Chapter 7
What else could she SAY?No, he couldn’t tag along? She was staying at his house, not to mention he was related to the one man who’d helped her when she needed it the most. She could give Rhys an inch and worst case, he screwed up, at least then she’d have a good reason to kick his butt to the curb.
A quick phone call to the station with the ladies’ full names, thanks to their bar tabs, and she had all of the women’s addresses.
Rhys pulled up outside of Emily’s townhouse and killed the ignition. She hated to be the bearer of bad news, but it was all part of the job. She tilted her head, watching a man carry cardboard boxes out of Emily’s home. His lips moved while he mumbled to himself. He hefted one of the boxes and tossed it into the bed of a truck before disappearing back inside the condo and out of sight.
Stepping out of the car, she unhooked the badge attached to her waist. She held it up, flashing it at the same man carrying another box out of the door. She sniffed the air, expecting nothing but the scent of a human. Admittedly, she was caught off guard smelling the cougar’s scent coming from the shifter.
“Shifter Investigation Division, I’d like to ask you some questions.”
The man’s face remained blank while tossing the box into the back of the truck. “SID? What can I do for you?”
In general, cougars were a laid-back bunch unless someone was trying to take something they considered theirs. This guy was emitting a sweaty stench she knew all too well. It wasn’t from hefting the boxes. These assholes were strong. It was the smell of fear. The ungodly odor smelled like hot tar being paved in hundred-degree weather on a sunny day. His eyes darted from hers to Rhys and his brothers who were standing behind her, all of them patiently waiting and watching his reaction.
“Can we take this inside?” She gestured toward the open door.
He chewed his lip, and his eyes shifted toward the green forest beyond the apartments.
“Don’t do it.” She raised a challenging brow. “A cougar’s top speed is around fifty miles per hour. You won’t win. Trust me; I’m faster.”
It took him only five seconds and one deep breath before he gave up on the idea of taking off. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
All four of them followed the cougar back into the townhouse. Her eyes darted around the apartment, taking in all the feminine attributes, the pictures on the wall, the color-coordinated throw rug and matching couch pillows.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Martin Shuman,” he answered crossing his arms over his chest and keeping his gaze on the men with her. Stupid cat. Didn’t he know she was the most deadly in their group?
“Well, Martin…” She glanced around at some of the boxes piled around the house. “We came to ask you some questions about Emily Fisher. Is she your girlfriend?”
“That two-bit whore?” he spat out.
“From the looks of things, I guess you had a rocky relationship?”
He dropped his fisted hands to his sides. “I told her the next time she didn’t come home I was leaving….and I meant it.”
She gave a slow nod, and from the corner of her eye, she followed Rhys circling around the living room as if looking for clues.
“She didn’t have a choice about coming home last night.”
“I doubt that,” he spat out.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you like this, but she was murdered.”
His mouth parted, and all of the anger and fight he’d been putting out released from his shoulders. “Murdered?”
“Afraid so.” She studied him and his reaction. The shock on his face told her what she needed to know. He didn’t do it. Unwilling to trust her instincts, she persisted with the same line of questions she’d ask everyone involved. “Do you have an alibi for last night?”
Rhys picked up a picture frame from the mantel and appeared to be studying the picture.
“Yeah, I worked until eleven and then went to a bar around the corner from the depot with a few of the guys. I didn’t get home until around twelve thirty.”
“Where do you work?”
“Mass transit,” he answered. “The cameras on the busses can confirm my alibi.”
She made a mental note to check. “Where did she work?”
