It was the face more than the name that knocked Fia mentally off-balance. She felt, for a moment, as if she were free-falling.
He had classic good looks: high cheekbones, a patrician nose, and sensual lips. His sandy blond hair was no longer shoulder length, yet it was a color she had not forgotten. Could not. But it was those green eyes of his that pierced her heart. Her mind. And every bit of hatred she could muster.
Even in the charcoal gray tailored suit, he could have walked right out of the sixteenth-century Highlands.
Fia mentally caught herself in her downward spiral and yanked herself upward. She struggled to make herself heard in her uncle’s head. Centuries of survival instinct kicked in. In a situation like this, appearance was everything. Special Agent Duncan? Uncle Sean, what are you talking about? Who is this? Why does he look so much like—
“Some…mix-up, I think. Something about jurisdiction,” Sean said in an odd, vaguely official-sounding voice. Ah, now, I’m sorry, my colleen. Don’t know why he looks so much like him. But I tried to warn ye he was here. Called the number yer mother gave me.
“Special Agent Kahill, Philadelphia Field Office.” Trying to rapidly process on multiple levels, Fia offered her hand to the stranger. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his face. Couldn’t quite catch her breath.
Ian, she thought, a sob of emotion rising in her throat.
No, of course not. She choked it down. That was ridiculous. Ian had been dead for centuries.
She regrouped, refocused. Uncle Sean, this isn’t safe. This man can’t be here. He puts us all at risk.
“Special Agent Kahill.” The one who also called himself Duncan shook her hand firmly. “Chief Kahill was just telling me that you were coming.” He released her hand, bristling. His tone was curt, challenging. “I’m sorry you had to drive so far for nothing. I understand your concern due to your relationship to the deceased, and to the chief here, but Baltimore’s jurisdiction—”
She cut in. “I was sent by the Philadelphia Field Office to investigate this crime scene, Special Agent Duncan.” Her tone was even crisper than his. She needed to send him on his way as quickly as possible.
“Baltimore has jurisdiction.” He repeated it as if he thought she was too stupid to understand the first time.
It was Ian’s voice, and yet not quite his voice. The Highland burr was gone. In its place was an authoritative American antagonism.
“I’m pretty clear on the jurisdictional lines,” she responded. She was back on her game now, knew she could think her way through this.
Did you call the wrong phone number, Uncle Sean? Does Uncle Bill know this ass is here? Uncle Bill’s office called my office and spoke with my boss directly. “The mistake must have been made in your office.” Fia never broke eye contact with the agent. She gave him her best condescending smile. “I guess you better call in, see where the snafu in your office was. Arrangements were made before I left Philadelphia. I believe it was a special request through Senator Malley’s office.”
Ah, now, I didn’t know what to do. Who to call. Her uncle’s thoughts were shaky. Emotional. Gair said it couldn’t be handled from inside. Not with Bobby dead in the post office. A federal building and all. Gair said we’d have to take our chances. Sean pressed the heel of his hand to his barrel chest. Jezus, I got heartburn.
Special Agent Duncan hadn’t moved. He just stood there, frowning. She didn’t blame him for being PO’d. Had the tables been turned, she’d have been as mad as hell to have him walking in on her crime scene. But no one was getting any slack from her, not today, not ever.
She turned her full attention to her uncle, making an event of removing a small notepad and pen from her pocket. The other agent flipped open his cell and walked away.
“Let’s start at the beginning, Chief Kahill,” Fia said. Just answer the questions I say aloud, with verbal responses, Uncle Sean. “Who found the body?”
I…I’ll try. “One of my officers. His…Bobby’s wife called in ’bout six this morning. Said Bobby called her around seven last night saying he was going to work late. But he never arrived home.” You know Bobby. He likes to diddle Mary Dill, Tuesday nights. They have a regular arrangement. Only he never made it there, either. I called and checked. “So I sent Patrolman Mahon Kahill over.”
“After the call came in at the station at 6 A.M., you sent Patrolman Kahill directly to the post office?”
“To check on Bobby, that I did.” Had no idea. Thought maybe the fool had gotten drunk, just fallen asleep or some nonsense. Missed his date with Mary.
Again, Fia heard the emotion in her uncle’s thoughts.
Had…had I known, I’d never have sent the kid. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t. Where to even start looking for the head.
Looking for the head?
She gripped her pen. She could hear the Baltimore agent talking on his cell, his voice sharp. But he was still close enough to monitor her and Uncle Sean’s conversation if he wanted to and she had to be careful.
Looking for the head? She couldn’t shake the thought.
She’d forgotten how challenging it could be to have a conversation with or for the benefit of a human, while carrying on a mental conversation with another vampire.
“And…and what did Patrolman Kahill tell you he discovered when he came looking for the deceased? I assume he radioed in,” she said. Of course, Bobby had to have been decapitated. It was the only way to kill a vampire. But his head was missing? How had that information not been conveyed through her office? And where was Bobby’s head?
“Ye want to see where it happened, do ye?” Sean pointed beyond the lobby, toward the back. I didn’t know what else to do, Fee. Didn’t
