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"It's work, so she has no say. Besides, minding babies is a woman's business."
I snorted. "I bet you don't say that within earshot of her."
"I enjoy sex too much to ever say that within earshot of her, trust me on that. It doesn't counter the truth, though."
"You are such a sexiest at times."
"Totally. It is the way of the world."
"Maybe in the horse-shifter world, but not in the real one."
He waved a hand. "There may be a few enlightened souls in this world of ours, but trust me, deep down most men believe they are the superior sex."
"Believing and fact are two totally different things."
He grinned again. "I'm aware of that. And you will note that I've never mentioned my views to Sable."
"Wise move." Because I very much suspected Sable was one mare who packed a hell of a punch.
The results of my search flicked up on the screen. Meinhardt's was a surprisingly popular business name, with a good half dozen listings coming up. I clicked what appeared to be the latest link, and discovered the two women who ran Meinhardt were Hanna Mein and Jessica Hardt. Two woman running it, and two murderers running lose. Coincidence? It was always possible, but I just didn't think so. I clicked the next link down. The same women, same type of club, different state. As were the remainder. It seemed the two women had a habit of setting up a business and selling it nine months later.
I hunted down their license photos, sent them to the printer, and noticed with interest that one of the licenses was for a handicapped driver. Maybe it was coincidence, but those coincidences were beginning to add up. I started a search to see if either of the women had a police or Directorate record in any of the states they'd run their businesses in. I also ran a separate search for unsolved vamp murders in the time periods they'd owned their businesses. It was a long shot, but occasionally long shots did come in.
With the searches on the way, I walked over to the printer to get the pictures. Both women had dark hair, with one having green eyes and the other an odd brown that could almost be yellow. They could be described as plain looking, but given that these photos were only head shots, that didn't mean much. Hell, they could both have buxom, hourglass figures for all I knew.
What did strike me was the fact that one of them-Hanna Mein-bore a striking resemblance to the picture Joe had drawn of the blonde who'd recruited Kaz.
Which didn't mean she was guilty, but it was yet another pointer that the investigation was probably headed in the right direction.
I shoved the pictures into my pocket and headed out. The parents of the third murdered woman weren't home, so I went to the address of the first victim. And wondered if Kye would turn up, given these people were supposedly his friends. Or was that just another lie he'd spun?
Their home was a nondescript red-brick house that was surrounded by other nondescript red-brick houses. Fading roses littered the front garden and pencil pines lined the side boundaries, providing the illusion of privacy.
As I walked up the cracked concrete path to the front door, the blinds twitched aside and a freckled face briefly peeked out. It definitely wasn't the face of a parent-more like a younger brother.
I stopped on the porch and pressed the doorbell. The buzzer rang harshly and footsteps echoed, coming from the room where the blinds had twitched.
"What?" a surly voice said, without the door being opened.
"Riley Jenson, from the Directorate," I said. "I need to talk to your parents."
"They ain't here."
"Where are they, then?"
"Why do you want to know?"
I bit down on my impatience, trying to remember he was probably little more than thirteen or fourteen and alone in the house. Technically, he was doing the right thing-although the standard security screen door and the old wooden door behind it wouldn't have stopped many nonhumans if they really wanted to get into the house.
"I'm investigating your sister's death, and I need to ask them some questions."
"What type of questions?"
Okay, so this kid was seriously annoying, whether or not he was doing the right thing. "I'd really prefer not to be talking to two doors. Open the wooden door."
"You going to show me your ID?"
"I will." I grabbed my ID from my pocket and slapped it against the metal mesh. "You going to tell me your name?"
