LustUndone Page 3

  “You really believe that?”

  “It killed my nephews two years ago. And two other people.” She swallowed back the rising anger.

  “You don’t know that. Nothing was ever proved. We never found whatever animal it was. If it even was an animal.”

  “You never found a human either. One who had a reason to kill those people, including two little boys. And we just worked cases in Texas that were exactly the same. So our theory isn’t any more farfetched than yours.”

  “Maybe it’s just some mutated strain of coyote,” Greg suggested. “They’re everywhere.”

  “We’ve brought things to distribute to everyone, too, on the cases we’ve worked on. Photographic proof the creature exists.” She pulled a thick folder from her briefcase. “And believe me, it looks nothing like a coyote.”

  He stared hard at her for a long time. “All right. I won’t make waves. For now. But there were no tracks around the body, no indication that any animal had been there. A human being could figure out how to erase his tracks but not an animal. So we’re still looking for who might want to kill Darrell. And we haven’t given up on the illegal alien angle, either. Someone who snuck over the border and was desperate for food and shelter. Maybe Darrell caught him and the illegal killed him.”

  “Greg,” Sophia began.

  He cut her off. “That’s how it is, Sophia. We’re going to continue conducting this as a normal murder investigation.”

  Of course they were. She wouldn’t have expected anything less. She and Logan were there only to offer a possibility they couldn’t afford not to explore.

  “As requested,” Greg went on, “I made folders for each of you with crime scene reports and the autopsy.” He gave one to Sophia and to Logan then turned to Bobby. “Your show.”

  Sophia dropped into a vacant chair and noticed that Logan had managed to seat himself next to Rebecca. In the midst of such despair she actually swallowed a smile. The big Montana native and her petite sister would make an interesting couple.

  “Why don’t you let us take a look at the pictures from the recent killing?” Logan asked, his voice calm and steady. He and Sophia had already seen them, thanks to the strings Craig had pulled but Sophia knew he was trying to set a tone for this meeting. “I understood you’d have copies for us.”

  Bobby stared from Logan to Sophia then back again. Finally he sighed. “All right. Take a look.”

  He picked up a stack of eight-by-ten prints and dealt them out in a row like cards. The two Night Seekers were prepared for the shock of them, but still, one never quite got used to this kind of horror. A man who appeared to be in his sixties was lying on his back on the wide porch of a long, low house set in a sea of snow. He was dressed in thermal underwear and jeans, barefoot, a rifle still clutched in one hand. His face was set in a rictus of horror and his body had been ripped open from throat to waist, the entrails pulled out and draped over him.

  Like all the other scenes the Night Seekers had seen, there was no evidence of blood.

  Sophia looked at Logan. “You know it’s our devil beast.”

  He nodded.

  “Tell me what makes you say that?” one of the detectives demanded.

  “How about you look at what we brought and see for yourself.” Sophia pulled the pictures from her briefcase and began laying them out. “I think these speak for themselves.”

  There was dead silence while everyone studied the shots. Finally Bobby stood up at the head of the table, his folder open in front of him. “Sophia, why don’t you walk us through the information you’ve brought. Then we’ll give you the full briefing on Darrell Franklin’s death.”

  She nodded and rose. “Let me begin,” she started, “by explaining exactly what you’re looking at.”

  Chapter Two

  Sophia was exhausted, all her energy gone. They were all in the same state of utter fatigue. The meeting had been intense, the pictures and details gruesome. They had talked it to death for two hours. Back and forth, up and down. Every detail of every gruesome crime scene had been rolled out on the table, both by the detectives and the Night Seekers. But the worst part had been the icy politeness and the blatant distrust.

  Sophia kept coming back to the fact that the victim had been found on his porch wearing nothing but long johns and jeans, not an outfit one wore outdoors in Maine’s freezing winter temperatures. The CID people wanted to insist he’d gone to the door to let someone in but there had been no trace of anyone approaching the house. And none of the detectives had a plausible explanation for why every bit of blood had been drained from his body.

  “He must have heard something,” one of the men said over and over. “We found his shotgun lying close to him.”

  Patiently Rebecca and Logan had detailed the scenes the Night Seekers had pictures of, exactly like this.

  About all they’d agreed on was that it was too late tonight to do anything. Dark came early in winter and anyway, snow had covered practically everything at the scene.

  Finally, with no conclusion reached except they needed to visit the scene and start over again, most everyone from the CID had filed out of the room with orders to gather again at eight in the morning. Only Bobby, Rebecca, Logan and Sophia were left.

  “Nobody believes us,” Rebecca said in a flat voice. “They didn’t before and they don’t now.”

  “You have to admit,” Bobby pointed out, “it’s a pretty farfetched scenario.”

  “No one else had a better explanation,” Rebecca reminded him. “And the serial killer theory won’t wash unless you believe someone’s running all over the world killing randomly in this inhuman way. With some kind of bizarre instrument. Come on, Bobby. Give me a break.”

  “Why don’t we give it a rest for tonight.” He looked at the other three. “I’m sure no one has much of an appetite after all that, but I’m pretty sure you guys haven’t eaten in a while. We need fuel for the body if we’re going to get through this.”

