Hostile Takeover (Vale Investigation Book 1) Read online

  “What’s your name?” I asked her. When she didn’t answer, I added, “I’m Bellamy.”

  “Ni-Nicole,” she volunteered.

  Something moved behind her.

  “Are your kids in there with you, Nicole?” I asked.

  At the reminder of her children, she closed the door a little. The reflective gesture of a protective mother … Given the state I was in, I couldn’t blame her.

  I raised a hand, palm up. “It’s all right, Nicole. You can all come out. It’s safe. Hear those sirens?”

  They were deafening by now. Judging from the noise, they were almost in the driveway, but I knew they wouldn’t come rushing in right away, not till they had checked the place out.

  “Why don’t we go inside the house?” I suggested, holding out my hand.

  I think it was the promise of official help arriving more than anything else that convinced her to come with me. She stepped out of the shed, two sets of tiny hands grabbing at her own. I let the three of them into the house and closed the door behind them.

  “Where’s your husband?” I asked as soon as Nicole had sat her kids on a kitchen stool. The sirens were loud outside and I had to raise my voice to be heard.

  The boy looked to be ten, the girl a year or two younger. Once their mother let go of them, the boy reached for his sister, wrapping her in a protective embrace. I made sure to stand as far away as possible and placed my pistol back in the holster I wore at my hip.

  “Mark’s at a convention out of town,” Nicole replied in a shaky voice. “How to diversify the agricultural system, I think … he’s a biologist.”

  “Do you have any idea why someone would want to hurt you?”

  She seemed baffled by my question. “That thing … what was that thing?”

  “Werewolf,” her boy whispered from behind her.

  “What was that thing?” Nicole repeated, staring at me.

  I couldn’t give her the answer she wanted, so I went with the one everybody else had been going with. “It’s the animal the local news has been talking about … it’s killed two people over the last couple of days.”

  “Werewolf,” the boy repeated.

  “There’s no such thing, Kevin,” her mother responded, turning to him with a stern expression that was less about convincing him than it was herself. She’d gathered herself since getting inside and seemed more focused now. “Why did you ask me if someone wants to hurt me?” she demanded, turning back to face me. “I thought the attacks were random.”

  I told her the truth this time. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “But there’s no reason for this,” she said, throwing up her hands as the words rushed out of her. “We’re nothing special. I work for the city and Mark’s a biologist. Our kids go to school. We’re nothing special.”

  “CCPD!” someone shouted from outside the house. I recognized Ramirez’s Latino-tinged voice. “Anybody home?”

  I opened a window to call back. “In the kitchen.”

  The arrival of the cops had come a little too quick for my purposes. Yeah, okay, they’d saved me from getting mauled by that prehistoric slasher, but they’d also got there before I could get anything useful out of Nicole.

  Ramirez entered, weapon in hand and her hair tied in a slick ponytail. She lowered her gun when she saw me.

  “Vale?” she said, lowering her gun. “What are you doing here?”

  The word “Clear” was repeated several times as the other officers checked the rooms one by one.

  I raised my hands in a show of goodwill. “Well, I was driving by,” I told her. “I heard a scream from the house so I came to take a look.”

  “Driving by,” echoed the scornful basso voice of Jeremy Morgan from the living room. The man himself made his entrance a moment later. “We’re supposed to believe that?”

  He glanced around the kitchen, taking in the huddled forms of the children, the slightly more relaxed Nicole and then me again.

  “Any sign of the animal?”

  “It’s gone,” I said. “It was in the garden. I fired a few shots in the air and scared it off.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Morgan asked, coming near enough for me to smell his halitosis working overtime.

  I raised my hands a little higher, despite the pain lancing me in my side. “Look, it was dark out there. I didn’t see it that well. It went after the family. I got in its way and it attacked me. That’s when I fired off a few rounds to scare it off.”

  “And you just happened to be driving by … at just the right time.”

  I smiled. “Got lost on my way to the Redbox kiosk.”

  A flashlight reflected from outside and a uniformed cop popped his head through the back door.

  “Signs of a fight, LT,” he said to Morgan. “Blood drops and a large dent in the side of the house. No signs of the wolf, though.”

  The young man disappeared back outside and Morgan cast an accusatory gaze at me.

  “Like I said, it attacked me,” I repeated, dropping my hands and letting some of the weariness I felt show on my face. “I fought back. That’s why it’s gone now. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home and get some rest. I’m not feeling well after this.”

  “This has to be the thickest bullshit you’ve ever served me, Vale,” Morgan said, his dark eyes glinting with menace. “And that’s saying something.”

  I couldn’t resist one last jab. “I saw a family in danger, so I stepped in to intervene and saved them.” I took a step closer and dipped my fingers in my wound, then showed him the blood and smiled. “I’m a bloody hero.”

  Morgan lost it at that. He lurched for me, much like the Berserker had moments before. Guess I was lucky he had holstered his gun or he might have shot me where I stood.

  Quick as he was, Ramirez was quicker. She caught Morgan’s arm and pulled him back. “He’s not worth it, sir,” she said calmly. “Let it go.”

