When Will I See You Again (13 page)

He wished he could’ve gone with him to hear the questions, learn what was going on, but he knew enough about police procedures to know that wasn’t about to happen. He had no choice but to wait for Raoul to come back—hopefully having been released, and without having been charged with murder.

On the other hand, if he
was
charged, then…What then? He pushed the thought aside. He’d deal with it later. First things first.

A quick glance at the time told him he needed to call the office— pronto—and let his editor know what was going on. And he needed to call Miller and chew him out—once he ascertained his
friend had gotten home safely the night before and wasn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

An irrational thought lit his brain for all of two seconds.

Namely that Miller was dead and that his was the murder they wished to discuss with Raoul. He dismissed it, telling himself that was just crazy thinking. Besides, he knew just how to kill two birds with one stone. Pulling out his cell phone, he punched in the number for the
Chronicle
.

His irrational theory was laid to rest when Miller himself answered his call.

“You’re alive and well!”

“Of course I am.” Miller chuckled. “Which is more than I can say for you. Where the hell are you, and why aren’t you here?”

“Miss your morning frappuccino?” Alexx teased.

“No, but I had to get it myself.” Alexx could hear the pout in his friend’s voice, but he knew it was all put-on. “Hey look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving last night. I got… Well, it got…sort of complicated.”

“That’s okay, I didn’t expect you to babysit me or anything. I was just worried if you got home all right.”

“I did. What about you? Did you hook up with someone?”

Alexx hesitated for just a fraction of a second. “Not like you think. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you what I can when I can, but right now I need to talk to Mr. Randolph. Is he in?”

“Sure is. Promise you’ll give me the scoop?”

“Cross my heart.”

“All right. Hang on, I’ll connect you.”

Alexx was entertained by the cheery notes of Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” as he waited for his editor-in-chief to pick up.

He waited so long that the song changed to another ragtime
selection and he was sure the call was either going to disconnect or return him to the operator, when a deep voice answered. “Earl Randolph, can I help you?”

“Mr. Randolph, it’s Alexx. Alexx Jameson,” he added hastily—it would be embarrassing to have him ask Alexx who.

“I’m sorry I’m not there at work, but there’s been a development. I mean, I’m following a story for the
Chronicle
. I thought it was too important not to follow through.”

“Slow down, slow down, son.” Alexx could hear a muffled sound, as though he’d partially covered the receiver and was speaking to someone else in the room. Probably Glenn, he reasoned. “Okay, now start again. You’re working on the article?

But that was supposed to be on your own time. What exactly are you following?”

Alexx appreciated that at least he was newsman enough to listen, in case there was something to hear. Somehow he didn’t think Mr. Randolph would be disappointed.

“Mr. Randolph, it’s not that story, but it came about when I was doing research for that one. And yes, I realize you did tell me not on company time, but…” The words tumbled out, as he tried to explain the situation to his editor-in-chief without making him angry for overstepping his bounds. Thinking quickly, he decided to gloss over the fact that he’d been at Charisma, in case his boss remembered he was underage. “I’m at the police station right now.

I came here with Raoul Marchand. They wanted to talk to him about a murder that took place last night. I’m waiting to get the details.”

“Murder? Raoul Marchand?” That got his attention, all right.

“Who, what, where, when, why?”

“All the things I’m waiting to find out,” Alexx admitted. Just
then, he felt a tap on his arm. A uniformed policeman stood over him.

“Are you Alexx?”

Alexx nodded, momentarily dumbstruck. What now? He heard Mr. Randolph’s voice in the background. “You were right to suggest this kid as a reporter. He’s got the instincts, all right.”

Huh? Who’s he talking to?
He had no time to think, the policeman was standing right there, talking to him.

“The chief would like to see you in his office, if you’d like to come with me.”

Something big must be going down.
He turned back to the phone. Everything else could wait.

“Sorry, Mr. Randolph, I have to go. The chief of police wants to talk to me. I’ll call you back.” He hastily ended the call. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard Mr. Randolph spluttering something when he broke the connection. He shoved the phone back in his pocket, and scrambled to his feet, following the policeman toward the back of the station.

His heart beat nervously as he was shown into the office of the chief of police. What in the world could they possibly need him for? If only he had a voice recorder. How handy would that be?

Much better than mere notes. He made a mental memorandum to get one as soon as possible. At least he had his notebook, although he’d not actually taken any useful notes last night. In fact, he vaguely remembered doodling in it—if he wasn’t mistaken, Raoul’s name. He would have considered the night to be a complete failure, if not for the aftermath in the small cabin in the woods. Well, minus the attack in the parking lot, and Raoul being injured.

“You’re Alexx, am I right?”
“Yes, sir.” Alexx nodded. “Alexx Jameson.”

“I’m Chief Drummond. I believe you know Raoul. Won’t you come in, please, and have a seat?” The chief stood as Alexx entered the room, and waved him toward the other side of his desk.

Alexx’s eyes met Raoul’s. He clenched his hands, digging his nails into his palms, to keep from acting on his first instinct, which was to throw himself at the other man’s feet.
Calm down, Jesus Christ.

He felt like a hormonal schoolboy in the throes of his first crush.

Raoul pulled up a chair alongside his own and nodded toward it. Alexx dropped bonelessly into the seat, gripping the arms. He looked from one man to the other expectantly. Either he was being hypersensitive, or the air between them seemed rather charged.

“I understand you had quite the perilous experience last night, Alexx.”

“Uh, y-yes sir,” he stuttered, trying not to glance at Raoul. Was that what this was about? Raoul told him about the attacker? He hadn’t even thought about it today, too wrapped up in finding himself curled about a naked Raoul to give much thought to his assailant. But he supposed he should think about it, press charges even. Now how to tell the tale without giving anything away?

