Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct (12 page)

“Stone?” When she nodded, he added, “Just so the glove doesn’t fit like the one in the Simpson trial.”

“I want a warrant to extract DNA from the wolves on Stone’s property to see if they’re connected to possible DNA found on the victims’ bodies.”

“Wolves?”

“Yes, sir. He has a large estate outside the city, so we’ll have to coordinate with other agencies to serve the warrant. Stone lets wolves roam the property and even has one that comes and goes in the house. I’m uncertain of the total number of animals, but the Lykos Institute he founded also has a large DNA database on canines they’ve treated, trained, and so forth. I’d like to get that information as well.”

She handed him her report and watched him flip through the pages.

“You do realize this will start the battle of attorneys. Stone is not a man to just step aside and let accusations fly. I doubt we can keep this under wraps.” He closed the folder, his dark-skinned features firm and serious.

“Understood.” She met his hard gaze with a resolve she was far from feeling. Was she letting insecurities over her own objectivity cloud her judgment about Stone?

“If you get close to him, stay on him, do you think you can break him? Make him slip up?”

If he didn’t break her first...maybe.

“He’s smart. It won’t be easy, but these warrants should shake things up.”

“I’m sure they will. Stay on him. Keep the pressure up. And keep me informed. Dismissed.”

Mackenzie headed for the door but paused when she heard Fuller call her name. “Sir?”

“Hahn is unaware of how often even our coldest cases are revisited with hopes of unearthing new leads.” He peered at her, his silent message coming through loud and clear. Unwavering reassurance. “He underestimates the abilities and long-term devotion of some of my detectives to solve murders, but I don’t.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Mackenzie hated funerals. No, she hated the necessity of funerals. The ceremonial closure and final farewell to a life always taken before loved ones are ready to let go. The misery increased as the weather contributed its tears to the somber service amid cold, hard headstones and fresh-cut flowers.

She leaned against a tree trunk beneath the shelter of its branches and scanned the faces in the crowd, quickly spotting Stone beneath the canopy of umbrellas. He stood at a respectful distance from where the family huddled beneath the tent. A solitary figure in a long black coat beside a sea of formally dressed mourners.

As the final words of solemnity drifted away, most of the gathering dispersed. Mackenzie took a step forward to watch with interest as Stone approached Emily, whispered something to her, and remained motionless as the widow clung to him. The tight embrace lasted a while before she finally pulled away with a nod and shaky smile. He touched her cheek and then knelt before her children, wiped away their tears, and hugged each one.

When he released the daughter, his gaze collided with Mackenzie’s. A temblor threatened to shake the foundations of her resolve. She mentally reinforced the invisible walls she’d spent the past few days rebuilding.

Rafe rose to his feet with an earthy grace, carnal in movement, feral in purpose. The pop of an opening umbrella preceded his first step into the downpour.

“You’re getting wet, Detective.” He moved close, too close, and held his umbrella over them both. Mackenzie blinked the rain from her eyes.

“I won’t melt.”

He leaned forward, his breath tickling her nape, the musky aroma of his cologne teasing her overly alert senses. “You would...under the right circumstances.”

She went rigid and raised a hand to his chest. A big mistake she realized when his hand covered hers, holding it against his heart. She stepped back and collided with the trunk of the tree she’d thought of as shelter moments earlier.

She jerked her hand from beneath his and tried for bravado she didn’t feel. “Trying to seduce a cop, Stone?”

“When I seduce you, Mackenzie, you’ll know it.” He tilted her face to his. “And you won’t be able to hide behind that badge.”

Not
if
, but
when
. He’d said
when
.

“I have a job to do. I don’t have time to exchange quips with you.” She turned her head, refusing to look at him, but unable to ignore the electric heat emanating from his closeness.

“You don’t strike me as a coward, Detective.”

