Black bird a nevermore d.., p.57
Black Bird: A Nevermore Duet, page 57
Foley’s eyebrows raised as St. James gave the agent a look that promised her a slow, painful death. “I’m not leav—” Kane started.
“I can handle her,” St. James cut him off, her eyes never leaving Foster’s. “She’s just like every other overly confident bitch I’ve ever met. I’ll be just fine.”
Kane’s jaw tightened, but he turned to close the door as he walked out, flashing a warning look at Agent Foster before clicking it shut. He stepped into the observation room, closing that door as well and taking a place beside the captain. “You could make it a little more obvious, Kane. I’m not sure your invitation for trouble was well-received,” Foley smirked, rolling his eyes.
Kane crossed his arms and watched her through the window, intently. “Amazing, isn’t she?” His voice practically purred with adoration.
“I never thought I’d see the day you, of all people, had it this bad, kid.” Foley turned his face toward him. “You trust Stratford with her?” Kane glanced at him briefly but refused to take his eyes off St. James as he slightly nodded.
“Stratford is a lot of things, Cap. But Sarah swears he’s one of the best lawyers in Boston. He seems pretty damn smart … at least in that sense.”
“Hmm …” Foley tightened his mouth as they both peered through the glass. “Let’s see how he does.”
Every instinct he had screamed at him to shatter this glass and tear his mate out of that room. The hungry look that agent kept giving Sarah had every hair on him standing at attention. Athan tried to keep his composure next to his captain, who had already made it clear enough that he had suspicions about what—not who—he was. He and Sarah were no longer trying to hide what they were to each other, as it seemed pretty pointless at this juncture. He was no longer on her case and had outright told Foley that he was in love with her. Pretending to be anything but, would leave room for anyone watching to believe that he wouldn’t rip the head right off their body for even looking at her the wrong way.
“So, Miss St. James … where exactly did you run off to this past week?” Foster asked, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap.
“Don’t answer that,” Brent ordered, leaning forward. “My client is here today to contest the charges that are wrongfully slandering her name. As I’m sure you already know, she’s the only survivor in the case you’ve been tasked with resuming.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Then you should also be aware of the fact that she has an alibi for both the murders you’re accusing her of committing. I also fail to see any evidence, other than the likeness of her appearance, that suggests she had anything to do with them.”
Foley hummed beside him, surprised by Brent’s forwardness toward the agent. Athan would be lying if he said he didn’t agree with him. “Alright, Stratford.” Foley smirked. Athan’s arms tightened, and he continued to keep his eyes on Sarah, who occasionally glanced at the window.
Can you hear me?
He thought it’d be a long shot, but Sarah’s eyes flickered to the mirror, and she nodded once. Good. She’d be able to communicate, even if she couldn’t see him. Foster tightened her mouth but shrugged and leaned off the back of the chair.
“I’ll agree with that, Mr. Stratford. Let’s discuss the evidence.” She slapped down a file Athan hadn’t seen her carrying, and opened it up, spreading crime scene photos from both murders—and Sarah’s attack. Although he’d seen them dozens of times, Sarah’s photos hit him like a truck. He had mangled her neck so badly. He saw her throat bob when she looked at it. Something inside him broke. “One of these things is not like … the others.” Foster smirked, sliding the photos toward them. “Does your client care to point out the obvious?”
She was baiting her. A tactic that even seasoned cops rarely got right. Athan’s blood began to thicken.
Don’t give her an inch. Pretend it doesn’t bother you … even if it does.
Brent nodded toward Sarah, giving her a chance to defend herself. Sarah slid the most recent victim’s photo towards her and narrowed her eyes at it. “What is this?” Sarah asked, pointing to the bird in the girl’s mouth.
“That …” Foster started, taking a closer shot out of the file and sliding it over, “… is a small bird. A starling, to be exact. Pretty common in North America. Pretty uncommon, in someone’s mouth.”
“And what’s that got to do with me, exactly?” Sarah leaned back, dropping the photo to the table.
