“You’re not law enforcement. I can’t share the details.” It was the normal excuse he used to dissuade people from asking anymore. Too bad his brother wasn’t anyone.
“Try again. Maybe you need a fresh pair of eyes. Give me the details. ‘Sides you need help. With or without your permission, I’m going to lend you a hand.” Urban rested his chin on his arms and stared at his brother.
The look unnerved him. Unblinking, his brother continued to gaze at him, dark green eyes devoid of emotion. He tried not to shift in his seat, yet couldn’t resist moving around just a little. Torger shuddered. “Cut that out. Okay, here’s what’s been going on, in case you haven’t been watching the news.” He recounted the first killings and the latest two deaths, details the public knew and didn’t know and what they had found out when Jackal had come to town. Torger also threw in the latest details on Muffy Evanson’s death and the body found in front of the movie theater and Detective Santa Rosa’s theory.
Urban whistled. “Damn. And there’s nothing? Not even a partial or DNA, not even skin? Jesus. Who is this person, Mr. Invisible? It makes no sense that there’s nothing. It also is very unusual. The perp doesn’t fit any profile I know. He or she doesn’t seem to have a type, just out-of-towners and that’s just out of character. What kind of psyche profile did Jackal do when he came to town?”
Torger thought. “Jackal isn’t your usual profiler. He gets a sense for people but didn’t do a formal work-up on the person.”
He waited for Urban to explode at the lack of procedure. Nothing.
“Okay, so we start from scratch. Give me the case files. I’m gonna need to talk to the cops on the case, see what they’ve seen. You, on the other hand, need to unwind so you can have a clear view of things.” Urban began to type.
“But—”
“No. Your frustration is rubbing me raw. I can feel your urge to shift and your urge to mate. It’s fucking with me, big time, and I bet it’s confusing you. So you can either take a powder now or I make you take a time out.” Urban looked up, his green gaze was hard and unwavering.
“Fine but what am I supposed to do?” Torger sat back and waited for the answer.
“Read, jerk off, I don’t care, just get away from me for an hour or so.” Urban turned back to his laptop and began to type. “But first, get me the files.”
“Yes, sir, your highness, sir,” Torger growled.
“And don’t you forget it,” Urban threw out as Torger left the table to get his briefcase. He fetched his satchel and brought it to Urban, hoping that his brother could see something they hadn’t.
“All the vics were identified, right? And they were all found in various places all over town, right?” Urban continued to type without looking up.
He wasn’t sure where Urban was going with it but answered him all the same. “Yeah, we assumed that they were just vacationers, but the spots they were found were where locals usually congregated.”
Torger hadn’t given much thought to the identity of the victims since they ranged in genders and sexual orientations. Also, he figured that the perp wanted the bodies to be found rather than have them lying out in the middle of nowhere. Nothing like hubris. But that didn’t give them any leads to speak of, which was frustrating as hell.
“Give me an hour. I may have thought of something.” Urban continued to type, leaving Torger feeling a sense of loneliness closing in. A black funk rose up inside of him, chilling him to the bone. His mind had become a blank wall. Weight pushed down on his head and shoulders. Energy buzzed through his tendons and muscles demanding movement. Another run was looking really good at that moment.
* * * *
Abbott leaned against the dark wood bar. Smoke mingled with the stench of stale beer and peanuts and the tang of sweat. The dull drone of the late night news played out on a flat screen TV against the far wall. The murmur of conversation floated around him, but he didn’t give it any mind. Tonight he was looking for someone. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. His gums ached as anger pounded in his head. So much life, so much need and he could feel none of it. Not yet anyway. He sipped his vodka, allowing the burn to drive away the desire for the kill.
“Did you hear about the body found on L and C in front of the theater?” someone close by asked.
“Yeah. When the fuck is Torger gonna do something about it? Fucking werewolves. How can you trust ‘em to get anything done? And that vampire in office is no better,” another person responded.
