Текст книги "Blood Drive"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Chapter Eighteen

Max is aware that our last coupling was not as satisfying for me as the first. The expression in his eyes makes it obvious that he’s afraid he has broken something in our relationship.

I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that what happened was not his fault. I can’t believe how close I came to-

I don’t want to think about that now, and I don’t want to tempt fate again. Instead, I smile and tell him I’m tired. Which is true. And that things will be different after a good night’s sleep. Which I can only hope is true.

He gets up and goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. I collapse on the bed and wait for him to finish. Can’t share the bathroom anymore-especially one with large mirrors. Not when you’re a vampire. When the phone rings, it’s a little after ten.

It’s my mother. “Did I wake you?” she asks anxiously.

“No. I’m just lying here-resting. How was your dinner with Carolyn?”

“She never showed up.” Mom’s voice is a mixture of aggravation and concern. “We tried calling her, but there was no answer. Why would she stand us up? The dinner was her idea.”

After what I learned about Carolyn today, nothing she does surprises me. To my mother I respond, “Maybe she got called back to the hospital and didn’t have time to get in touch with you. I’m going to see her tomorrow. I’ll ask her what happened.”

“I got your note this afternoon,” Mom continues. “So I didn’t expect to hear from her at all, which is why the invitation came as such a surprise.” There’s a pause. “Any word on Trish?”

This is one of the things I hate most-lying to humans I love. It doesn’t get easier, and I see no way it will ever change. But I can’t share what I’ve learned with anyone yet, especially not my parents. “I expect to have some word soon, Mom. Please try not to worry. How’s Dad taking all this?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. “Not well. He acts like he doesn’t believe Trish is really Steve’s. But I can tell he’s scared to death for her.”

A thought strikes me. “Mom, did Carolyn leave Trish’s hairbrush with you?”

Again, a pause. In my mind’s eye, I see Mom walking into the living room, looking around. “Yes,” she says at last. “It’s here.”

“I’ll pick it up tomorrow. I think we should run that DNA test. You have one of Steve’s baby teeth, right? I remember seeing it in a scrapbook or something.”

The laugh is small and sad. “I have one of yours, too. The first you lost.”

I let a heartbeat go by before responding. “Will you leave Steve’s tooth with the hairbrush? I think they can get a DNA sample from it.”

It seems to take Mom a long time to answer. But finally she does, in a soft, firm voice. “I’ll leave everything on the dining room table in case we’re not here when you come. We’re returning to full schedule tomorrow at school and I expect it will be a long day.”

I promise to call her and check in and then we ring off. Max slips into bed beside me and we snuggle together under the covers. He falls asleep first and I disentangle myself from his arms and lay staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to dull the terrible anxiety I feel for a young girl I’ve known less than a day.

Chapter Nineteen

Wednesday

I awaken once, early, when Max gets up in response to the chirping of his cell phone. I drift back to half-sleep, aware that Max has gone into the bathroom and that he’s showering and dressing. Then he’s leaning over to kiss my forehead.

“I have to go,” he says. “I got a call. There’s been some trouble with Martinez’s extradition. They want me back in Washington.”

I struggle into a sitting position. “Is everything all right?”

But his eyes seem to be focusing on everything in the room but me.

“Max, is everything all right?”

His lips draw up and I imagine he thinks he’s smiling. But the smile doesn’t reach his eyes nor does it smooth the wrinkles from his brow. “Of course everything is all right,” he says a little too cheerfully. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I hope you lie better than this when you’re on the job.”

He smiles-a real smile this time-and his shoulders lose some of their stiffness. He perches himself on the edge of the bed and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “It’s Martinez. They’ve lost him.”

“Lost him? How do they lose one of the biggest drug dealers in Mexico? I thought he was vacationing with his family in Columbia? Wasn’t somebody watching him?”

His shrug morphs into a hand dipping into a jacket pocket. His cell phone again. He opens the connection with a flip of his wrist and holds it to his ear. He listens for a minute, snaps the phone shut without saying a word and leans over the bed once more.

“Sorry, babe,” he says. “I really do have to go. I’ll call you when I get to Washington, okay?” His brows draw together in an expression of concern. “About last night? I didn’t mean-”

I reach up a hand to touch his cheek. “It’s all right, Max. You be careful, you hear? I’m not through with you yet.”

He smiles, relief softening the lines from his face. “Glad to hear it.”

I walk him to the door, noting as I pull the chair away from it that I’ll have to call building maintenance to get it fixed. They’ll want to know what happened, I’m sure, so I’ll have to come up with something.

