Well, he’d been trying to do just that when Colin had stopped him. Shouldering past his partner, Todd headed for the phone booth just beyond the crossing lines of yellow tape. Even from the distance, he could see the blood lining the glass. “Shit. Someone really did a number on the vic—”
“Not the victim’s blood,” Colin said from behind him. “The victim died from a broken neck.”
He was at the phone booth now. Todd glanced down, and felt as if he’d just taken a knife to the chest. “She…looks like Cara.” Not a perfect match. But the hair was the same. The nose. The brow. This woman’s chin was bit more curved and she had a line of freckles on her nose, but—damn, it was a close resemblance.
“The uniforms on scene recognized her from the station…or they thought they did. They called the captain—he told me to get down here ASAP.”
It could have been Cara.
The woman looked so much like her that she could have been her sister.
A woman who was a copy of Cara, murdered near a phone booth just hours after his mystery call.
No damn way that was a coincidence. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Have you run the phone records?”
“Just sent out the order.” A pause. “When I got the call from McNeal, he told me not to notify you yet. I-I didn’t know what was happening, and I thought you should be in the loop—” Colin broke off, shaking his head. “Man, if I’d known that he thought it was your lady, I never would have called you in—”
Your lady. The remorse in Colin’s voice was undeniable. “It’s not Cara.” But, what if it had been? What if he’d arrived and found her bloodstained body, lying broken in the phone booth.
No. His hands fisted. He wasn’t even gonna think about shit like that. His lady, as Colin had so aptly put it, was a strong demon. No one would hurt her.
No one. Todd forced his gaze away from the woman’s face. Sweat beaded his brow.
Do the job.
He had to focus. Do what needed to be done.
Then he could get the hell out of there.
Not Cara.
He moved forward, being careful not to disturb the victim. His gaze locked on the small identification square just below the phone. The plastic screen that covered the phone number for the booth was spattered with blood, but he could still make out the numbers.
He exhaled heavily. A damn match. He turned his attention to a still shaken-looking Colin. “I think you’re going to find my number was the last one dialed.”
“What?”
“I got a call last night, this morning, hell, around four a.m.” The call could’ve come moments before the victim’s time of death. “A woman told me that Cara’s alibis were crap. That the staff at Paradise Found were lying.”
“And why would they be doing that?”
“Because Niol told them to.”
“Shit.”
“The call came from this number.” He pointed to the small sign. This case just kept throwing him one damn surprise after another. He whistled as he glanced around the booth and saw nothing but blood. “The lady must have done a hell of a number on her attacker.”
Thank God it hadn’t been Cara.
“There was a knife beside her body,” Colin said. “It’s already been tagged and bagged.”
The stench of blood had him swallowing and stepping back. Well, a knife would explain the blood, if…“Shouldn’t there be another dead body here?” He asked quietly. Someone had sure bled out like a stuck pig, and no human could survive that kind of blood loss.
No human. He met Colin’s stare, understanding hitting him with the force of a blow right to the face.
“It takes a lot to kill certain people,” was all Colin said.
Not people. Other.
Sonofabitch. “Just how fast,” he asked quietly, too quietly for the other cops to hear, “do demons heal?”
“From wounds like this?” Colin exhaled, then said, “A couple of days. Unless it’s one of the level-tens—and even for one like that, healing would take some time—at least twenty-four hours.”
Then he’d better move, fast. “You got this scene secured?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got the scene. Smith’s on her way. So is the captain.” He whistled. “Bastard’s gonna bawl my ass out when he finds out you were here.” A wince. “What I deserve, though, man, I’m sorry, if it had been her—”
“It wasn’t.” He turned away from the body. The scene would be safe. He could trust Colin to handle this end for him.
Todd yanked off his gloves and began heading for his car, his long strides almost a run.
“Brooks! Damn it! Wait!”
He paused, but only for a moment. “If the killer can heal as fast as you say, then time’s running out, partner.” Every minute that passed was more time for the killer to heal. “You lead things here.”
“And where are you going?”
He turned his head and met Colin’s stare. His partner wasn’t going to like this. “I’m heading to Paradise.”
Colin started cursing. “No, wait, not without backup—”
“Take care of the body,” he said. “And this time, I’ll take care of Niol.”
The bastard really hadn’t been on his list of suspects, until that call came last night. After mentioning the demon’s name, the lady had met one hell of a violent end.
Coincidence? He didn’t buy those anymore.
Oh, yeah, it was past time for him to see the devil.
And to find out if he bled.
“I want to see your boss.” The two assholes at the door just smirked at Todd when he gave his order.
I’m not in the damn mood for this. He brushed back the edge of his jacket, let his holster show. “I said I want to see your fucking boss.”
They stopped smirking. The big, bald one—Jesus, did that guy ever sleep?—stepped toward him, arms crossed over his barrel-like chest. “Niol’s busy now.”
Busy doing what? Trying to staunch the flow of blood from knife wounds? “Let me in.” No, he didn’t have a warrant, probably couldn’t even get one, but he wasn’t leaving until he talked to Niol.
He no longer even thought for a moment that Cara was a suspect in the Bondage case.
But she could very well be a victim.
God but that dead woman had looked so much like her…
“I’ve got another dead body, one that points to Niol, and unless you want every human cop in Atlanta stationed at this door, twenty-four-seven, you’ll let me inside.”
The bald bastard stared him down. Todd glared right back at him. Finally, the guy cursed and lifted his radio. Then he muttered, “Tell Niol company’s coming.”
He stepped back, clearing the way.
Todd grunted as he brushed by him and the other bouncer, a tall, lanky fellow with beady eyes who glared daggers at him.
Inside, Paradise Found was quiet. Dead quiet. The last time he’d come during the day for a confrontation with Niol, the place had been exactly the same.
Apparently the local ghouls weren’t much for daytime partying.
Now if he could just find that ass—
A door marked ‘PRIVATE’ opened to the left. Niol stepped forward, carefully shutting the door behind him. He quirked a brow as his gaze met Todd’s. “Ah, Detective, I was wondering when I’d be seeing you again. From what my bartender Cameron tells me, you’ve become quite the addict here. But then, your kind tends to get addicted so easily.”
The bastard didn’t look injured. His dark hair was brushed back from his high forehead. His black eyes glinted as he stared at him. “Cameron says that, huh?” Cameron talked too damn much. Todd’s gaze slanted toward the bar. No sign of the punk.
But he wasn’t there for Cameron, anyway. Another fight for another day.
Time to cut through the bullshit. “I’ve got a dead body—”