"Convictions keep people out, not suspicions."
"True. And new identities are easy enough to get."
"I'd like to think DNA scanning will put an end to all that." I reached past the laptop and picked up the coffee, taking a sip before placing it back down again.
"DNA scanning technology is expensive and still being trialed," Rhoan said. "It won't get into airports or docks for years."
I grunted, looked into the eye scanner, and waited for the laptop to connect into the Directorate's computer system.
"I guess even if they are finally installed, the bad guys will have worked out a way to get past them."
"Always. Cops playing catch-up with criminals is the way of the world."
The laptop beeped, an indicator my file had been retrieved. "Well, well, well," I said, after scanning the first page. "It seems that Jorn and Yohan owned a nightclub in London that was linked to over a dozen disappearances. All of the missing women were blondes, and all of them were from well-off werewolf families."
Rhoan raised an eyebrow. "Linked how?"
"Seems they were all last seen on the nightclub's premises." I scrolled past the full details of the victims. "The report says that the owners were very cooperative with the police, and handed over all available security tapes. Apparently Jorn and Yohan were never under serious suspicion, and the tapes showed each of the women dancing with a different man on the night of their disappearance. The disappearances were never solved, and the file remains open. Interestingly, the disappearances stopped once they sold the club."
He took a sip of his coffee, then said, "Odd coincidence that they've started up again here, and not long after opening another club."
"Neither you nor I believe in coincidences like that." I scrolled to the next page. "Oh, and it gets better."
"More murders?"
"One more. In Germany." I read the report quickly. "The twins were born in Germany. Their mom died young, and their daddy had a habit of bringing home new moms weekly."
"Whores?"
"Nope. Daddy was a doctor, and tended to float his boat amongst the well-off and comfortably rich. Wasn't too concerned about whether his conquests were married or not."
"Don't tell me, he slept with one married woman too many?"
"Even better. He slept with a rich young werewolf very close to the full moon."
"And she tore him apart in the heat of the moment." Rhoan shook his head. "Humans never seem to learn."
"You can't just blame humans. Us wolves have a responsibility of care, too, you know." After all, we knew how violent we could get.
"So what happened to the wolf?"
I hesitated, reading on quickly. "Nothing. The mating act was consensual, and the death itself was deemed accidental. She did minimum time."
"I take it the twins didn't take this too well?"
"They were witnesses to the mauling, and apparently neither of them said a word before or after the trial. Doctors said it was shock."
"And the wolf? How long did she survive after serving her time?"
"Two days. She was found shot with silver and beheaded in her apartment by her sister." I hesitated. "Her head was never found."
"Wonder what they did with it?"
"I don't think I want to know, thanks."
He grinned. "No sense of adventure, that's your problem."
"Too right. The boys were suspects but apparently had watertight alibis. They were both at a nightclub, and plenty of people saw them."
"An easy thing to arrange if you're a face-shifter."
"Yep." I moved on to the next file. I had to hand it to Sal—when she went digging, she really dug far and wide. Next was two passport photo shots and I frowned. Neither of the men looked anything like the man I'd seen in the club, The man who'd been called boss.
Of course, it was always possible that he was head of security rather than one of the twins, as I'd been presuming, and therefore it was totally possible for him to be called boss without actually being the owner.
"What?" Rhoan said.
"Wait." I went into the system and did a photo search through the motor registration and licensing departments. Once I had my photos, I split the screen and put them both up.
"This," I said, turning the laptop around and pointing to the passport photos, "is the Jorn and Yohan who came into Australia fifteen months ago. And this"—I pointed to the license photos—"is the Jorn and Yohan who own the club. And he," I added, pointing at the license photo of Jorn, the paler of the twins. "Is the man who smelled like Jared."
"Jorn Duerr, Jared Donovan, and what was the other guy's name? Jim Denton? Same initials, same man?"
"Good possibility. So does that mean it was Jorn who chatted up all the women on the island?"
"The only way you're going to know that is by asking the women themselves."
"Sorry, I've had my quota of speaking to the dead for this week. But we could try talking to the parents."
He glanced at his watch. "It's not too late now to make some calls."
"You'll help?"
He nodded. I placed the laptop on the coffee table, took a quick sip of my coffee, then rose to get my cell phone. He took two numbers, I took one. But it took longer than I thought it would to get information, simply because talking to anyone who has suffered a loss was hard—especially when the mere act of talking to them again raised their hopes of possible leads. A possible ending.
"Okay," Rhoan said, when he hung up from the last of them. "According to the parents of my two ladies, neither of their daughters slept with anyone up there. They did, however, mention meeting a human who was trying to chat them up. One lot can't remember a name, the other thought it was something like Yuri."
I leaned back in the sofa with the remains of my cold coffee. My leg was aching and I couldn't be bothered getting up to refill my cup. I sipped it, and tried to bluff my taste buds into thinking it was iced coffee. "Mine think it was John. Which means both twins are working the island. What I don't get is, why would they wait until the women are back home before they abduct them? Why not do it while they're away from normal surroundings?"
"I think you need to ask our two suspects that. But," he added hastily, as I made motions to get up. Never an easy thing to do when you had a sore leg, I might add. "Not tonight. Tonight you need to sleep and rest. Tomorrow we'll head over to the club together and suss out the place."
"Jack might not be happy about that. They are, after all, human."
"I said suss the place out, not beat them up. We can do that after we get some evidence. Right now, we have nothing but theories."
"And a background that points to a long history of kidnapping crimes."
"They weren't convicted of anything in either England or Germany. If we move too soon, we'll lose them here, too." He paused. "Do you think they could be behind the truck and the shooting attempts on your life?"
I frowned. "Why would they even suspect I was onto them?"
"We share the same surname as Adrienne. She disappears, you appear. A suspicious mind wouldn't think that was an accident."
"But how would they track me? I mean, no one but you and Kellen knew where I was going from the airport."
"They put trackers on your car. It wouldn't be hard to slip one into your purse." He rose. "Where is it?"
"Over near the door."
He walked over, picked up the purse, and started fishing through it. After about five minutes, he dropped the purse and walked back. "There you go."
The thing in his hand was about the size of a dime. Which was rather large for trackers, these days. Hell, I'd had ones the size of a pinhead embedded into my foot. And then there was the ones in my ear. "Jared helped carry my bags the day I left the island. I wonder if he slipped it in then?"