I kiss Max and watch until he disappears behind the elevator’s doors. I have a bad feeling. Not about what happened between us last night, though it’s a concern. But if Martinez figured out Max’s role in the bust that dismantled his money laundering operation, he will come after him.

Not something I can do anything about. Max is a big boy who is certainly capable of taking care of himself. I push the door shut. My priority has to be Trish.

I debate whether to call Frey or go to the condo. My plan this morning is to track down Carolyn, but the urge to see for myself that Trish is all right is just too strong. And we have that shopping trip to plan. A quick shower, a tug of my hairbrush through wet hair, clean jeans and a cotton sweater, and I’m out the door. Trying to close it reminds me that I have one more stop to make first.

Burdick, the building maintenance supervisor, has a ground floor apartment. He’s a fussy little man with eyes too close together in a fat, round face. I’ve never liked him. He always looks at me as if he’d like to see me served up on toast. I won’t miss him when I leave.

But I needn’t have fretted about concocting a story for him. He neither asks nor seems to care how the door got broken. He just assures me there will be a hefty bill to pay, leering like he’s waiting for me to offer to work the damages off in trade.

His attitude snaps my temper like a rubber band, but I manage to rein it in before doing something stupid that would most likely land me in jail. For once, my brain engages before I put my impulse in gear. This sneering little man will never know how close he came to having something else to fix. Like the window I almost throw him through.

***

With the bad taste of my encounter with the building manager in my mouth, I head for Frey’s. This time, I hit rush hour traffic. I drive a Jag, low slung, low profile. I find myself behind a huge, diesel-burning pickup whose tail pipe is eye level to my windshield. I don’t breathe air anymore, but I can smell . The fumes are so noxious I look for an escape route. Behind me is a kid in a Toyota who is close enough that I can see the pimples on his face. There’s a bus on one side and a garbage truck on the other.

I’m trapped.

The knot in my stomach tightens.

Relax, Anna. I haven’t seen you this uptight in a long time.

The intrusion into my head is unexpected, but the voice is familiar.

Why, Casper. I haven’t heard from you for months. Where have you been?

Here. There.

That narrows it down.

There’s a chuckle. I’m scanning cars all around, trying to get a bead on the illusive voice that drops in and out of my head at will. The one thing I’m sure of is that Casper, the nickname I gave him because he’s like the friendly ghost in the cartoons, only shows up when I’m in trouble.

I give up trying to find him. It’s that bad, is it?I ask.

It could be.

Want to be a tad more specific?

I can’t be. Just keep your head.

If you mean that literally, I intend to.Aspasm of alarm. Youdon’t mean that literally, do you?

Control your emotions. Don’t let them lead you off the path.

Control my emotions? I thought I’d been doing that. The building super is in one piece and Carolyn has her head. But before I can snap back, Casper is talking again.

You’ll be faced with some tough decisions in the days ahead. The choices you make will affect the lives of those you love most. Remember who you are.

Who I am? An image flashes in my head. Last night with Max and what almost happened. Is that what Casper means?

The spasm of concern becomes a full-blown paroxysm. Casper has never been so explicit or so agonizingly ambiguous. Who are we talking about? My parents? David? Max?

There’s no reply.

Damn it.I’mbanging my hand against the steering wheel in frustration. Casper? What did you mean?

But there’s only a vacuum of silence left in the place Casper occupied in my head. He’s gone, dropping the kind of subtle hint he knows will get to me. A hint designed to set my nerves and teeth on edge.

A hint that I might be a threat to someone I love.

Great.

The kid in the Toyota behind me is leaning on his horn. Traffic is moving, finally. I put the Jag in gear and inch forward.

I expect Frey to answer right away when I reach his gate. He doesn’t. I try again and again. I keep punching his unit number on the keypad until a knock on the passenger window spins me, startled, toward the sound.

A uniformed guard has come out of nowhere to peer inquisitively into the car. He motions for me to roll down the window. Which I do.

“Is there a problem, Miss?” he asks.

I shake my head, too surprised to turn a coherent thought into coherent words.

He has a half-smile on his weathered, sixty-something face. “Who are you here to see?”

“Daniel Frey. Unit 7B.”

Now it’s his turn to shake his head. “Mr. Frey is gone. His driver picked him up about an hour ago. Same as every school day.”

Gone? Would he have taken Trish with him?

“Could you tell if he was alone in the car?”

This time a nod. “Just like always, Mr. Frey and the driver.”

