Thirst

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “Whatever you need. I hope you catch him. But be careful. He’s dangerous!”

  “I’ll be fine. And you’ve been a big help, Ms. Sophia. We’ll get him.”

  Renee stepped away from the woman and flipped open the notebook she carried with her to every scene. She quickly jotted down everything the woman had told her, initially leaving out the part about vampires. But then she got that itch, the one that told her she shouldn’t discount anything. She walked back toward the body, where the coroner was preparing to wrap it in a body bag.

  “Hey, Stella. Could you do me a favor?” Renee asked.

  “Sure thing, chica. What do you need?”

  “Bend him forward and let me get a look at the back of his neck.”

  “Okay. Why?”

  “Something the witness said.”

  Stella Hargrove, one of the best MEs Renee had ever worked with, took the request in stride. She was squatting next to the body, and she moved to gently lean him forward. She and Renee both peered at the back of the victim’s neck. Sure enough, there were two very large puncture wounds at the top of his spine, almost hidden by his short hairline, and two runnels of blood running down the back of his neck and into the collar of his coat.

  “What the hell?” Stella asked.

  “I’m hoping you can tell me. And keep it quiet. The last thing I need is a story breaking about a psychotic vampire.”

  “Gotcha. Although, it’s not unheard of for people to have the delusion that they are vampires and alter their teeth accordingly. I’ll check the wound for saliva and get an idea as to the depth of the punctures. These look pretty deep. Deeper than you’d expect from someone with your average dental implant.”

  “I thought vampires bit their victims on the side of the neck. It certainly would be easier. You’d have to reach around—hey, that means our attacker had to be quite tall and strong to wrestle with our victim. This guy is pretty fit. He’d have to put up a good fight.”

  “Unless there was a gun or something and he felt threatened.”

  “No. No mention of a weapon other than a killer set of fangs,” Renee said with amusement teasing at her voice.

  “Well, I’ll let you know what I find. Although today seems to be a good day to die. We’re a little backlogged. Might take a day or two.”

  “Maybe longer with this blizzard coming?”

  “Nah. Shouldn’t affect me. I’m set to camp out at the morgue. Ray and the girls are visiting his mom in Toledo and I’m all alone. Figure it’s a good time to catch up on the backlog at work. The dead have me all to themselves.”

  “Cool. But get some sleep in there somewhere. This guy isn’t going anywhere and I want you to do a really good job. I have a feeling we have a good chance at catching this perp, even if the eyewitness is a little…colorful.”

  “I would be colorful too if I saw a vampire,” Stella said with a snicker.

  “Enough about the vampire business. What we have is your run-of-the-mill sicko murderer who happens to have a biting fetish. Let’s catch this guy, Stella. Preferably before it hits the papers and we get every crazy person in New York City calling in and swearing they saw a vampire too.”

  “Will do. I’ll be completely objective. But be prepared…you never know what’s going to turn up in a weird case like this.”

  “I’ll be sure to brace myself. Thanks, Stella.”

  Renee pulled out her pad and, with a shrug, she jotted down the words “vampire-like marks on back of neck” even though she was loath to do so. But this was an investigation. She couldn’t close her mind to anything, and she had to be thorough. If that meant chasing a vampire angle…well, then she would chase that angle.

  She spent the next hour sifting through more witnesses. Most of them didn’t come into play until after they heard Roxy’s owner scream. Some saw the perp’s back. One noticed he was wearing a rather expensive coat. In the end, Anna Sophia was the only one to see the perpetrator’s face. But the others did corroborate his general height and build and the fact that he was white with dark hair.

  Renee hooked up with Jimmy a short time later. She rubbed at her nose a little, trying to get some sensation back into the frozen organ. She’d been standing out in the bitter cold more than long enough. She was ready for some hot coffee and a warm precinct.

  “Let’s get back. I want to re-interview our witness back at the house. She’s waiting for us there. Maybe she’ll have remembered something new now that she’s had a chance to calm down.”

