Sins of the Demon

Page 30

“Someone who wants to fuck with her,” Ryan said. “Get her off balance. Maybe someone with an ax to grind.”
Jill let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, god, if we have to track down everyone Kara has ever pissed off, we’re screwed.”
“Bitch,” I said and stuck my tongue out at her for good measure.
“You know it!” she said, eyes sparkling with humor.
“I have to say, though, it really is the perfect setup.” I grimaced. “Drug me with something that makes me do irrational shit, right when people around me start dying.”
Eilahn pursed her lips. “And it would have appeared far worse if not for the fact that most of your ‘irrational shit’ has been controlled by the cuff.”
I nodded. “But still, if they’re going after me—another summoner,” I said, musing, “—they have to figure the payoff is worth the risk.”
“Or they’re desperate enough to risk it,” Ryan added.
I tugged my hands through my hair as an uncomfortable thought occurred to me. I slid my eyes to Eilahn. “Are you able to assess for summoning ability?”
“That is not one of my skills,” she said, spreading her hands in apology.
Zack eyed me. “You have a suspect?”
I shifted in my chair, uncertain. “I’ll be shocked if he turns out to be a summoner, but…well, this ex-boyfriend of mine, Roman Hatch, lost his job at ESPN earlier this spring. He arrived here in town shortly before the first murder. In fact he found the body.”
Zack raised an eyebrow. “I think that qualifies him as a person of interest.”
“Right.” I cast my memory back over the conversation. “He also said he was staying in town a few extra days because one of his projects was taking longer than expected.”
Jill gave a smirk. “I think that’s what we in the biz call ‘a clue.’ ”
I nodded, smiled tightly. “I guess I’ll be summoning a demon to check him out tonight.”
“Cool!” Jill said, mischievous smile on her face. “We can have a demon summoning party!”
“Like hell!” I said, giving her a dark glower. She merely chuckled. My phone dinged and I dropped my eyes to it, expecting it to be from my aunt.
It wasn’t. “Shit,” I muttered as I read the text.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked.
“Chief wants to see me, ASAP.” I sighed. “Somehow I have a feeling he’s not calling me in to offer me a promotion.”
Chapter 15
Despite joking, my nerves were a frayed mess about being called in to talk to the chief. I had no doubt as to the reason, and I could only be deeply glad that I’d already spilled the beans to my sergeant.
I flashed a relaxed smile to the secretary in the chief’s outer office—even though I felt anything but relaxed—and tapped on his door frame. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Chief Robert Turnham gave me a smile as he waved me in, but there was a tightness around his eyes that did nothing to ease the knot of worry in my gut. He’d recently decided to give in to his ever-retreating hairline and shave his head, but the combination of that with his dark skin, his height, and his gangly, thin limbs had him resembling one of the creatures from the movie Aliens. Though without the slavering teeth and poison blood and all that. He and I had always gotten along fairly well. He had a tendency to be dour and anal retentive, but he was a damn good cop with tons of experience, and he’d always treated me with respect.
But right now it was pretty obvious he was stressed and worried. Obviously something more was going on.
“Have a seat, Kara,” he said. I complied, doing my best to keep my expression even and calm. He’d had the walls painted in here, I noticed—a warm blue that matched the tones in the Beaulac PD seal on the wall behind his desk. The carpet had been updated too—a dark gray that that was a huge improvement over the bilious tan of its predecessor. The desk, chairs, and bookshelves were real wood now instead of metal, but nothing that looked like it cost and arm and a leg. Not much else had changed, though. The books and various awards were still aligned neatly, and I doubted I’d find any dust on the shelves. The overall effect was “serviceable and classy,” which pretty much fit the chief to a T.
He leaned forward and interlaced his fingers together on the desk in front of him. His face fell into lines of concern that I knew weren’t fake. “I’m not going to waste time with bullshit small talk, Kara. I received a tip this morning, from an anonymous person, stating that the deaths of Barry Landrieu, Evelyn Stark, and Thomas Chartres are connected. And that we should be looking at you as a murder suspect.”
I took an unsteady breath. “As I told Sergeant Crawford, yes, I knew all three. And no, I sure as hell didn’t murder any of them.” I gave him a terse explanation of who each person was—everything I’d told Sarge. Okay, maybe not everything. I could probably safely leave out the bit about the demons and portals and whatnot.
