My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) Read online

  “Agreed. I recognize a few of the runners. I’ll start with them,” Saber said. “Henry, you’d better not ask questions. The cops will want to talk to you.”

  “I want to inspect the zombies. I’ll keep Henry with me.” Gerard glanced at Henry. “Stay with me and say nothing.”

  “I want to stay with Jenny.” Emotion gripped him, made his voice hoarse.

  “Not now, buddy. Soon, okay?” Gerard urged Henry to move. “This is important. We need to do this before the cops arrive.” When Henry remained rooted to the spot, Gerard grasped his forearm and tugged hard. “Henry, do you want to help Jenny or not?”

  “What about London? You should be with her. She needs you.”

  Trust Henry. He’d always been able to read him. “London thinks you murdered her sister. I want both of you in my life and right now, I need to help you. Isabella and Leo are looking after London.”

  Thoughts of London made his mind drift. A glimpse of several men in police uniform arriving in the clearing helped him to focus. “Crap, the cops are here faster than I thought.”

  Chapter Four

  London stood with Isabella and Leo Mitchell, her mind stunned and sluggish. Jenny was gone, and their last interaction had been Jenny sniping at her, making London feel lacking. Even though, in her heart, London knew Jenny had goaded her on purpose to boost her determination to beat the obstacle, a sliver of hurt remained. A remnant of their shared past. The notion ran through her mind as fast as a racing greyhound. Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

  Jenny.

  Dead.

  It hardly seemed fair.

  After the years of her horrid marriage and the estrangement between them, the harsh words, they’d made up and celebrated with a trip down under.

  They’d almost been sisters again, and now Jenny…someone had killed her.

  Her fists clenched at her side and her weight shifted. She needed to do something, but what?

  “Stay here,” Isabella said in a low undertone. “The Middlemarch cop can’t organize himself out of a paper bag, but we have to let him go through the motions. We will find who did this to your sister. I promise you that.” The blonde woman grasped her upper arms and shook her.

  Maybe it was to make sure London was paying attention. These people were strange. What could they do that the police couldn’t? Her thoughts shifted to Henry. All that blood. She shuddered at the memory, the peculiar aroma of fresh blood. Bile rose up her throat, and she wrenched from Isabella’s grasp. She ran toward the nearby undergrowth and vomited.

  With her stomach empty and her throat burning, she straightened and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

  “Here,” Isabella said, thrusting out her hand. “You want gum?”

  London hesitated before deciding the gum trumped her gross breath, even if she threw up again.

  Her thoughts returned to Henry. His face…she was sure she’d seen… No. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

  “Something’s happening,” Leo said in a low voice.

  The cops grouped together in a discussion. PC Hannah pointed at Henry. Two cops broke away from the group and headed toward Henry and Gerard.

  “Idiots,” Leo muttered. “Anyone with half a brain would know he didn’t do this. He was halfway in love with the girl. They were m—”

  Isabella jerked her head in London’s direction and Leo broke off.

  “Who did it then?” London burst out. “Henry was the only one with her.”

  “Henry spent last night and all the morning with your sister. Don’t you think if he’d had sinister designs on her he’d have killed her in a less public place? He’s a big man. He had plenty of opportunity to have his wicked way then dispose of the body. What you’re implying isn’t logical.” Isabella’s flat, concise explanation tore holes through her conviction.

  London thought back. Jenny had liked Henry too. While she’d picked up guys in places they’d stayed, she’d always been happy to leave the next morning and she’d always returned to her room. That hadn’t happened with Henry.

  Henry had been different, an exception.

  Henry had…

  London felt her brows squeeze together in a frown. Henry’s face…it hadn’t been her imagination. For an instinct he’d appeared…animalistic. Yes, that was the word.

  “How can you promise to catch the p-person who did this to Jenny?” London sucked in a breath to grasp at control because she could hear the hysterical note in her voice. “I—” Her voice cracked, and she inhaled, swallowed. “What can you do?”

  Isabella and Leo exchanged a speaking glance, although not one in a language she understood. Was it her imagination or were there weird undercurrents here?

