Page 42 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

“Thanks, but I’m afraid this is outside of your area of expertise.”

He gives me a predatory grin. “I hope you resolve the issue and return to us as soon as possible.” He’s challenging how fast I can solve problems in front of a boardroom full of people. Screw him—this is more important than power games.

“Don’t expect my return today. I’ll see you after the Christmas period, gentlemen. Happy holidays.”

Barney meets us outside of the door, his warm brown eyes crinkling with false concern. “The limo is at the front; it’ll take you anywhere you need to go.” Yeah, right. As if we’re going to make it easy for them to know our business.

I give him my best fake smile. “Thanks, Barney, we have our own car.” Zee, Aaden, and I enter the elevator and stay silent until we’re in the SUV with Duncan.

“Did you bring my change of clothes?” I ask Duncan. If we’re going to a murder scene, we might encounter problems, and I can’t fight in a fitted dress and high heels. Well, I could, but it could be embarrassing if the dress rips to show my underwear. It would cheer up Zee, though. He hasn’t been his cheeky self since I threw him across the kitchen.

“In the rucksack under the passenger seat. I brought your favorites,” he replies. I’m in the back seat with Aaden, while Zee is up front with Duncan. I pull out my deep red leather pants, matching jacket, and black tank top. The leather of the jacket is buttery soft; Duncan bought it for me when I was given my first official assignment. The pants I already owned. They offer good protection during a fight, but together, they are a little much for a crime scene.

I catch Duncan’s eyes in the rearview mirror and raise an eyebrow. “You meanyourfavorite outfit?”

He chuckles. “There’s a sweater if you don’t want to wear your jacket. Your boots are under the driver’s seat.” Aaden reaches underneath and pulls out my mid-heeled black boots. Now these are my favorites.

I smack Zee over the head, and he yelps. “What the hell was that for?”

I kiss him on the cheek. “For when you look in the mirror and try to watch me get changed.”

A wicked grin curves his lips. “If I’ve already been caught, that means Icanlook.” I give him my best psychopathic stare. He holds his hands up and turns to face the front.Huh, maybe that’s my best look for scaring people?

I only have to slap Zee three more times for looking and commenting on my underwear. The man’s a pervert obsessed.

Duncan parks beside a familiar red sedan. “John is here. He called Charlie. He knows we’re investigating the disappearances,” Duncan explains. Detective John Patton is our contact at the Seattle Police Department. He’s aware of the existence of supernaturals but tries not to get involved. He says he has enough nightmares with the things humans do. I don’t blame him. Some cases haunt you months later. Some you never let go.

Mary Conway’s body lies face-up on the sidewalk of an uptown street lined with 1920s brownstones. The gods have blessed Seattle with sunshine today. Fluffy white clouds pass through the blue sky, and a chilly breeze picks up strands of hair on my neck, making me shiver. Remnants of a heavy power clog the air, making my skin crawl. I look up and down the street. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, and there’s no one on the sidewalk. Even beyond the crime scene tape, there are no reporters, no nosy citizens.

“Afternoon, Natia, Zee, Aaden, Duncan. I didn’t expect so many of you,” John greets us, looking puzzled.

“We were in town,” I explain, avoiding specifics. I step next to the body. The crime seems more brutal in the sunshine. Bending to look at Mary, my torso casts a shadow across her face. Each dead body still hits me hard. I’ve never become “used to it,” as some people do. Most people see it as a weakness. Duncan says it’s because I’ll never accept or excuse the evil that walks the Earth.

“Details?” I ask, taking in Mary’s face. Her dull hazel eyes are fixed on the sky. Mascara stains her cheeks in distressed black streaks, and her lips have a faint tint of bright pink lipstick, keeping them artificially colored despite death.

“About 1:00 p.m. an anonymous caller reported a body on this street. Dispatch arrived four minutes later. They recognized her as Mary Conway and called me, then I called you on my way here. The scene is well preserved—the beat cops are good.”

“Why is there no one on the street?” Zee wonders.

“The gas company got a call about a possible leak and evacuated the street about 12:30 p.m.”

I cross my arms. “Assuming the caller of the gas scare is our killer, it seems he wanted her in plain sight in the middle of the day… but he also didn’t want her to be found by just anybody, if he cleared the streets.”

Zee undoes his tie and gives me a meaningful look. “If he thinks you’re working withAR, maybe it’s meant for you.”

John sighs. “AR? Never mind. I got the gas company to keep the area quarantined for the next two hours.” Aaden appears with the camera we use for crime scenes and hands me a pair of gloves.

Snapping them on, I nod at John. “Good, we have time to process the scene.”

Crouching, I study Mary from head to toe. “Are these the same clothes she went missing in?”

He flicks through his notepad. “Yes.”

I lift her right arm with no resistance. “Rigor mortis has passed… She’s been dead at least twenty-four hours.” Turning her left arm over, I notice symbols on the inside of her wrist, which look as if they were recently tattooed; the skin is still raw and damaged.

I glance at Duncan. “Do you know what these mean?” He crouches opposite me, and Aaden hands him a pair of gloves. Duncan draws his eyebrows together, taking hold of her wrist, and examines the symbols.

“No… I don’t remember ever seeing anything like these.”

---