It never occurred to me that Frey would leave Trish alone. What was he thinking? I assumed he would get a substitute for the day. Panic sparks, but it’s fleeting, to be replaced by a darker, more heated emotion. Anger. How could he leave Trish alone? She must be frantic, listening to that buzzer ring again and again and having no way of knowing who it is.

The guard leans toward me, waiting for some indication that I’ve heard him and will do the logical thing-leave.

So, I do. I thank him and back away to make a U-turn in the driveway. But I pull out only as far as the road. Dipping into my purse, I pull out my cell and dial the condo. After four rings, a machine picks up. I sit impatiently through the brief instructions to leave a message after the beep-blah-blah-blah.

At last.The beep.

“Trish? Are you there? It’s Anna. It’s all right to pick up, honey. I know Mr. Frey left for school. I just want to know you’re all right. Trish? Are you there?”

But the seconds tick by and the machine eventually clicks off. There’s no answer from Trish. What the hell is going on?

As soon as I disconnect from that call, another comes in. Without glancing at the incoming number, I open the connection with a terse, “Frey? This better be you.”

“No,” David says. “Sorry. It’s me. Your partner, remember? Though it would be easy to see how you might forget the number. You haven’t used it much lately.”

Guilt momentarily replaces impatience. “Sorry. Didn’t check the number. Things have been kind of crazy.”

There’s a pause, like he’s waiting for me to expand on the subject. When I don’t, he says, “So. Did you see Max last night?”

A light bulb blinks on. “You let Max into my apartment, didn’t you?”

This time the pause is a beat too long. “Are you mad about that?”

I blow out a puff of air. “No. Not mad. But you owe me a new door.”

“What?”

I wave an impatient hand at the phone. “Never mind. Is there a reason you called?”

“You mean other than wondering if my partner is going to put in an appearance today?”

This time the impatience is David’s. And rightfully so. “I’m sorry. I should have checked in first thing. Is there anything important on the docket today?”

“Does that mean you’re not planning to come in?”

When I don’t answer, he heaves a protracted sigh into the receiver. “It’s all right. I know you have a lot going on right now. Just do me a favor. Call me tonight, okay? Let me know what’s happening. I’m worried about you.”

“Why would you worry about me?” It comes out much sharper than I intend.

“Why?” His tone mimics mine. “Maybe because we’re partners and that’s what partners do. You’ve shut me out of this. I don’t like it.”

There’s a pause before he adds, “Anna, don’t get me wrong. Finding out you have a niece who disappeared under suspicious circumstances is a lot to deal with. But we do have a business to run. I need to know if I can count on you, or if I should get someone else to help out until you’re ready to come back to work.”

He says it in a rush, like it’s an unpleasant speech he’s been practicing. And the implication that I’ve chosento be absent from work makes my mouth fall open in disbelief. Then the light bulb goes on again. “Did Gloria tell you to say that?”

Silence.

“Gloria is there, isn’t she?”

Gloria. Of the long legs and big tits. I can see it in my head, Gloria, sitting on David’s lap, making sure the head he’s using isn’t the one on his shoulders.

She hates me.

Okay, I hate her right back. But she doesn’t usually have this kind of effect on David. There must be something else going on.

Then I know. She met Max yesterday. And if Max acted the way most men do around her, she’s convinced that Max would be a much more appropriate partner for David than me. In her convoluted way of thinking it would make perfect sense. Why settle for one man lusting after you when you could have two?

“Tell Gloria it was a good try,” I say in a voice you could pour on pancakes. “But it won’t work. She’s not getting rid of me that easily. And, just so you both know, Max left for Washington this morning. I have to go now, David. If you really need me, I’ll have my cell phone with me all day. Oh, and David? Tell your girlfriend I said she’s depriving some village of an idiot.”

I hear a quick intake of breath. “Anna, I’m-”

I cut the connection before he, or Gloria, can say anything else. I’m angry. At Gloria. At David. At myself.

The cell phone rings again. The office number flashes. I shut it off with a decisive jab and bury the phone in my purse.

There is one good thing that comes from the conversation, though. Any guilt I had about shirking my responsibilities at the office vanishes with the image of Gloria whispering encouragement in David’s ear. We’ll need to have a conversation about that later, David and I, but now I’m free to pursue Carolyn with a clear conscience.

But damn that Frey. I have to see Trish first. Make sure she’s all right, that I didn’t scare her to death by buzzing the condo like that.

I look around. I’d pulled over right in front of the complex. A high, brick wall surrounds it, parking lot and all. Now, getting over the wall won’t be a problem. I could probably jump it without breaking a sweat. But it’s daylight and this is a busy street. The only shrubbery consists of low growing bushes and a vine of some kind that snakes over the brick. Nothing that would afford me cover.

