Lisa Jackson's Bentz & Montoya Bundle

by Lisa Jackson

  All in all it was a damned circus.

  The campus of All Saints wasn’t officially a crime scene, at least not yet, but the presence of the police and the news teams announced to the world that a killer was on the loose, one who considered the private school his personal hunting ground.

  “Not for long, you prick,” Jay muttered as he drove to the old house where Kristi lived and felt a second’s relief when he spied her Honda parked in its usual spot. Maybe she was home. Maybe she’d lost her cell phone. Maybe…Oh, God, please. He shoved open the door of his truck before it had even stopped rolling. “Stay,” he ordered Bruno, then ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his key already in his hand. He was on the third floor in an instant, unlocking the door, throwing it open.

  “Kris!” he yelled, stepping inside.

  It was dark and quiet, the smell of old candles in the air, the window over the sink open wide, a stiff breeze stirring the curtains.

  His stomach clenched and he reached for a gun.

  “Drop it! Down on the floor!” a female voice ordered. Mai Kwan stepped out of the shadows, directly in his path, the pistol in her hands leveled straight at his heart.

  “Vampires?” Montoya, in the passenger seat, stared at Bentz as if the older detective had lost his mind. Light flashing, siren screaming, their Crown Victoria with Bentz at the wheel was flying up the freeway toward Baton Rouge. “Are you serious? Vampires? As in blood-sucking creatures that morph into bats and sleep in coffins and can’t be killed without silver bullets or a stake through the heart or some kind of crap like that?”

  “That’s what he said.” Bentz squinted into the night and drove as if Satan himself were on his ass. The rain was thick, his wipers slapping it aside as the police band radio crackled and spat. In the distance streaks of lightning sizzled through the sky.

  “You believe this?”

  Bentz felt Montoya’s gaze drilling into him. “What I believe is my kid is missing and some crazed son of a bitch has her.”

  “But vampires?”

  Bentz muttered tautly, “Those bodies pulled from the river had only traces of blood in them. Traces. And the puncture wounds. No one’s reported finding any bloody crime scene without a body.”

  “Except for our stripper, Karen Lee Williams aka Bodiluscious. There was blood there. And she went missing.” Montoya scratched at his goatee. “You think they’re connected?”

  Bentz scowled. “Don’t know. There was blood there, yeah, but not six quarts. Not a whole body’s worth.”

  “So, this fuckin’ vampire worshipper probably drank the rest. And then turned into a bat and flew off on bat wings to a vault somewhere and slept in a coffin while he digested his meal.” He reached into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and found a pack of cigarettes, the ones he saved, Bentz knew, for nights like this. His sarcasm couldn’t quite disguise the hint of uncertainty he felt. Neither of them knew what they were up against.

  Bentz saw the exit for Baton Rouge and angled the Crown Vic toward the ramp. “All I know is my kid’s missing and there’s a whole lotta weird shit going on.” He thought of Kristi. Her smile. Her green eyes, so much like her mother’s. The way she loved to bait him, or play up to him and call him “Daddy” when she was trying to wheedle something from him. Inside he felt empty. How many times would he have to go through this? She was the light of his life, and he suddenly felt a jab of guilt for the happiness he’d found with Olivia. Had he ignored Kristi, his only child? Shit, he’d even blamed Jay McKnight for abandoning her when he’d really been pissed at himself.

  “Don’t beat yourself up over this,” Montoya said, lighting up, the smell of smoke drifting through the car. “And don’t say you’re not. I see it in your face. I’ve been through this with you before. We’ll find her.”

  Dead or alive.

  The phrase cut through Bentz’s brain, but he didn’t repeat it. Couldn’t think that he’d never see his daughter alive again.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Mai demanded, her gun trained on Jay, who’d immediately dropped to the floor.

  “I’m the boyfriend, remember? I think I should be asking you that question. I’m with the crime lab, for Christ’s sake.”

  “FBI.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I’m a field agent with the FBI. I’ve been working undercover on the missing coed case ever since the second vic went missing.”

