His hands clenched on the steering wheel. "Even if it means your safety?"
"My safety wasn't involved," she said softly. "If it had been, you would have been warned. The winds speak to you. You would have awakened before I slipped from the house."
He turned to her slowly. She was staring straight ahead, her features perfectly composed, but he could feel the pain radiating from her.
"Someone saw you leave the house," he said softly. "They used your need to run to frame you for a murder that's going to bring Jonas down on your ass. You're not alone anymore, Harmony. It's not you against the world. It's both of us. And maybe it's time you start considering that."
She was going to drive him to a stroke if this happened on a regular basis. Deliberately placing her life in danger, knowing the odds were stacked against her, and pitting herself against them anyway.
He wasn't experienced enough in the messages the wind brought him; he had yet to take his grandfather up on the training that would aid him in calling the wind to him. Until he knew he could protect her, knew the winds would call to him if she was away from him, in enough time to save her, then he couldn't relax.
As he turned the Raider onto the main road, he glanced at her silent profile. She was so f**king used to being alone, to answering to no one. This would be hard on her, and once she learned she had conceived, it would be even harder on both of them. Restraining the need to return home, to reassure her, Lance pressed his foot to the gas pedal instead and sped to the Mason home. The evidence against her could be too easily used. And Lance knew Jonas; he would use it. Whatever he wanted from Harmony, this would play right into his plans.
____________
The wound was consistent with the bartender's. Harmony hunched down and tilted her head, staring at where the cut began. From left to right, beginning just under the left ear and ending in an upward angle just below the right ear. The murderer was strong, strong enough to hold Tommy Mason still by his head while he made the cut. From the angle, she could tell Mason's head had been tilted back against something. Harmony braced her forearms on her knees and narrowed her eyes as she tracked the wound. It was very neatly made, precise. The blade was most definitely a K-bar, but it hadn't been specially modified. Her blade held an edge that even the Special Forces members who carried them didn't attain.
Someone hadn't done their homework. But it didn't surprise her that she was being framed. Someone knew she was here, which meant Jonas hadn't found his little spy at Sanctuary.
"You know, that position is just wrong on so many levels, Harmony." Harmony lifted her gaze to Lance as he stepped into the bedroom, eyeing her as she straddled Mason's body.
"The lighting is better," she murmured. "Someone isn't taking proper care of their blade. Come here."
He stepped over to the body.
Harmony used the pencil she had borrowed from a deputy earlier and pointed close to the jagged tear of the otherwise neat upper slice.
"There's a knick in his blade. A pretty good one. If you noticed earlier…"
"I noticed…" His voice overcut her words.
She gave him a quizzical look, meeting the narrowing of his gaze. She nodded slowly. Was the room bugged? She stared around the bare bedroom. There was a double bed; the sheets were filthy, the blankets torn. In a corner was a small dresser, other than that, the room was empty.
"Dave said Tommy Mason's stats show him as exactly…" She checked her notebook.
"Five feet, eleven inches. Your killer is six-four. Based on the angle of the bartender's wound, as well as this one, there won't be more than an inch plus or minus margin there."
She stared down closely at Tommy Mason once again.
"There are no defensive wounds on his hands, so he didn't have time to fight. The attack came from the back, definitely. The angle is different if you attack from the front. And there's a very faint earthy scent on his body. It's not natural to his particular stink. I'm guessing your killer spent some time lying in damp ground before he came in."
"Liza said Tommy hustled them into the basement so he could meet with someone. Someone he didn't want them to see. She said he was prone to do that though."
"No witnesses." She nodded. "It saved her life." She rose to her feet slowly.
"Is the killer a Breed?" Lance asked as she stepped clear.
"Doubtful. Breeds can't cover their natural scent if they touch anything. Whoever killed him was holding him real close and personal for several seconds. The scent would still be on his clothes."
"I have a report of a Breed who can hide that scent." He posed the idea carefully.
"When needed."
Harmony shrugged. "There's a few cases where scent was able to be temporarily disguised by a Breed. But not like this." She waved her hand to the body. "To hide all traces the Breed would have had to attack from the front. This was a sneak attack. And he held his victim for a second or two, savored the kill."
Lance glanced back at the body. "The blood on the front of his clothes," he said. "If the killer had dropped him immediately, it would have run in a different pattern."
"Yep." She stuck the pencil the deputy had given her behind her ear before brushing her hands off and staring around the room again. "Whoever it was is careful though." She pointed to the open window. "All the windows have been opened just enough to allow the air to circulate well, diffusing scents. He was going to make certain he couldn't be detected by me."
There were ways to hide from another Breed, tricks she had learned over the years in her battle to stay at least one step ahead of the Coyotes.
"We have a footprint beneath the window you went through the other night, but nothing else. He's careful, Harmony. Too damned careful."
The window could be coincidence, but hell, she just didn't believe in coincidences. Someone besides her friendly neighborhood Bureau Lion Breed was watching her.
"He knew I was out of the house this morning," she mused, keeping her voice low as Lance leaned in closer to her. "How many of these ass**les are watching me anyway?
It's a wonder they aren't tripping over each other. There's no way the killer could have been watching and then set up a meeting. No time. He would have needed a partner."