Page 65 of Deadly Lineage
“I got ahold of Benny,” Detective Harrison said. “He’s agreed to meet with me. Benny even agreed to come into the station. I thought you might want to be present for the interview.”
“Benny? Really, that’s his name?” I’d heard worse, but I’d heard a hell of a lot better too.
“Benedict Franz.” Harrison stared down at her phone, probably checking to make sure she had the last name correct. “Bit of a mouthful. Probably why his friends call him Benny.”
“And we qualify as friends?” I asked, not sure why I was being a shit regarding a name.
“Well, I’m damn sure not trying to be his enemy,” Harrison answered, annoyed heat filling her voice. “Do you want in on the interview, or are we going to sit here debating his parents’ name choice?”
My fingers crunched what was left of a nearby paper cup, the dregs of cold coffee filling the bottom. With a grunt, I managed a weak-ass apology. “Sorry, Harrison. Shitty night.” I’d left Boone’s house without much physical satisfaction and with a boatload of emotional angst. Even before I’d admitted my feelings, I didn’t want harm haunting Boone. Now that I had agood idea that harm had him squarely in its nasty sights, I was wound too tightly for sleep to be on the visible horizon.
Head cocked to the side, Harrison asked, “The case, or Boone?”
I didn’t try arguing that Boone and I weren’t more than colleagues. “The professional in me wants to say both. The worried boyfriend says different.”
“Boyfriend?I wasn’t aware you’d progressed to that level.”
I crushed the cup completely. “I’m not sure either. The word doesn’t quite fit, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment.” I didn’t want to call Boone my lover. We hadn’t crossed that line yet and even if we had, I wouldn’t call him that here in the station. I’d claim Boone as my partner, but given my profession, that word could take on a lot of connotations. Interestingly, I did view Boone as a work partner, and hoped he’d fill in the other categories that singular word entailed.
Harrison’s fingers squeezed my wrist and when I looked up, her deep-brown eyes shimmered with pleased kindness. “I’m happy for you. Boone too. I’ve thought for a while that the two of you fit. I’m glad I wasn’t wrong. I’m also glad the two of you got your collective heads out of your asses and did something about it.”
Harrison’s phone beeped with an incoming message before I had a chance to verbally retaliate. With a pat to my shoulder, Harrison took a step back and said, “Benny’s here. If you’re coming, then get your ass out of that chair and follow me to interview room two.”
I didn’t waste time, but I did grumble more than was strictly professional.
The officer running the front desk walked Benedict Franz, a.k.a. Benny, to interview room two. Detective Harrison greeted him at the door and walked him inside. I stood and offered myhand. “Mr. Franz, thank you for coming in today. I’m Detective O’Hare.”
Benedict Franz was tall for a human—big too. Not in the overindulgent way. Franz struck me as the kind of boy that had never been small, even as a baby. Packed with muscle, the man towered over Detective Harrison, and even I had to look up to make eye contact. I figured the majority of Franz’s heritage was Anglo-Saxon, but the dark tan he sported spoke to something else in his DNA. His long, dark-brown hair and deep-brown eyes didn’t hand out any clues. His hair was piled on top of his head in the kind of messy bun that seemed popular these days. Personally, all that hair would drive me batshit crazy, especially working out in the Mississippi heat. Given the fact Franz still smelled shower-fresh, I figured he had the decency to stop by before heading into work.
“Please, have a seat,” Harrison directed. Franz followed her lead.
“Do you know why we asked to see you today?” Harrison asked. I was happy to let her take the lead. We were working Remington’s case together, but it was her original callout.
“The boss told me it has to do with Linus.” Franz’s big, brown eyes widened with worry. His worn and dirty baseball cap twisted within his oversized fingers as he flicked his pleading eyes first to Harrison and then to me. “Did you find him? Is he hurt? I haven’t heard from the guy in a few days. He hasn’t shown up for work, either. That isn’t like Linus.” The emphasis Franz placed on those last words made me think this was in important piece of information, at least to him. He wanted us to know it wasn’t like Linus Remington to flake on his responsibilities.
Harrison didn’t bother glancing my way before she answered, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m afraid Mr. Remington is deceased.”
Franz’s lower lip quivered and his eyes widened impossibly further. “D-dead? How? Was it a car accident? Shit, no, that doesn’t make sense. Linus doesn’t own a car. Unless it was a bus accident or maybe he hitched a ride with someone else.” Before Harrison or I could answer, Franz continued down his own line of verbal speculation. “Linus hasn’t taken a sick day in all the time I’ve known him. He didn’t even so much as sniffle when the flu hit the rest of us hard.” An idea appeared to manifest, and Franz shifted forward in his chair. “Did something happen at work? Fucking hell, it would be just like management to keep that hush-hush. Is that why I’m here? Did management try some bullshit cover-up?”
I shared another glance with Harrison, and she discretely shook her head. She’d been working Remington’s work angle and evidently hadn’t come across any obvious wrongdoing on his employer’s end.
Still, she asked, “Has something happened recently at work that makes you concerned?”
Franz scratched the side of his head. “Nothing I can point to directly. Mostly the usual shit. Timelines are important, and sometimes when you’re trying to meet those deadlines, safety measures fall to the wayside. I don’t have a beef with anyone in general. It’s the way of the business.”
I wasn’t so certain about that, but also didn’t think a run-of-the-mill construction site injury would leave our shifter victim stuck mid-transformation. It also wouldn’t have left his soul shredded.
“God, Linus is really gone?” Franz fell back into his chair, gaze forlorn. I was beginning to doubt Harrison’s earlier take that the two of them werejust friends. Then again, despite his size, Benedict Franz struck me as a guy who was more in touch with his emotions than most of his cohort. I also got the distinct impression he had no idea Remington had been a shifter.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “Did Mr. Remington happen to mention anything unusual recently?”
“Unusual how?” Franz sounded genuinely confused. “Linus didn’t really like talking about himself. He said his mom and dad were dead and that he didn’t have any siblings. That’s probably why we gelled so well. We were kinda in the same boat family-wise. Linus and I’d go out for beers after work, and sometimes a meal. He was easy to talk to.” Franz lifted his massive shoulders before releasing a heavy sigh. “You know how it is, when you meet someone and it isn’t difficult.” Franz’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t always find it easy, talking with others. Linus made it easy.”
I understood, and had a sudden pang of sympathy. Whether they’d simply been friends or if there might have been something more there, regardless, it was easy to see that Franz cared and Remington’s death hurt. Maybe it wasn’t right, but I was relieved that at least one of our victims had someone to mourn them.
Franz sniffed and pulled out a clean hanky from his back pocket. “Sorry,” he muttered before wiping the cloth under his nose. “I just wasn’t expecting something like this.”
“Understandable,” Harrison empathetically answered. “Detective O’Hare and I couldn’t find any record of living relatives for Mr. Remington. Your knowledge backs that up.”