“Well, nothing … however, after going through both your apartment … and Detective Kane’s,” Foster said as she glanced at the window, “I did find it interesting that you both have a fondness for a certain animal. He has one as a pet, doesn’t he?” She smiled at Sarah, and Athan could feel the captain’s eyes on him while he watched on. “Not to mention.” She pulled another photo out, placing it on the table. “There was a pretty clear message on the concrete with his name on it.”
“It’s not unusual for a serial murderer to do their homework, Agent Foster. That doesn’t give you enough reasonable doubt to charge my client with murder,” Brent’s voice had completely changed, and so had his mannerisms. He reached over and scooted the photos away from Sarah. “What it does do, is give my client every reason to press charges for slander, wrongful accusation, and infringement of her rights. If all you have is convenient facts that don’t actually fit together to place her as anything but a target for this psycho, then you’ve not only painted her as something she’s not, but also put her in danger. As well as, toyed with her very freedom on nothing but a gut feeling.” He propped his elbows on the table and folded his arms. “Gut feelings don’t hold up in a court of law. Detective Kane has been working this case with his partner, and whoever did do this, knows that. How many cases have we seen where the killer taunts the police? You’ve got nothing.”
“Don’t be too sure about that.” Foster eyed Sarah. “You've been the subject of a much bigger picture for a long time, Miss St. James. While we may not have any direct evidence that ties you to these bodies, we do have enough to claim your involvement. There’s one other detail you’re forgetting about how these victims differ from each other.” Foster no longer held her mocking smile. Instead, her face turned grave. “One of them still has a pulse.”
“So, I’m guilty for living through something horrible? That makes me less a victim than these other two girls, simply because I’m alive? You still don’t even know who did this to me!” Sarah straightened, becoming more unhinged by the minute and Athan bristled.
Easy, love. Stay firm … but easy.
“Oh, I have a pretty good idea … and I think you do too.” Foster kept her ground.
“That’s enough. If you don’t have anything other than what you’ve failed to legally charge her with, then we’re done here. Sarah, don’t say another word.” Brent stood, urging Sarah up from her chair.
“I know why you came to Boston, St. James. I know what it is that you want most, and I’m not lying when I say I have the answers you’re looking for. They come at a price. Your involvement in this case is not a coincidence.”
Sarah was bent over, half-standing and paused. “Sarah, don’t. Whatever it is you think she has is bullshit. Nobody has those answers, and anybody that does didn’t get them legally. Don’t fall for that shit.” Brent tugged on Sarah’s arm. Athan startled as Rhaena and Jenkins stepped into the observation room.
“On the contrary. He’s telling the truth, honey … but I don’t need to get what you seek legally, if I’m part of the team that got those answers in the first place.” Athan felt the blood drain from his face as Sarah slowly lowered herself back into the chair.
Athan …
“What is she talking about, Kane?” Rhaena asked, wide-eyed. All it took was the look Sarah gave through that window, and the call of his name through their bond and he bolted from the room, jerking the door open and stepping inside.
“You’re done, Foster.” It was a struggle to keep his eyes from darkening with the rage that he was starting to feel. Nearly impossible to keep his canines from showing as he sensed how hard Sarah’s heart was pounding. Brent stepped aside and Athan placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Lie to me, detective. Tell me you don’t know exactly what the Black Bird Tavern really is.” Foster’s palms slapped against the table. “Go ahead. I’m dying to hear you explain it. Tell me how her body was found right outside that place, why there’s two more bodies that look exactly like her, and why one of them left a calling card for you. Lie to me!” Sarah started to get up, leaning on him while he ignored Foster and tried to lead her out the door. She didn’t back down. “Lie to me and say that it’s just a coincidence that a kid went missing that looks just like you, and his last known location was at the same bar! I know more than you think I do. One of you can help me, or I can out both you, and your partner! What’s it gonna be, detective?”