Abbott kept his mouth shut. It amused him that the unclean masses were bitching about their elected officials. The town had been at peace for years and now a few murders and everyone was ready to sell anyone up the river for a little slice of how it used to be. He continued to sip his vodka. The icy chill of the liquid helped cool his body down some. The hunger had been beaten back for now. Taking in his surroundings, he observed the locals. No out-of-towners here. But hunting for his next date wasn’t his goal. Tonight he wanted to see what others were saying before he returned to his job. A few more minutes went by with nothing else said on his offerings. Once he finished his drink, he paid and left. The night felt warm and welcoming. The lights of the town shone brighter. Always after a kill everything looked beautiful. But the cracks were there, you just had to look hard enough.
He arrived at his shop and unlocked the door. A sense of Zen calm came over him as he stepped over the threshold. A gentle perfume of flowers and greenery drifted toward him. With a sigh, he flicked on the lights and shut the door behind him. This was his paradise, his sanctuary, his little shop: The Gossip Shack. It was part cyber café, part information center, part memorabilia store, part café all rolled into one. The Tourist Board had called it essential to the city for whatever your needs were, whether you were just visiting or if you had just moved here. He had glowing reviews from various newspapers and magazines. He’d even been featured on a TV show or two. But that didn’t matter. None of it had any importance until Isadora Jones had graced his little shop with her presence to do a segment on him. She’d been so warm, so curious. The reporter exuded a sense of seduction, sexuality, confidence and perfection. So untouchable, he was just in awe of being allowed to be near her. And so his infatuation began and to this day his devotion only grew.
Abbott could only hope that she would understand and feel honored by his small offerings.
“Master? Did I do well?” Ariel’s dreamy voice came to him from the doorway of the storage room.
His little reverie vanished and his mood darkened at being interrupted from his thoughts. He looked at Ariel; her pale shimmery blond hair covered her delicate features. The small tips of her pointed ears peeked out from among her thin golden tresses. Her subservience angered him. The dull flames started in his belly and spread through his arms and legs and swelled through his head until he shook with it. Hunger crowed as it rattled in its cage, demanding release. Swallowing hard, he shoved the desire down and turned away from his progeny. “Yes, very well. Hopefully she’ll appreciate my latest offering. Now let’s get ready to open for the night.”
They worked in silence to prepare for their customers. Despite the killings, the hotels were still full of visitors and they would all want the latest scoop and a place to gather information. The evening wore on but there was no one that caught his eye. As midnight approached he felt a sense of disappointment. There hadn’t been a single person to trigger his desire to end his loneliness. Five minutes to closing time a person walked into the shop and took off a cap. A fall of curling brown hair covered her shoulders; chunky red highlights surrounded her face. She had dark brown eyes, a straight nose and plump lips. The hunger roared back to life as his gums began to throb and saliva filled his mouth. Oh!
The woman looked up at him; a small smile played on her features. She reached into her pocket and flashed a badge. “Hey there, I’m Detective Santa Rosa. Mind if I ask you a few questions, Mr. Lance? We could sure use your help on this case.”
Abbott grinned. The demon ins
ide of him purred at the husky cadence of her voice and her curvy figure under the tight padded jacket and jeans. “Of course, Detective. Please, have a seat. Let me get you a coffee and some cake, on the house.”
He shut the door and headed behind the counter. The night was looking up.
Chapter Four
POLICE STILL SILENT
What are the cops doing exactly? -Isadora Jones, DC News Blast
“The police are working on the second body found. We were lucky that another murder took place tonight.” Evanson sat back and looked over at his assistant. “Next time we need to be more careful. Now that I’ve released my statement we can continue with the plan. What is Draven doing to stop the killer? What do our sources in the Police Department say?”
Sadie consulted her notes. “Nothing. They don’t have a clue.” She smiled. “We have time. Shall we send out the next candidate?”
