Текст книги "Blood Drive"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Forty-Three

I’m not sorry he’s dead.

Frey crouches over the body. He watches until I back off, and then he turns away, too. He slinks toward the window and leaps through. When I look outside, I see him lying under the canopy of a shade tree, head resting on front paws like a pet tired after a long day of play.

I rest my cheek against the glass. The coolness is a balm on my feverish skin. I’m waiting for the vampire to retreat and the human Anna to reappear. It takes longer than it should. Is this an indication that I’m becoming more animal-if that’s in fact what being a vampire is all about-and less human? Not a comfort.

Finally, my pulse slows and my blood cools. I return to Darryl’s body and stand over it. He has a look of surprise on his face. I try to dredge up pity or compassion. I can’t. He was a child pornographer, he killed Trish’s mother and admitted being an accomplice to Barbara Franco’s murder. He deserved what he got.

But I have to clear my head and decide what to do next. Bradley is out there as well as the two who killed Barbara and molested Trish. My original thought to torch the place would be the easiest way to destroy the computers and the videos, not to mention a way to explain Darryl’s death. But there may be evidence on those computers to tie Bradley in with Darryl-bank records or e-mails, maybe. As it stands now, my word is all that I have to offer as proof that Bradley is involved.

I have to take the computers. I trudge back to the bedroom. Besides the laptop Darryl took from me earlier, there are three computer systems and a digital camera. I also find a box of disks and some files in a cabinet in the closet. I bring everything into the living room and pile it on the coffee table. I’ll pull the car around to load up.

When I look for Frey, to let him know what I’m doing, he’s no longer under the tree in the backyard. No matter. If he’s not waiting for me at the car, I’m sure he’s somewhere nearby. How far can a panther get in broad daylight? Or a near naked man, for that matter?

I reach into my pocket for the car keys.

The pocket is empty.

Shit.

I glance around the living room.

They could have fallen out of my pocket in here, or outside when I was dodging bullets.

I don’t find them near Darryl’s body or in the bedroom. That leaves only one alternative. I yank open the front door-and find myself face to face with Bradley. He’s not alone.

“Well, well,” I say. “Special Agent Bradley.” I look past him to the two young thugs at his side-thugs I recognize from Beso de la Muerte. “And you’re Darryl’s friends. Come on in. He’s inside.”

The expression on Bradley’s face is part confusion and part distrust. He looks past me, but from this vantage point, Darryl’s body is hidden from view.

I step back. “Come in.”

Bradley steps around me, carefully, as if afraid physical contact might have an unpleasant effect.

He has no idea.

He hasn’t uttered a word. And neither have his companions. They stand awkwardly outside, not moving to join Bradley. I don’t know whether they’re shocked because they didn’t expect to see me at Darryl’s or afraid because they know what I am.

I hear a sharp intake of breath behind me and know Bradley has found Darryl.

“You two better wait out here,” I say, shutting the door before they can react. I snap the deadbolt in place. Let them run. I know where they live.

I rejoin Bradley in the living room. He’s knelt down beside Darryl, his fingers probing for a pulse. When he hears me behind him, he makes a fumbling move to get up, at the same time reaching for the gun under his jacket.

But I stop his hand with my own, forcing his arm up and back.

He resists at first, but all I have to do is lean into him to get the desired result. If he continues to fight, I’ll snap his arm off at the shoulder.

He knows the drill. He stops fighting and sags against me to relieve the pressure. His breathing becomes sharp, shallow gasps of protest. “You’re breaking my arm.”

I use my free hand to slip his gun out of its holster and toss it out of reach. Only then do I let him go, shoving him so hard he stumbles backward. He lands in an awkward heap on the couch.

He straightens up, grabs his shoulder and tries to knead away the pain. His eyes travel to Darryl’s body. “Who killed him? It looks like he’s got a broken neck.”

“You want me to show you how it was done?”

His expression alters from unsure to calculating as he looks over the stuff on the coffee table. “You plan to turn this over to the police?”

“Does that make you nervous?”

He smiles. “Why should it? There’s nothing to connect me to Darryl. I came here to serve a warrant.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. “Right. Without your partner. And those two outside are undercover cops, I suppose.”

