into my personal life.”
“I do when it slops over onto the job,” he retorted, wiping the blood under his nose. “He’s got you concealing evidence, making false statements, and looking the other way while he goes all ‘Monster Mash.’ He’s a criminal, a killer, and . . . and I don’t even
know
what the hell else. But whatever it is, I sure as hell don’t want it at my table with my family.”
She gaped at him, her pulse pounding in her ears, battering her judgment. “Is that what this is about? Your white-freaking-bread suburban family? So it’s okay to let Max throw himself off a causeway full of bullet holes to save them for you, but he’s not good enough to sit at your crappy little table? And you preach fire and brimstone about me in his bed, but it’s okay when you’re taking the same thing into
yours
?”
Alain Babineau’s face went slack—and in that explosive second, Charlotte realized what irreparable harm she’d just done.
He knew his stepson was the product of a rape Tina never spoke of, and he’d assumed her attacker was a Shifter. It had obviously never occurred to him that what made Oscar so different came from
both
sides of the family, and it hit him like a flaming meteorite.
“Oh, hell,” she muttered miserably as she fished in her coat for a wad of tissues. He took them in a shaky hand to swipe the blood from his face, his eyes glassy. She took a tight breath. “Maybe it’s time I got a new partner.”
He crumpled the stained tissues in his fist and said coldly, “No one else will work with you.”
He walked back to the abandoned car and waited stiffly behind the wheel for her to join him.
And an hour and a half later he sat still and uncommunicative at the morning briefing, his nose obviously swollen, while Cee Cee relayed what they’d learned from Devlin Dovion.
“Marjorie Cole, sixteen. Reported missing by her mother in Corydon, Iowa, eighteen months ago. Whatever she thought she’d find down here in the Big Easy, I doubt that she found it dancing at a strip club. Was picked up in a drug sweep three months ago, and got her prints on file.
“We need to know everything that took that kid from singing in her Pentecostal church choir to turning tricks. We need to know who she saw, personally and professionally, from the time she worked her last shift until she had a garbageman puking up his po’ boy.”
“I’ll take the strip club,” Junior Hammond offered with a leering grin. He was a squat bully of a man who could have changed uniforms from NOPD to neo-Nazi without any major alterations in character. But he’d fit right in where he asked to go.
“Take Boucher with you.”
“Awww, that’s no fun.” He gave the young officer a poke in the ribs that was a little too sharp to be playful. “One look at his fresh face and they’ll clam up tight.”
“One look at his fresh face and they won’t be thinking cop, they’ll be thinking quick cash,” Cee Cee countered, earning Joey’s grateful nod. “The press is nowcalling our boy the ‘Tides That Bind’ killer, since he keeps them for a cycle of the moon before discarding them. If that has some significance out in Woo Woo World, we need to know about it. He had this one for a full cycle, just like the two before her. We don’t have IDs on them so let’s focus on Miss Cole. Babineau has the stats. He’ll answer your questions while I talk to the next of kin. Let’s get this guy.”
Cee Cee waited to catch Hammond and Boucher at the door, motioning them to join her off to the side.
“Thanks for the confidence,” Boucher began, fairly quaking with excitement and pride.
“I want you guys to meet me at Newton’s tonight at nine-thirty,” Cee Cee ordered.
Hammond groaned. “Shit, Caissie, the pole dancing action will just be going full throttle.”
“I’m sure you’ll get more than an eyeful between now and then.” She patted Junior’s beefy arm. “Make sure Joey has plenty of dollar bills.
“I do when it slops over onto the job,” he retorted, wiping the blood under his nose. “He’s got you concealing evidence, making false statements, and looking the other way while he goes all ‘Monster Mash.’ He’s a criminal, a killer, and . . . and I don’t even
know
what the hell else. But whatever it is, I sure as hell don’t want it at my table with my family.”
She gaped at him, her pulse pounding in her ears, battering her judgment. “Is that what this is about? Your white-freaking-bread suburban family? So it’s okay to let Max throw himself off a causeway full of bullet holes to save them for you, but he’s not good enough to sit at your crappy little table? And you preach fire and brimstone about me in his bed, but it’s okay when you’re taking the same thing into
yours
?”
Alain Babineau’s face went slack—and in that explosive second, Charlotte realized what irreparable harm she’d just done.
He knew his stepson was the product of a rape Tina never spoke of, and he’d assumed her attacker was a Shifter. It had obviously never occurred to him that what made Oscar so different came from
both
sides of the family, and it hit him like a flaming meteorite.
“Oh, hell,” she muttered miserably as she fished in her coat for a wad of tissues. He took them in a shaky hand to swipe the blood from his face, his eyes glassy. She took a tight breath. “Maybe it’s time I got a new partner.”
He crumpled the stained tissues in his fist and said coldly, “No one else will work with you.”
He walked back to the abandoned car and waited stiffly behind the wheel for her to join him.
And an hour and a half later he sat still and uncommunicative at the morning briefing, his nose obviously swollen, while Cee Cee relayed what they’d learned from Devlin Dovion.
“Marjorie Cole, sixteen. Reported missing by her mother in Corydon, Iowa, eighteen months ago. Whatever she thought she’d find down here in the Big Easy, I doubt that she found it dancing at a strip club. Was picked up in a drug sweep three months ago, and got her prints on file.
“We need to know everything that took that kid from singing in her Pentecostal church choir to turning tricks. We need to know who she saw, personally and professionally, from the time she worked her last shift until she had a garbageman puking up his po’ boy.”
“I’ll take the strip club,” Junior Hammond offered with a leering grin. He was a squat bully of a man who could have changed uniforms from NOPD to neo-Nazi without any major alterations in character. But he’d fit right in where he asked to go.
“Take Boucher with you.”
“Awww, that’s no fun.” He gave the young officer a poke in the ribs that was a little too sharp to be playful. “One look at his fresh face and they’ll clam up tight.”
“One look at his fresh face and they won’t be thinking cop, they’ll be thinking quick cash,” Cee Cee countered, earning Joey’s grateful nod. “The press is nowcalling our boy the ‘Tides That Bind’ killer, since he keeps them for a cycle of the moon before discarding them. If that has some significance out in Woo Woo World, we need to know about it. He had this one for a full cycle, just like the two before her. We don’t have IDs on them so let’s focus on Miss Cole. Babineau has the stats. He’ll answer your questions while I talk to the next of kin. Let’s get this guy.”
Cee Cee waited to catch Hammond and Boucher at the door, motioning them to join her off to the side.
“Thanks for the confidence,” Boucher began, fairly quaking with excitement and pride.
“I want you guys to meet me at Newton’s tonight at nine-thirty,” Cee Cee ordered.
Hammond groaned. “Shit, Caissie, the pole dancing action will just be going full throttle.”
“I’m sure you’ll get more than an eyeful between now and then.” She patted Junior’s beefy arm. “Make sure Joey has plenty of dollar bills.
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