“Understandable.” Selina hoped that Chloe’s formula was approved soon. Too many wolves had already been lost during the full moon, and there weren’t enough Magickals in the world to ignore something that caused so many deaths. Then again, their serial killer fell into a similar, if smaller, category of death dealing. She pushed that aside and looked at Peyton. “Get some rest, so you’re ready to deal with the Change. We’ll see you after the moon has done her thing.”
Meaning she assumed he wouldn’t die, that she believed he could control the shift even under the duress of the full moon. He nodded his appreciation. “Thanks.”
And then he was gone. She hoped she was right and he came back. Over the years, she’d known far too many good people who’d died. It was inevitable to lose people when she’d lived this long, but it never became easy. Which was why she was here, wasn’t it? To keep this killer from taking from others the way he’d taken from her.
Determination renewed, she glanced at Jack. “Another cup of coffee and I’ll be ready to get back to work.”
12
There was a picture of Selina’s necklace on the floor under his desk. Jack frowned and bent to retrieve it. One of the papers Delta had dropped, maybe? He looked at the huge pile of files and flipped open the top one. Paperwork filled out in Selina’s neat handwriting. Attached to it was a picture of the now-familiar murder scene.
The New Orleans files had arrived.
She’d have to help him sort through them when she got back from the break room. He could definitely use another gallon or three of espresso. Without Gregor as a viable suspect, they were back to square one.
Jack pulled out the first picture and set it on his desk, then went digging to find the other three. Four victims in the Big Easy, Selina had said. He wanted to see them lined up together, compare them to the other victims’ pictures. Especially since this was the one city that seemed to have started it all, but didn’t quite fit the pattern. There was no denying these pictures, though. He’d guess once the tech guys went over the many photos of the fang puncture wounds—or mouthpiece punctures—they’d find they were an exact match to all the others. Unless they had multiple people passing around the same mouthpiece and committing murders in the exact same way for thirty years, it looked like this was more of their vamp’s handiwork.
Two women and two men. Two Magickals and two Normals. The photo of one of the women snagged his attention. She was wearing the necklace. Selina’s necklace. He pulled that one closer to him and looked again. No, it wasn’t the same. The stones were different colors, but the rest looked exactly alike. The chain, the shaping of the metal. And she was an elf, too.
It didn’t mean anything. Elves tended to specialize in magical objects. He had elven-made objects in his house—part of a security system meant to ward off those who meant him harm. The effect it created was similar to the shield spells many Magickals used to protect their property, but since he had no magical abilities, he’d had to improvise.
Still, his gaze kept going back to the necklace. Maybe it bothered him to see an elf with a necklace like Selina’s staring up at him, lifeless. He dragged the woman’s file over and flipped it open. More of Selina’s handwriting. The woman was named Elizabeth Leblanc (nee Chandler), born in England in the 1600s, next of kin was her mother, Agnes Chandler (nee Grayson), both elves.
Grayson.
His gaze caught on the name. It could mean nothing, but the hairs rose on the back of his neck. He looked back at the picture, at the necklace. What had Selina said about it at the wedding? A talisman, made by her cousin.
He pushed his chair over until he sat in front of his computer, pulled up the database for All-Magickal personnel files and typed in Selina’s name.
Bingo. Listed under next of kin was her aunt, Agnes Grayson Chandler, now deceased. They needed to update her file.
As if that was the most important problem.
In the last few minutes, incredulity had given way to anger. It boiled up inside him, an insidious darkness that spread within him as it hit him how very little Selina had trusted him. With anything other than her body. For both professional and personal reasons, she should have told him about her goddamn cousin being murdered by the man they were hunting.
This sure as hell explained why she flinched when people talked about their families. Her aunt had hated her, and her cousin had been slaughtered during a case Selina was investigating. He doubted that had helped matters with her aunt.
He realized his hands were clenched so hard on the edge of the desk, his knuckles had gone white. He’d told her about his wife, spilled his fucking guts to her, and she hadn’t even bothered to clue him in on something that touched on their case. Her lines between work and private didn’t apply here. No, she’d just lied to him, let him think this case upset her because it was gruesome and unsolved. It was the one that got away. It haunted her, she’d said.
He’d damn well deserved to know why.
Picking up the pictures of Elizabeth Leblanc’s crime scene, he forced himself to look through them. She didn’t look much like Selina. Her hair and eyes were as pale as Selina’s were dark, but there were a few similarities in the shape of the nose and chin. Not much else. It was difficult to tell with nothing but a corpse to go on. The animation of life might have given expressions that resembled her cousin, but death stole that away.
He cycled back around to the photo he’d picked up off the floor. The close-up of the necklace was a picture of the victim’s personal effects after they’d been removed from the body. Selina’s cousin’s body.
Every time he saw that talisman, he felt the rage fester inside him. His jaw clenched and he forced a breath out through his nose. He’d be pissed if it was anyone except Selina, but right now he was beyond livid. He wanted to hit something, wanted to feel something besides deceived.
“Jack?” Selina stood in the doorway, her hand on the knob, her expression wary. “Are you all right?”
No, he wasn’t. His teeth ground together, and instead of saying anything to her, he set the close-up of the necklace on the desk.
Her eyes went wide when she saw it, and she drew in a sharp breath. “The New Orleans files arrived.”
“The New Orleans files arrived,” he agreed, his voice sharper than a cracking whip.
Stepping forward, she stared down at the picture for a long moment. “I forgot she was wearing that when she died.”
“That’s all you have to say?” He was going to strangle her. He’d never done violence to a woman in his life, but his hands were shaking with the need to spank her ass for keeping this from him.
She shook herself, shook her head. “I was going to tell you about this.”
“Right.” He snorted. “When was that?”
“Today, before Delta came in to update us on the profile.”
“Convenient.” Sarcasm coated the word.
She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not lying about this.”
“About this, maybe.” And he had his doubts, considering how huge an omission this was. “You just left out a lot of information about everything else. I had to go digging through your personnel file to put all the pieces together.”
Damn it. Damn her and all her secrets.
Her chin jutted stubbornly. The chin that looked like her cousin’s in the pictures. “I couldn’t risk you or Luca yanking me off the case because the last victim in New Orleans was related to me. Theodore and I had been hunting him for weeks before that. I had the most knowledge to offer you on the previous cases, which is why Merek brought me in.”
“Did Merek know about Elizabeth?” If he had, Jack might just strangle the groom when he got back. At the very least break his nose.