  “You’re right,” Sophia agreed. “Those photos are a quick appetite killer, but my body is telling me it wants something.”

  “Bobby, why don’t you go on home?” Rebecca said. “You’ve had enough late nights on this already with more to come. Take advantage of some time with that new wife of yours when you can. I’ll see that my sister and Logan get fed and watered.”

  The man gave her a grateful smile. “I’ll take you up on that, if you’re sure. Jan’s a good cop’s wife and very understanding, but—”

  “But you’re still on your honeymoon,” she grinned. “Go on. I’ll take them over to The Crown. They can kick back before we dig into all this tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one.” He nodded at Sophia and Logan. “See you here at eight a.m.”

  “Hopefully with a more open mind,” Sophia called after him.

  “The Crown?” Logan raised his eyebrows. “Is that high class or low class?”

  Sophia laughed. “Neither. Remember how I told you the county is called the Crown of Maine? The bar takes its name from that. It’s a great place to just hang out. It’s been here forever.” She looked at her sister. “I’d have though old Frenchy would have retired or sold out by now. But it’ll be nice to see him again.”

  “Actually you’d probably have to go to his house to do that. He took a bad tumble and broke his hip.”

  “Oh, no.” Sophia’s face sobered. “How’s he getting along all by himself?”

  “Remember that nephew that lived with him for a while? Back when we were in high school?”

  “Vaguely. If I recall Frenchy homeschooled him and he stuck pretty close to home. We always wondered if there was something wrong with him. Then he sort of just disappeared.”

  “Went into the Army. Special Forces, I think. He’s been gone for years. Apparently he’s not actually a blood relative to Frenchy. Just someone he took in for whatever reason. Apparently has no family of his own and just showed up after his discharge, looking for a place to decompress. Frenchy
needed a bartender/manager for a few months, so it worked out well.”

  “Really. What’s he like now?”

  A corner of Rebecca’s mouth twitched with the beginning of a grin. “You’ll see for yourself in a little bit.” She stood up. “Come on. His hot sandwiches are better than Frenchy’s and the place is a lot cleaner.” Now she laughed. “Almost drove out the regulars.”

  Logan made a face. “I can hardly wait.”

  Sophia linked her arm through his. “We’ll protect you. We Blacks are made of strong stuff. And maybe it will be just the diversion we need at this point.”

  Right now she desperately wanted a change of scene, something to ease the tension gripping her. Night Seekers was used to dealing with suspicion and outright disbelief when they presented their theory, but they’d seldom seen such open hostility. They might have been “invited” to participate in the investigation but it was going to be like knocking down a brick wall every step of the way. They silently shared their frustration as they headed to their cars in the parking lot.

  The snow had finally stopped while they were inside and the plows were out doing their best to clear the streets. Apparently Frenchy’s nephew had also made sure the parking lot was scraped because the area was clear, although ringed by mountains of the cold white stuff.

  The inside of The Crown was just as dim as she remembered, the aged wood on the walls still as mellow, the floor still littered with peanut shells. Half the stools at the bar were filled, and a fair number of the booths and tables. The clacking of balls echoed from the pool table where the room made an L-shape around the end of the bar. At the moment the ancient jukebox was silent. The crowd was about what Sophia expected, a lot of singles and a few couples, letting their hair down after work. Nearly ninety percent of the people in the town of six thousand plus worked for corporations or the government.

  The found a corner booth and slid in and a waitress materialized next to them almost at once.

  “You guys planning to eat?” she asked.

  When they nodded she dealt plastic menus around the table, took their drink orders and headed toward the bar. Sophia watched her, eyes tracking to the man behind the bar. And unexpectedly her pulse kicked up and heat flashed through her.

  What the hell is this?

  But the man seemed to carry an electric charge around him. He wasn’t that tall, not even six feet, she guessed. But inside the plaid shirt with the rolled-up sleeves she could see the outline of a compact, muscular body. Thick, dark hair touched the collar of the shirt and she could see it sprinkled on his arms where they were visible. His face was rugged rather than handsome, at least as much as she could tell from that distance. A good case of five o’clock shadow gave him an intriguingly dangerous look. Then he raised his eyes to scan the booth and she felt their impact clear to her toes.

  Sophia wriggled in her seat, trying to still the sudden ramped-up beat of her pulse in her cunt. Why on earth in the midst of this crisis did her hormones suddenly decide to take a walk on the wild side?

  “He and Frenchy sure don’t look anything alike,” she told her sister.

  “I know. Hot, isn’t he? Every woman in the county’s been trying to get his attention.” Bec looked up from studying the menus. “And this seems to work out for both of them.” She gave her sister a knowing look and her mouth curved in a tiny smile. “Go on and introduce yourself to him, Soph. You know Frenchy always had a soft spot for you. You can ask him to pass along your greetings.”

  “No.” Sophia shook her head. “No need to.”

  “Chicken. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a good-looking man.”

  “Of course not.” She buried herself in the menu.

