CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jason woke suddenly, his eyes flying open as Mary’s gasp turned his blood to ice. He didn’t need to hear what followed to know that something was terribly wrong, and the softly spoken questions only confirmed his fear.
“What happened? When? Where is he now?”
Jason sat up, reached for his boxers, twitching a little when she touched his shoulder. “Could you drive me to Albany, please?”
“Of course. Where in Albany?”
“The police department. To identify a body.”
Jason’s mouth ran dry and he pulled his pants on quickly. “Whose?”
“My father’s.”
Jason’s cold blood flashed with ancient fire, and he was ready to shift right there in her bedroom and whisk her away; not to Albany, but somewhere safe until he could hunt down whoever harmed that sweet old man and tear his limbs from his body. It took all of his willpower to hold himself in his human form, and he said as evenly as he could, “Get dressed. I’ll be in the car.”
It killed him to leave her alone with the burden of the devastating news, but she took her opportunity for privacy and didn’t ask him to stay. He hunted down the rest of his clothes and found a box of granola bars in her cupboard, bringing that and a jug of orange juice. She wouldn’t want to stop to eat breakfast, but she would definitely need to keep her energy up.
He only had the car running for a few minutes before she emerged, looking calm and well put together. When their eyes met, she offered a watery, faltering smile, the corners of her mouth falling almost as soon as they turned up. That was all that betrayed her veneer; the only hint of the havoc wreaking inside of her.
Jason drove with purpose, at a loss to do anything besides honor her only stated request. It was his father’s brand of comfort; a proximate silence. It was still early enough to be dark outside, and he embraced the excuse to concentrate on navigation through the strange neighborhood and onto the parkway headed north.
They were only halfway there when the sun blasted the clouds pink, and in the strengthening light, he saw more of the strain etched on her face.
“How...uh...how are you holding up?”
“I don’t know. I’m just...numb...right now.”
“Numb. Well, numb is good, isn’t it?”
“Jason, are you more comfortable with silence?”
“No, I could talk. If you want to talk. Or we don’t have to, if you’d rather not.”
“I’d like to listen to some music.” She turned on the radio and selected the scan button. Classical music gave way to static and then the news broke through. By the time he heard her father’s name, he tried to change the station, but she slapped his hand away.
“It’s probably best if we don’t listen to this,” Jason tried.
“Shh. I want to hear it.”
Jason barely heard any of it at all. His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning out the reporter’s voice, and his attention was locked on the road.
“I’m going to pull over,” he finally said, thinking he’d be helping her.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The police were not releasing many details and so the news program had little to report; only that a body had been discovered that morning in the home of Neil Simmons and the police had not yet released an identification. There were signs of a struggle and the suspicion of foul play, but that was it. No information on who called the police, who found the body, or if there was anything missing.
“Maybe it’s not him,” Jason suggested with a note of forced optimism.
“A body was found in his house. He’s either the guy they take to the morgue or the guy they take to prison. And they called me to the morgue.”
Unable to argue the logic of that, he lapsed back into silence. She left the news on, though no updates would be reported. Not until the police spoke to her and had a positive ID and an investigation underway.
An investigation he planned to keep a close eye on. Not only for Mary’s benefit, but because Neil had been a good man and somebody Jason would have been happy to call a friend.
When they reached the county coroner, she allowed him to take her arm and escort her through the door. She gave her name to the receptionist, and a moment later, a deputy arrived to escort her to the back. Jason stuck close to her, determined to stay at her side until they forced him to leave.
A glass partition separated them from a small booth and a brightly lit room with a lone figure on the table. A man in crisp scrubs stepped forward and pulled the sheet down, allowing them a long look under the brutal light. There was no doubt about it. The man was Neil Simmons.
“Can you make an identification, ma’am?”
“Yes, it’s my father. It’s Neil Simmons.”
“Thank you, ma’am. My condolences for your loss. The detective is going to want to speak with you.”
She blinked. “Right now?”
“I’m afraid so, Ms. Simmons.” A tall man joined them in the booth, crowding them as he presented his business card. “I’m Detective Tandy. I’ve been assigned to investigate your father’s death.”
“Was he...was it murder?”
“Murder is a very big word, Ms. Simmons. It requires a lot of evidence to hold it up. Evidence I’m still gathering. Would you mind speaking with me?”
“Of course, I’ll help anyway I can. I’m just...I mean he’s…”
“What’s that?” Jason blurted, too surprised to hold his question until a more appropriate time.
“What’s what?” Tandy asked.
“That brown mark on his chest.” It was tough to make out from their angle, no more than a line a quarter inch thick visible above the sheet, but once Jason noticed, he couldn’t take his eyes from it. It almost looked familiar.
“Did your father have any tattoos or birthmarks on his chest?” Jason asked.
“No. Nothing like that. What is it, Detective?”
Tandy gestured at the man in scrubs, and he pulled the sheet down further, exposing the late man’s torso. Once visible, it became clear that it was no mark at all, but rather a massive burn stretching from his waist to his throat. His skin was scorched almost black, charred pieces hanging off the wound. The pattern was obvious to Jason: a distinctive brand.
“Oh my god,” Mary breathed. “What is that?”
“It’s pending further investigation. But it appears to be a burn,” Tandy said.
“A burn? From what? A blow torch?”
“That’s pending investigation as well.”
“Pending investigation?” Mary’s voice started to rise, her words hardening.
“Yes. We need to get the results of the autopsy. The scene needs to be processed. We need to complete our investigation. Then I’ll be able to answer your questions.”
But Jason didn’t need to wait for the forensic reports to know what killed poor Mr. Simmons. He recognized the blistered remnant of a dragon’s claw.