Evanson thought over the ramifications of progressing with their plan this way. The floor work they were laying down to dethrone Draven was in a tricky spot. If they pushed too hard, the people would love him and not want him out. If they went too light, the impact wouldn’t help them in the least. Anger surged through him, rattling his nerves, setting his chest afire. Acid churned in his stomach. Bile seared up his throat.
Sadie went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, sweetie. It will be all right.” She stroked the side of his face. A sense of peace slipped into him like silk, cooling the acid and fire.
He let out a soft sigh and turned into her touch, willing the sweet serenity to seep into every pore and bring back his clarity. Once he felt his mind follow the harmony, his body sagged into the deep cushion of the chair. He reached up and covered her hand. “I’m fine now, love. Thank you.” Evanson turned his head and placed a kiss on her palm. “All right, I think it would be good to send out the next candidate.”
Sadie pulled her hand from his grasp and scribbled in her notes. “All right, then. I’ll contact the professor and let him know what we want to do. Now let’s go over your schedule for the next week. We have a funeral to plan.”
Evanson shook his head. He didn’t want to think about death at the moment. “No, we have some serious lovemaking to catch up on. I haven’t had you since this morning. Come here.”
Sadie giggled and set down her notebook and pen. “Yes, sir.”
* * * *
Urban sat back and blew out a breath. “So far, nothing. Sorry bro. Can I have a little more coffee?”
Torger nodded and grabbed the pot. He felt sick. If Urban couldn’t come up with anything, then they were truly screwed. The bodies had been dissected to kingdom come, they’d brought in outside help, even consulted a psychic and came up with nothing. Where could they go next?
“Hmm, okay, usually you focus on the body. So let’s take that out of the equation, shall we?” Urban rose and began to pace. “The victims didn’t have ID on them, nothing to tell us who they were. Why would the killer do that unless there was something significant about each of the people?”
Torger poured out a cup of coffee for himself and his brother. “Nothing that I can see.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. The blood is what’s significant. Why take something that has, for centuries, been thought of as life, soul, essential. We need it to live. It contains the spark that makes our hearts beat and our brains function. It’s what makes air, water, food essential. Why take it? Why go to all that trouble of draining the bodies dry?” Urban stretched his arms over his head, grabbed the mug and downed the java in one gulp.
Torger winced but said nothing, instead, he chose to think about what Urban had said. “Well, we thought it was to make it look like a vampire attack. What better way to drive out visitors than to make it look like the blood drinkers couldn’t be kept in line?”
Urban nodded and held out his cup for more fuel. “Yeah, true, but why not just make it look like an animal attack? A rabid shifter would instill more fear than a vampire. Most vamp sluts would think that the victims wanted to die.”
Torger winced at the use of the insult to vampire fanatics. “Don’t call them that. Anyway, you do have a point.” He sat down and took a sip of coffee without giving Urban more to drink. “There was no evidence of illness. In fact, despite the lack of blood, all the organs were in perfect condition.” He gave Urban a quick rundown of what the coroner had told him.
“And who do we know that can make things look all shiny and new even if they’re not? And not a vampire?” Urban grabbed the pot, poured out the dark brown liquid into his mug and filled it to the rim. He stuck his tongue out and put the pot down.
“Java junkie,” Torger spat out.
“Tea snob,” Urban shot back and grinned. “Moving on. Yes, I’m inferring that we’re dealing with a possible vampire impersonator.”
“Yeah, we thought that, but why?” Torger scratched his chin, unsure of how to express his doubt on this theory. They’d picked apart that idea to pieces and it still didn’t add up.
“I can hear the hamsters in your head working and I can see you have doubts. But let’s posit that this is a vampire impersonator, someone who wants people to believe that vampires are acting up. It limits Draven’s Crossing’s ability to look stable but also it makes our little slice of heaven look dangerous. No tourists and Draven’s out as mayor because he can’t protect our people or anyone else. But then who takes his place? Evanson? No one trusts him, not as far as they can throw him.”
Torger mulled over Urban’s words. “So then who? And what are we really dealing with?”