  That seemed to do the trick. Morgan threw off her hand and retreated, rage coursing through his face. Ramirez made a point of staying between the two of us until he was all the way into the next room.

  “Get out of here, Bell,” she muttered to me. “Just go.”

  As I headed for the front door I heard Morgan call for an Anderson to keep an eye on me. Like I needed another reminder of why I needed to be gone! Even as I crossed the living room, a young uniform—the one who’d poked his head in earlier and who I assumed was Anderson—caught up with me.

  “This way, sir,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him outside.

  I was too tired to do anything but go along with it. Another uniformed officer out on the front lawn was unrolling the yellow tape to set up a perimeter. The guys from CC News had arrived and the Headliner channel’s van was just coming up the drive. The whole place was going to turn into a media circus fast … yet another reason to get out of here.

  “Look, kid,” I told Anderson, “this has been a shitty week for me so far. Why don’t you just let me go home?”

  Anderson scowled. “Sorry, sir. No can do.”

  I groaned as I sat down on a small boulder that had been placed at the edge of the lawn. Even though it wasn’t as bad as what Ragazzo had put me through, the Berserker had done a number on me. I could feel blood trickling down my side. I pulled my jacket closed over it, hoping it wouldn’t show.

  The people from CC News started taking stock footage of the house and the neighborhood as the ones from the Headliner unpacked their gear. They were waiting for Morgan to show up so they could pester him for more details. That was the only consolation I had for being detained. I looked around for any sign of the Berserker but came up empty. The street was deserted, except for the camera crew milling about and the two patrol cars parked behind Ramirez’s green Chevy.

  The first neighbors had started to come out of nearby houses
. With glazed eyes and wearing their night-clothes, they scratched their heads as they tried to figure out what was going on.

  “And we’re live from Plymouth Road, where there has been another attack minutes ago,” a female voice piped up. “The same beast that attacked and brutally murdered two people this week was seen earlier in this quiet residential area.”

  There was no mistaking Candice Kennedy from the Headliner news channel. She was standing with her back towards the house while her cameraman filmed her with a camera that had a built-in lamp. She’d let loose her long blonde hair for the occasion.

  “We are waiting for the official police report,” she went on, “but witnesses indicate that the house belongs to Mark and Nicole Thricin. They live here with their two young children. We do not know, at this time, if there have been any victims in this latest attack. Mr. Thricin is a biologist for AgroCorp and his wife Nicole works for the city council, where she holds a seat on the board for infrastructural development in Cold City.”

  I watched the blonde through narrowed eyes. She was good, you had to give her that. I had no idea how she’d gathered her facts that quickly. I listened in, committing the relevant details to memory. Might as well get something useful out of this.

  “In a troubling new development, this marks the second victim related to real estate. Which begs the following question: are these the random attacks of a wild animal or is there more to the story? This was Candice Kennedy, live, for the Headliner evening news.”

  She signaled to her cameraman to cut the feed before turning to face the house again. Our gazes met for the briefest instant and I saw her raise a thin eyebrow. Then Morgan came out of the house and Kennedy focused all her attention on him.

  “Detective Lieutenant Morgan, any comment? Can you confirm this attack was connected to the deaths of Ethan Nicholls and William Mallory?”

  Watching Morgan coming down the porch steps was like watching a documentary on allergies. “No comment,” he said, voice taut, a hand going up to shield himself from the prying eye of the camera.

  “Have there been any new victims or an ID of the animal that did this?” Kennedy continued, relentless.

  “No comment,” Morgan repeated, taking two more steps towards his car. Sweat had begun to pearl on his brow and his jaw was tight as iron. He ducked under the yellow tape, damn near tearing it off in frustration.

  “William Mallory and Mrs. Thricin both worked for the city … is there a connection?” Kennedy asked, right in Morgan’s face.

  “No comment, Ms. Kennedy, means no comment. Now piss off before I book you for harassment, obstruction of justice, and any other charge that I can think up on the spot!”

  With that, Morgan got into his car and gunned the engine before driving away as fast as the speed limit allowed him. I smirked. It was nice to see that I wasn’t the only thing that got under his skin.

  “We can now confirm that the detectives investigating this attack are the same as those for Ethan Nicholls and William Mallory’s cases,” Kennedy said into the camera. “While Detective Lieutenant Jeremy Morgan has not confirmed if there have been any new victims, he hasn’t denied that there could be a connection between the three cases.”

  The journalist’s last line got a chuckle out of me. She had better pray Morgan didn’t catch sight of her news report tonight or he’d book for her the cell next to mine in the morning.

  The blonde seemed satisfied with her performance and handed the microphone back to her cameraman, who packed it up with the rest of the gear. They’d got what they came for, apparently. A little further down the drive, the crew from CC News was capturing footage of the area.

  “You all right, Bell?” Ramirez said behind me.

  I turned to face her and winced at the motion. She frowned and came to sit next to me.

  “Just got banged up a little,” I told her, hoping it was the truth. “Nothing to write home about … get anything more out of the Thricins?”

