Keeper of the Shadows - By Alexandra Sokoloff Page 0,69

onslaught. “You three can argue about it later.” That quiet tone of authority—coming from a six-foot-five-inch Elven homicide detective—silenced the cousins. “Right now we’re going to have to move the body again. We can restage the scene as a home invasion and process it that way for the official record, release it to the press. It will scare the hell out of Malibu residents, but it won’t hurt people to take a little more care with security, and it’s a story that fits the appearance of the scene.”

“Can I help?” Mick asked tensely.

Brodie turned to look at him, and again Barrie had the uneasy feeling that he was evaluating Mick, judging him. “We could use the help,” he admitted finally, but Barrie felt he wasn’t thrilled with the prospect. Then Brodie turned to the cousins. “And I want the three of you to go home,” he told them. “Take care of Barrie. Stay in each others’ sight. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

After they’d all nodded, he stepped closer to Rhiannon, and they spoke together in low tones.

At the same time Mick moved to Barrie’s side and took her hand as he leaned into her. “I’ll come over after we’ve finished here. If you want me to,” he said in a voice so low and hungry she could have fainted right there.

“I want you to,” she said softly.

He squeezed her hand hard and then stepped back from her. “Be careful,” he said, holding her eyes.

“Be careful,” Rhiannon said to Brodie and Brandt.

And they all parted uneasily.

Chapter 16

Sailor drove Barrie’s car home, claiming she shouldn’t drive “in her state,” and Rhiannon drove her own Volvo. They arrived at the House of the Rising Sun within seconds of each other and got out of the cars to stand in the drive, in the jasmine-scented moonlight beside the pool. The dogs, Sailor’s Jonquil and Rhiannon’s Wizard, bounded up joyfully to greet their mistresses.

“Thank God that’s over,” Sailor said as she wrestled Jonquil onto the pavement.

Barrie shook her head. “It’s not over. It was a warning.”

“But to whom?” Rhiannon asked, as she fended off her enormous Wizard. The three cousins and the dogs drifted toward the pool, which glowed aquamarine under the towering shadows of palm trees.

Wired as she was, Barrie found her legs were shaky. All those adrenaline crashes tonight, it’s a wonder I’m still conscious. She sat on a poolside divan to think over Rhiannon’s question. “A warning to anyone connected to Otherworld,” she finally answered. “Anyone who may have been in a position to expose things that the killer didn’t want exposed. Or anyone nosing around about it,” she added reluctantly, realizing she was talking about herself.

“That does it,” Rhiannon muttered. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is over.”

Barrie kept going; she couldn’t help herself. “The question is, what did Branson know?”

“To deserve to die like that...” Sailor shuddered.

“Exactly,” Barrie said. “Someone really doesn’t want the movie made. Branson was killed after his anonymous financial backing was announced, just this afternoon. Now there’s no director. No director, no movie. At least for now.”

“So, it’s a cursed movie again,” Rhiannon said.

“It sure is looking that way,” Sailor said. And despite the warmth of the soft night breeze, all three of them shivered.

Barrie stared into the depths of the pool. “It’s not a curse, it’s someone.” It was all too easy for her to call up the vision of the bloodbath inside the beach house, the director’s body, splayed and displayed. “Someone who has no fear, and no remorse, about killing...horribly.”

“It’s also someone strong enough to overpower a were,” Rhiannon pointed out.

“Or someone clever enough to take him by surprise,” Barrie said. “Whoever it was, there were no signs of forced entry, and no signs of a struggle on the first floor or the stairs. Which looks like Branson knew his killer, or felt safe with him or her. Enough to let them in, anyway.”

“What in the world were you doing there, anyway?” Sailor demanded.

“I got a text from DJ that Branson had agreed to see me and was at home tonight.”

“So, it was a setup,” Rhiannon said, anger flaring.

“No,” Barrie said. “I mean, I don’t think so. I mentioned to DJ earlier this evening that I wanted to talk to Branson about Otherworld. I think he was—well, it seemed like he was following up on that and had arranged an interview for me.” That was just a few hours ago, she marveled. It seemed like weeks.