  “No! I didn’t do it!”

  London whirled around to see two cops yanking on Henry’s beefy arms. Henry pulled away and one cop fell.

  Gerard helped up the policeman and said something to Henry.

  “Come on,” Isabella said. “We need to hear this, listen to the charges.” She took off with long strides and her husband flanked her. London scurried to catch up. This was Jenny. If Henry had murdered her sister, she wanted to know why.

  “Henry. Go with them,” Gerard said in a sharp voice, taking hold of Henry’s free arm. “Don’t make trouble. We will fix this. Get you a lawyer. I promise we will fix this.” He spoke in an undertone, for Henry’s ears only.

  “You can’t bring Jenny back.” Stark emotion shimmered in Henry, his brown eyes glassy with the sheen of unshed tears.

  “We can find who did this,” Gerard said. “That will be a start for you and London.”

  “London. Fuck, is London all right?”

  And Henry returned, his brain jolted into gear again.

  “London is upset. I’ll look after her.” His lips twisted as he forced a grin at his friend. “You’re not the only one hung up on an English lady.”

  “You too?”

  Gerard nodded, glad the cops had let him speak to Henry. Most cops would have pulled out their Taser and fired without another warning. Henry’s size had worked for him. Neither of the cops were big and having to drag Henry to where they’d left their cars made them cautious.

  “Ready?” one cop asked, his tone skirting sarcastic.

  Henry nodded and let them lead him away.

  “They arrested him?” Isabella asked.

  “Read him his rights,” Saber answered, a trace of disgust in his gaze. “Hannah’s retirement can’t come soon enough. We need cops who will use their brains. Someone younger.”

  “Preaching to the choir, bro,” Leo said.

  “What’s the plan?” Isabella asked. “No one I’ve spoken to saw anything. They were too busy trying to avoid zombies.”

  “Same with the zombies,” Gerard said. “And there is no one the size of the guy I saw as London and I entered the clearing.”

  “What guy?” London asked.

  “I saw a zombie come from the bush, not far from where we found Jenny. He was big—at least I’m assuming it was a man—but most of these zombies are teenagers and kids. There are several big teenagers, but I’m certain I saw an adult. The zombies I questioned denied taking a toilet break in the bush.”

  “Have you told the policemen you saw someone?” London demanded. “It wasn’t Henry?”

  Gerard bit his tongue, counseling himself to patience. She didn’t know Henry like he did. “They wore a zombie costume.” He’d said it was a zombie.

  “Just double-checking.” Bright pink collected in her cheeks and she averted her gaze.

  “Cops are coming,” Saber said in an undertone. “Can we go, officers? I’m the organizer of the race and they’re expecting me at the finish line.”

  “You can go after we take your names and ask you questions.”

  They questioned Saber first, and he left after telling them he’d arrange representation for Henry.

  It was three hours later before the cops allowed the rest of them to leave. A foren
sic team arrived and was still hard at work when they left.

  “London, come on. We can’t help Jenny here.” Gerard slid his arm around her waist. She jerked away and his arm slipped to his side.

  “I-I—”

  “I’d never hurt you. Henry didn’t do this, London. I don’t know who murdered your sister, but it wasn’t him or any of my friends.”

  London didn’t truly believe Henry murdered her sister. Not now that her brain had worked through everything she knew using rational thought. She’d seen them together, noticed Henry’s gentleness with Jenny. They’d made love before the race. That much had been obvious to her at the starting line. Jenny had been happy, happier than London had ever seen her. Henry had seemed equally smitten.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a bit jumpy.”

  “Understandable. Let’s clean up, get into warmer clothes. We’ll make a plan. You can stay with me.”

  “No,” London said. “I’ll book in at the bed-and-breakfast for the rest of the week or at least as long as I’m needed here. I need to rearrange my flights, notify our friends.”

  “Your parents?”

  “Both died when we were in our late teens. There is no one else.”

  “Jenny’s ex?”

  “No! We have nothing to do with Royce. He-Jenny—no!”