  “No, they’re all too shaken up to make sense,” Ramirez said with a sigh. “Mrs. Thricin doesn’t even remember how she and the kids ended up in the shed. Something about animal cries and her wanting to run away with the kids and how that animal backed her out into the garden. After that, it just becomes terror-stricken gibberish.”

  I nodded before I asked her the one question that interested me. “Did she get a good look at what it was?”

  “No. It was too dark and it happened too fast. Which is why”—she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me—“I’m asking you.”

  “Can’t help you there, Mel,” I croaked as I got to my feet with the last of my strength. “I saw claws and fur but there wasn’t enough light for me to make sense of it either.”

  I hated having to lie to her but it wasn’t like I had a choice. For everyone’s safety, it was better she stayed in the dark.

  “Now,” I added, rubbing my face. “Can I go home or do I have to spend the night on this rock?”

  Ramirez narrowed her pretty brown eyes at me, lips tightening into a thin line. She wasn’t buying it but she had no way to prove I was lying either. She knew it, I knew it, and she knew that I knew that she knew. This was a game we’d played before.

  “Just piss off already,” she said before turning her back on me.

  Sorry, Mel, I thought. I’d tell you if I could.

  Cursing under my breath, I turned to where I’d parked the car and started to walk away from the house, one hand draped over my chest. I hadn’t had a chance to look at my wounds yet but every step was sending jolts of pain through my side. There was no way it was going to be pretty to look at. But however much it hurt, it wouldn’t be fatal. That much I was sure of.

  The Stingray was where I’d left it, parked half on the drive and half on the grass. I swung the door open and reached for the keys I’d left in the ignition. My fingers caught only empty air.

  I frowned as I sat down and turned on the interior lights to check if they’d somehow fallen on the floor.

  “Lost something, hoss?” a familiar voice with a Texan accent said.

  The blonde journalist, Kennedy, was standing near the hood. She’d hooked one finger through the key ring and was swirling the keys around in a taunting fashion. I took her in, her thin frame encased in tight blue jeans, short white blouse, and brown leather short-crop jacket. She wore little makeup, just enough to look good on camera without it being too much. Her smile was flirtatious and she had her free hand resting lightly on her hip. I don’t know if it was the accent or the posture, but the image of Daisy Duke standing in front of her yellow Plymouth flashed through my brain.

  I shook the thought out of my head and took a longer look at the woman facing me. There was a steely determination in the set of her mouth and in the gleam in her eyes. She was like a dog with a bone or, rather, like a shark with a leg.

  My leg.

  Chapter eight

  Unholy alliance

  Before I had time to utter a word, Kennedy slid inside the car and closed the passenger door after her. I stared at her sitting next to me, dumbfounded.

  “So,” she said, as if talking to an old friend, “where are we going?”

  “We”—I let my voice rise in volume—“are not going anywhere. You are getting your ass out of here before I make you.”

  One of her carefully trimmed eyebrows shot up. “Make me? You and what army, hot-shot?”

  I tried to cross my arms over my chest and winced when it pulled at my wounds. I gave up and rested both hands on the steering wheel.

  She was smiling at me now. “You don’t look too good. The state you’re in, I bet you couldn’t even swat a fly.”

  She was right, of course, and she knew it. She still had my keys around her finger and I took advantage of her distraction to reach for them. Any other day, it’d have worked. But banged up as I was, I winced midway, muscles
cramping bad enough to prevent me from completing the motion.

  Kennedy took notice and reached to pull open my jacket. Her eyes widened at the sight of blood. “You need to get to the hospital,” she said with alarm in her voice.

  I clenched my teeth, brushed her hand away and closed the jacket. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re anything but fine. Look, I’ll drive and you can fill me in on the details on the way.”

  From the ferocity in her blue-eyed gaze, I realized she wasn’t going to be dissuaded that easily.

  “Stubborn Daisy Duke knock-off,” I muttered, getting my P226 out of its holster. I was out of ammo but she had no way of knowing that.

  I cocked the hammer and pointed the gun at her. “Give me my keys and get lost.”

  The corners of her cherry-red lips arched up. This wasn’t the first time this kind of thing had happened to her.

  “I don’t need to be at my best to pull a trigger,” I said, waving the Sig about for emphasis. “At this range, there’s no way I’ll miss. And given the lousy couple of days I’ve had, I might just do it.”

  She gave me a mirthless laugh, which creeped me out more than it should have. Gone was the flirtatious girl next door. I had one hard-headed businesswoman facing me now.

  “Or maybe I’ll just send this interesting video that I have,” she replied, shaking her phone for emphasis, “this video of you breaking into the morgue, to the cops? Maybe I could even exchange it for a favor or two.”

  God damn. The reality of her words sank in fast. The woman who’d interrupted me that night—it had been her. Shit, I was way too tired to keep putting up a fight.

  “All right, I’m involved in the story you’re chasing. I don’t know how it’s going to end yet. Hells, I haven’t figured out half of how it started yet.”

  “But you’ll let me know when you do, right?” Kennedy countered as she produced a white business card that she held out for me.