DRAINED

by Suzanne Ferrell

  “I’m going to see if they have any snacks for Stanley,” Brianna said, heading down one of the aisles.

  Aaron waited a moment, making sure the other shopper—a tall, heavy-set white man—didn’t do anything more than watch her for a second before going back to studying the snacks. Satisfied she wasn’t in any danger, Aaron stepped up to the cashier’s window and flashed his police ID. “Good evening.”

  The slightly startled store manager glanced around behind Aaron before focusing on him. “Good evening, officer. Is something wrong?”

  People were being abducted, tortured to death and left in some psycho’s weird game of Clue. Yeah, the guy didn’t need to hear that.

  “Nothing to do with you or your station, sir. I just want to ask you some questions about the regulars that come in and maybe hang out nearby,” he said, using his most calming voice. He needed the man relaxed and willing to talk.

  “You mean the homeless people, don’t you?” The man had no accent, so Aaron assumed he was raised in the Cleveland area.

  “Yeah,” Aaron shifted to the side and leaned in on his left elbow to talk casually and still leave the manager a visual of his store beyond the glass. “We heard a guy named Steroid Kyle sometimes hangs out near here.”

  “Kinda big? Like a body builder or football player?”

  Aaron gave a half grin. “Something like that.”

  “Never knew his name, but he does look like he takes steroids. So, yeah, I’ve seen him. Guy usually comes in late at night almost every night, scores a ton of carb snacks and candy. Which if he’s doing ’roids makes perfect sense.” The manager moved to the register as the other customer deposited a six-pack of beer, two bags of chips and a pack of beef jerky on the counter.

  While he waited for the transaction to finish, Aaron scanned outside the area where he could see the few people trying to stay dry and the pumps beyond. Another vehicle pulled in and the driver got out to pump gas. No one approached him and after filling his tank, he drove off. The rain was starting to pick up and the stragglers outside walked through the lot and turned to hurry into the empty building behind the station.

  Nothing to worry about outside. Aaron shifted his gaze to find Brianna, who had moved to where the pops were stored in the cold section. She caught his eye, lifted the pack of puppy treats in her hand and grinned. He shook his head, but grinned, too. Stanley might not know it yet, but the pup had just landed a new home with someone who would spoil him rotten.

  “So, what did this Steroid dude do?” the manager asked, finished with his customer who left the shop.

  “We don’t know that he’s done anything illegal, just want to talk with him,” Aaron said. “Have you seen him around lately?”

  The other man drew his brows down in concentration, stared at the floor just beyond Aaron’s boot and thought a few moments. “Come to think of it, dude hasn’t been in here a while. Maybe…maybe two weeks?” He paused, then like a light going off over his head, his face lit up. “Yeah, two weeks ago. Came in while I was watching the first Cleveland baseball game on television,” he said pointing at the little TV inside his enclosed workspace.

  “The one they won in eleven innings?” Aaron asked, remembering how he’d stayed up late to catch that one, too.

  The manager grinned. “Always good when they take down the Motor City kitties.” A local reference to the team’s inner conference rivals, the Detroit Tigers.

  “Was anyone with him?” Aaron asked as Brianna approached, her arms laden with her finds.

  Again, the other man considered the question. “No, he was by himself.”

  Brianna deposited her things onto the counter and went to get her wallet. Aaron stopped her. “I got this.” Before she could protest, because she always protested when he tried to pay for things, he stopped her with a shake of his head. “We’ll expense account this.”

  She accepted the explanation without argument and Aaron had to wonder if she’d acquiesce as easily if he expense-accounted their next lunch. The idea made him smile inwardly. He’d have to give it a try.

  “Do you know where this Steroid Kyle might hang out at night?” he asked as the store manager rang up her purchases.

  “Sometimes I find him asleep out back when I leave in the mornings. Lots of the homeless do. But that’s only when the weather’s good.” He nodded at the now heavy rain outside. “Night like this? Most of them move into the abandoned building behind us.”

  “Have you ever seen a guy that acted like a news journalist come into your store? Maybe carrying a camera with a big lens on it?” Brianna asked as Aaron slid his credit card across for payment.

  The manager nodded. “There’s a guy that comes by kinda regular. Not every day, but enough that I thought he must work near here.”

  Brianna glanced up at Aaron and he nodded for her to continue.

  “You don’t happen to know if he was on foot or if he drove in?”

  “Dude drives. It’s an old white van, like the kind that carries cold stuff in it. No logos. Usually only fills up. Doesn’t buy anything inside.” He paused. “At least not when I’m here.”

  “Did you ever see him talking with the homeless outside the store?” Aaron asked. “Maybe even Steroid Kyle?”

  This time the guy just shrugged. “Don’t know that I paid much attention.”

  Okay. Time to shift gears.

  “Do you have security cameras?”

  “Two inside,” the manager pointed to the one over the door pointing towards the register area and the one behind him facing into the store aisles. “And two outside.” He pointed to the far right and then the far left. “But not gonna do you much good.”

  “They don’t work,” Aaron said, resigned to the fact that many businesses had security cameras installed just to give the illusion of surveillance, but didn’t pay to have them actually function.

