Missing Magic Page 10

  “You can always pretend not to be home.”

  “Shhh,” she hissed. “I’m not hiding like I’m in the wrong. I haven’t done anything.”

  “Then open the door and get it over with.”

  Dee sighed. “You’re right.”

  Cenrick moved back, preferring to stay out of sight. Once he’d disappeared down the hallway, Dee opened the door.

  “Ms. Butler?” The taller of the two men stepped forward, holding out a laminated I.D. “Chad Riddick, Internal Affairs.”

  Making a big show of examining his card – it looked legit – she finally handed it back to him. “I’ve already talked to your department, last week. At the station,” she emphasized.

  Riddick cleared his throat. “We understand coming here is highly unorthodox, but we’re acting on a tip.”

  She nearly groaned out loud. IA working the field? Now she’d heard everything. She kept her face expressionless. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions. May we come inside?”

  “Sure.” She stepped aside, letting them precede her.

  Closing her front door, she took a deep breath. Though Cenrick was nowhere in sight, it was reassuring to know he was there in case she needed him.

  Even thinking this stunned her. She’d always worked better alone. Since when had she needed someone to watch her back?

  The two men regarded her expectantly.

  “Please, sit.” Indicating the sofa with a wave of her hand, she dipped her head. “I’ll be more than happy to answer any questions I can.”

  Prowling around her living room, Riddick examined each knick-knack, lifting some to study more closely before setting them back down.

  His partner sat, leaning forward and staring. “I’m Jones,” he said, when she stared back at him.

  Finally, Riddick joined Jones on the couch. Then, and only then, did he pull a notebook from his pocket and flip it open. “Now, Ms. Bishop,” Riddick began, stopping when she held up her hand.

  “Just a moment. Before we start, I have to tell you up front – as I did the other IA guys last week – these charges against me are completely bogus.”

  Taking a deep breath, she plunged on. “I don’t know how or why I’m being targeted, but I’m an honest cop. A good cop. I did nothing wrong.”

  They nodded politely. No doubt they’d heard this all before from other accusees, many times.

  Clearing his throat, Riddick started again. “The investigation against you is still ongoing. We’re not here to discuss those allegations.”

  “What?” This made no sense. Puzzled, she eyed them. “What do you mean you’re not here to discuss my case? How do you expect me to clear my name if you guys won’t investigate?”

  Jones lifted his hand. “I can assure you we are investigating.”

  “Then what—?”

  “There is the distinct possibility that more charges are being added to your list.” For the first time Officer Riddick appeared uncomfortable, tugging at the collar of his uniform. “Though obviously, that depends on what kind of evidence we unearth.”

  Now he’d totally confused her. “Other charges? Evidence? What are you talking about?”

  “We’re here about another officer, Mick Morsi.”

  Her stomach somersaulted. “What about him?”

  “You were close?”

  Were?“We’re best friends.”

  “Then you should know Mr. Morsi didn’t show up for work today or yesterday, nor did he call in sick. His supervisor says that’s not like him at all.”

  “That’s unlike him,” she agreed. “But what does that have to do with me? Maybe he’s really ill. Unable to phone. I wouldn’t know. I don’t understand how Mick’s problems warrant a visit to my home from Internal Affairs.”

  Riddick’s smile was a mixture of smugness and malice. “Well, that’s the thing.” He leaned back on the couch, his hawk-like gaze never leaving hers. “Morsi’s live-in girlfriend, one Natasha Klein, filed a missing person report yesterday. She claims she doesn’t know where he is either. But she says she saw you and some other man lurking around the house. She thinks you might have had something to do with his disappearance.”

  It took half a second for his words to sink in. When they registered, she exploded. “Are you crazy? With no evidence? And Mick doesn’t have a live-in girlfriend. Did you bother to search his house? Have you even looked for him?”

  Riddick ignored her outburst. “We have evidence of Ms. Klein’s claims.”

  Now she went very, very still. “Show me.”

  The younger officer handed Riddick a manila envelope. Opening it slowly, he withdrew a stack of photographs and handed them to her.

  Looking at them, Dee couldn’t believe it. All of them were of both her and Cenrick, skulking around the sidewalk in front of Mick’s house. In the photo, the house didn’t glow at all.

  But Natasha had been watching them. Taking pictures.

  “Is that you?” Riddick was relentless.

  What could she say? Throat tight, she handed him back the pictures and nodded. “Yes, but the mere fact we were at his house doesn’t mean we had anything to do with Mick being gone.”

  “Really? You don’t find this interesting?” Riddick commented. “Mick Morsi, an important witness regarding the corruption charges against you, disappears a few days before he’s scheduled to testify. And, even after he asked you to stay away, you’re seen around his house.”

  Crap. Talk about a set-up. She could feel the noose tightening around her neck. “Those photos prove nothing. I can’t believe you think I had something to do with this.”

  The two men exchanged glances. Finally Riddick spoke up. “Let’s just say you’re a top suspect. You’re the only one we know of who has probable cause.”

  “But you have no evidence.” Doggedly, she continued to defend herself. Yet. They had no evidence yet. She could safely bet that soon, some compelling evidence would come along, courtesy of Natasha.

