Cassius watched Carter write some more notes down onto the paperwork in the file.
Was he ever going to let him know the reason for being here this morning?
Growing evermore impatient, Cassius pressed on. “So, why am I here? Why was I brought in? What’s the Angelov case got to do with me?” That was the real question burning in his mind.
Detective Carter stopped writing, placed his pen down, and stared at Cassius directly in the eyes. “You, Mr. Broxsby, were recommended.”
Cassius raised an eyebrow. “Recommended?”
Detective Carter tilted his head. “Yes, I was just as surprised to hear it as you are.”
“But who the hell would recommend me? I know nothing of the—”
“By my very own brother, Ethan.”
That’s why he looked so familiar. Cassius knew he did.
“Your brother is Ethan. As in Detective Ethan Carter?” He thought for a second and then almost burst out laughing. “Your parents sent both of you to be police officers?” Another laugh, this time, a soft chuckle, erupted in the back of his throat.
Detective Carter didn’t flinch, not finding Cassius’ comment amusing one bit. “We chose this path, Mr. Broxsby. Just as you did yours, Pop, but we all know what happened with Eternally Yours, don’t we?” A jab, directly at Cassius. A smug grin formed on the detective’s face.
Son of a bitch...
Cassius needed to keep his cool, but what he really wanted to do was attack Dane Carter.
The ringing of a cell phone sounded in the room. Detective Carter reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Carter. Yes. Yes, he’s already here. Barely, I’ll finish up and get him all caught up, and then I’ll signal for you to send her in. Yup. You got it.” Carter hung up the phone and placed it back into the same pocket it had been nestled inside of.
“What was that about?” Cassius asked. His curiosity was getting the best of him. He urgently wanted to know what the Angelov case—or cases—had to do with him.
They’d better not try to pin that bitch’s misfortunes on me!
But Cassius quickly dismissed those thoughts. If he were a suspect, they would’ve told him by now, or at least began the questioning portion of the investigation. And Dane had mentioned he had been recommended.
But for what? What could he possibly do for them? He wasn’t a cop, nor was this case vampire related.
Detective Carter closed the file and stood from his seat. He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. As he opened them back up again, he said, “Mr. Broxsby, let’s make one thing very clear. I don’t trust you. I never have. Not after what happened with Astrid, anyway.”
Astrid. Wanting to turn into a vampire, then losing her life. They blamed him. Of course, they did. He was responsible for what went down in Eternally Yours after all.
Detective Carter took another breath. “Ethan insists you have a way with the paranormal. He says you’re the best.” He paused for another moment and then said, “Like I said, no way in hell do I trust you. But I’m getting a bit desperate here. We have one woman tying all these murders together, yet we don’t have any concrete evidence to take her down. We believe this case may be related to some abnormal behavior and, unfortunately,” he shut his eyes once more, “God forbid me for saying this, but we want your help.”
He stared at Cassius with a blank expression and then continued. “We can’t keep having lovesick clowns losing their lives over her. It’s one death after another, taking place left and right, with Lara Angelov standing off in the corner, claiming she is innocent.”
Cassius nodded. She had guilt painted all over her face from every single article he’d read about her in the papers to every single media appearance.
Detective Carter slammed his fists on the table. “We know she is guilty one way or another, and we need to get to the bottom of this. Before the next fool becomes blinded by her beauty and pays with his life for it again.”
CHAPTER 3
She tapped her fingernails against the table, her fingers drumming a familiar rhythm on the plastic surface. She’d been sitting in the interrogation room for the past half hour with nothing to keep herself occupied but her thoughts, and the image of James’ face, twisted in agony, just before he flew through the window. At least the police officer opted against handcuffs this time, which either meant he didn’t consider James’ death to be intentional, or he assumed Lara was too frightened to escape. Neither of which was true.
Her foot adopted the same rhythm as her fingers, tapping against the table leg, anxiety crawled through her skin. She was in no hurry to return to Milo, but the thought of sleeping in a jail cell that evening was unsettling. Her eyes flicked up as the door scraped open.
A dark head craned around the edge of the door. The detective shoved the door open with his elbow and shuffled into the room, juggling a stack of files and two cups of coffee. Lara’s nose wrinkled, an automatic reaction to the odor wafting from the sludge in the cups. Crossing the room, he stopped beside the table and opened his arms. The files landed with a heavy thud, which caused Lara to jump. He set both coffee cups in the center of the table, then collapsed into the far chair with a grunt.
“Mrs. Angelov,” he greeted her with a gruff bark, “my name is Detective Car—”
“Detective Carter,” she interrupted him, forcing a smile, “I remember from the last time.”
“Yes.” Detective Carter dragged out the word, then offered her a tight smile; the sentiment did not reach his cold eyes. He reached out and plucked the top file from the haphazard stack. Flipping open the file, his eyes looked over the page. “You’re quite a dangerous woman to fall in love with. One husband and three fiancés... four deaths in less than three years.”
“Is there a question in your statement, or are you merely antagonizing me?” Lara narrowed her eyes. She remembered him; arrogant, brutish, and more intelligent that she gave him credit for. If she hadn’t forged Tyler’s suicide note, the case would still be open. Detective Carter was a good cop, and that meant trouble.
“Why are you here again, Lara?” A heavy sigh accompanied his question, as if he expected her to lie.
“My fiancé fell out of a window.”
“Sounds like a horrific accident.”
“It was.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Maybe you don’t like blondes.” She shrugged and pointed at the steaming cups. “Is one of those coffees for me?”
Reaching out, Detective Carter wrapped his hand around the nearest cup. He lifted it, brought it to his lips, and took a long sip, his eyes locked on Lara. After lowering the cup, his mouth twitched into a smile.
“Did you miss my coffee?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Is that why you keep killing the men in your life?”
Lara’s eyes narrowed. At least he had the guts to say what he was thinking, what everyone had been thinking since Max’s questionable death two and a half years ago.
“First, I didn’t kill James. Second, that stuff is crap, but you don’t offer alcohol, so I’ll take the cup.”
“And third?” He took another sip, taunting her.