At least nothing that I can see from here.

I start the car and ease into traffic, following the brick wall for several blocks until it makes a right turn and extends away from the main road. I turn right, too, and almost immediately find what I’m looking for.

This block is lined with trees, big, leafy trees with lots of low hanging branches. I won’t have to climb.

I just have to jump.

I must admit, I’ve come to enjoy some of my newly acquired vampire traits. The super human strength. The improved visual and sensual acuity. The ability to leap onto tall tree branches in a single bound. It takes me less than a minute to get over that wall and drop onto the grass on the other side.

And I luck out. There’s no one peering out of a window to see me take the jump or to sprint across the grass to the sidewalk. I then saunter purposefully toward Frey’s unit. I’m just about at the building when I see them.

Two men.Tall. Husky. Wearing dark suits and walking just as purposefully toward Frey’s front door. And they’re coming from the direction of the parking lot. How did they get by the security guard? They’re closer to Frey’s than I am and don’t seem to have spotted me, so I hang back behind a tall, fragrant bougainvillea bush to watch.

Suit One rings Frey’s bell, then steps back. He puts his hands behind his back and rocks a little on his heels, smiling toward the peephole in the door. His expression is friendly, expectant. He waits a moment. Then rings again.

Suit Two, meanwhile, is a step behind him. He’s looking around. I make sure I’m in the shadows when his eyes sweep in my direction. They scan right over me, keep going. I detect no unusual or supernatural vibes, and when I surreptitiously try to probe his mind, I get nothing. He’s human. He turns back to his partner and nods.

It’s eight o’clock on a Wednesday morning. It’s obvious that most residents are at work, but it takes balls to break into someone’s apartment in broad daylight. But that’s just what these guys try to do. Suit One takes a small leather case out of his pocket and extracts a thin, metal wire. While Suit Two stands watch, he goes to work on the door.

That’s when I lose it. Trish is inside. All I can think of is protecting her. In two strides, I’m at the door. Before surprise can register on their faces, I’ve grabbed both of them by the scruffs of their necks and flung them to the ground. I crouch over them, teeth bared, beyond all reason, snarling like an angry mother bear.

Chapter Twenty

Then two things happen at once. The neighbor to Frey’s right opens his door. “Hey,” he shouts. “What’s going on?”

In the same instant, Suit One puts a knee to my chest and heaves.

The sudden appearance of the guy in the doorway distracts me. Suit One’s knee catches me off guard. Before I can recover, I’m flying off him to land in an ungraceful heap at the neighbor’s feet.

He reaches a hand down, but rather than help me, it gets in the way of my leaping up and the two of us do a kind of weird dance trying to get disentangled. By the time I get my feet back under me, the suits are up and away.

The neighbor is a kindly looking old guy, with a Mr . Rogerssmile and a shock of wiry white hair peeking around the edges of a faded baseball cap. He frowns at me. “Are you all right, Miss?” He pushes the cap back and scratches his head. “What just happened? Should I call the police?”

But I’m looking after the Blues Brothers, who are racing back toward the parking lot.

The neighbor puts a hand on my arm. “Were those men coming out of Daniel’s apartment?” he asks. “He’s not home, you know. He’s at school.”

I’m trying to regain my balance and pull at my sweater, which has ridden up embarrassingly high. My eyes are following the suits, and just as I decide to go after them, the old guy says, “Wonder if they’re kin to that sweet young niece of Daniel’s?”

That snaps my attention back. “Niece?”

The old guy’s little prune face is wreathed in a wide smile. “Met her last night. Daniel was taking her to dinner.” He taps a forefinger near the corner of his right eye. “These old eyes don’t miss much. I was right there at my window when they came out. Just like this morning. Naturally, I did the neighborly thing and came out and introduced myself. Daniel said the girl was visiting from Boston. That’s where he’s from, you know.”

I don’t share with him what I know-or what I want to do to “Daniel” when I get my hands on him. I can’t believe he’d expose Trish to danger by taking her out in public. If it was Trish.

The guy now has my complete attention. “What did the girl look like?” I ask, trying not to sound as concerned as I feel.

“Oh, she’s a cute little thing. About thirteen, I’d say, a little thin. Blonde hair down to here.” He touches his own shoulders. “Beautiful eyes.”

“Did you get her name?”

“Trish,” he replies promptly. “Course, it was strange that Daniel came back alone. I meant to ask him about that this morning, but he left before I could.”