He shrugs and then winces. His hand goes again to his shoulder. “I have no idea who those two are. They were here when I arrived.”

He’s too smooth. I have nothing to use as leverage against him, and if he did confess, with no witnesses, how would I prove it?

The only chance is the one I’m going to have to take-turn the computers over to the police. Maybe Darryl wasn’t as careful to shield Bradley as he thinks.

I roll my shoulders. “Guess we’d better call Chief Williams, then, huh? Let him sort it out.”

He tilts his brow and looks up at me. “How are you going to explain that?” His gaze drifts to Darryl and returns to me. “It’s no secret you’ve been protecting that kid, Trish. What’s to stop the cops from deciding that you killed Darryl, especially when they see what’s on those computers?”

He seems to be gearing up for something. I stay quiet and wait for him to continue.

He leans toward me. “I can fix this. You could walk out of here right now. I’ll get rid of the computers. Darryl’s body, too. I’ll go back to Boston. It will be as if none of this happened.”

“What about Trish? She’s suspected of killing her mother. Can you fix that?”

He jerks a thumb toward the front door. “Those two outside. They killed Barbara. We can fix it so they’re blamed for Carolyn, too. In fact, I can set everything up. Get them to confess and then arrange an accident.”

“Confess to whom?”

“To you, of course.With me as witness. It’s perfect.”

It is. Almost. The only thing that’s missing is Bradley at my feet with his throat torn out.

“Why am I supposed to believe you’ll do all this?”

“Darryl let things get out of hand,” he replies. “I didn’t sign on for murder.”

“No, you just signed on for the sexual exploitation of a young girl. An underage girl, in case you forgot.”

The edge in my voice takes some of the eagerness out of Bradley’s expression. “No one got hurt. Not really. If you saw the videos, you know. She liked it, and-”

That’s as far as he gets. I grab him by the scruff of the neck and heave him off the couch and down to the floor.

“Well,” I whisper, my teeth at his jugular. “At least you’ll die knowing that Darryl wasn’t lying when he told you what I was.”

Bradley tries to wriggle out of my grasp. I pin him down with one hand and grab his face with the other. I hear him screaming, but it’s from far away. I wrench his head to the side and kiss his neck with my lips. Then I bite down. Hard.

The first lush, warm mouthful of his blood sends fire raging through mine. I push against him, my body moving to the rhythm of his heartbeat. The blood drive. I’ve never felt so alive.

An arm encircles my waist.

I rip it off.

It comes back, forceful, strong. Stronger than I. I’m torn away from Bradley and flung down on the couch.

Like a cat, I land on all fours, then spring to my feet. Rage, unrelenting in its intensity, propels me back toward my prize. Bradley is trying to get up. He has a hand pressed against his neck, but blood oozes between his fingers.

I smell it. I feel it.

It belongs to me.

Only one thing stands between us.

Frey.

Chapter Forty-Four

“Get away.”

“Anna.” He whispers my name, over and over. And words I don’t recognize or understand.

He’s in human form. His voice rises and falls in the litany of a chant.

I fight it, but he’s holding me immobile with his voice, casting a spell that binds me to this spot.

He repeats the words like a mantra until he sees something spark in my eyes. Then, he stops.

Released, the fury drains from my limbs in a rush that leaves me weak and disoriented. He steps toward me, catching me before I fall, and lowers me to the couch.

“What the hell was that?” Bradley’s voice is shaky, hesitant.

I blink up at Frey. He’s fully dressed. He must have gone to the car and come back. I don’t know yet if I’m glad that he did or not. My body reverberates with the hunger, and my voice rattles in my throat. “That’s a good question. What the hell was that?”

Bradley pushes Frey to one side. “You crazy bitch. You bit me.” He looks at Frey. “You saw her attack me. I’m going to press charges. She must have killed Darryl, too. It’s a good thing you got here when you did. You’re my witness.”

He stops, frowning, maybe wondering for the first time just how Frey came to be here. And how much he heard before making his appearance.

Frey smiles. “You’re right to be worried. I’m a witness all right. But not for you.”

Bradley takes a step back, and his eyes sweep the room, looking, no doubt, for his gun.

“Don’t bother,” Frey says. “The gun is gone.”