  “She got a good look at him, eh?”

  “Yup. Let’s hope she’s more reliable than she first sounded.”

  “Why? What’d she say?”

  Renee repeated the victim’s statement and Jimmy snorted with laughter. “Great. This is going to be one of those cases.”

  “Remember what I said. Keep your mind open to all the possibilities.”

  “C’mon. You’re not thinking there’s really a vampire out there!”

  “I think there are more things in this world than most of us will come across in our lifetimes.”

  “Like vampires,” Jimmy scoffed.

  “Not real vampires. People who think and act like vampires. There’s an entire subculture out there that devotes itself to acting like or believing in vampires. Our job is to infiltrate that culture and get some photos for our witness to look at. This guy is out there somewhere and he thinks he’s Lestat. In the end that’ll make him easier to find. That’s the beauty of a subculture: They tend to be encapsulated and small, and it’ll cut down our suspect pool from thousands of possibles to just a couple of hundred or less. Let’s get back and run this MO through ViCAP. Maybe our vampire’s killed before.”

  “I’d bet you five bucks he has.”

  “You don’t have five bucks. And I wouldn’t take that bet. My gut tells me this isn’t the first time this guy’s killed. He did this in broad daylight. That means he’s either acting passionately—without thought or planning—or he’s cocky. He’s gotten away with it before so he thinks he’s impervious to getting caught. I’m leaning toward the latter. But don’t quote me on that until we get the coroner’s report back and we find out how this guy died exactly.”

  “Until then, we’ve got a buttload of paperwork and other cases to work on.”

  “I’m freezing. Let’s go.”

  “I’m driving,” Jimmy said quickly.

  “I’ve got the keys,” Renee countered in a singsong voice.

  “Aww man…c’mon!”

  —

  Rafe watched the pretty little detective get into the driver’s seat of the relatively nondescript black car, taking her measure from a distance. He had stood in the crowd of onlookers, watching her work and had maneuvered so he could hear almost everything that passed between her and the witnesses.

  Man this was a fuckup. Whoever this had been, he’d almost gotten caught and he had left a hell of a mess behind him. It was clear this was no one he knew; everyone he was acquainted with knew better than to show their ass and put their entire society at risk. He was going to have to keep on top of this somehow. The only way he could think of was currently getting in a car. If he could get close to her, maybe he could keep abreast of her investigation and keep a lid on this.

  Maybe. Not likely. But he would do his best. At the very least it would keep him informed.

  Rafe went back to his car. He had heard which precinct she was at, and made his way over there. But when he got to the precinct he didn’t go inside. He didn’t want to show his face just yet. That would come in time. First, he needed to follow Detective Holden around a little. He would then wait for an opportune moment to introduce himself.

  Chapter 2

  Renee got home late. It had already begun to snow by the time she entered the Brooklyn brownstone which had been separated into three apartments, one on each floor. Her apartment was on the top floor. As she was passing the second floor apartment, the door opened and her friend Emily popped her head out.

&
nbsp; “Hey, you! Just in time to get in out of the storm!”

  “I’ll be back out in that storm tomorrow. I have to work. Murder doesn’t take a holiday.”

  “Well, that’s rather morose.” Emily stepped out onto the landing. She was dressed in her nurse’s scrubs.

  “What about you? Do you have to go to work in the snow?”

  “Nope. The doc closed her office. Canceled all her appointments. It pays to work for a woman who was raised in the South. She chickens out at the first sign of flakes.”

  “She’s not that bad,” Renee said with a laugh.

  “No. And a lot of places have closed in anticipation of the storm. It was the smart thing to do.”

  “I agree.”

  “So are you in for the night at least?”

  “Not quite, Em. I’ve been putting off shopping for days. I better go before the snow really hits. Otherwise I’ll starve.”

  “We’re in Brooklyn, Renee. We have the United Nations of food options all around the block. You won’t starve.”