She bit back a curse, unsure whether she was angrier with him or herself. She put every ounce of conviction she could in her voice. “I don’t fear you.” The truth was she feared her attraction to him, but she’d be damned before she’d admit that. “I don’t have the liberty to indulge myself with a suspect, even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” she lied. “And I will not jeopardize my investigation. I have an obligation to the families, the victims—”

“I didn’t kill them, damn it.” The eruption of fury and frustration caught her by surprise. The rare sight of him losing control fascinated her. A mix of unhidden emotions washed across his face. “Deep down inside, you know it.” He gripped her chin and forced her to meet his determined gaze. “You know it.”

Terror gripped her heart as she realized she believed him but couldn’t be sure. Despite what he said, she didn’t
know
beyond the proverbial shadow of a doubt.

His hand moved to cradle the back of her neck and gently tugged her toward him.

“Excuse me. Detective?”

At the softly uttered words, Rafe released her, his hand dropping to his side. Mackenzie stepped around him, back into the cool rain, and fought the shiver she felt, unsure of its cause. Emily Shumaker stood a few feet away, her cheeks wet despite the cover of her own umbrella.

“Mrs. Shumaker. My condolences.”

“Thank you. Please, call me Emily. May we talk a moment?”

“Sure.”

Mackenzie followed as she turned back toward the shelter of the funeral tent. “Have there been any developments in the case?”

“We’re following several leads.” She sat next to the widow and glanced over her shoulder to see Rafe still standing beneath the tree, watching her.

“Does that mean you know who killed my husband?”

“Mrs. Shu—Emily—I’m not in a position to discuss the details of the case.”

“I’m not asking for names.” She twisted the tissues in her hand. Her voice cracked. “I j-just want to know that you’re going to stop him. I need to know he won’t kill someone else over a foolish mistake.”

Mackenzie eyed the woman. “Foolish mistake?”

“Yes, I’m sure Mr. Stone told you my Carl tried to steal some money from his company.”

“You think Stone killed your husband because he stole from him?” She glanced back toward the tree. When she didn’t see him, relief flooded her system; at least, that’s what Mackenzie told herself. She started to look for him, but Emily gripped her hand.

Emily’s eyes rounded. She shook her head. “No. Mr. Stone? No. He’s been nothing if not an angel to my family. C-Carl told me...before, you know...He said Mr. Stone refused to press charges against him even though he could’ve. That would’ve destroyed our family.”

“He fired him.”

“Yes, but he said he wouldn’t dispute Carl’s claim to unemployment if he’d get treatment for his problem. He wanted him to get help.”

“Problem?”

Emily’s gaze dropped to the ground. “He always thought he’d win high stakes on the next roll and end his losing streak, if he could just keep playing.”

That’s why he needed the money, Mackenzie thought, to fuel a gambling habit.

“That’s why I got so upset with him when I realized he’d gone to one of those...what do you call ’em? Bookies?”

“Loan sharks.”

“Yes, that’s it.” Her eyes watered anew. “I know he killed him.”

Most loan sharks were small-time hoodlums who broke the limbs of those who welched on bets. They couldn’t collect from dead men. And they didn’t usually have ties with legislators opposed to their trade. Mackenzie doubted there was a connection, but she filed the thought away as she noticed an elderly lady step forward and put a hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“We should go, sweetheart. Your dad’s got the car warming up. The kids rode home with Ron, but the baby’s going to want her momma when she wakes up.”

“Okay, Mom. Detective Lyons, this is my mother, Beatrice Evans. Mom, this is the detective looking for Carl’s killer.”

“Mrs. Evans.” Mackenzie stood and gripped the woman’s brittle, age-spotted hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. You find the man who did this. Carl had his faults, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered on his baby’s birthday. My daughter didn’t deserve to lose her husband like that. The hurt that beast has caused this family...and my grandchildren... They should’ve had their daddy with them. Those poor babies...”

“I know, Ma’am. I’ll do my best to see that he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

Teardrops welled on Beatrice’s lower lashes, but she nodded firmly. “See that you do.”

“One other thing, Detective,” Emily said. “Do you still have Carl’s PDA?”

“His PDA?”

“Yes. He never went anywhere without it, but it wasn’t among his personal effects. I thought if you were through with it, I could get it back. I’d like to give it to our son. It might mean something to him someday.”

“I’ll check with the lab.”