I glance at the door. “Did you see the two outside?”

Frey nods. “They’re secured. I happened to mention how Bradley here said that they were responsible for all the murders. I also pointed out that when Williams gets here, it would be to their advantage to speak with him first.”

Bradley narrows his eyes. “Williams is on the way?”

“And your partner is with him.” Frey glances at his watch. “You have about five minutes to come up with a better story than the one you concocted against Anna.”

“Well,” he says. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Let’s just say I was motivated. Because of Boston.”

Bradley ignores the comment. From the expression on his face, it looks as if he’s weighing his options, deciding which story paints him in the best light.

I’m watching all this from the couch, fighting the compulsive desire to launch myself again at Bradley. Only the knowledge that my limbs will not respond, that my legs will not support my weight, keeps me rooted to this spot. I’m panting, shaking all over, unable to stop the wild fluttering in the center of my chest. The fluttering echoes in my head. I look at Frey and his eyes are on me. Whatever is happening to me, he is doing it.

“Stop it.” It comes out like a croak.

Frey responds by tilting his head a little to the side. “They’re here.”

And as soon as the door opens and Donovan walks in, I’m released. The shaking stops, my heartbeat slows. I can sit up.

Donovan goes to Darryl first. He bends over the body and checks for a pulse. He turns Darryl’s head gently. “Bruising from perforated blood vessels in the neck, soft structure crushed. His neck is broken.” He stands up and faces his partner. “Looks like he was attacked by a big dog.”

Bradley points to me. “Ask her what happened. She was here. Jesus, look what she did to me?” He drops his hand from his neck and shows the wound. “She must be on some crazy shit.”

“You saying she killed him?”

“Who else? I got here and found him like that. She was the only one here.”

“Why?” Donovan asks softly.

“Why what?”

“Why were you here?”

Bradley sucks in a breath. “I followed her.”

“In what? Your car is at the police station.”

Donovan is moving away from Darryl and toward his partner. “The two guys outside. Who are they?”

“I don’t know. They got here the same time I did.”

“That’s not what they said. You brought them here. To see Darryl.” He glances at the body. “I recognize him, Tom. He’s the kid of that guy we busted in Boston. The one you said had nothing to do with his dad’s business. The one you let off.”

He looks around, awareness and disappointment creeping into his expression. He picks up one of the tapes from the pile on the coffee table and holds it up. “You went into business with him. Christ. You went into business with him.”

Bradley spreads his hands. “How can you think that? I came here for the same reason you did, to shut the scumbag down. I don’t know what those two kids told you, but whose word are you going to accept? They raped and murdered a fourteen-year-old girl. Probably killed Carolyn Delaney, too. There isn’t anything to connect me to-”

“The laptop.” I’m not sure I’ve spoken the words aloud.

Both men turn to me.

“What?” Donovan says.

“The laptop. He took it from me in the café this morning. His prints will be on it. He brought me here while you were at that meeting with Williams and the mayor.”

Bradley waves my words away with the brush of a hand. “That’s ridiculous.”

Donovan pulls latex gloves from the pocket of his jacket. “Where is it?” he asks me.

I point to the pile of videos on the table. “Under there.”

He pulls it out and holds it carefully at the edges.

Bradley takes a step back. “If my fingerprints are on it, it doesn’t mean a thing. I could have touched it when I got here and found her with the body.”

“Then shoved it under this pile of crap?” Donovan shakes his head. “I don’t fucking believe this, Tom.”

“It’s going to take more than fingerprints-”

But before he can finish, the front door opens. Williams and two cops in uniform walk in. “I just had an interesting conversation with your buddies outside, Bradley. I think it’s time we head downtown.” He motions to the cops, who step to Bradley’s side. “I’m sure you won’t mind if these gentlemen take your weapon.”

Frey has been standing quietly beside the couch. Now he speaks up. “I have his gun,” he says. “He dropped it.”

He holds it out butt first. Williams nods and takes it. For the first time, he looks at me. “The Medical Examiner is on the way. Maybe you and Frey should go.”

Bradley stiffens. “You’re letting her go? She attacked me. She probably killed Darryl. You’re arresting me, and you’re letting her go?”

