Page 25

Chapter 24

Arrested

LENNOX

“ S top it.” Charlie grips my wrist, trying to pull my hand away, but I hold steady, forcing her to accept my ministrations. She’s sitting on my desk in the precinct’s bullpen, a First Aid kit open next to her hip.

“If you won’t go to a hospital, then you will allow me to attend to you.”

“I’m probably more qualified to administer First Aid than you are,” she complains.

“Probably.” After disinfecting a cut on her arm, I search the kit for a bandage.

Her eyes follow an ASHRA member being led into interrogation and I feel her desire to follow and shake the truth from him.

“You’ll get your chance,” I tell her, placing a bandage over her cut and pressing the adhesive to her arm.

Her eyes light up. “I will?”

I flatten my hands on the desk, one on either side of her. “You’ve been my partner through this investigation. I wouldn’t deprive you of the chance to ask your questions.”

She pushes my arm aside and hops off the desk. “Let’s go then.”

“Not yet.” I pick her up and put her back, sliding my hand up her torso, probing her ribcage over her shirt.

She jerks away. “Ouch!” Lifting the bottom of her shirt, she stares at her darkening ribs. “When did that happen? I didn’t feel anything.”

“It was the adrenalin running through your system.” I shudder as I recall her explanation of what had happened before I was able to get to Edie. Twice Charlie came within a hair’s breadth of death. “It probably happened when you went through the wall. Roll up your shirt and I’ll tape them.”

She makes a face, but complies, pulling it up to just beneath her breasts. I apply the medical tape to the affected ribs. “It’ll hurt like a bitch for a few days, but this will help.”

“Have you ever broken your ribs?” she asks.

“Your ribs aren’t broken, just bruised.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

I don’t want to tell her because there’s nothing she can do about pain I experienced in the past, but I can feel her desire to know and I’m unwilling to deprive my mate of the things she wants.

“The first time was during the Human-Shifter war. I took a cannonball to the chest. Damn near killed me.” She pales, so I rush to add, “I was good as new a few days later. Shifters heal fast.”

She runs her hand up my arm, settling it on my shoulder, her dark eyes caressing me. “You still feel pain the same as us though, right?”

“Yes,” I admit.

Heedless of her injuries, she wraps her arms around me and lays her head on my shoulder. “Oh Lennox, I’m so sorry. Such a long life in the service of others must have led to so much pain.”

I hold her, not sure what to do or say. She shouldn’t have to bear the burden of my past, yet her empathy warms me like a fire on a cold night.

“Can we go question some bad guys now? I want to talk to Edie as soon as possible.”

I chuckle at her eagerness and help her off the desk. Sobering, I tell her, “Edie is being taken to Rikers. We’ll talk to her once she’s been secured in the shifter ward. The other eight suspects we have in custody are being processed on terrorism charges, which means we have greater freedom in what we can ask. Still, when you speak to them, keep your questions non-accusatory.” I step in front of her, forcing her to look up at me. I maintain eye contact so I know she understands. “You do not approach the suspects for any reason. You keep the table between you and them. If I tell you to go, you leave the room without hesitation. Understand?”

She nods. “Yeah, I understand.”

We approach Captain Charlamagne, who’s overseeing the processing of our suspects. I introduce him to Charlie who barely gets a glance from him. Not because she’s a woman or because she’s Fire instead of PD. He’s just like that. Politeness never figures in for him.

“Who do we have?”

“Only two of them were kind enough to have ID on them. We’re working on the rest.” He nods towards interrogation room two. “Kenneth James Broadsmith. Age 38. No living family. A decent sized rap sheet, but all petty shit. B&Es mostly. Misdemeanour theft.”

I don’t need to meet the man to know how he became part of ASHRA. Any well-organized terrorist group will do their best to recruit the unattached and disaffected. I jerk my head and say to Charlie, “Let’s go.”

She grips our file folder and follows me closely, slipping through the door to face our first suspect.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare Kenneth down. His hands are cuffed and resting on the table in front of him, a paper cup filled with water next to his knuckles.

Charlie takes in my pose and says excitedly though our connection, are we doing a good cop, bad cop kind of thing? You have to be bad cop because… well… obviously. I’ll be good cop and pretend I sympathize with him. He won’t –

Under no circumstance are you to sympathize with him. We aren’t playing games here. This man might be a murderer. We ask our questions and we leave when we have what we need. No games. You said you understood. I direct the thought sharply and she flinches.

She glares at me and blinks away a sheen of tears. It’s called brevity , she snaps back. I know exactly how serious this investigation is. I saw a man die tonight. How do you think that makes me feel when the last person I saw die in the line of duty was my husband?

Jesus, I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t snap at you. I’m not used to having a partner. Especially not one I’ve fallen in love with.

Her lips soften and she nods, her gaze straying to our suspect who’s looking between us with an expression of confusion.

Good. Though I still feel like an asshole for upsetting my mate with my sharp rebuke, our silent conversation has had the effect of unbalancing our suspect.

Staring him down across the table, I say, “You’re part of the ASHRA organization.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he says in a clearly prepared answer.

Charlie supplies the answer. “ASHRA is an acronym for the Anti-Shifter Human Rights Association, which, after the recent Los Angeles bombing was designated a terrorist organization by the United States. Do you know what that means?”

He shakes his head and Charlie looks at me, silently asking, what does it mean? I don’t really know. Just thought it would be an intimidating thing to say.

“It means we have the right to detain you indefinitely. No phone call, no lawyer.” I place my hands on the table and lean towards him. “That’s the law here in New York. ASHRA has been considered a terrorist organization in my home country of Wolf-Haven for years. In Wolf-Haven we’re allowed to execute members of ASHRA on sight.”

