like that, is it any wonder I’m madly in love with you?” I replied dryly.

“No, seriously,” he said, lightly touching the semi-healed cut near my hairline, his fingers so warm against my skin. “What’s happened?”

“The cab got shunted off the road by a truck.” I shrugged. “I’m okay, the driver’s okay, so it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“You should have contacted me—”

“So you can do what?” I interrupted, and saw the annoyance flair in his eyes. Not wanting an argument, I quickly added, “I would have rung you if it was anything serious. You want to go out for lunch?”

“Unfortunately, it’s crazy here at the moment.” He shoved a hand into his trouser pocket and withdrew the keys. “Consider my home your home. I’ll be up there as soon as I can.”

“Your home might soon
be
my home, so it goes without saying that I’ll make myself comfortable there.”

“There’s no might about that, woman,” he said, tone a growl but eyes glinting with amusement.

I grinned, then grabbed his shirt and dragged him to me, kissing him long and hard, right there in his office, in front of everyone. “Don’t be long.”

I released him and did a sexy walk on out of there. He didn’t follow, nor did I expect him to. But I was betting he’d be upstairs sooner rather than later.

I stripped down once I’d reached his apartment, then poured myself a luxurious bath, sprinkling the water with the lemongrass-scented salts I found in the bath cabinet. At least they’d help erase the lingering aroma of death and blood from my skin. I shoved several New Age CDs onto the player, relaxing a little as the ambient beats and melodious singing filled the apartment, then climbed into the rich-smelling hot water. And there I stayed until all the underlying aches from the accident had been washed away and my skin began to resemble a prune.

Once dried and dressed, I wandered out to the kitchen and made myself a coffee. It was two in the afternoon, which meant my earlier assumption about Kellen’s appearance had been totally wrong. Work was more problematic than I’d figured, obviously.

But given there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about that—other than hope he got up here before nighttime—I made myself a sandwich, then headed over to his computer. I typed up my report and sent it to Jack, then cruised the Net for a while, checking out my favorite music sites to see what was new. Finally, with nothing better to do, I decided to print out the file Blake had sent me and read that again.

Only to discover that Adrienne had shared an apartment with another woman. Blake hadn’t said anything about the woman, but it was briefly mentioned in one of the police reports. Yet no one seemed to have interrogated her, which was odd. I placed the file on the desk and went to the white pages to find a phone number. None listed. Either the number was private, or both women used their cell phones rather than having a landline, which was certainly a cheaper option these days. I went back online and signed into the Directorate’s database. Nothing major had happened at Adrienne’s address beyond a large number of break-ins. But then, while St. Kilda was considered a trendy suburb, it still hadn’t shaken its darker past. Prostitutes and druggies still haunted the streets, and break-ins were often a side effect of at least one of those elements. Had to feed the habit somehow.