  “You know I prefer not to eat out.”

  “Oh yeah. Queen healthy. All hail the organic produce empress!” Emily gave her a mock bow.

  “Ha ha. I have a documentary on pesticides. If you like, you can watch it and see why you should avoid conventional foods.”

  “No thanks. I prefer to live in ignorance.”

  “This coming from a medical professional,” Renee teased.

  “Hey, I’m a doctor’s assistant, not a saint.”

  “I’m not a saint either. I just care about what I put into my body.”

  “Well, I can’t give up Mr. Fong’s takeout. So I’m happily doomed.”

  “Suit yourself, Em,” Renee said with a grin. “I better get going.”

  “Want me to come with you?”

  “No. I just want to do a quick run around the market and get home. Thanks anyway. I’m going to whip up a stir-fry. Interested?”

  “I already ate, but thanks! Maybe later this week we can get together?”

  “Sounds great. See ya!”

  “Adios, amiga.”

  Emily went back into her apartment and Renee continued up to hers. She let herself in and beelined for her bedroom. She shucked off all of her clothes, leaving the smart slacks and suit jacket she’d been wearing on the floor. She changed into a relaxing pair of jeans and a sweater to help countermand the cold. She loved her old apartment with its wood molding and high ceilings and exposed brick, but the radiators were ancient and couldn’t really keep up on days like today. Fortunately she liked it a little chilly. That meant a nice glass of wine, a warm snuggly blanket, and maybe a fire in the fireplace. When she had rented the apartment she’d been thrilled that the fireplace still worked. In a lot of old houses, they were closed up or otherwise non-functioning. Hers even had the original hand-painted tiling on the front of it.

  She shrugged back into her jacket and, after a quick look around the kitchen to see what she needed and making a list on her cellphone, she headed back out.

  She passed up the nearest supermarket because they didn’t sell organic foods, but there was a specialty store around the corner that specialized in the organic, locally grown foods she preferred.

  She entered the market, grabbed a basket and headed straight for the produce section. She was selecting some peppers when she inadvertently bumped into someone.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I—” She looked up into a face that was so darkly austere and yet so incredibly handsome her words died in her throat.

  “That’s all right,” he said softly.

  “I-I should really look where I’m going,” she said, her voice catching. She couldn’t help herself. She was practically standing in the arms of what was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

  He was about six feet tall, which was good because at five six she didn’t have to crane her neck too far back to look up into his eyes. And what beautiful eyes they were. They were as gray as the stormy clouds outside, a tumult of differing shades. His lashes were ridiculously long for a man, long enough and dark enough to make her a little bit jealous.

  He had well-defined cheekbones, but not so sharp that he looked girlish. With a blade of a nose and dark brows that were distinctly separate, he managed to avoid looking Cro-Magnon. But what really pushed him over the edge from simply good-looking to absolute male perfection was the line of his jaw and the tempting sculpture of his mouth. His lips were full and framed by a well-groomed mustache and goatee. Both were black and matched his brows and hair, which he kept close-cut around his ears and the nape of his neck.

  Outside of his facial beauty there was more to be had. Her eyes dragged down over his neck and throat, measured the broad width of his shoulders. But they weren’t linebacker broad. More like quarterback broad. In fact, his entire figure spoke of lean athleticism, a powerful and muscled vision of raw strength. He was wearing a black T-shirt that clung to his body like a second skin and a pair of worn denim jeans. He wore work boots, and yet he didn’t strike her as particularly blue collar. There was something sophisticated in his air. Maybe it was the gold and diamond cross he wore around his neck, the artistry and age of the antique quite apparent. There were opals as well as diamonds, and yet it wasn’t a bulky thing. Just…elegant. It might have belonged to a woman if not for its more masculine size. He also wore a bracelet of simple yellow gold, the chain knotted at one inch intervals as it circumvented his wrist, and a gold and opal ring on the smallest finger of his right hand.