I thought we weren’t playing bad cop, Charlie grumbles in my head.

This is my neutral cop interrogation style, I tell her.

Oooh, sexy.

Kenneth shudders. “Good thing I’m here then.”

“Good thing,” I tell him, leaning closer. “Of course, as it was a wolf shifter murdered by your organization, Wolf-Haven may insist on extradition so the guilty can face trial in the home of the wolves.”

“It wasn’t me!” Kenneth bursts out, pointing at the door behind Charlie. “It was all Edie. She insisted on killing Greystone, the guy who infiltrated us. Said she had to do it, or he’d give away our location. Happened anyway, though, didn’t it?”

“Edie?” I raise an eyebrow. “The female wolf shifter heading your anti-shifter organization?”

“Yeah,” he says, annoyance suffusing his features.

“What about Catherine Grant?” Charlie asks. “Who killed her?”

“Who?” Kenneth frowns, then says, “You mean that woman who was hanging out with the shifter? I don’t know what happened to her.”

“She was murdered.”

He shrugs. “Must’ve been Edie.”

“Edie again. It all seems to point back to her, doesn’t it?” I reply.

He nods, disgust twisting his features. “I didn’t want her there, but Shane insisted we needed a shifter to help us hunt more of them. Said we could control a woman.”

“Who is Shane?” I demand.

“The guy with the beard and glasses,” he supplies.

“Last name?”

Kenneth shakes his head as though realizing he’s said too much, but with the threat of Wolf-Haven hanging over him, he supplies the answer. “Gibson.”

I glance at the camera in the corner of the room, hoping Captain Charlamagne got that. We might have the identity of a third suspect.

Charlie approaches the table and I shift my body in front of her, stopping her from getting close to him. I doubt Kenneth is going to try anything, especially now that he’s singing like a canary, but I’m not taking any chances with my mate.

“Tell us about the bombs,” Charlie says.

“I had nothing to do with them.”

“But you know something,” she pushes.

He shakes his head. “Greystone, the dead guy, was the one who built them. That’s all I know.”

“What about the Los Angeles bombing?”

“I don’t know anything.”

I believe him. “Let’s go,” I say to Charlie.

As we’re leaving the room, Kenneth pipes up, “Hey, do I get immunity or something for talking to you guys?”

Charlie laughs and keeps walking.

I look at him and say coolly, “If you wanted immunity, you needed to negotiate before you started talking. I expect you’ll be charged shortly.”

I close the door on his groan of despair. Turning to Captain Charlamagne who’s waiting for us, I ask, “You caught that?”

He nods and walks swiftly toward interrogation room one, expecting us to follow. “I’ve had the man I believe is Shane Gibson brought in here. You need to work quickly. The Feds are on their way.” He gives me a significant look.

Terrorism falls under the FBI’s jurisdiction. Our raid on the ASHRA warehouse without the FBI’s blessing is going to be a point of contention, though we can argue that Roscoe’s life was in imminent danger and we didn’t have time to wait for the Feds to mobilize.

“Understood,” I say to the captain. “You still have connections with the Feds?”

He nods. “A few.”

“See if you can get Sherrilyn Asher on the team coming here. She works out of DC, but she’ll want in on this one.”

“Shifter?” he asks.

I shake my head, then look at Charlie. “C’mon, let’s talk to Gibson.”

As we enter the room, she says through our connection, Do you always talk to your Captain that way?

What way?

Like he’s your subordinate. It’s customary to take commands from your superior officer, not issue them.

As we face Shane Gibson across the interrogation room, I say to her, His father was my captain for many years. I knew Charlamagne when he was in diapers. I respect the man, but our dynamic is a little different from the typical.

Once again, our suspect is watching us silently communicate. Of course, he doesn’t know what we’re doing. As far as he’s concerned, two officers just entered the room and are silently watching him without speaking, which is likely to be an unsettling experience.

Charlie and I start the conversation the same as we did with Kenneth, but Shane doesn’t flinch.

He refuses to speak other than to say, “Lawyer,” to every question.

“Are you the head of the New York ASHRA organization?”

“Lawyer.”

“Do you associate with Dr. Edie Thornton?”

“Lawyer.”

“Do you know anything about the bombings?”

“Lawyer.”

I feel the frustration building in Charlie’s mind and I tell her, It’s fine. We’ll crack him. It’s just a matter of finding out what he makes him tick.

How? She demands, her annoyance leaking through our mental connection. He’s not afraid of prosecution, doesn’t care if he’s charged with terrorism, doesn’t care if he’s extradited to Wolf-Haven. How do we crack someone like that?

I look at her, knowing the pleasure of the hunt is lighting my eyes. We’re in my domain now, sweetheart. Leave it to me . I uncuff my sleeves and roll them up my forearms.

Her eyes widen. We’re not going to beat him, are we?

Worse.

We turn back to our suspect but before we can ask any more questions, someone bangs hard on the door.

Frowning, I jerk it open, prepared to take the head off whoever’s interrupting my interrogation. Charlamagne is standing on the other side looking grimmer than usual.

“We have a situation.” He nods at several officers standing behind him and they rush past me. Two of them pull Shane from his chair and drag him out of the room toward lockup. The rest surround Charlie.

“Ma’am, lift your arms,” one of them says, holding a flak jacket.

I snatch it from him and step in front of her before anyone can touch her. “What’s going on?” I narrow my eyes at Charlamagne.

“Edie Thornton escaped custody.”