Page 81 of Deadly Lineage
“By that reasoning, you might as well accuse me too.” Harrison was well aware of my feelings for Boone and that we’d moved our relationship past the bonds of professionalism.
“I did consider it, but not for long. This isn’t your style, O’Hare.”
It wasn’t, but having me anywhere near the case might be seen as a conflict of interest. I could have brought that up, but Harrison was a good detective. There’s no way she hadn’t considered it.
With a heavy exhale, Harrison pointed at the body and said, “You’ve been investigating this guy, yes?”
“I have. You want my files? Becks has most of it also. She’s the one that did the heavy lifting.” Thinking of what Becks had found, I said, “Mr. Livingston ran with a lot of shady individuals and owed money to more of them than was healthy. Given the condition of his body, I’d say one of those individuals decided it wasn’t worth keeping Mr. Livingston alive.”
“Was he involved with shifters?” Harrison asked.
I shrugged. “He was involved with a lot of things. Trafficking mostly, and from what Becks could find, he didn’t care much what that something was.”
“Living species?”
“To a degree. Again, nothing provable, but an unhealthy dose of guilt by association. The way I see it, this could be one of his colleagues or it could be revenge.”
Harrison grunted. “A friend or relative of one of his victims found out Livingston’s involvement and—”
“Decided the guy wasn’t worth the air he breathed.” I wasn’t typically this judgmental regarding homicide victims. I also usually didn’t have this amount of premeditated intel either. Plus, this guy had threatened Boone. Forgive me if I didn’t give a single fuck that he was no longer capable of making good on those threats. Did I kill him? Hell no. Was I sad Livingston was dead? Another hell no.
“It’s a possibility.”
Exhaustion didn’t creep up on me—it hit me like a freight train. It was the kind of tiredness that a hundred cups of coffee couldn’t derail.
“You need to go home, O’Hare.”
“You’re the one that called me out here at this hour,” I argued.
“Yeah, and given how you look, I don’t think I woke you up with that call. You were camped out in front of Boone’s house again, weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. “We’re human, O’Hare. Sleep isn’t a polite suggestion, it’s a necessity. Now go on home, collapse into bed, and come back to work when you’ve got more than one brain cell and a shit ton of caffeine to rub together.”
I grinned. “You’d make a great captain.”
Harrison rolled her eyes. “And here I thought you liked me. That’s dirty, horribly vicious talk if I’ve ever heard it.”
Being captain could be a thankless job, and one I never wanted either.
“In all seriousness, go home. No matter how it happened, it looks like Boone’s got one less threat breathing down his neck. Maybe it’s time for you to take a breather. You’re no good to anyone on thirty-six hours of no sleep.”
She was right. “You’ll let me know what happens with Livingston?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions. Now go home before I call our actual captain and she makes it an order.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I offered a two-finger salute before heading back to my car, hoping beyond hope that I made it home without falling asleep behind the wheel.
Boone stared at the body, not that he could see anything. Bartholomew Livingston’s corpse was neatly draped with a white sheet. Dr. McCallister was out, and one of his assistants watched over the grim scene. Captain Cicely okayed Boone’s presence and had even left her office to attend the proceedings.
Detective Harrison was on the opposite side, standing to the captain’s left. Boone and I shared one side of the body, Livingston’s corpse acting like a coffee table between us.
Boone seemed twitchy and ill at ease. He’d been like that the closer we got to the morgue.
“You okay?” I asked, leaning in a little closer. He’d obviously taken a shower before coming in and smelled clean and crisp. His hair was still damp near his scalp.
Boone gave a jerky nod before he changed his mind and shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He clasped his hand over his chest and rubbed. “I, uh… Are you sure this one isn’t related to the other cases?”
My head snapped up and I shared an equally-concerned look with Harrison and the Captain.
“No, we’re not certain,” Harrison answered, thankfully. “But it doesn’t exactly fit with the other victims.”