“Thank you.”

As mother and daughter supported each other on their way to the waiting car, Mackenzie stared at the casket, draped with a spray of lilies. She ran a hand over her damp French-braided hair, and then stuffed her chilled fists into the pockets of her slicker.

“You think I’m capable of destroying a family, Detective?” Rafe stepped under the tent and shook his umbrella before closing it.

Startled, she hid it by slowly scanning the area. They were now alone, except for the man in the casket. “What are you still doing here? Don’t you have a business to run, a country to buy, or something?”

His deep chuckle struck her in the gut. He shook his head with a cocky grin. “That’s the benefit of being the boss. I get to set my own schedule. Have you eaten?”

She blinked at the change in subject but quickly recovered. “I’m fine.”

“I never said you weren’t, but that’s not what I asked.”

What the hell had he asked? Oh yeah, food. She couldn’t think with him looking at her as if she were dessert.

“If you aren’t hungry, you wouldn’t mind keeping me company while I ate, would you?”

She frowned. “I have work to do. I don’t have time to waste as an ornament on your arm.”

The vehemence in her tone must have surprised him, if his raised eyebrows were any indication. But then his mouth took on a sly curve that’d impress a fox.

“Good, because I’m not looking for mindless embellishments. However, I would enjoy some intelligent conversation. Since you said you wanted me to come in later for—how did you put it?—further questioning, what’s wrong with now?”

With a quirk of his lips, he held out his arm in challenge.

“You can follow me back to the station, then.” She kept her cold hands in the pockets of her slicker. He grinned at her silent refusal.

“Why waste time, Detective?” he asked, using her own words against her. He flipped his umbrella above them, and gripping her elbow, escorted her from the tent toward the parking area. “Ride with me, and we can start the interrogation now. I can arrange to have your car brought to you.”

She paused. “I am not riding in your limousine back to the station.”

“Then don’t.” He smiled broadly, pulled a set of keys from his pocket, and pressed a button. A beep signaled the disarming of a car alarm and drew her attention to a platinum Jaguar convertible, with its top up.

Despite herself, she scowled at the rain clouds. He guided her to the other side, and before she could blink, she reclined in plush comfort.

After he’d arranged for the funeral director to hand over her keys to the driver he’d called, Rafe steered the powerful sports car through traffic with an ease Mackenzie reluctantly admired.

Her fingers brushed the supple, and surprisingly warm, leather seat before she realized what she was doing and forced her hands onto her lap. “I thought you only rode in cars the length of a city block.”

He slid an amused glance toward her. “When I ride, yes. But I prefer something different when I drive.”

His dark slacks hugged his thighs as the muscles flexed when he pressed the pedals. His strong hand caressed the walnut gearshift with a subtle familiarity that captured her imagination and made her squirm.

“You never answered my question.”

His words intruded on her ruminations. “What question was that?” she asked to hide her embarrassment.
Had she really been ogling him? God, had he noticed
?

“Do you believe I can destroy a man’s family?”

Yes...No...I don’t know
. “What I believe is incidental. The case is built on facts, on what I can prove.”

“And right now, those facts point to me?”

“You’re a link between the two victims. You had the means and the opportunity.”

“And the motive?”

That had been her stumbling block all along. “You tell me.”

His expression remained steady, as if they spoke of the weather or other trivialities. “I killed Robertson because he insulted me over a political disagreement, and then murdered a man for daring to steal from me. Interesting theory...although there’s a serious flaw.”

“And that is?”

“If I’d wanted to punish them for crossing me, I wouldn’t kill them. I’d want them to live to regret their mistake.”

He braked as the Jag hugged a turn, and Mackenzie twisted in her seat.

“This is not the way to the station.”

His response showed a complete lack of concern for her accusation. “I don’t recall saying that was our destination.”

Had he? No, she’d suggested he follow her to the station and assumed that remained their destination when she agreed to ride with him instead. She narrowed her eyes on him. “Where the hell are we going?”

“As I said, I plan to enjoy a meal, and if you change your mind, you’re free to join me.”

“This is not a social call, Stone.”