Williams waves a hand. “About now, I’d be worrying about saving my own ass, Special Agent Bradley. As we speak, the DA is contacting the Feds. They’ll be examining your financial records. And Darryl’s. I bet the two of you weren’t as clever as you think.”

One of the cops produces a pair of cuffs. Bradley pulls away, but the other cop closes in on him and he sees he has no choice. When he’s secured, they prod Bradley toward the door. Donovan follows, holding the laptop.

Neither says good-bye.

Williams waits until they’re gone to turn his attention to me. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”

I start to say of course I’m all right. It’s a reflex action. But Frey’s eyes stop me. In an instant, I’m watching what happened with Darryl, and then with Bradley. He’s projecting it into my head exactly the way he showed me Trish in the park. And I’m overcome with the same rage and desire to kill that renders everything else inconsequential. I would have killed both of them. I wanted to.

I wanted to.

Williams touches my arm. He is sitting beside me on the couch. I realize then that I was seeing through Williams, not Frey.

You saw it?

Frey showed me, I showed you.

The broken psychic connection. I pass a hand over my face. What is happening to me?

Nothing that you can’t learn to control. But you have to start now. What you did to Bradley will take some explaining. I’ll take care of it, but it can’t happen again.

I exposed myself as a vampire.

He nods. You have great powers, Anna. You can use those powers for good. But it takes training to learn to control the hunger. You have fought so hard to retain your humanity. You must fight to control the other side of your nature, too, or it will turn you into what you fear most.

I thought I could control it.

Frey saw. He stopped you from killing. Twice.

Then he killed. Darryl.

In his animal form. He feared he could not stop you with Darryl. The fire was in your blood. He did it so that you would not.

And what if I had killed him?

Then you would have been lost.

I don’t understand.

Williams stands and takes a step away. When he turns to look at me, his eyes are flat, cold. Settle things with Trish. And your parents. It’s time your training began. Don’t wait too long, Anna.

He looks at Frey. Frey takes my arm. “The medical examiner is here. We’ll leave through the back.”

I push myself off the couch. When I glance back at Williams, he’s already heading for the front door.

“Wait.”

He turns.

“What about Trish and the videos on those computers? What will happen to them?”

“They’re evidence, Anna. I can’t promise they won’t be used in court.”

He must read the distress on my face because he adds, “If we can get Bradley and those two outside to deal, it’s possible there’ll be no trial. I’ll speak to the DA. It’s all I can do.”

Chapter Forty-Five

Frey and I slip over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. The presence of police cars assures us that even if the neighbor is at home, he isn’t likely to come outside to see what’s going on. We wait until we see the crime scene techs and medical examiner disappear into Darryl’s house, and then we quietly make our way to the car. He takes the keys from me and opens the passenger side door.

“I’ll drive. You look beat.”

I don’t argue. I feel as if I’m at the end of an endurance race, too tired to care if I make it to the finish line. I just want it to be over. I know that in spite of everything, I may not be able to protect Trish if the videos are used in court. And Williams’s words about me have left me shaken and confused. They remind me what Casper told me. Twice. I’m losing the human Anna to the vampire.

“Do you want me to take you to your apartment?”

I shake my head. “We need to get Ryan home and take Trish to my parents.”

“What about Trish’s grandmother?”

“We’ll deal with her tomorrow. I promised my mother I would take Trish home tonight. It’s a promise I intend to keep.”

Frey is silent for a moment, eyes on the road as he drives. “What will you tell Trish?”

I don’t know. “I won’t have DNA results back until tomorrow.” I let a stream of consciousness flow. “I’ll just tell her my mother offered to put her up for the night. That the press will be watching her grandmother after news of Bradley’s arrest, and we thought it would be best to shield her from that.”

Frey nods.

“Can we swing by the office? I’ll pick up my car.”

Frey does as I ask. David’s Hummer is in its spot in front. I really want to go inside, touch the face of my very human partner and tell him I’ll be back at work tomorrow.

But I don’t because I’m not sure I will be.

I follow Frey to the park. On the way, I call my mother and tell her to expect us. I give her a quick rundown of all that’s happened. I remind her that the DNA test results will be in tomorrow. It’s a subtle hint not to give anything away to Trish until we know.