Came back alone? That’s all I need to hear. I thank Mr .Rogersfor his help. He starts to say something else, but I don’t wait nor do I try to keep the speed down as I race back to the car. This time I leap the fence with barely a backward glance. Let any pain in the ass who saw that try to explain it.

By the time I get to Mom’s school, I’m sick with anger and trepidation. I park in the faculty lot and go directly to Frey’s classroom. His radar picks me up before I reach the door.

Anna. She’s safe.

He’s standing at the podium in front of a class of about forty students. It’s the only thing that keeps me from marching in and tearing his throat out. I can get all the information I need from his blood.

I know that, he tells me. So calm down and listen. Trish is safe. I took her to a place where she can be protected twenty-four hours a day. I’ll take you to her after school.

You’ll take me to her now.

I can’t. I have students here. And you have more important things to deal with. Go see Trish’s mother. Find out who hurt Trish. Until we put those men away, she will never be safe.

While we’re “talking,” he’s actually lecturing the class in his real voice. Something about parts of a sentence. I watch, biting on my lower lip, uncertain what to do next. Then he’s in my head again.

Close your eyes.

What?

Close your eyes. I’ll show you that Trish is all right.

I have no idea what kind of parlor trick he’s about to perform, but I follow his instructions. I close my eyes. A picture starts to form like an image appearing out of the fog. Trish. Sitting at a desk. She has a book open in front of her and a woman sits beside her. The woman points to something in the book and they both laugh. A real laugh. Trish looks relaxed and-happy.

Is this a trick? Where is she? Who is she with?

I’ll show you this afternoon. Anna, you have to trust me.

No. I don’t.

The picture dissolves as we speak. I shake my head to clear it and rub at my eyes. There’s a curious tingling in the back of my neck, like a subtle muscle ache after a heavy workout.

Sorry about that, Frey says. It’s an unfortunate side effect of the visions.

He pauses, picking something else out of my head. There were men at my condo this morning. They were looking for Trish, weren’t they?

It’s my guess. Believe it or not, your neighbor scared them away. He also told me about meeting your “niece.” You should have told me what you were planning.

You wanted Trish safe. She is. Carolyn Delaney may be able to tell you who those men were. You need to speak with her. Now.

Our eyes lock together over the heads of his students. Amazingly, the kids seem completely oblivious to my presence. Perhaps a being who can project images can also cast spells that anesthetize those around him to everything except that which he chooses.

Daniel Frey has a lot of interesting powers.

I shake my head again. The cobwebby remains of the vision fade like an overexposed photo. The vision seemed very real. And Trish looked happy. But I won’t know for sure if it was more than a trick until I see Trish for myself.

My eyes find Frey’s again. Okay. I’m going to trust that Trish is all right. For now. I’ll be back at three to pick you up. If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you. Slowly.

He allows a tiny smile to touch the corners of his mouth, the only acknowledgment of my statement.

But he believes me. My telepathic powers may be limited compared to a shapeshifter’s, but not my physical ones.

And so I’m back on the road again. I feel like I’ve spent most of the last few days in my car. My nerve endings tingle with anxiety for Trish, tension over the prospect of facing Carolyn, and anger towards the sick fucks who take pleasure in stealing the joy of life from children. I only hope I can restrain myself when I find them. These last few months had me convinced I could lead a “normal” life. Working with David, visiting with my parents, going to Culebra when I needed to feed. It almost felt natural. But in just two days, I’ve been knocked off kilter.

First with Max and now with a rush of murderous rage toward Carolyn that scares me. Not because I’m afraid I can’t control it, but because I’m not sure I want to.

Coming face to face with Carolyn will be a supreme test of self-control. But I need to keep foremost in my head that she has the key to protecting Trish. She knows who, besides herself, exploited her daughter. I will choke on my anger if I need to. I will be calm and reasonable in my approach. I will point out rationally why it is in her best interest to tell me what I need to know.

My fingers are gripping the steering wheel so tightly, the knuckles are white. My teeth ache from a clenched jaw.

So much for calm and reasonable.

Carolyn will talk to me.

One way or the other.

The apartment complex is just ahead. As I make the turn into the parking lot, a police car blocks my way. A young patrolman slouches against the door. He straightens up at my approach, and indicates with a wave of his hand that I should pull over to the side of the road.

I do, my eyes on the scene behind him. There are more police cars, strobe lights flashing. And a lot of uniforms and plainclothes cops milling around. But there’s no urgency in their manner. And when the Coroner’s wagon pulls around me and the patrol cop waves him in, I know why.