  “Aren’t you cold?” she asked him when she became aware she was checking him out. He was wearing a jacket, but it wasn’t very heavy. Not heavy enough to contend with this weather.

  One corner of his mouth kicked up. “The cold doesn’t affect me,” he said.

  “Well you’re lucky. It goes right through me.”

  “Then you should be home where it’s safe and warm,” he said, his richly accented voice flowing over her as if it could keep her safe and warm.

  “Are you Portuguese?” she heard herself asking. Then she backpedaled. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “Not at all. You’re right. I am from Portugal.” He let his eyes roam over her a second, then looked in her cart. “Organic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Vegetarian? Vegan?”

  “No.” She laughed. “Definitely a meat eater.”

  “That’s good. It’s good to have a clean but well-rounded diet.”

  “That’s what I’m going for. No pesticides, no hormones. I think we should avoid them even if it means paying a little more or having slightly smaller produce.”

  “A good philosophy. One more people should embrace.”

  “I think more people are embracing it. There’s certainly more offerings than there used to be. That means there has to be a demand for it.”

  “True. It is much easier nowadays to find people like you who choose a clean lifestyle. I imagine you don’t smoke or have any other bad habits.”

  “Unless you call bingeing on ice cream a bad habit. My hips certainly don’t thank me for it.”

  “Eating too much ice cream is a very minor sin in the grand scheme of things. And your hips are perfect just as they are.”

  His gaze went to her hips and she smiled a little.

  “That’s kind of you to say, but I know it’s not true.”

  He frowned. “I’m not used to people calling me a liar.”

  “Oh! Oh no! I didn’t mean—”

  “I promise, when I pay you a compliment, I am being completely honest,” he interrupted in a low, sexy voice.

  She felt a sudden warmth infusing her body. The simmering heat of a woman being made very aware of a highly attractive man who was in close proximity. That and his compliments pleased her. It wasn’t as though she had a bad body image—she kept fit for her job—but it was nice to have someone attractive appreciating her.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a liar. It is a bad h
abit of mine, to take compliments poorly.”

  “I’ll forgive you if you agree to have coffee with me,” he said.

  This startled her. Now her New Yorker’s sense of safety kicked in. She knew nothing about him. Yeah, she could take care of herself and had a gun. She was wearing it under her coat right then, as a matter of fact. And she was used to meeting strangers. But for all she knew he was some kind of creep who trolled for women in the supermarket.

  “I can tell what you’re thinking,” he said, amusement in his voice. “You’re thinking I may be a dangerous man. I won’t lie to you. There are things that are dangerous about me. But I can assure you you’ll be safe. We’ll be in public. And I’ll behave appropriately.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” she answered honestly.

  “Then what are you worried about?”

  “I’m not in the habit of picking up strange men in the market.”

  “Neither am I. But you’re an engaging woman. Not to mention gorgeous. Plus, I am intrigued after only moments of conversation. I want to see if the intrigue will hold or if it is just a matter of two strangers meeting. Are you the adventurous type?”

  She smiled at that.

  “I can be,” she answered honestly. “But I’m not certain it extends to a date with a total stranger.”

  “Not a date. Not yet. Merely a cup of coffee and some conversation.”

  She eyed him a moment, testing herself to see how she really felt. She realized she was incredibly flattered and leaning toward saying yes. Perhaps it was because he was so damned handsome and charming. But not slick charming. Not trying too hard. His manner was appealing—intriguing.

  “All right. Coffee. But when? This storm promises to last days.”

  “Then we should go now. We can finish our shopping later or first, whatever you decide.”

  She laughed. “You cannot wait until after the storm?”

  “No. You might come to your senses.”

  “But it’s almost time for dinner…” she hedged.

  He smiled at that, and he went from beautiful to striking in all of an instant. It was an easy smile, full of gregarious warmth. It lit his gray eyes, making the storms brewing within them come to life. They were positively hypnotizing.