  And Mick?

  She concentrated on breathing, slowly, evenly. Damned if she hadn’t severely underestimated the blonde and her cohorts.

  Both of the Internal Affairs officers stared her down, no doubt hoping she’d spontaneously confess.

  Shaking her head, Dee stalked to the door, yanking it open as she stepped to one side. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Riddick didn’t move. “Being uncooperative won’t help your case any.”

  She pointed outside. “I’m telling you to go. Don’t bother to come back unless you have a warrant.”

  They left, without another word. The look Riddick shot her as he walked past was one Dee was familiar with. She’d given it to numerous perps over the course of her career.

  Though she got minimal satisfaction, she slammed the door behind them.

  “Dee?” Cenrick’s appeared. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she told him what had transpired.

  “Mick’s missing?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “More likely they’ve used their machine on him.”

  “Why is he doing this?” To her horror, her voice shook. “He must have a reason, something we don’t know.”

  “If Mick was involved in the beginning, which I’m sure he was, I think the balance of power has shifted. It’s all Natasha now. Mick’s become a pawn. I think she used him to get things set up. Once he’d delivered the Fae and she knew she could get more, she didn’t need Mick.”

  “It’s possible Mick didn’t know what she was planning.” She lifted her chin, knowing her obstinate loyalty probably annoyed him, and not caring. “And once he found out, he tried to stop her.”

  Cenrick gave a slow nod. “I’ll let you have your small hope, though I don’t have the same faith in Mick that you do.”

  “I know Mick. He wouldn’t do something like this.”

  “Why not?” He watched her closely. “The Mick I know was in one
kind of trouble after another.”

  “That was before he became a cop, right?”

  “Years before.”

  “That’s what I thought. All Mick ever wanted to do was to stop injustice. If he could have become a superhero, he would have. Growing up in the orphanage and in foster homes, he saw what kind of people prey on kids. Mick wanted to fight that. He was passionate about the subject. I joined the police department because of him.”

  She took a deep breath. “That’s why the idea of him preying on other Fae makes no sense. She’s behind all this, this Natasha Klein. We’ve got to find out what she’d done to him. Missing,” she fumed. “She’d better not have made him Soulless.”

  “Then we’ll go with my plan.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “No,” she admitted. “What’s going to make this more difficult is that we’re probably under police surveillance now,” she said. “They’ll be watching this house and following me around.”

  “Why?”

  She laughed, a sound utterly without humor. “If they really think I’ve killed off another cop, if I make one false move, I’m dead. There won’t be a cop out there who isn’t itching to get his hands around my throat.”

  “Surely they won’t judge you without a trial.”

  “Oh, they will. It’s human nature. All this started with the corruption charges. Now Natasha’s taken quick steps to ensure I have no credibility and no friends. But I haven’t figured out why.”

  “That’s simple,” he said. “Obviously she’s worried about you for some reason. Maybe if we can find out what that is, we’d be better equipped to stop her.”

  “Let’s make another run by Mick’s house, in case Natasha and her machine have returned.”

  “What about the police? If they’re watching us…” “I’m a good driver. If they tail us, I’m sure I can shake them.”

  But, once in her car, she saw no tail. Either she was wrong about the surveillance, or Internal Affairs hadn’t had time to set something up yet. No one followed them, and she drove quickly and unerringly toward Mick’s house. When his street materialized in front of them, she saw his house once again glowed softly in the late afternoon light.

  “Look at that. They must be back.”

  Cenrick sat up straight. “This time, we’ve got to get inside without them knowing.”

  She parked the car in a different spot. Together, they got out. He held out his hand. She took it.

  As they approached the front sidewalk, a police car screeched up, lights flashing, siren wailing.

  “Freeze.”

  “What now?” Dee groaned.

  “We’re bringing you in for questioning,” the uniformed officer said, hustling them both to his car. “Come with me, please.”

  Dee dug in her heels. “I need to know why.”

  His eyes met hers in the rear view mirror. Flat and cold, they were the eyes of a furious cop, holding in his anger. “Mick Morsi’s Explorer was found, blood all over the front seat. He left a note in the glove box. It said if anything happened to him, to look at you.”

  Chapter Eight

  THREE HOURS later, they were finally released.

  “They can talk to me all they want,” Dee explained to Cenrick, while driving away from the police station. Though she kept her shoulders back and her chin up, as was her way, he could see exhaustion radiating from every pore. “But I’m only a suspect. Without hard core evidence, they have nothing.”

  “They can’t arrest you?”

  “Not yet.” She didn’t sound optimistic. “I swear, if I can find Mick, I’m dragging him down to the police station myself.”

  “Not if he’s Soulless.”

  “We need to go back to Mick’s,” she said. “But this time, we’ve picked up a tail.”

  “You need to get some sleep first. It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

  Because he was right, instead of arguing with him, she swore long and low under her breath, using curses he’d only heard uttered by drunken soldiers in the raunchiest human bars.

  She caught him staring. “Cops. I learned those words from other cops. Sorry.”

  When they arrived at her apartment, the Sunday paper had already been delivered to her doorstep. She scooped it up on the way in, tossing it on the floor near the couch.