To that, she doesn’t respond. Her excitement at having Trish safe and in her home is all that’s important to her. But she’s angry with me; it’s evident in her tone. When she thanks me before saying good-bye, it’s with a rigid formality.

When we get the kids, in spite of the circumstances that brought them here, both are hesitant to end what they see as a great adventure. It is a testimonial to the resilience of teenagers. Only Frey’s promise that he will bring them back again assuages their reluctance.

Frey offers to take Ryan home, so Trish and I leave together.

“Where are we going?” she asks. Now that she and I are alone, her voice has lost its sparkle. The haunted, scared little girl is back.

I reach out a hand and touch her shoulder. “We’re going to somewhere you’ll be safe. My parents have offered to put you up for the night.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Well, actually it was my mother’s idea. She knows the press will be looking for you. They’ll want your reaction to all that’s happened. They won’t think to look for you at the home of your school principal.”

Trish blinks. “Your mother is thatMrs. Strong?”

I laugh at her expression. “You’ll get to see another side of her. She’s a great mom.”

As soon as I say that, I wish I hadn’t. The mention of my mother makes Trish think of hers. She slumps down on the seat. “You haven’t told me what happened to my mom.”

I pause, thinking of what Darryl said, and knowing that what I tell Trish now will be forever how she remembers her mother. I begin haltingly.

“Your mother died protecting you, Trish. The man who killed her thought she knew where you had gone.”

“Because he was looking for the computer.”

I nod. “Yes. But your mother wouldn’t tell him anything.”

Trish hiccoughs a bitter little laugh. “That’s because she didn’t know anything.”

From the corner of my eye, I see her wipe the back of her hand across her eyes. She draws a shaky breath and asks, “Who was it?”

“His name is Darryl Goodman.”

“Darryl?” She sits up straighter in the seat. “That creep? He wasn’t part of the video thing. Was he?”

“He was the one who set it all up. It’s not surprising that you didn’t know. He was careful to stay away when those other men…” I don’t know how to say it so I finish with a lame, “…were with you.”

There’s a long moment of silence. “What will happen to him?” Her voice is small and afraid.

“He can’t hurt you, Trish, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s dead.”

She lowers her head and looks at me. “Did you kill him?”

Her voice suggests that she believes I did. Is it that apparent? Is there something physical or nonphysical in my manner that makes this child think I am capable of killing?

How does she know?

Do other humans feel it, too, when they look at me?

When I don’t answer, she shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. What about the men?”

She doesn’t need to clarify to whom she’s referring.

“They’re under arrest. They admitted killing Barbara.”

“Under arrest?” There’s no mistaking the distress in her tone. “Does that mean there’ll be a trial?”

“The District Attorney will do everything she can to try to get the men to plead out. They’re up for murder and a lot of other terrible crimes. But there is always the chance, Trish, that they will ask for a trial. No one wants to put you through that. But it’s a possibility.”

She rounds on me in the seat. “Then why didn’t you kill them, too? Then it would be over.”

The heat in her tone vibrates the air around us. When I look over at her, stunned at the ferocity of her response, her eyes flash and then darken.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

For a moment, I’m too conflicted by my own feelings to respond. Part of me agrees with Trish. I should have killed them. I wanted to. I could have taken the computers or burned the house down. It would have been easy and Trish would be free. Frey stopped me.

What if he hadn’t? Is that why I asked him to come with me? Did I know instinctively that I couldn’t trust myself? And Frey agreed because he knew. Williams, too.

Only now am I beginning to understand.

I’m not as strong as the blood drive. I never was.

Trish stirs on the seat beside me. I’ve waited too long to respond and her uneasiness is growing.

“It’s all right, Trish. The way you feel is natural. I feel it, too. I expect we both need time and a little help to get through it.”

“Help? You mean like a shrink?”

For her, yes. For me, a different kind of therapy. But I smile and nod. “My mom will know what to do. She’s a very bright lady. You can trust her.”

Trish lapses into silence. When we pull into the driveway of my parent’s home, my mother is on the front porch, watching, waiting. Some instinct must be at play because Trish goes to her without reservation. Mom smiles at me but doesn’t ask me to stay. I only hang around long enough to make sure they’re both all right.

Then I go home to call Williams.