Athan slowly turned on his heel, glancing at the window where he could practically hear Rhaena cursing on the other side in panic. He sneered at Foster, who didn’t so much as blink. Sarah gripped his arm. “Say another word, Agent Foster … and you’ll have to charge me. Because if you threaten either of them again … I’ll rip your fucking jaw off.”
“Give me what I want, and I won’t charge you for that alone. I’m not the bad guy here, Sarah. You show me yours; I’ll show you mine. It’s a win-win for you anyway. You’ll get what you’ve always wanted … and we put the real bad guys behind bars.”
“Just a minute ago, you were trying to claim she was the bad guy,” Brent fired, nodding towards Sarah.
“There’s a common denominator in every case,” Foster replied, turning her attention back to Sarah. “In this case … you’re not just the common denominator. You’re the key.”
“Prove it, then. If you’re not lying about what you think you know … then give me a reason to believe you.” Sarah tightened her grip on his arm and Athan rested a hand over hers.
Foster smirked, straightening herself. “Linden’s Coffeehouse. When you were in Seattle, after your mother died, you went there almost every morning. You always wore the same brown sweater. Always ordered a red-eye, with room for cream and sugar, but you never put any in it. I always found it strange. At night, you curled up on the same spot on the couch with a blanket that’s seen better days. You brought it with you, I found out … I saw it in your apartment the day that we tossed it. Your high school boyfriend tried to get you to stay when you finally decided to leave Seattle and come here, and that argument got so uncomfortable that you bloodied that poor kid’s nose. Should I continue?”
Sarah slacked and her eyes widened in realization. “It was you …”
Foster nodded. “Me, and a couple of others. Until you left and we decided to wait and see what you’d do. We hoped that you’d let it go, take a new job … shut your trap, and be happy with what we gave you of your mother’s ashes. I even went so far as to give you what I could of her records. I had to go out of my way just to get you a death certificate for her that wouldn’t disclose what actually happened.”
“I never received that.”
“Nope. It got me in trouble and was sealed with the rest of her shit. I’ve been on your side for a long time, Sarah St. James. Now you’ve meddled in more shit and got yourself hurt. What a surprise to find out I had to come all the way to Boston, just to cover your ass again.”
“Sarah …” Athan said softly, caressing her back. Brent was frozen in shock.
“If I talk to you, the cameras will be shut off,” Sarah started.
“Sarah—” Brent warned.
“I’ll have the sound shut off on both ends. Cameras off. You have my word,” Foster promised.
Sarah turned toward him, a wary look in her eyes. She was gonna do it whether he wanted her to or not. Sacrificing herself for their sakes—as if he fucking deserved it.
Please don’t. We can take care of ourselves. Don’t do this. I can help you figure out your mom’s case, Sarah.
She smiled softly and placed her palm against his chest.
I’ve got this, babe. Just trust me, alright?
It took every bit of his will, but he hesitantly nodded, pulling her into a tight hug and not giving a shit who saw it. He glared at Foster, and then turned toward Brent. “Let’s go, Stratford.”
CHAPTER 28
THE THREADS OF FATE
Athan’s piercing glance through the mirror was enough proof to know that he had sensed her panic when Rhaena heard Foster threaten to expose what they were. How the hell she knew any of it, they didn’t truly know. But Jenkins braced a hand on her back, directing her attention to Captain Foley, whose mouth dropped open in betrayal. She felt like she’d be sick.
“Out you? About what?” he asked, turning to face her. “What did you do, Gloves?”
Rhaena’s palms began to sweat, and the color leached from her face as she tried to remain calm. “I haven’t done anything, sir. I’ve busted my ass on this case, and so has Kane.”
“I won’t argue that, Northwood. But that doesn’t mean that you’re telling me everything. What would give her a reason to think she has something on you?”
“With respect, sir …” Jenkins cut in, “I feel like she’s bluffing, and doesn’t have a damn thing. She cornered me outside a coffee truck days ago trying to get me to talk, too. I had been trying to call you.”
“I warned you about her, Jenkins.” Foley’s face was hard, and unforgiving. “I told you she’d do it. I’m interested in what Kane has to say for himself. And what’s she playing at with St. James’ mother?”