  “Come on.” Rebecca set her menu down and pushed against Logan to slide out of the booth. “Let’s go say hello. It will take your mind off the meeting we just had.” She made a face. “And the one tomorrow morning. Besides, I want to ask about his almost-uncle.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Right. Don’t think.” She grabbed her sister’s hand and practically dragged her out of the booth. “He doesn’t bite. I promise.”

  Sophia reluctantly let herself be towed across the room by her sister. Her instincts were telling her she was stepping into a danger zone.

  Get it together, Black. He’s just some bartender you’ll never see again after this gig.

  The man was polishing a small area of the bar with a cloth when Rebecca rapped on the heavy wood to get his attention.

  “Saw you come in, Bec.” His voice had a low, smoky sound to it. “You surely do bring this place some class.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Well, now you can double it. This is my sister. Sophia Black, meet Clint Beaudine.”

  He dropped the rag, swiped his hand on the leg of his jeans and held it across the bar. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Sophia put her small hand in his large one and nearly jumped at the electric shock that ran through her arm and into her body. She looked at Clint and saw the same reaction reflected in his eyes, an amber-flecked hazel. He squeezed her hand lightly before releasing it.

  “A real pleasure.” His words were like a caress skating over her skin.

  Sophia couldn’t take her eyes from him. She couldn’t remember a time, ever, that a man had affected her this way.

  “Soph?” Rebecca gave her a gentle nudge. “You still with us?”

  Had she just spaced out over this man? In front of her sister? Great. Just great. She gave herself a mental shake.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. Nice to meet you. I was sorry to hear about your uncle. Frenchy’s lucky you’re here to stay with him,” she said. “Give him a hand.”

  Clint shrugged, the powerful muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “I’m just glad I needed a place to hang out while he needed help.”

  “How is he coming along?” Rebecca asked.

  He grinned, and Sophie nearly melted at the dimple that flashed. “Getting cranky, so I know he’s better. I’d say it won’t be too long before he’ll be pushing me to let him come in here. At least for a couple hours a day.”

  “But you’ll be here with him, right?” Rebecca asked.

  “Probably. I’ll stay until he doesn’t need me anymore.”

  He picked up the bar rag again and went back to polishing the same spot, but his heated gaze was still on Sophia. She had the distinct feeling he was mentally stripping away her clothing, his amber-flecked eyes devouring her as if he hadn’t eaten for a week and she was a gourmet meal.

  “Well, that’s very nice of you.” God, how dull could she sound? “Frenchy always took good care of all of us from the barracks whenever we came in here.”

  “If I can interrupt the social circle, I need some refills.” The waitress had come back up to the bar, nodding to Rebecca and looking at Sophia with open curiosity then plunked her tray down on the bar.

  “Sure thing, Diane.” But his eyes held Sophia’s for a long time before he began to fill the orders.

  She and Bec started to walk back to the booth when he spoke again.

  “Who’s the guy?” he asked as he efficiently drew beer from the tap and poured shots over ice.

  “You mean with us?” Rebecca asked. “Logan Tanner. He and Sophia are here to help with a case.”

  “That right?” He set the drinks on Diane’s tray and she flounced off, obviously not happy to be shut out of the conversation. “You talking about Darrell Franklin?”

  Rebecca looked at her sister as if to say no use denying it.

  “Yes. That’s the one.”

  “Damn shame about him. Can’t imagine what kind of animal got him. Did that to him.” He leaned on the bar and locked his gaze with Sophia’s. “You a cop, too?”

  “Not anymore.” She hitched herself onto the empty barstool next to her, aware that her legs were suddenly like rubber. “I used to be in the state CID like Bec.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “I…work with a specialized group based in Texa
s.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Specialized? That why they called you in?”

  Called us in. Right.

  “We have experience with unusual killings. Listen, it’s been very nice meeting you but I really think I’m ready for some food.”

  “Hot roast beef and fries,” he told her. “Best on the menu tonight.”

  “Oh. Well. Fine.” She managed to move off the stool and get her feet under her. The air between them was alive with sexual awareness. “I’ll ask Logan what he wants.”

  “To eat,” Clint said.

  “What?” She frowned. “Of course to eat.”

  Clint finished fixing the drinks and leaned on the bar to watch Sophia. She looked just as good going away as she did coming toward him. Maybe five four, he figured, with that mass of hair nearly as dark as his own. Not skinny but with curves that even her jacket and sweater didn’t quite disguise. Sexy, in a well-toned package. An earthiness that radiated from beneath the very utilitarian clothing.

  And those eyes! Jesus! Like molten emeralds. They could pierce directly to a man’s soul.

  He was glad he was standing behind the bar and was wearing heavy jeans. Otherwise everyone in the place would see his sudden erection poking to get loose. He worked hard to keep his overactive libido under control, a byproduct of his genetic structure. Most of the time it worked.

  He’d kept his sexual liaisons to a minimum since he’d been back in Houlton, usually venturing as far away as Bangor and Portland for what he could only call his shack-ups. Scratching an itch. Couldn’t let himself become the topic of conversation around here. Or raise anyone’s expectations. So far it was working.

  But Sophia Black looked at him and the heat blasted straight to his groin. He wanted her naked and under him, his cock buried deep inside her. And not just for one night.