  He looked up at her and saw the hardness in her small face. She was dead serious as she pulled out a badge. “Get up.” She motioned with the gun, then crossed to the door and pulled it shut.

  As she slid her sidearm into her shoulder holster he got to his feet and examined her badge. He’d seen enough in his life to recognize its authenticity. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say—”

  “Kristi’s missing,” he snapped. “I don’t know where the hell she is so don’t give me any federal crap. What the hell do you know?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Then you can explain yourself to Rick Bentz.”

  “Stop it! You can’t intimidate me.”

  “We don’t have any time.”

  That seemed to get to her. She pushed a hank of black hair from her eyes, glanced at him, and mumbled something about a loss of protocol, but sat on the edge of the couch and said, “Tit for tat, McKnight. You spill everything you know, and we’ll work this together.” She held up a finger. “Just for now. I need clearance.”

  “Deal.” He didn’t hesitate.

  “I’ve been working this case for months, undercover, and then your girlfriend comes along and starts screwing everything up, jeopardizes and threatens everything I’ve been doing for half a year!”

  “You had the camera in here?”

  “It was already in place. Hiram, the so-called manager, used to watch it for fun. His own private girlie show.” She couldn’t hide the sneer in her voice. “Should’ve run him in, but once again, I was working things out. We discovered the camera after the Atwater girl went missing and left it up, just in case the killer returned.”

  “You used Kristi as bait?”

  “We did not put her in harm’s way,” Mai insisted.

  “Nor did you warn her off.” Jay was furious, ready to throttle the little woman.

  “Couldn’t blow our cover. You obviously discovered it, so I came back to adjust the books you put over the lens.”

  “You came in through the window,” he guessed, and she nodded, a hint of a cold smile twisting her lips. “So where’s Kristi?”

  “Don’t know. I thought she might be with you.”

  “You didn’t have anyone following her?”

  Mai met his gaze. “You don’t know where she went?”

  He shook his head. “She mentioned going back to see Everyman, Father Mathias’s production—”

  “I work on the crew,” she cut him off. “We know something is up with Mathias, but nothing we can prove, and no, Kristi, wasn’t at the performance tonight. We tape them.”

  “You tape them?”

  “With the administration’s approval.” She was stone-cold serious. “We don’t know everything about this guy, but we’re pretty sure he’s a whack job of the highest order.”

  “But you don’t know who he is?”

  “We’re working on it.”

  “And you haven’t arrested Dominic Grotto?”

  “He’s not our guy.”

  “He’s the one who’s into all the vampire crap!” The cat hopped through the open window, took one look at the strangers, and shot under the couch. Jay pulled the window shut and rain slid down the panes.

  “I’m telling you we don’t have a case against him.”

  “You mean you didn’t,” Jay pointed out. “That’s changed. Now we have bodies,” Jay said. “Bloodless bodies with evidence of homicide. Bite marks on the victims’ necks. I’ll bet my right arm those bruises match Dr.
Grotto’s bite impression.”

  Mai stared at him. Weighing her options, as if she might renege on her previous agreement. Finally, glancing at her watch, she said, “Okay, let’s do this thing. We’ll go talk to Grotto and see what the Vampire King has to say. On the way, you tell me everything you know and don’t leave out a word.”

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Father Mathias whispered as he knelt at his bedside. How had he been so tempted, so easily led astray? He’d thought it was all for the greater good.

  Or so he’d tried to convince himself.

  But God knew. The almighty Father could so easily view the darkness that was Mathias’s soul and recognize the deceit, the evil, that lingered deep inside.

  How many times had he attempted to confess all his sins to Father Anthony? How often had he wanted to seek the counsel of a wiser and more devout man than himself? And yet he hadn’t.

  Coward, he mocked, knowing his weakness.

  He closed his eyes and bowed his head, his hands clenched in heartfelt supplication. “Please, Father, hear my prayer,” he whispered, hearing the sound of the rising wind, the approach of a heavy storm. Already rain was beating on the windowpanes and running through the gutters, gurgling noisily in the downspouts.

