I laughed darkly. “Yeah, I don’t think so, love. See, I basically own this fucking station, and I will not hesitate to tear it to the ground if I don’t get what I need. Now.”
“Beck.”
I turned to the rumbly voice, seeing Captain Decker stride through the security door.
“Thought I heard your dulcet tones out here. What seems to be the problem?”
Decker went way back with my father—I didn’t trust him at all, but I knew he could get me what I want.
“I need all personnel files, with their start dates, and any vacation time and so on.”
I knew the killer had been out of town when that heiress was killed, and it would be easy to see if anyone had vacation days. Or if it was a new employee.
Decker watched me for a minute, and Dylan stepped closer to my back, ready for whatever was about to happen.
“Give him whatever he needs, Francine,” he said, turning to the woman.
She sucked in a deep breath but didn’t argue.
Smart move.
I drummed my fingertips on the counter, glaring down at her while she frantically bashed away at her computer to pull up the files I’d so politely requested. Decker cleared his throat in a pointed way, and I took my sweet ass time shifting my attention to him.
“Can I ask what this is all about, Sebastian?” he said it as politely as he could, but there was that edge of condescension that said he didn’t take me anywhere near as seriously as my father. That was an issue I needed to fix and couldn’t think of any better time like the present.
“It’s Mr. Beckett to you, Decker,” I snarled, channeling my father like I’d never done before. “Let’s not forget who pays that healthy second salary for you.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Francine’s cheeks flush and her eyes bug out, but she was smart enough to keep her head down and mouth shut.
Captain Decker, on the other hand, didn’t look like he was handling the power dynamic well. I couldn’t blame him too much. Until now, none of us heirs had shown any interest in personally dealing with the hundreds, if not thousands, of employees on Delta’s less than above board payroll.
“Now see here—” the Captain started, his face an unattractive shade of red as sweat formed on his shiny forehead.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Dylan commented, cutting him off. “In case you forgot, Beck turns twenty-one in a couple of months. We all know Rome has pretty much handed over the keys to the kingdom already, though.” His voice was quiet, conversational even, but the threat was clear.
Captain Decker took a few very visible breaths, his nostrils flaring and his face still pink with indignation as he looked between Dylan and myself. Finally, he turned his attention back to Francine—the safe option. “Are you finished printing those files yet?” he demanded, and the woman hurried to collect a stack from the printer and hand them across the counter. “Mr. Beckett, Mr. Grant, if you’d care to join me in my office? I’m sure I can help you navigate these documents a lot quicker if we can understand what you’re looking for?”
I gave Dylan a small head jerk and followed Decker through to his office with me bringing up the rear.
“There was a murder in Texas a couple of months ago,” I started when the door was closed behind us. “A young heiress stabbed to death by the killer dubbed the ‘Osiria killer,’ due to the rare roses he leaves behind.”
Decker nodded. “I’m aware of this, we suspect that the gifts being left for Miss Deboise are from the same killer. Detectives Shephard and Riggs said they spoke with you and left a protection detail?”
“Some protection,” Dylan muttered under his breath, and Decker scowled. I could tell how badly he wanted to call Dylan out and demand an explanation, but he bit his tongue at the last second. Wise.
“We think the killer is one of your cops,” I announced with zero emotions. It was safer that way, for everyone involved. “Riley was taken tonight by someone driving a police car. So we need your records to show new recruits and also who might have taken leave over the time Cordelia June was murdered. They’d also have had access to Riley’s so-called protection detail. This bastard was following us tonight.”
Decker had paled so much he looked almost gray. “You don’t need to check these.” He tossed the stack of papers onto his desk then circled around to boot up his computer. A few quick seconds of tapping and he turned the screen toward us.
“Six weeks ago we took on seventeen transfers from out of state. Three of those came from Texas. All of them checked out, though. Clean as whistles.”
I sucked in a deep breath, staring at the screen where three officers’ mugshots were displayed alongside their basic details. “Shit.”
“Is that—” Dylan frowned at the screen then shot a look at me. “Did you know Johnson was back in town?”
“Fuck!” I shouted, spinning around and slamming my fist into the wall beside the door. The cheap drywall crumbled, and my hand went right through to the hollow interior, sending up a cloud of dust.
When I shook the shit off my hand and spun back around, Decker was looking at me with a stunned expression. “I take it you recognize Officer Johnson?”