  While she went back to the bedroom to change, Cenrick dropped onto the sofa.

  The headline on the front page caught his attention.

  Local Police Office Suspect in Partner’s Disappearance.

  He grabbed it and unrolled the paper. At least they weren’t calling it murder. Most likely because no body had been found.

  “Dee, come here.”

  “What?” She hurried back into the living room. “Take a look at this.” He showed her the article. “They found Mick’s Explorer, just like your police department said.”

  “This doesn’t make sense. How’d this reporter get tipped off so quickly? We only just left the police station. The printer needs several hours lead time, which means this was fed to someone long before I ever talked to the police.”

  Snatching the paper out of his hands, Dee began reading. “Oh my God. The informant, whoever that may be, must have thought I’d confess. It’s a damn shame when the supposedly unbiased newspaper accuses me of Mick’s murder.” She slammed the article down on the kitchen counter. “I wonder if the other media has picked this up and is running with it. I can’t believe this.”

  “They aren’t accusing you. They just mentioned you were a suspect. And nobody used the word murder.”

  Her laugh was bitter. “They can’t – they don’t have a body.”

  Scanning the story again, he whistled as he finished reading. “I wonder what’s with the blood all over the front seat. None of the other damaged Fae’s bodies were hurt. Maybe Mick staged this.”

  “He wouldn’t,” she said immediately. “Mick hates pain. He would be incapable of cutting himself voluntarily, even to stage his own death.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  She thought of Mick, and his squeamishness at the sight of blood, any blood. “Positive. If that blood belongs to him, someone else hurt him.”

  “Hmmm. That’s entirely possible, the way things are going. We don’t even know what all is involved with turning normal, healthy Fae into husks. Maybe taking blood is involved.”

  She stared. “Are you talking about vampirism? Or some kind of ritualistic sacrifices?”

  He didn’t seem to find her question odd. “There’s a possibility either one might be involved.”

  “Great.” She rubbed her temples. “You know what will happen next, if we don’t get this under control? A couple of uniforms will show up on my doorstep, ready to arrest me.”

  “I wish we knew why getting you out of the picture is so important to them. There’s got to be something we’re missing.” He gave her a long look, considering. “We’ve got to get back in that house.”

  “I know. But with the police watching my every move, that’s pretty damn impossible.”

  “Go to bed, get some rest. Things will look better in the morning. They always do.”

  “Better in the morning, huh? You know, once that used to be true, but not any more. These days, every time I wake up, things have gotten worse.”

  He held out his hand.

  She hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then meshed her fingers with his. Holding on to him felt good. Right. She wished she had enough nerve to ask him to come to her bed with her. But it wasn’t fair either of them. Using sex merely for distraction had never been a good idea, at least in her life.

  Hand in hand, they walked down the hall to her room. At her door, he pulled free, staring down at her with an inscrutable expression. Was he about to kiss her? Heart pounding, she waited.

  But he only murmured a quiet good night, and turned away, leaving her feeling like a fool.

  Alone.

&n
bsp; Like she’d been all her life.

  Though she thought she’d toss and turn all night, once she’d crawled between the sheets, she drifted in that shadowy realm between sleep and awakening. Images haunted her, misty forms too indistinct to identify and others, starkly sensual, of she and Cenrick.

  She must have slept, because the next thing she knew, an earsplitting buzzing startled her awake. The phone on the nightstand was ringing loud enough to wake the dead.

  She bolted up, confused and disoriented, squinting at the clock. Two a.m. A phone call at this hour couldn’t be good. Heart pounding, she grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Dee. listen to me.” A man, whispering urgently. She’d know that voice anywhere. “Mick?”

  He didn’t respond. “You’re in danger. They’re going to come for you. You’ve got to get out.”

  “Who’s they, Mick? Where are you and who is this Natasha? What’s she doing to you?”

  He coughed, sounding as though he was gasping for air. “No time. Please Dee, get out while you can.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  Silence.

  “Mick, are you in danger?”

  “I don’t think so.” Still whispering, he sounded… confused. Then, more firmly. “No. I’m not.”

  “Are you helping those people harm the Fae?”

  He made a sound, a harsh intake of breath. “You know? How?”

  Her heart sank. He hadn’t denied it. “Never mind how I know. I want to know why. How could you do something so horrible? What’s going on with you?”

  “I can’t talk now. You’ve got to go, Dee. Quickly.” “Run away? I can’t. They’re setting me up.”

  “I know.” He sighed. “I wish I could help you.”

  “But you’re involved. You can. Talk to me. Let me meet with you somewhere, anywhere. Your choice.”

  Silence.

  “Mick, please. Talk to me.”

  But instead of answering, she heard a click as he hung up the phone. She checked the number. The Caller I.D. read Unavailable. Of course. Mick knew better than to call from a traceable number.

  Still, she wanted to throw the phone against the wall.

  “Who was that?” Bleary-eyed, Cenrick stood framed in her door. Wearing only a pair of silky, red boxers, he looked sleepy and gorgeous and sexy as hell. His long, dark hair was tousled every which way, standing up in unruly tufts.