  Somewhere above, a branch was pounding, banging against one of the attic windows.

  Evidence of God’s fury.

  His all-powerful rage.

  A reminder of how small and insignificant Mathias was.

  He lost himself in his prayer and missed the soft tread of footsteps slipping along the hallway. He was unaware that he was no longer alone. Absorbed in absolving himself of his wrongdoings, offering up his repentance, he didn’t realize an intruder had entered until it was far too late.

  And then, the creak of one floorboard made him freeze, his intonation lost….

  The hairs on the back of his scalp prickled as he turned, looking upward into the face of evil. Dark, soulless eyes stared down at him. Liver-colored lips drew backward into a hideous grimace. White fangs, seeming to drip with blood, caught in the dim lamplight.

  Mathias gasped, but it was too late.

  Lucifer incarnate had descended upon him. The devil to whom he’d sold his soul so willingly had returned to collect his due.

  Mathias started to rise, but the creature lunged, its fangs bared.

  Mathias screamed to the heavens, throwing up his arms to ward off the evil. But he was no match for the devil, this maniac with a thirst for blood.

  Vlad bit down. His teeth ripped into the soft flesh of Mathias’s throat, biting off another scream. Blood sprayed.

  Searing pain tore through Mathias’s body. He scratched and clawed but Vlad, having satisfied his taste for the priest’s unholy blood, unsheathed his knife.

  He raised it high in a deadly arc.

  Lamplight glinted against the blade.

  Mathias wriggled in fear. He was sweating, nearly urinating on himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No…he wanted God’s forgiveness, expected to live long and repent his sins and—

  Slash!

  The blade sliced downward in a silver arc.

  Father Mathias was dead in an instant.

  The feds, Jay thought, of course.

  The FBI had been at work all along.

  And still hadn’t arrested Grotto.

  Jay drove with Mai Kwan on the seat next to him, Bruno relegated to the backseat. She knew Grotto’s address, and as Jay told her everything he and Kristi had discovered, she showed him where to park, a block away from the vine-covered Victorian where Grotto resided. The house was fitting with its sharp angles and pitched roof and gargoyles decorating the downspouts.

  “I just don’t think whoever pulled this off would point a big red arrow at their head by teaching vampirism,” Mai said. “Our killer seems too smart for that.”

  “Ego,” Jay said, taking out his pistol. “God complex. He thinks he’s brilliant, more clever than everyone else. Now he wants to rub our noses in it.”

  “Or he’s being set up.”

  “Either way, he knows something.”

  Mai snapped a clip into her weapon. “Agreed. Let’s go.”

  They didn’t wait for backup. She had already phoned a higher up, asked for a warrant, and when told to “stand down” had said that of course she would. Which was a bald-faced lie. Jay figured the guy on the other end of the phone had known it.

  “Looks like he’s not alone,” Mai whispered, frowning when she spied a car parked in the driveway. “We’ll have to wait.”

  “No way. Kristi could be inside.”

  “We can’t risk it.”

  “You mean you can’t risk it. I’m going in.”

  Kristi woke up slowly.

  Her entire body ached.

  Groggy and disoriented, she opened one eye to darkness.

  Pain slammed through her head and she wondered faintly where she was.

  Shivering, she realized she was naked, lying on a cold stone floor, her hands and ankles bound, the dank smell of the earth deep in her nostrils.

  The world spun a bit and she had to work to think clearly, if at all. As if through a long tunnel, she heard water dripping and muted voices rising in anger. An argument?

  She started to cry out, then held her tongue as images—sharp, kaleidoscopic shards—cut through her brain so painfully she winced. She remembered being on the trail of a vampire.

  Wait! What? A vampire? No, that wasn’t right, or was it? Her skin pimpled at the thought.

  Think, Kristi, pull yourself together.