He blew out his breath and leaned back in his chair. “So there are two possibilities that leap to mind. First is that you’re being set up, and second is that you’re a serial killer.” He cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Or both,” I replied with a weak laugh.
“Or both,” he acknowledged, barest hint of a smile playing on his mouth, but the tension around his eyes hadn’t left.
“Sir, I’d like to point out that that there’s nothing to suggest any of these people were murdered.”
“True enough. However, I’ve spoken to Dr. Lanza and he’s concerned that all of them had similar causes of death, though right now he’s more worried that it could be something contagious, and he’s currently going back and forth with the CDC.”
That was a troubling thought, but I had a tough time believing it. If it was contagious then more people would be affected than just the ones on my not-invited-to-my-birthday-party list. The tox didn’t show anything because it wasn’t the sort of thing a tox screen could detect. At least that was my theory.
He cocked his head. “Do you think it’s all a giant coincidence?”
“Fuck no,” I said. “What’s that saying? ‘Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern.’ ”
He steepled his fingers in front of him. “There’s a variation of that phrase that says ‘three times is enemy action.’ ”
Scowling, I nodded. “Can you tell me how this tip came in?” Because if that wasn’t sent by my mystery summoner or someone working with him, I’d eat my demon’s cat.
“Phone call, from a prepaid cell phone. Cash.”
Crap. There’d be no chance of tracing that.
“It’s a damn good thing that you told your sergeant about your connection to these victims,” he said. “But until we—”
He was cut off by the opening of the door. I glanced back to see who it was, deeply unsettled to see Mayor Peter Fussell enter and close the door behind him. I fought to keep any of it from showing on my face. The mayor gave me a tight smirk of a smile, which didn’t do a damn thing to relax me. He didn’t like me, and the feeling was completely mutual. Not long ago he’d attempted to coerce and threaten me into revealing confidential information on an active murder investigation. With the help of my sergeant, I’d recorded the conversation and had threatened him right back. Yeah, he didn’t love me.
“She’s still here, Robert?” he said as he pulled his overcoat off. “I’d have thought you’d have her gun and badge by now at the very least. And maybe have her in jail for good measure.”
My stomach dove into my toes. I was fully aware that the Chief of Police was appointed by the mayor. It didn’t matter how much Chief Turnham admired, respected, or even tolerated me—if it came down to a choice between me and his job, I knew which way it would fall.
Annoyance swept over Chief Turnham’s face. “I have nothing to arrest her for, Peter.”
The mayor dropped into the other chair and eyed me. “Three people dead. And you hated them all, didn’t you?”
I eyed him right back. “Is this an interrogation?” I asked, then looked over at my chief. “Because, if so, I want a lawyer.” I shifted my arm to reassure myself the cuff was still there, relieved that I’d been so stressed about being called in that I’d forgotten to slip it off. Yeah, the white hot rage I was feeling right now was all my own.
“It’s not an interrogation, Kara,” the chief replied. “However, until we can get this whole mess cleared up, I think it’s best if you go on administrative leave.”
Even though I was half-expecting it, the news was still a punch in the gut. “I haven’t done anything wrong, sir,” I managed.
“That we know of,” Fussell said with a dubious sniff.
Chief Turnham shot him a quelling glance, then gave me a more reassuring look. “It’ll be with pay, and it’s in your best interest. This way there can be no question of impropriety in the investigation.”
“Yes, sir.” I understood it. I really did. But I didn’t have to like it one bit.
“Stop coddling her, Turnham,” the mayor sneered. “Get a search warrant for her house, and get the evidence you need.”
I leveled a black glare at the mayor. “You don’t have the probable cause for a search warrant.”
He sat forward. “Then sign a consent-to-search and prove you’re innocent.”
“Not in this lifetime,” I shot back.
He laughed and looked over to the chief. “See? She’s obviously hiding something. You could fire her for insubordination for refusing to follow an order.”
“Oh, for God’s sakes, Peter,” the chief muttered.
“Mayor Fussell,” I said as I fought to remain calm, “with all due respect, just because I’m a city employee doesn’t mean that you or anyone else has leave to trample all over my civil rights. And if you insist on having me fired for refusing to consent to a search of my private residence, you and this city can most certainly brace yourselves for a lawsuit.”