Page 7 of Deadly Deception
“Sounds like it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” I drummed my fingers along my desk and asked, “You sure Devonshire and his mom didn’t have anything to do with the Stevens’s deaths?”
Boone shrugged and held his hands out to the side. “Not completely, but I can attest that Cody doesn’t think they caused his father’s death or his own. Cody didn’t like Brendon, but the accusation of murder wasn’t fueling that hatred.”
A deep sigh rattled through me. “Then I’ll let it go.”
“I think that’s best,” Boone agreed.
Rolling my shoulders, I tilted my head back and forth, attempting to get the kinks out. I’d been staring at my computer most of the day researching, chasing down leads on cases, and completing forms. My eyes were dry and my attention span shot. I was ready to call it a night.
Boone knew me well enough to read the signs and asked, “You want to grab something to eat and come back to my place?”
I was already shutting down my computer. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
“Aw, shucks. If you weren’t a homicide detective, that would make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. As it is, I don’t think my offer’s had much competition.”
Standing, I grabbed my suit jacket and slid my arms inside. I hadn’t worn another jacket on top of it. While the temperature outside was definitely cooler and far more consistent with my upper Midwestern roots, it was nowhere near cold enough to warrant a heavier coat.
“Let me just—” My phone rang and when I checked the caller ID, I recognized the area code and number. I sent Boone an apologetic glance before hitting the accept button and lifting my phone to my ear. “O’Hare,” I answered.
“Franklin. God, it’s been forever since I’ve heard that deep voice of yours.”
Captain Tompkins’s voice was as familiar to me as my nana’s. The two of them were nearly the same age. Right or wrong, I’d always thought of Captain Shane Tompkins as a grandfatherlytype. He’d been a great mentor. Oddly easygoing but tough when it counted, Tompkins was a man I deeply respected.
“Captain Tompkins,” I answered. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
Gentle laughter echoed through my phone. “Retirement means you don’t have to call me captain.”
“I’ll always call you Captain Tompkins.” Nothing could or would change that fact. When I glanced at Boone, his head was tilted to the side and he had a bemused smile on his face.
“Yeah, I hear you. I felt the same when I was in your position.” Captain Tompkins cleared his throat, and his tone became more serious. “Listen, I’d like to say this is a social call, but that would be bullshit. I need a favor, Franklin. I’m afraid it might be a big favor. Truth be told, I’m not even certain you’ll be able to help, but I thought it was worth a try.”
Every muscle went tense, the friendly nature of our conversation long gone. “Anything you need, you know I’ll be there.” Sensing the mood change, Boone shifted closer and settled his hand on my arm, his fingers squeezing just enough to let me know he was there.
“Thanks. I’ve been keeping up with your career down there. You’re doing good work in Mississippi.”
“I’m trying,” I answered honestly.
“I know. We were all sorry when you put in your notice and moved south. Chicago lost a good detective when you left.”
“There are plenty of other good detectives still there.” That was also the truth. Every department had their good and bad. Hell, we’d had a serial killer under our roof and hadn’t known until Dr. McCallister nabbed Boone. McCallister hadn’t just been a bad apple; he’d been rotten to the core.
“True, true, but not anyone who’s on friendly terms with a capable necromancer.”
My mouth opened, ready to spill words I could barely contemplate, let alone utter. I’m not sure what Captain Tompkins read into my silence. His next question made me wince.
“Is it true he’s sane?” There was no judgment in the question, no harsh condemnation, simply a logical question based on the fact we were discussing necromancers. Necromancer numbers were low and mental instability was high within those ranks. Boone was lucky. His warlock father hadn’t abandoned him like most did their necromancer children. I didn’t know if it was the stability of two loving parents, if Boone was far more talented than most necromancers, or if it was a combination of both. Whatever the reason, Erasmus Boone had retained his sanity and had a lovely, wicked sense of humor to boot.
Offering Boone an apologetic glance, I answered, “He’s very sane.”
“Good. That’s excellent news. The reports I read made it sound like he’s the real deal and able to cope with his abilities better than most.”
I’d only met two necromancers. Boone was the second. The first had been lying on a slab in the morgue, dead by suicide.
Boone’s eyebrows shot towards the sky and he quietly mouthed “Me?” I nodded as Captain Tompkins’s words sank in. “Read about?”
“You made the news. It was a remarkable story. Sounds like the situation was dicey. Not sure why the Magical Usage Council didn’t get involved. That’s what they’re supposed to be there for, to handle shit like that.”
I couldn’t agree more and said “From what I understand, they were stretched too thin and couldn’t send anyone our direction. Since Captain Cicely’s a witch, they thought she could handle things.”
