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“Why not the cabin I’m using?”
“Where’s the first place they’ll look? A cop should know better.”
“I’m a cop, not a criminal.” Except for tampering with an active crime scene by stealing Sadie’s grimoire and her sisters’ spell books. “My investigative work’s in the cabin. I can’t leave it.”
“The sealed safe you had in the closet? Or the files hidden under a loose floorboard? Yeah, my woman found those and brought them to the forge for you.”
Shit. “That’s evidence in an active police investigation.”
“Which we didn’t poke through. That’s more than I can say if the Huntresses had gotten to it first.
True. “I didn’t make it easy on them when they came for me. Called it up the marshal chain of command, demanded an audience with their Syndicate, invoked all kinds of legal precedent that I haven’t read but wolf lawyers covered in a training. Figured it sounded good.”
He grins. “You and Sadie might be a match made in a hell dimension with the way you both frustrate people with your fancy talk until they cave.”
“Thanks?”
“You’re welcome. Solve the murders. Then you can figure out the mating. We’ve got a cot and shower at the forge. It’s not fancy, but it’s better than spending the night in chains. Unless you’re into that.” He looks back at me. “Not judging if you are.” The shadow above us dips lower, and the big man chuckles. “Got to keep things spicy in a marriage.”
Great. I might be more uncomfortable now than I was earlier chained to a desk. The rest of the way through the Pleasure District and past the staff quarters, I stay silent and am glad he does the same. The forge stands on the edge of his weaponry school’s training grounds. There’s a fire pit beside the building along with anvils and other tools I assume he uses.
He nods toward them. “Those are mainly for show. The Nymphs like to pretend to make their own weapons. It usually ends up a pajama party with s’mores.”
We push inside where there are more tools along with what looks to be several versions of freakin’ Excalibur hanging on the wall beside wicked battle axes. The place smells like smoke and metal.
“Living quarters are in the back,” he says. “A beaver shifter built them off the books so the Huntresses shouldn’t know. Kiva insists on having multiple places to lay low. Childhood issues. Don’t ask.”
“I won’t, but damn, your mate’s life wasn’t traumatic enough with murder? It sucks that the Fates added other problems to her mix.”
“I got her back in this life so I can’t complain too much about what the Fates have in store. That arrowhead you found at Sadie’s family home,” he says quietly. “You said you’ve found others like it at the shifter murders?”
“You mean the one that matches your wife’s wings?” I still can’t imagine how the woman has feathers with silver attached. “All of the arrowheads have been identical except the engravings. We’re talking the same killer or killers. Any murderer this reckless and bold with their kills generally wouldn’t tolerate a copycat.”
He nods and looks away. “I held my wife in my arms as she bled out on a frozen lake only a stone’s throw away from the body of the teenager we were out searching for. Young Rylie looked like she’d been slashed to pieces by an angry mob. I crawled inch after inch through their blood.”
Shit. I thought I had scary memories. “Nothing I can say will help ease that pain except to tell you I’m doing everything I can to solve this case.”
“Whoever dumped Rylie’s body on that ice? They flew her in. I’ve been over the scene a million times in my mind. It’s the only way they could’ve gotten her out there without leaving tracks.”
The same as I’ve suspected at other scenes though I can’t tell him that. “We’re in a city full of winged children of the gods.”
“We are.”
“From what I’ve heard, everyone here can fly except the Huntresses and the Styx.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about the Styx,” he says. “Never underestimate women who can navigate the waters of the dead.”
“Which means literally anyone in Syn City except the Huntresses could be a suspect.”
“Unless your office has been behind the killings all along.” He makes the accusation sound so matter-of-fact. “The murders have taken out targets that weaken every alpha. I don’t trust the marshals. No one species should be in charge of all the packs.”
“We’re not looking to take over or lead.”
“Uh huh.” He stares at me as if he’s waiting for my nose to grow Pinocchio-style. Or he’s picking a body part of mine to punch. “None of us are safe until the killers are caught. Come on. I’ll get your evidence for you.”
I follow him and glance at the rows of blades lining his walls, wondering who I can trust in this town except my wolf already knows even if my human half doesn’t want to hear it.
Sadie.
