“Yes, there is,” Cassie insisted. “We need to talk about what you’re going to do in there!”
She nodded at Frank Yarrow’s house, which was a tony, upscale Greek Revival McMansion, not much smaller than the one they’d just left. Apparently filming porn was a lucrative career.
“What I’m going to do is find out if the bastard who killed that female is in there.” Stone’s voice was little more than a growl.
“And then what?” Cassie demanded. “You going to make him pay?”
A deep, furious rumbling was the only answer she got. More alarmed than ever, she tightened her grip on Stone’s arm—which felt wooden with tension under her fingers.
“Stone, you can’t do that,” she emphasized, frowning up at him. “Remember your training!”
“On my home planet, if a male kills a female, his own life is forfeit,” Stone growled, glaring down at her.
Cassie didn’t often think about their size difference—Stone was always so careful and considerate with her it was easy to forget he was seven feet tall and built like a professional wrestler. But now she felt like a Chihuahua staring down a Malamute—a very angry Malamute. Still, she couldn’t give up. If she let her partner go do whatever he wanted, they were both going to get into trouble.
“Well, you’re not on your home planet—you’re working on Earth now!” she reminded him sternly. “We’re not here to rip the guy’s head off, as much as he might deserve it. We have to take him in and book him—you know that. Stone…Stone, look at me!” she demanded, when he glared out the window at the house. Reluctantly, he looked back at her. “You know that,” Cassie said again, frowning at her partner. “Come on—talk to me.”
At last, Stone nodded.
“I know we are not here for vengeance,” he said at last. “But the way he killed her and then left her hanging there, as though she was nothing but a piece of garbage he had used…”
“I know, he’s a sick bastard,” Cassie said calmly. “I saw the crime scene too. But we see them every day.”
“Not female victims.” Stone’s deep voice was hoarse with fury. “We don’t see crime scenes with female victims.”
“No, and I’m glad we don’t if you can’t handle it any better than this,” Cassie said sharply. She knew what she said would cut her partner, but she needed Stone to get hold of himself before they went to Yarrow’s door.
She could tell her words had hit home because for a moment Stone looked stricken.
“All right,” he said at last. “I will contain my anger.”
“Good. Thank you.” Cassie took her hand off his arm. “Now come on and maybe you’d better let me do the talking.”
Stone gave a short, stiff nod.
“Agreed.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
Ten
Cassie knocked on the elaborately carved front door and, after a moment, it swung open revealing a hulking guy in a muscle shirt that showed impressive biceps and two full sleeves of tattoos. He was mid-to-late twenties, with buzz-cut black stubble on both his head and his chin, Cassie’s cop brain noted. Also, one silver tooth in front, which showed when he snarled,
“Whaddaya want?”
The hired muscle was over six and a half feet tall and would have been intimidating if Cassie hadn’t had Stone at her back. As it was, she simply pulled out her badge and showed it to the thug.
“I’m here to speak to Frank Yarrow,” she said calmly.
“Not without a warrant you’re not!” The thug tried to slam the door in her face, but Stone caught it with one hand and forced it back open.
Yarrow’s hired muscle, who was holding the heavy wooden door with both hands and leaning all his considerable weight against it to close it, looked up at Stone with a mixture of fury and disbelief.
“You…you can’t fucking…come in without a…a warrant!” he snarled, panting with effort as he tried to close the door.
“If you do not want us to come in, then send Frank Yarrow to the door.” Stone’s deep voice was low, but controlled, Cassie was glad to note. “Or better yet, send out The Beast.”
“Mr. Yarrow’s…not…here,” the thug grunted, still trying to force the door closed with all his might. Stone simply stood there, holding it open with one hand with no visible effort at all.
“They why are you?” Cassie demanded, frowning at him. “I have a hunch guys like Frank Yarrow don’t leave home without their bodyguards.”
“I wouldn’t call Brutus here my bodyguard exactly,” a new voice said.
Looking over the muscle’s shoulder, Cassie saw the same middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair she’d seen on Amelia’s phone. He was standing there calmly, sipping something bright green out of a martini glass and looking as cool as a cucumber.
“What is he then?” she asked, frowning at the man who had to be Frank Yarrow.
“Oh, just a friend I pay to look out for me—that’s all,” Yarrow said airily.
“Right. A bodyguard,” Cassie repeated. She flashed her badge at him. “Frank Yarrow, I’m Detective Cassandra Steel and this is my partner, Detective Stonev with the Tampa PD. We need to talk to you.”
“Now, officers…” Yarrow raised his free hand placatingly. “If this is about little Lucy Stein, I can assure you that she looked much older than fifteen. In fact—”
“Is the man who calls himself The Kindred Beast here?” Stone interrupted, his voice a low growl.
For the first time Yarrow looked surprised.
“Why no, I’m afraid he’s not, officer. Er…would you like to come in and check?”
“If your ‘friend’ will let us through,” Cassie said sarcastically. Because Brutus—who was clearly not the brightest bulb in the bunch—was still straining mightily to shut the door in their faces. His face was red and sweating with the effort but he couldn’t make any headway against Stone, who was still holding it open with one hand.
“Brutus, let the nice officers through,” Yarrow said amiably. “They’re just looking for The Beast and you know he’s not here.”
“We’ll see about that,” Cassie said as Brutus at last released his grip on the door and stood aside, panting heavily.
“Come right in. Feel free to have a look around,” Yarrow made an expansive gesture with the hand not holding the martini glass. “You’ll see that he’s not here—I haven’t even seen him or spoken to him all day, as Brutus here can tell you.”
“That’s a very convenient alibi, Yarrow,” Cassie snapped. “Especially since he’s wanted in connection with a murder that was committed earlier today.”
“A murder did you say?” Yarrow’s face went pale and surprised and Cassie—who made a living reading people’s faces—would have sworn that he was genuinely astonished at this revelation.
But apparently Yarrow’s surprised expression didn’t impress Stone.
“Where is he?” In a flash, he had Yarrow by the front of his shirt and was dragging him further into the house.