  “Oh, they work,” the other man said. “Just we only keep them for a week. So, everything beyond that was dumped. Your Steroid guy isn’t going to be on any of our tapes.”

  Aaron let out a frustrated huff. Great. Another cost-saving practice that was going to prevent him from finding the killer. He put his credit card back in his wallet, then pulled out a business card and slide that over to him. “Thanks, anyways. If the van comes back can you give me a call. Don’t approach the man, just call, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” he said and picked up the card to read it.

  With his hand on Brianna’s back, they headed towards the door. She stopped suddenly and he barely kept from bowling her over before she turned back to the store manager. “Is there any way you can get us a copy of the past week anyways?”

  The guy shrugged. “I can have the boss email you the files in the morning. That soon enough?”

  “Perfect. That would be so sweet of you.” She gave him one of those melt-you-where-you-stand smiles and the guy almost turned to liquid.

  “You know that little act of yours is deadly,” Aaron whispered to her as they turned to leave again.

  She chuckled, that husky little sound she made when truly amused. “Sometimes you just need a little sweetness to get what you want.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind if you ever use it on me,” he said and darted to open the car door, unlocking hers from his side.

  “I’m pretty sure you won’t have to worry about me trying to manipulate you like that,” she said, lifting Stanley into her lap and opening the bag of bacon flavored dog treats to give him one.

  “Oh really? And why not?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure you’re immune to my feminine wiles,” she said, with another husky laugh.

  Like hell he was, he thought, shifting his seat to adjust his suddenly tighter jeans. “Not sure I’d agree with that statement after our kiss last night.”

  “So, what now?” she asked, turning in her seat towards him.

  With the rain pounding on the car and streaming over the windows blocking some of the light from the service stations
fluorescent lights and her looking at him so earnestly with those big blue eyes, the intimacy of the front seat of his car took over his good senses. The need to touch and taste her hit him like a three-hundred-pound lineman on the snap of the football. He slipped one hand up behind her neck and pulled her closer, claiming her mouth with his.

  She came willingly, opening her lips to let him slide his tongue inside, then teasing him with her own. His heart rate kicked up several paces and his cock grew even thicker against the fly of his jeans. The temperature in the car rose and he hadn’t even started the engine. When her soft hand cupped the side of his face, he leaned into it, keeping the pressure on her mouth, willing her to understand just how much he wanted her, wanted to be with her.

  Reaching his other arm out, he pulled her closer, wanting to feel her breasts pressed against his chest.

  “Yip!”

  They jumped apart.

  “Oh, did we squish you?” Brianna said, holding Stanley up to her breasts and soothing him.

  “Guess we forgot he was here,” Aaron said with a bit of harsh chuckle as he ran his hand over his neck to keep from reaching for hers again.

  She smiled one of those half-whisper ones she seemed to save for him.

  Leaning back against the driver’s door he studied her. Even in the dimmed light filtering into the car, he saw the light pink on her cheeks. Probably stupid of him, but knowing he put that blush on her face stroked that inner caveman he tried very hard to keep hidden around her. She’d had too many guys in her life try to protect and dominate her. What he wanted from her was so much more.

  “Now that we got that out of the way,” Brianna said and that smile got a little more teasing, which of course made him want to repeat the kiss even more, “what are we going to do about finding Steroid Kyle?”

  And, back to business.

  “The rain is coming down steady and will probably keep going all night,” he said, looking out the rearview mirror at the empty street behind them.

  “The store manager seemed to think that Steroid Kyle hung out in that abandoned building behind this place.” Brianna nodded in that direction. “What if he’s in there right now?”

  “True. But Steroid Kyle isn’t the only one who uses that place as a flop house. The last thing I want to do tonight is search a possible drug den full of addicts or homeless people on a rainy night.” Especially with his only backup being a very sexy, smart woman and one ferocious, scrawny little pup.

  “What if the killer has already killed him and deposited him there? He did that with Art. If one of those people taking shelter in there finds a posed body, won’t they disturb the crime scene? Destroy some evidence we might need?”

  She was right and they both knew it.

  “Tell you what we’ll do,” he said turning on the car and pushing the windshield wiper button before reaching for his phone. “I’m going to get a few patrol cars to come down and do a sweep of the place. They can roust anyone inside and if they find Steroid Kyle alive, they can put him protective custody. If they find a body, then we’ll preserve the crime scene and spend another night with the Crime Scene investigators.”

  “If they find a body? Aren’t we going to go in, too?”

  He punched in a number on his phone and waited for the dispatcher to pick up. “Nope.”

  23

  You are so lucky,” he said as he hooked the sprayer nozzle up to the disinfectant container. “Because of the rain, you’re going to get a thorough cleansing and a nice cool stay in the freezer.”

  Pulling his plastic medical visor in place so he’d be protected from any germs on the donor’s body and the chemicals needed to cleanse him, yet still be able to watch his artwork.

