Nightbloom (18 page)

I stepped through the revolving glass doors onto pristine, white tile and approached the receptionist’s desk, wishing with all my might that I didn’t run into him. I hadn’t visited the premises in a few years, not since my financial separation from my father and an inherent need to avoid his towering kingdom altogether. My sister had cut herself off from him when she had married Lucius. Father was one of the few public figures who had rejected the intermarrying of the races. Of course, after my brother, Demetrius, married Shakara Icewing, my father had mellowed in his anti-Morgon ways. Demetrius had never told me all that had transpired during his courtship to Shakara that somehow softened my father’s resolve. Though the animosity between both my siblings and our father had diminished over the past few years, resentment and old wounds still festered between them.

While my differences with him stemmed from refusing to accept his mandates to climb the corporate ladder he’d put in front of me, we still managed to have a civil relationship. The best way to avoid arguments was to steer clear of anything that might bring up his overbearing dominance and my willful disobedience. This is why I rarely stepped foot in his place of business. But nothing was going to keep me from my goal today.

I stepped up to the lobby receptionist’s desk. “Hi, Cara.”

“Hi.” Her vacant smile told me she didn’t recognize me.

“It’s Moira Cade. I haven’t been here in a while.”

“Oh! Hi, Miss Cade.” She straightened her spine and fiddled with her blouse. “So good to see you. Um, I apologize I didn’t recognize you. Should I buzz your father and let him know you’re here?”

She blinked rapidly. Good. She was nervous. I needed her to be so she wouldn’t question why I needed to visit Mr. Cremwell.

“Actually, no. I need to speak with Bennett Cremwell in Technology. But I’m not sure what floor he’s on. Could you look up his workstation for me?”

“Of course, I can.” Scanning her comm screen, she tapped something onto her keyboard lickety-split. “Yes. He’s on the thirty-fourth floor in Audio-Visual Systems. Room B sixteen. Would you like me to call him down for you?”

“No. Thank you. I don’t want to drag him from his workspace. I’ll just go right up.”

I headed for the elevator before she could ask any more questions. A man in a sleek, navy-blue suit held the elevator door for me.

Early forties, well-groomed, and reeking of money, he turned a confident smile my way. “Floor?”

“Thirty-four, please.” I kept my eyes straight, watching his reflection in the glossy doors when they squeezed shut. Taking in my shabby appearance, he probably thought I was a visiting friend of someone in the building. His eyes wandered the length of my jean-clad legs. I’d grown accustomed to people staring because of my height. What I could never tell by their inspection was whether a man admired a tall woman or thought them freakish. It didn’t really matter. I stood even straighter, drawing his gaze to my eyes. His lips tilted into a wolfish smile. Thankfully, the elevator dinged, and I stepped out before the cradle-robbing businessman could strike up a “casual” conversation.

I strolled down B wing, ignoring glances from workers in their plexiglass cubicles, then stopped in front of room sixteen. The young man hunched over his desk, head in hands and staring at nothing, must be my guy. I knocked three times on the open door before entering and closing the door behind me. With messy brown hair, heavy bags under his eyes, and unkempt clothes, he sat behind the desk, sagging like an empty husk.

“Hi. Mr. Cremwell?”

Glazed, blood-shot eyes stared back, searching me for recognition and finding none. “Do I know you?”

“No.” I extended my hand. “My name is Marina Creed. I have a few questions if you have a moment.” I certainly wasn’t going to use my real name. Hearing the boss’s daughter’s name might undo him altogether. He appeared to be hanging on by a thread. I couldn’t blame him.

He didn’t extend his own hand in greeting. Stress had obviously withered him down, making him fidgety and unfocused. I took a seat. “I wanted to talk to you about Maxine Mendale.”

He flinched. “Maxine?”

I nodded. “I’m a reporter for
The Herald
at Gladium University. I’ve been following the disappearances and the murders of the three women. The first two were students at GU. Was Maxine a student, too?”

Dazed, he stared at me a moment. “Um, no. Maxine worked at a salon in the Warwick District on Lexington Avenue.”

I flipped open my notebook and started jotting notes. Some of the stores in that area served both Morgon and human clientele. “Did she have Morgon clients at the salon?”

“I’m not sure. She never really said.” He leaned forward, a sad smile creasing his pale face. “We didn’t talk much about work.”

“How did you two meet?”

“We have a mutual friend who introduced us at his club, Paramour.”

I forced my eyes on my paper, refusing to show the jolt of shock that rocketed down my spine with this new discovery. Paramour just happened to be owned and managed by Mikal Lennox, my brother’s best friend. And my ex-boyfriend of three years. I frowned and scrawled a note, feeling an acute headache coming on.

“Was the owner, Mikal Lennox, out with you on the night Maxine disappeared?”

“No. He doesn’t like the Vaengar Games.” A wave of relief washed over me. Though I’d hardly believe Mikal capable of any involvement in such a crime, it was nice to eliminate him right off the bat. “We actually started out at his club that night, but Maxine wanted to be adventurous. Said she wanted to check out the Morgons’ idea of fun. Like a lot of girls these days.”

He swallowed hard. I did, too. Poor Maxine never bargained for the adventure she would get that night. Nor did she deserve it. I reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. His weary expression softened at my touch.

“I know this is difficult. Just a few more questions, if that’s okay with you.”

“I already talked to the police about all this.” He pulled away, combing his hands through his hair, his brow scrunching into a deep frown. “How did you know I was Maxine’s friend anyway?”

He
would
have to make that astute realization now. I hated lying, but I couldn’t tell him I had one of my best friends snooping around at the precinct for me.

“I have a few close friends in Nightwing Security.” Actually, I was related by marriage to the owners, but general knowledge was better at the moment. “They were there that night. They found out your name.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his hands clenched together on top of the desk. “It was Morgons that did that to her,” he whispered, voice laced with hatred.

“I know, Bennett, but I can guarantee you it wasn’t the likes of my friends. The Nightwing clan wants justice for Maxine and the other girls, just as I do.”

He must’ve seen the sincerity in my eyes. I hated to push people when they were stifled by grief, but time was of the essence. These killers wouldn’t wait for us to mourn one girl before taking another. And I feared the repercussions of not capturing them soon. Gladium had become a haven for both races in recent years, a place where fear and ignorance had slowly faded into the background. And now, the Devlin Butchers were bringing all the prejudice and fear back to the forefront, rebuilding a wall we’d successfully torn down, brick by slow brick.

I implored Bennett with an expression I hoped conveyed both sympathy and earnestness. “Please.”

He cleared his throat and gave me a short nod. “What else do you want to know?”

A swell of triumphant air filled my chest as I sped through the rest of my interview. I’d have good ammunition to get the favor I needed from my sister at dinner tonight.