  “If you change your mind, you’re welcome to stay with me. We have a spare bedroom. I don’t expect you to share my bed.”

  London’s heart stuttered like a motorboat engine unwilling to start. She inhaled and her pulse jolted to something resembling normal speed. Then shame filled her. She shouldn’t be thinking of sex when her sister lay dead. She managed a nod and forced her legs to move. Her muscles ached from running and climbing and crawling. The mud had dried on her skin and it itched. She couldn’t wait to wash away the day. She wished she could scour away the truth with the same ease.

  Gerard and Henry’s property, outskirts Middlemarch

  “If this zombie that Gerard saw is responsible for the murder, I don’t understand why none of us sensed his presence,” Isabella said.

  “There was so much blood plus the weird stuff the zombies sprayed over themselves as part of their costumes. I tried not to decipher the scents,” Saber said.

  “Same with me.” Gerard paced around the kitchen table where Sam, Lisa and Sam’s cousins had congregated to decide on a plan of attack.

  Sam tipped his chair, balancing it on two legs. “We need to question the other zombies again. You guys said you weren’t able to get to all of them before the cops started their questioning. We have their names and most of them are locals. Who was the scrutineer? We need to check with the makeup girls. They might remember a big guy. They did the makeup.”

  “We need to do a background check on Jenny and London,” Isabella said. “It makes little sense that someone would randomly pick Jenny and stab her. This smacks of something else. Love gone wrong or revenge.”

  Gerard nodded. “The cops think so too. They didn’t hesitate to arrest Henry. I know there was an ex-husband.” He frowned, replaying their conversations. “London lives in Bath and Jenny lives in London. The city,” he added when Sam grinned.

  “Anything else?” Isabella asked. “I have contacts, but the more information we give them the better.”

  “London works as a secretary.” Gerard wrinkled his brow. “Can’t remember what Jenny does. Henry will know.”

  “You should talk to Henry before you speak to your contact.” Lisa reached over to squeeze Gerard’s hand. “This might take time but we’ll get Henry out of jail.”

  “I’d feel better if Hannah wasn’t in charge,” Saber said.

  “Hopefully someone more senior takes over the investigation,” Isabella offered. “First, Hannah isn’t competent and second, he’s lazy. He’ll pass off the responsibility if he can. Gerard, we’ll try to get in to see Henry. If they won’t let us, we’ll ask his lawyer to get the details for you.”

  “I’ll speak with London. Wait…there was something else. When we were in the pub last night London froze. She thought she saw someone she knew. When I asked her she brushed it off, but I felt her panic.”

  Isabella nodded. “You need to ask her again. It might be something that will help us.”

  “I dropped her off at the bed-and-breakfast. I’ll give her an hour then call her and ask her out to dinner. Is Storm in a Teacup open late tonight?”

  “Yes,” Saber said. “Emily wanted to capitalize on the extra people in town. I’ll call her and book you a table. About seven?”

  “Yes, that will work,” Gerard said. “God, I hate this. They were so quick to charge Henry. Henry doesn’t do well in confined spaces.”

  “Is he moon-called?” Saber demanded.

  “Only if he doesn’t shift on a regular basis,” Gerard said in a grim voice. He’d considered this, but they’d get Henry out of custody before the full moon. “Since we’ve lived in Middlemarch we’ve run most days. It’s part of why we based our business here. If he goes for the next week without shifting, his body will force a shift on him once the moon is full.”

  “Crap. When is full moon?” Isabella asked.

  “Seven, no eight days.” Gerard calculated in his head. Easy these days since he lived with a werewolf. “Do you think we can get him out on bail?”

  “Not for a murder charge.” Sam’s voice was grim. “They’ll say he’s a danger to others.”

  “We’ll get the lawyer to work on bail and to learn the details of the charges,” Saber said. “If we run into problems, we might have to break him out.”

  Saber wasn’t joking and the grim reality slapped them all. Jail was the least of Henry’s problems. If he turned wolfish, the government agencies would line up to take custody of Henry. His friend would never be free.