Rhaena swallowed and stared at the floor. “Sarah moved here to find out what killed her mother years ago.” All eyes went straight to Kane and Brent as they reluctantly stepped into the room.
“Lock that.” Foley pointed towards the door. Kane did as he was told and nervously shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Nobody speaks unless spoken to. Detective …” He shot Athan a pointed look. “I’m starting with you. You had better start explaining yourself. How did Foster come to the idea that she knows who this killer is before the two of you could figure it out? And why does she think our vic already knows it?”
Athan glanced at her, and the heart attack she nearly had at the apologetic look in his eyes almost had her stumbling back. That mind trick he and Sarah had would be incredibly useful right now. He sighed hard and straightened his spine before looking back at their captain. “Because she does, sir.”
Foley’s mouth pressed into a thin line of utter disappointment. “I see. So, you’ve known this entire time?”
“I have,” Athan breathed.
“You’ve got two seconds to tell me the truth, detective.”
Athan’s head turned toward the window and he looked hard at Sarah who was in deep conversation with Foster. Rhaena watched Sarah’s mouth drop open like someone had hit her with something so heavy, she couldn’t even come up with the words. Everything about this situation sucked. He didn’t look at the captain as he answered, “I did it.”
Foley’s face drooped in shock, Brent’s expression mirroring his. “I beg your pardon?”
Athan turned his face back to him and tightened his jaw. “I attacked her outside the club that night.”
Foley stared at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding me … why? Why would you do something like this? You told me that you loved that girl, Kane.”
“I do, sir. More than anything. It’s not what you think.”
“You’re one of them …” Brent whispered, realizing what he was saying. “You—” Athan turned his head just in time to see Brent lunge forward, grabbing him by the collar with both hands and slamming him into the glass. Sarah and Foster startled on the other side, and both immediately jumped from their chairs, but made no move toward the door. “You son-of-a-bitch! You did this to her!”
“Stratford!” Foley went for them the same time Rhaena did, trying to pull them apart. Athan didn’t even put up a fight. He was taking what he thought he deserved. Brent fought against them, landing a solid punch to Kane’s mouth before they dragged him backward, separating the two.
“How?!” Brent screamed. “How could she hate me for what I did to her, but love you for fucking killing her?!” Rhaena couldn’t say a word as she held Brent back, Jenkins stepping in to help restrain him.
“Get it together!” Foley growled, keeping a palm against Kane’s chest, and his other on Brent’s. “Get it together, or I’ll cuff you both.” He looked back at Athan, who licked the blood from his busted lip. “What does he mean, ‘one of them’?”
“Sir, I think you know exactly what he means,” Athan’s voice was low and defeated. “Do you want me to say it out loud?”
Rhaena wasn’t sure she was breathing. Brent stilled in her hold, trembling with rage. Jenkins kept quiet, anticipating how her involvement would come up, no doubt. “That club is full of fucking vampires. That’s what the fuck I mean. He’s a fucking vampire, and he killed my fiancé and left her in a fucking alley … right before he came back and pretended to be her savior and take her from me!” Brent snarled.
Foley was still as death as he stared at Athan. “So … that’s what was wrong with you the day I gave you that lead. When I asked you to go question her. You didn’t know …”
Athan slowly shook his head and looked down at the floor in shame. “I thought she was dead, sir.”
“And you were just gonna play this off … play me.” Foley turned his attention to Rhaena, and she cowered under his stare. “And you … I thought you were different, Gloves. You were gonna help him cover it?”
“She didn’t know. I didn’t tell her, and I wasn’t going to. She’s good at her job. She figured me out, and she just wanted to help me,” Athan spoke up in her defense. Rhaena felt her eyes sting with tears, the growing lump in her throat almost unbearable.
“If it’s true … what you say … how are you able to—you walk in light like it doesn’t bother you.” Foley’s brows drew together, creasing the lines in his forehead.