“Yes, sir,” he repeated, attempting to will his voice to sound more confident than he felt. “I was attacked, or almost attacked, by a strange man in the parking lot of Charisma.” So much for not admitting to being at the club. Maybe if he played it cool, the chief wouldn’t think to question him about his age.

“Start at the beginning, please, Alexx, and tell me what happened.”

Alexx took a deep breath, trying to arrange his thoughts into something even slightly coherent. He shifted his position in his chair. His leg brushed against one of Raoul’s. Instantly, his tremors
ceased, warmth spreading through him at the contact, confidence flowing through him once more. He didn’t dare glance at Raoul, afraid of the censure he might find. However, he couldn’t help but notice the man never moved, or broke the connection.

He began with his being in the parking lot, from the moment when the man popped up seemingly out of nowhere, through the chase into the woods, ending with his defense by Raoul, in wolf form. He didn’t think that he was telling this man anything he didn’t already know, about Raoul being a werewolf. It was too common knowledge in Crescent Bay. If he, as an outsider, knew, then surely the chief of police knew, too.

However, it seemed that the information of Raoul’s injury was being heard for the first time.

“You were injured?” Chief Drummond turned his troubled gaze to Raoul, who only shrugged.

“A minor wound, nothing more. Already healed.”

Shaking his head, the chief turned back to Alexx. “Do you have any idea what time this happened?”

That wasn’t an easy question, especially considering that Alexx had been drinking last night—a fact that he certainly didn’t wish to bring up. He furrowed his brows in thought, trying to put the events of the evening into some semblance of chronological order that he might be able to assign some sort of a time frame.

And then he realized something that helped to pinpoint everything a little more accurately. But how to reveal it without mentioning why he and Miller were being questioned on their entry to the club? And admitting to why Raoul’s presence had been requested? This would take some delicate tightrope walking, skirting that fine line between telling the truth and confessing to breaking the law.
“I do remember one thing. We…er…ran into Raoul right before moonrise. Very close to moonrise.”

“Yes, we…ran into each other just before I left for the change.”

Alexx darted a glance at Raoul. The other man’s beautiful gray eyes were fixed on him. It was obvious he was wondering why the subterfuge, but he wasn’t offering any information that might be detrimental to Alexx’s situation. For which Alexx was immensely grateful.

“Very well, go on.” The chief nodded.

Alexx had to tear his gaze away from Raoul before he got lost in it.
Focus, please, focus.

How long had they sat with Foster in the club before he left them to their own devices, before they went to the gallery and he lost Miller, and then wandered from room to room, party to party, before he’d decided enough was enough. Assuming moonrise to be somewhere around nine o’clock—a time which would be easy enough to verify—allowing a couple of hours for the hobnobbing, snacking, and sundry drinking he’d indulged in, that made it somewhere around eleven. He knew it had to be well before midnight, because he’d told himself that unless he was in the middle of something, he needed to leave by midnight, having to work the next day and not wanting to be late.

Little did he know just what he was going to end up being in the middle of that would prevent him from keeping his word to himself.

So it was give or take eleven when he left, maybe ten minutes or so after that before he was first accosted by the stranger, a few more minutes until the chase, the encounter with the wolf, and the knifing. After that time, he and Raoul had not parted company. Not once. Not until they’d gotten to the police station today.
Alexx was perceptive enough to realize that considering why they’d brought him in to the station, Raoul needed an alibi, although he had no idea for what time. He could provide that alibi, although he’d never lie to do it, but he could give his best estimate of what time they’d been together.

“I’d say that from about eleven fifteen on, until just now, when we arrived here, I was in the company of Raoul Marchand. Well, him and/or his wolf,” he amended, for the sake of accuracy.

The chief gave Raoul an odd look. Alexx stole another glance at Raoul. He thought he saw a faint reddish tinge to his complexion that hadn’t been there before. He maintained his stoic expression, his eyes giving nothing away.

“Is that accurate, Raoul? You were with this young man from about eleven fifteen last night, until Ivan brought you here just now?”

“Yes, I was, Jon.”

Raoul is on a first-name basis with the chief of police?
Why was Alexx not surprised?

“You have my alibi. May I go now? I’m sure Alexx is willing to sign a statement corroborating what he just said, as will I. Is there anything else you need from us?”

“Actually, yes. I’d like you to take a look at a photograph of the victim, tell me if you recognize him.”

Alexx heard a growl that emanated from deep in Raoul’s throat. The chief didn’t seem either dismayed or intimidated by the sound.

“Alexx, would you take a look at this first?”

Alexx rose. He leaned across the desk and took the photograph from the chief’s outstretched hand, as a suspicion began to grow.

What if the dead man was the mysterious attacker? Naturally the
police would wonder about Raoul’s involvement with him, given the circumstances of their meeting. But he also knew Raoul hadn’t killed him. The man had been very much alive when he ran away from them, after trying to kill them. So that left the question of who
did
kill him? And why had he attacked Alexx in the first place?

Dropping back into his chair, he took the photograph fearfully.

He’d never seen a photograph of a dead man before. He told himself he needed to get used to it, if he was going to make a good crime reporter. The man appeared to be asleep, almost peaceful.

Alexx realized that the chief had never even said how he’d died.

He peered at him closely. There was no way this was the man in the woods, though. This man looked younger. And he had dark hair, not light. He was thinner, too. Definitely not the same man at all. Not sure if he should be disappointed or relieved, he passed the photograph to Raoul, watched him examine it.