  She remembered a bright red drink, a dazzling concoction that someone called a blood red martini…and…and…there had been others with her. Her memories were coming back now, faster and faster. She’d been duped by two girls, Grace and Marnie…no three, that damned waitress, Bethany—she’d been in on it and then there was the surreal image…Dr. Grotto approaching her on the stage, bending over her in the mist, showing an unseen audience what he could do to her before he plunged his teeth into her neck.

  She recoiled at that memory.

  She tried to croak out a sound but her throat still wasn’t working. It was all so surreal. Maybe just a bad trip? Whatever Bethany had slipped into her drink had given her hallucinations…of course that was it.

  Then why are you lying naked on a stone floor?

  Her eyelids, at half mast, flew open and she tried to see, to gain some vision in the near-total darkness…. Where the hell was she? Why had she been part of that horrible ritual?

  Why are you still alive?

  Panicked, she tried to stand, but she wasn’t strong enough.

  She couldn’t get her stupid limbs to do what she wanted.

  Grotto’s image came to her again.

  He’d called her by name, told the unseen audience of one person? Five? A hundred? Told them that she was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice.

  And then he’d apologized to her. Whispered that he was sorry. For what? Sticking his goddamned teeth into her? Abducting her? Holy God, what the hell had she gotten herself into?

  So dizzy she thought she might throw up, Kristi forced herself onto her hands and knees. If she couldn’t walk, she could damned well crawl. Head pounding, holding one eye closed against the incredible pain, she started to move. Maybe this was only a dream. A really bad dream. She stopped for a moment, wobbling on her knees, and reached up with her tied hands to touch her neck.

  She bit back a scream when her fingertips came into contact with the wound: two holes in her neck, not bandaged, just crusted over with her own blood.

  Her stomach revolted and she had to swallow back the bile that burned up her throat.

  It hadn’t been a bad trip or a nightmare. Dr. Grotto had actually bit into her neck and sucked her blood. She touched the tracks of the blood that had dripped down her shoulder and over her breast. Sick, sick!

  Fighting the blinding headache, she told herself she had to find a way out of this dark, stone hol
e.

  A tomb, Kristi, you’re in another tomb.

  Her skin crawled at the thought, the memory of the last time she’d been sealed away, certain of her death.

  Don’t give up.

  It hadn’t happened before and it damned well wasn’t going to happen now. At least not without a damned good fight.

  She eased across the cold rocks, moving slowly, feeling with her bound hands. She listened for any noise over the drip of water, but heard only the scratch of tiny nails, as if rats or mice were scurrying out of her way.

  Inching her way, she finally ran into a wall. It, too, felt made of stone. There had to be a way out, she reasoned, her mind clearing bit by bit. Somehow she’d been placed in here and unless she was in some huge reservoir with only an outlet in the ceiling, there had to be a door. She just had to find it.

  Don’t give up. You’re not dead yet.

  She was just getting her bearings when she heard the footsteps, coming closer.

  She scooted back and lay down again. She wasn’t strong enough to fight, not yet. She’d have to feign that she was still unconscious.

  This was it.

  Her chance.

  A key rattled in the door.

  Kristi closed her eyes. Give me strength, she silently prayed, and help me kill this son of a bitch.

  CHAPTER 28

  So it had all come down to this, Dominic Grotto thought as he sat, cell phone in hand, the ice cubes in his untouched drink melting. Even the Vivaldi drifting from the hidden speakers mounted on the bookcase of his study could not soothe his soul. What had begun as a unique way to get kids interested in all kinds of literature had ended up in death.

  Four girls dead so far.

  Probably more. No doubt Ariel O’Toole and Kristi Bentz had died and would be found in the river as well.

  He knew it now. The blind eye he’d so willingly turned could now see perfectly. No more did he delude himself into thinking that he was doing the right thing and helping girls whose lives were a shambles start over.

  Since returning from his own personal performance, his last performance to his private audience, he’d switched on the television and caught news reports of bodies being pulled from the Mississippi. There had been few details, no names listed until next of kin were notified, but he knew. Deep in his heart he knew exactly what had happened to those girls.