“What—” she tried, but he placed his fingers over her lips, hushing her. And in a flash, he was gone. Kris heard doors open and close throughout the apartment, and then he was in front of her again, eyes wild.
He grabbed her hand and drew her through the apartment to her bedroom. “Get whatever you need; you’re not coming back. I’ll have my family move the rest.”
“But… that guy… he’s dead?” she asked, stuttering.
Derrick nodded as he helped her shove clothes into a gym bag she’d had stored under the bed. “That guy is detective O’Brian, and his neck has been snapped,” he said point-blank.
She gasped in understanding, but then wondered again. Had Derrick—she shook the thoughts from her head. “Why are you here, Derrick?”
“I was here to make sure you were okay, and I’m glad I was. The rogue was probably waiting for you in the other room, but went out the bedroom window when he heard me.”
“But you were inside…” she trailed off, her voice nearly nonexistent.
“No,” he said in a calm tone. “I heard you scream and I came in through the open window.”
“But you were there… immediate. I didn’t leave a window open.”
Derrick stopped shoving clothes in the bag and glared at her. “What are you insinuating, Kristina? You think I snapped a man’s neck. You think I’m capable of that? Obviously the rogue came in through the window and left it open.”
Kris ran her hands through her hair, tears filling her eyes. “No, no, of course not. I’m just confused. Why would anyone kill him? He seemed so nice.” She sniffed back the tears. “When he’d arrived at my mother’s death, he was so kind to me. I remember him asking me what happened, but he never pressed me for details. He’d handed me a tissue and told me he had a daughter too, but she was grown.” The tears poured freely now as Derrick walked around the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “That was fourteen years ago, so he’s probably a grandfather,” she continued babbling. Unable to stop crying, she burrowed her face against his chest.
Derrick ran his hand through her hair. “We have to go, Kristina. We have to inform the police, but we have to get you out of here first. We’ll go in person.”
Kris lifted her head and stared at him. “Why do the people around me always have to die?”
He just shook his head. “I don’t know, love. Sometimes it just happens that way.” He picked up her bag and pulled her against his side. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll have everything packed up tonight.”
Unable to do anything but cry—for herself, for others, for all that had gone wrong in her life—Kris rested her head against Derrick’s chest, wondering again why anyone would kill the innocent detective. Had he known something he shouldn’t have?
Chapter Nineteen
Derrick directed Kristina to the passenger side of the Navigator, helping her up. Hearing the whine of fuel injectors as a key turned in an ignition to “alt” mode, he flashed a look without lifting his head in the direction of the sound. Parked six spaces away was the Ford Interceptor from earlier. A man with spiky blond hair, as his brother had described, sat behind the wheel. A film on the windshield diminished the view for a human, but he could see the man clearly. He didn’t look like a creatus, but he could never be sure. Some of them dyed their hair to look more human than their raven coloring, typical of their kind, but he also had a strong jawline and olive features. Derrick whispered, the detective is dead, but saw no reaction. So he decided to try another, knowing if it was the rogue, he’d want to taunt Derrick. You’ll never touch Kristina, he growled in a low breath only one of his kind could decipher.
Nothing, which meant that he wasn’t as bold as he had claimed the other evening, afraid that Derrick might attack him right now, or somehow, a FED of some sort had gotten wind of them again. No normal agency would care about an attempted suicide or even a homicide for that matter, unlike Detective O’Brian who wanted to know what was going on and how it affected Kristina.
No, if he was an agent, he had to be under the National Security Council. There were so many initials and different agencies they never knew where to look, but there was always one division tracking paranormal activity. Agents searched key words in police reports such as, angel, guardian, vigilante, superhero, alien, and any other words indicating that something supernatural had protected a citizen. Contrary to popular belief, according to Michael, they didn’t seem to bite on UFO sightings; they left that for the military branches. They were more interested in anything involving superhuman strength, always searching for the next weapon. His brother had someone working in every branch in the government and would always stay one-step ahead of them for creatus everywhere. Any family, whether across the nation or overseas, would call Michael if they thought an official was investigating them. And if Michael found any evidence, the entire family would disappear in a matter of days or weeks, depending on the severity of the examination.
Locking Kristina inside, Derrick trotted off to get his bike, sprinting once he was around the side of the apartment building. When he returned to his vehicle, he acted as if it was a struggle to lift the almost-four-hundred-pound bike and load it into the rear cargo area of his SUV.
He clicked the key fob to lower the lift gate then climbed onto the driver’s seat. He turned to Kristina. Her eyes were bloodshot, her normal contented expression cast downward. He lifted her hand and it was ice cold, as if she might be in shock. “We need to go to the police station, and not that you or I have anything to hide about the detective’s murder, but we need to get our stories straight.” He lowered his head to hold her eye contact. “So they don’t look at me too closely. We don’t allow authorities to retain or arrest creatus; we take care of our own. Okay?”
Kristina choked on a breath, but nodded.
“I have to make one quick call first, though.” Derrick pressed the SYNC button on the steering wheel and listened to the female voice ask for a command. “Call Mike,” he spoke, squeezing Kristina’s hand.
His brother answered, and Derrick spoke fast and low enough that Kristina could probably only catch a few words. He didn’t want her to worry.
The drum of his brother tapping on his keypad resounded through the phone before he spoke. “Take me off speaker,” Michael said before commenting on the situation. “I just texted Matt. He’ll be at the Somerville police station within the half hour. Be cool, brother. We’ll find this guy. But you know, he actually did us a favor.”
Derrick huffed out a breath in disgust instead of commenting on his brother’s callous remark.
Michael sighed through the phone. “I know how you feel about humans, but it’s true, Derrick. Sometimes I think you forget what our ancestors went through. They should have killed the lot of them before they almost murdered our kind to extinction.”
“That’s enough! Sometimes I think you forget our mother is human,” Derrick seethed, though swiftly and quietly so Kristina couldn’t understand. “Where are you, Michael?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” his brother spat in response.
“I asked you a question. I want to know where you, Vic, and Ryan are. For that matter, I want to know where every one of the family is when I get back from the police station. Do you hear me? Unless you ran off your mouth, no one else knew about the detective but you and Vic. And if someone is trying to fill your role as cleaner, I suggest you find the culprit before I assume it’s you.” Derrick stopped and pulled in a breath. “No one is to act without my authority. Do you understand me? Not even you.”