  London ignored the peal of her cell phone in the other room. Instead, she continued her shower. No matter how much she increased the hot water, she couldn’t get warm. Using Jenny’s laptop, she’d done an internet search on arriving back at the bed-and-breakfast. Then, following the instructions she’d found, she’d rung the British High Commission in Wellington to inform them of Jenny’s death.

  They’d told her they’d locate Royce and inform him. The man she’d spoken to had been helpful and explained that since the manner of death was suspicious, an autopsy would take place. After this, which might take time, they’d release her body. London could then repatriate Jenny home to England or have her buried in New Zealand.

  He’d referred her to a website for further details and told her how to register the death online. She’d scribbled notes, her tears blurring her sight and making the ink swirl on the page. He’d been blunt, yet helpful too, and told her to call again if she had questions.

  She swirled her fingers over her arm and the bubbles created by the shower gel and held up her right hand to stare at her wrinkly skin. Her chest and throat throbbed with tightness. She kept swallowing and swallowing. Nothing eased the pressure.

  With Jenny gone, she felt so alone. Truly alone and indecisive.

  She’d been so happy at her and Jenny’s reconciliation and had let her sister plan the trip, London’s one stipulation that she pay for her own accommodation and meals. Backpacker accommodation had been a novelty for Jenny and she’d enjoyed the people they’d met, fellow tourists. Now, London wasn’t sure what to do. Of course, she’d stay for a short time, but eventually she had to go home.

  Jenny had wanted to stay. She’d trusted Henry, and the more London thought of the relationship the more she doubted her initial reaction. Henry hadn’t acted guilty or in any way suspicious. He’d been distraught.

  His friends believed him innocent, and if that was the way she leaned too, that meant Jenny’s real killer still roamed free. Perhaps they’d left Middlemarch already.

  Why? Her mind kept circling the motive. Everyone liked Jenny. Oh, she could be judgmental and impatient and a plain bitch. London knew her sister’s weaknesses as well as she knew her own. Bu
t none of that had been present during their holiday. For the first time in ages, Jenny had returned to her normal self, her happiness bubbling over and spreading to everyone they met with an infectious joy.

  Her phone rang again. London frowned, wondering who could be calling her. Her friends knew she was away on holiday, and she hadn’t given her number out to many—

  Gerard?

  London stepped out of the shower and dried off with a towel. On unfastening her hair from the knot she’d secured it in to keep dry, she scowled at the scratches on her cheek. She’d looked better. Once dressed in dry jeans, a thick sweater and wooly socks, she checked her phone. It was Gerard.

  She hesitated, then hit redial.

  “London.” Gerard’s deep voice sent a quiver through her. “Are you all right?”

  Not really. “I’m fine. Just had a shower to warm up.”

  “I wondered if you’d have dinner with me. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “No, it’s…” She trailed off, uneasy at his words. “Why?”

  “The cops might think they have their guy, but they haven’t. He’s wandering loose, maybe in Middlemarch. We don’t know what he’s thinking. I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”

  And now she was cold again because his words echoed her thoughts. But she hadn’t thought, hadn’t considered danger for herself. “Thank you. I’d enjoy the company.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six thirty and we’ll go to Storm in a Teacup or we could go to the pub.”

  “Storm in a Teacup sounds nice.” She’d enjoyed their visit the previous night and maybe someone to talk with would help dispel the numbness in her mind. “Six thirty,” she agreed.

  Alone in the room, she went through Jenny’s belongings, since she’d have to move out soon. Jenny’s clothes and possessions. Packing brought tears to her eyes since each garment held a wealth of memories. The sparkly red shirt Jenny had purchased in Melbourne and the skinny jeans London had eyed with envy because she’d never cram her chunky legs into the tight denim. A possum-and-merino hat and scarf set she’d purchased in Queenstown. London stroked the scarf and tears filled her eyes. It was cooler today. She’d coveted the hats and scarves in the shop but couldn’t afford to buy one, not if she’d wanted to eat and visit attractions during the rest of their holiday. She’d told Jenny she had plenty of hats and scarves at home. The truth, yet not.