“No, I don’t,” the JUSTIS officer grumbled. “But lucky for you, I don’t hold a grudge. You want a list of all the eyes that saw that video?”
“And anyone who handled the reports of the dead scarabs,” Mathias added, quirking a brow when Sloane shot him an arch look. “I appreciate it.”
The Breed male grunted. “I’ll go make a few calls. I’ll alert the coroner’s office to the situation too.”
Mathias cuffed his old friend on the shoulder and murmured his thanks as Sloane stepped outside. Alone in Ozzy’s shop, the blood coagulated under the sheet-covered body, and far less potent to his Breed senses, Mathias took a moment to consider everything that had happened that night.
His concern for Nova’s safety, and the need to know that he hadn’t lost her completely, had his emotions combating his warrior instincts most of the time following Ozzy’s murder. And now that he was resolved, a plan being put into place, he realized that something was gnawing at the edges of his mind.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something crucial.
The pieces weren’t quite fitting together for him, and he kept coming back to the fact that something just didn’t feel right.
Sloane walked back inside, slipping his comm unit back into his pocket. “Since you’re begging favors from JUSTIS tonight, you want me to put an alert out on your female? Ordinarily, a missing persons call doesn’t go out until twenty-four hours pass, but I see nothing wrong in bending the rules for a friend.”
“No, but thanks,” he replied, those prickly instincts still nagging him.
As much as he appreciated Sloane’s offer of support, he preferred to keep all eyes focused on finding the killer. And there was a part of him that wouldn’t trust anyone where Nova was concerned.
He thought back to what she’d told him about the things she saw when she touched the dead scarabs in the morgue. “Nova said there was someone else on the dock that night,” he murmured, thinking out loud. “Someone who shot and killed one of the Russians, maybe more than one.”
Sloane grunted. “That’s odd. The only thing we pulled out of the river so far are dead scarabs. Not a single Russian among them.”
“She seemed pretty certain that’s what she saw,” Mathias said. “Which means we’ve got another killer out there.”
“Maybe that’s the guy we need to be looking for tonight,” Sloane suggested. “Was she able to ID anything useful about the guy who shot the Russians?”
“She didn’t say.”
“But she was sure it wasn’t Doyle?”
Every tendon in Mathias’s body went as tight as a bowstring. His veins started to pound. “Yes, she was sure...”
He glanced at Sloane, who had now gone equally still, staring back at him.
“I never told you his name,” Mathias said.
At first, he thought Sloane was going to deny it. But then the big Breed male cocked his head slightly, a wry smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “No. I guess you didn’t.”
Mathias felt sucker-punched. He looked at his old friend in sickened disbelief. “You did this tonight? You would’ve killed her too?”
“It wasn’t about the old man or the girl. They had nothing to do with any of this.” Sloane’s eyes took on a flinty edge. “If you want to blame someone, blame that drunken idiot, Doyle. He’s the one who put the target on their backs. He had no damned business letting himself be seen anywhere people might know him. So, he goes off and gets a tattoo? Fucking humans.”
Mathias dismissed the rant with a snarl. “Tell me what’s going on, Sloane. You and Doyle. It was you with him that night at the docks? What were you two doing? What kind of deal were you trying to make that night?”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “My only hand in the deal was to make sure things went smoothly, and that no one got nosy that night.”
“You and Doyle,” Mathias pressed. “You killed all of those people in cold blood?”
“They were scum, all of them. Especially Doyle. I would’ve killed him soon enough too, but your female and the old man here did the job for me.”
“Why? Are you a scarab too?”
“Fuck no,” Sloane spat out. “My only affiliation is to myself.”
“Then how’d you get mixed up in all of this?”
Sloane grinned. “I got paid, friend. I got paid very fucking well to make sure a package reached its destination, and that there were no loose ends.” He chuckled. “Guess I’m the last one.”