Urban shrugged. “Not sure of what but as to who, look to the Council. Or a Council lackey. Remember there is still opposition to Draven’s Crossing and to Draven. Also, they’d get more control if they put a lackey into public office.”
“Sure but the citizens would refuse. They’ve dealt with Council lackeys before and it never went well. Why now?” Torger pointed out.
Urban grinned. “’Cause now there’s more to lose. Haven’t you been reading the revenue section of the newspaper? Draven’s Crossing’s intake has nearly doubled in the last three years. We’re almost as popular as Disneyland. If they fuck up then they lose out on a place that could refill their coffers. The Council is almost broke due to runaway spending and mismanagement of funds and scandals galore that cost them millions in lawyer fees. That little stunt from last year, where they put Hyde Range City in quarantine not only cost them money but also trust. They need Draven’s Crossing. As in, they need this town or they’d be bankrupt.”
Torger grimaced. “Okay, fine, but why not put up a patsy. A serial killer is just too much even for the Council. We could be dealing with an actual psycho.”
Urban took another sip of coffee before giving him an answer. “And I think we are dealing with a psycho. Someone that let him or her loose to run all over here roughshod.”
“And yet I hear nothing about how to stop them,” Torger pointed out. His brain hurt from all the supposition. “There’s no precedence for this person. Nothing in the archive to suggest that this person got their ideas from someone else or even from a case in Europe. You haven’t found anything and Jagger’s network of undesirables is coming up dry.”
“And that should tell you that people are scared to talk.” Urban refocused his attention on the screen.
Torger shrugged. “I can see that and I can see the other side of the argument that there is no information to tell. We’re stuck.”
Urban shook his head. “God, you’re such a fun sucker. Okay, fine. I’ll keep looking. Let’s hope that we don’t have to look to the reporters for info then we’ll know we’re really fucked over.”
Torger’s thoughts turned to Isy once more. The notion of calling her sent a tingle racing down his spine. He told himself that it was for work, that it wasn’t personal.
Urban gave him a look. “Call her. You know you want to. Whoever she is, she’s got you smiling, which is good.”
Torger blanched. Smiling? Did it show that much? What else did Urban see? Rather than ask, Torger left the room and went into his office, closing the door behind him. He didn’t waste any time and sank down into his plus leather executive chair, picked up his phone and hit speed dial hoping she wouldn’t give him the deep grill.
* * * *
The shrill ring of the phone jarred Isadora from the mesmerizing nothing on the computer monitor. She groped around for her cell phone only to realize she wasn’t in her usual comfortable surroundings but in the archive room doing research on Muffy Evanson. The day had ended on a shitty note with having to report on not only her murder but another body being found in front of the theater. She wasn’t sure whether to feel paranoid or angry. Her inner dragon was pissed, blowing out streams of fire, which rose her body temperature and had the makeup people trying to make it look like she wasn’t stuck in a sauna every few seconds.
When the broadcast was over, she almost sagged in relief only to realize she’d have to do a full hour long report to pay tribute to Muffy Evanson tomorrow night. It wasn’t because management was demanding it but only because the woman had contributed so much to the community. In her opinion, Muffy was a far more important addition to Draven’s Crossing than her husband. Why couldn’t the killer have killed Evanson instead of his wife? she grumbled silently. The phone continued to ring. Isy patted around her pockets before she found it. “Should have put it on vibrate,” she mumbled to herself before hitting the talk button.
“What?” She didn’t mean to be rude but she was tired, out of coffee and chocolate, and she’d forgotten her jacket in her office. Plus, her ass had fallen asleep. Isy didn’t look forward to having to walk upstairs since the elevator was still under repair.
“Is that how you greet people nowadays?” Torger’s smooth, deep cadence with just a hint of gravel around the edges sent a bolt of heat straight to her core. Her vagina filled with cream, and she had to fight to keep from squirming in her seat.
[Draven's Crossing 1] Hidden Diversions Page 6
