Page 17 of Butterfly Assassin
“What?”How can I be connected to the victim?“That’s impossible. I didn’t kill anyone!” His voice sounded a little shrill with panic.
Isaac studied him as he asked, “Does the name Charles Crossford mean anything to you?”
“No.” Aaron shook his head. “I don’t know anyone by—”Oh fucking hell.The guys he fought never used their real names, and neither did he. Could Charlie Cross, be Charles Crossford? It seemed too much of a coincidence otherwise, and in that case, Aaron knew exactly what forensic evidence connected him to the victim.
“Bollocks.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Frank parked outside the main Clapham Common pack buildings, and Michael consulted the folder in his lap. A grainy ID photo of Aaron Harper stared back at him. Age twenty-six, employed by the pack and worked in several of the pack-owned businesses. Even with the poor-quality photo, Michael could appreciate Aaron was hot.Maybe a murderer, too, he reminded himself and slapped the folder shut.
Staring out the passenger-side window, he pointed at the buildings next to them. “That’s Harper’s building, and Alpha Thomas’s flat is in the one next door.”
“And Harper’s with Thomas?”
“Apparently.”
Frank grinned. “How fortuitous.”
“For us.” Michael turned to face him. “I’m not sure they’ll be too thrilled with what we’ve got to say.”
“Too bad. We’ve finally got something to investigate, and I want to know every single thing Harper knows.”
Slipping the folder into his bag, Michael gripped the door handle. “Let’s go find out, then.”
Two shifters met them at the entrance to the building. Michael pulled out his warrant card and held it up; Frank did the same. “Detective Sergeants Archer and Coldwell to see Alpha Sam Thomas.”
They were waved through immediately. “He’s expecting you. Second floor, flat 3A.”
Michael already knew where to go, but he nodded his thanks and slipped his ID back into his pocket. They didn’t speak on the way up. Anything they said now could be overheard by someone in the building, so they’d done all their talking in the car on the way there.
Unlike the ground and first floor, which held four flats each, there were only two on the second. Clearly, alphas got double the room. He turned and raised an eyebrow at Frank, getting an eye roll in return.
“Bloody alphas,” Frank mouthed.
The second floor was quiet. In fact, the whole building had been quiet. Too quiet. He was just about to mouth it to Frank when he remembered. Shifter flats were soundproofed. For fuck’s sake, he needed to remember these things.
Michael glanced up at the camera outside Thomas’s front door and wondered if they were being watched. The thought made him uncomfortable, and he looked away quickly, rolling his shoulders to shake some of the tension out of them. Frank looked over at him but didn’t comment.
The click of the lock sounded loud in the hallway, and they both straightened. When the door opened to reveal someone other than Alpha Sam Thomas, Michael said, “And you are?”
“Isaac Lax.”
Ahh. “Pack beta.” He’d brushed up on the Clapham Common pack structure on the way over in the car.
Isaac gave a slight nod. “That’s right.” He stepped back and held the door open. “Come in, they’re waiting for you in the living room.”
Michael went inside first, Frank right behind him.
The short hallway was clean and tidy, coats hung up on a rack near the door, a couple of pairs of shoes placed neatly next to the mat. Michael wasn’t sure what he’d expected an alpha’s home to look like, but so far it was probably something like this. Being in charge of a pack of shifters, he imagined they needed to have good organisational skills.
Isaac closed the door behind them, and when Michael glanced back, he smiled and gestured for Michael to go ahead. The living room was big; a corner sofa and two armchairs filled the space nicely. Looking around as they walked over the threshold, Michael noted the photos on the walls, cushions and a throw on the furniture—it made it seem lived in, homey.
The three shifters looking his way were far less welcoming.
Alpha Thomas stood next to the unlit log burner, facing him and Frank. Two others sat on the sofa, looking over their shoulders. Michael recognised Aaron Harper straight away, andwow, his ID photo didn’t do him justice at all. Dark brown hair—shaved at the back and sides, longer at the front so it fell over his forehead. A strong, sharply defined jaw, full lips, and grey-blue eyes that were currently narrowed and fixed on Michael.
Michael swallowed and pushed away the stir of attraction before it became obvious to everyone in the room. This was so not the time. He focused on the person sitting next to Harper, who looked vaguely familiar. All shifters were fit-looking—muscles and a toned physique coming easy to them—and it took Michael a moment to place the second person on the sofa.