  The airbrush nozzle worked so much better than a cloth or even the painter’s brush he’d tried before. The sprayer distributed the bleach into every nook and cranny—even the wrinkles of that old army vet. It saved him so much time. It also let him focus on the minor details. Like any good artist, he needed to perfect his style.

  He chuckled.

  “That’s me, Pablo Picasso of the dead.”

  He couldn’t help it if he enjoyed his work. It was important work and people were going to start to recognize his contributions to society.

  * * *

  “How much longer do you think it will take them?” Brianna asked, munching on one of the chocolate, cranberry and granola bars she’d scored in the service station store. Of course, Aaron, being a guy and not someone who had to worry about every carb and calorie he consumed, downed the two Snickers bars she’d gotten.

  She glanced into the backseat where Stanley had curled up in a ball, his stomach full of bacon treats.

  “Don’t know, they have to be sure no one inside is Steroid Kyle,” Aaron shifted in his seat to look at her instead of the empty building across the street from where they parked. “There are at least four floors and depending on how many rooms, it could take them another hour.”

  They’d already been outside waiting an hour. She’d never been good at waiting for things. Inwardly she sighed. That was before. Lately, she’d gotten pretty good at being patient. Look how long she’d known Aaron and other than some explosive kisses, they hadn’t moved beyond first base.

  Yeah, and thinking about that kiss they’d had earlier, she’d better find some other kind of distraction or she might be doing the horizontal mambo vertically and in the driver’s side of this old heap.

  “You know what we haven’t talked about?” she asked and smiled inside when he lifted one brow and immediately zeroed in on her lips. Good. She was glad she wasn’t the only one still thinking about that kiss.

  “The blood.”

  If she hadn’t been watching him intently, she would’ve missed the slight surprise in his eyes, it was so quickly gone.

  “There is no blood. We know he’s taking almost all of it from his victims.”

  “I know that,” she said, taking another bite of the bar and chewing it before continuing. “What I want to know is, what do you think he’s doing with it?”

  “He could be drinking it.”

  “Eww,” she said and smacked him on the arm. “You said that just to be gross.”

  Aaron chuckled. “Not really. There is a condition where some people crave and drink blood.”

  “You’re serious.”

  He nodded. “It’s commonly called Renfield syndrome.”

  “After the character in the Dracula stories?” She shivered, remembering how scared she’d been seeing the movie as a teen with Abby. They’d both had a big crush on Keanu Reeves at the time.

  “I think someone named it that as a joke,” Aaron said with a lift of the corner of his lips. “But there is a history of a few people with psychological problems who drink blood and at least a few serial killers who did drink the blood of their victims.”

  “And you just happen to know this because you’re a walking encyclopedia?”

  “No. That’s usually your thing.”

  “My thing?” She sat straighter as a spark of anger at his comment shot through her.

  “Yes,” he said, reaching over to run one finger down her cheek. “You’re the only person I know who can rattle off statistics at the drop of a hat.”

  “Those are numbers. They’re kind of my thing.”

  “I know. I love that about you.”

  She stared into his eyes a moment. No one in her life had ever said they thought her statistics quotes and love of numbers were anything but annoying.

  “I don’t know any odd facts about people who drink blood. Why do you?”

  He laughed. “I only know it because I looked it up two days ago when I was on your couch and couldn’t sleep.”

  “Oh.” She stumbled trying to get her bearings a little. In all her life, she hadn’t met a man who could spin her emotions and thoughts in so many directions and tilt her off course. Think. What were they talking about? Oh yeah, the blood problem.

  “If he’s not drinking
the blood, and I don’t even want to think about that, what else could he be doing with it?”

  “There’s no telling,” Aaron said, staring out the window into the rainy night.

  Brianna finished munching on her snack and put the wrapper in the plastic bag from the service station, then took a long drink from the bottle of water they’d gotten there. Then an idea—a horrible, horrible idea—hit her.

  “What if…” she started, then stopped, trying to clear the idea out of her mind before saying it.

  “What if?” Aaron said, once again focusing on her.

  Okay, she was going to have to give the thought voice.

  “What if he’s not just collecting their blood, but somehow putting it into the local blood bank system?”

  The lack of shocking surprise on Aaron’s face told her he’d already considered this a possibility but hadn’t wanted to say it any more than she had.

  “That’s the biggest problem,” he said, rubbing both his cheeks with his hands. “One we’re going to have to tackle in the morning.”

  “What if the blood is contaminated somehow?” Another sick feeling hit her. “Mia was an IV drug user. What if she had HIV or AIDS?”

  “You knew her better than anyone. When she was at the shelter, was she tested for it?” he asked.

  Brianna relaxed a little. “Yes, she was. We always do a workup on our clients. Not to refuse them entrance, because the shelter takes any woman in immediate danger, but so that the staff is aware if they need special medications or trips to the doctor. I would’ve been told if Mia was HIV positive.”

  “I’ll have the forensic blood work back on her,” he glanced at his watch, “later today. But for now we’ll assume she was still negative.”

  “Did you already have her and Art tested because you were worried about contaminated blood hitting the blood supply?”

  “Wish I could take credit for it, but Ramos said that given the lack of blood of the victims, they’d run the tests just in case.”