Megan raised her eyebrows. “Well, you know it wasn’t me. I’m pretty sure I was on the ground with a bullet in me by then.”
Nolan nodded. “Yep. You were. I never said it was you. But something isn’t fitting here, Megan. We have your gunshot wound without a wound. We have you missing from the crime scene when the first responders arrive. We have you telling me that a vampire rescued you and then disappeared into thin air. Except, of course, when she showed up at your house to prove herself to you. Was there someone else there with you, Megan?”
Megan shifted in her seat, dread swirling in her stomach. “Where?”
“At the gas station that night.”
“You mean besides Peter Sampson and Richie Haim?”
“Yes.”
“No! Who else would have been there? Detective, I’m not sure what you’re trying to get at, but if you’re implying that I had something to do with the robbery, you couldn’t be more wrong.” Megan tried to stave off the tears that were forming in her eyes. “Didn’t you find the money that he stole?”
“We did. It was on the floor near the paper towels.”
“Then what motive would I even have? This is crazy!” Megan sounded hysterical, but she couldn’t stop herself. The thought of going to prison for a crime she didn’t commit, and was a victim of, was too much for her to digest.
“I don’t know!” Nolan slammed his fist on the table, shaking it from side to side. It was the first time Megan had seen him lose his cool. She inched back in her chair.
He held a hand up. “I’m sorry. You can go. But I need you to remember that anything you don’t tell me about that night, or anything relevant that happened after, is an obstruction of justice. That’s a felony offense that can carry up to ten years with it. I just want you to remember that.”
Unmoved by Nolan’s blatant threat, Megan snatched her purse off the back of the chair and exited the room without acknowledging him. She stormed out of the police station and sat behind the wheel of her Escape for a minute, wondering how the hell she had ended up here. A light knock at her window nearly caused her to scream.
“You okay?”
Angeline stood there with dark sunglasses, a winter cap, and a parka obscuring her small frame, even though it was nearly sixty degrees. She kept her head down.
Megan was about to ask her how she knew she was there, but then decided that asking her every time would grow tiresome quickly. Just because she didn’t necessarily want to believe how Angeline knew where she was, she’d given her the explanation more than once. “Yes, I’m fine. I think he suspects I had something to do with it. The robbery, the deaths, I don’t even know. Thanks to you saving me, there are questions they don’t have answers to, and they seem to think I’m lying. Sorry if I ‘called’ you here.” Megan wasn’t sure if she should thank her for coming or ask her to get in. So she did neither.
“Don’t be. I can’t stay out here, though,” Angeline said, nodding toward the fading sun. It was just after five, but the sun hadn’t gone below the horizon yet. “We can talk about it later, if you want.” She slid a folded-up piece of paper into the palm of Megan’s hand. Megan clutched Angeline’s fingers for the briefest of seconds. Angeline squeezed back and turned to get back into the ink-black Mustang awaiting her. Predictable, but still sexy.
Megan watched as she sped away, wondering why she didn’t use her super-speed or whatever power it was that vampires supposedly possessed. Angeline had scrawled her phone number on the sticky note. Her handwriting was small and neat and looked like something out of an old diary. Megan smirked and shook her head. She started her engine and decided she needed a night out. A night without policemen, or vampires, or anything else that made her feel like she was losing her mind.
* * *
Pantsuit, the only women’s bar in a forty-mile radius, was hopping for a Thursday night. When Megan had called Stacey to ask if she felt like going out, Stacey was only too happy to oblige. Clubs weren’t really Megan’s scene, or hadn’t been since her early twenties anyway. In the late nineties and early two thousands, clubs were the premier place to meet other gay women, so Megan had sucked up her disgust of loud, pulsing music and bathroom lines that stretched as far as the eye could see in order to hang out with like-minded people. A defunct nightclub in Boston was where she had met Stacey all those years ago, and for that she’d be forever grateful.
Kristen and Stacey were standing outside the entrance when Megan walked up the faux red carpet toward the door. Stacey was wearing a tank top and skinny jeans while Kristen had on a bulky sweater and leggings with knee-high boots laced all the way up. It was no surprise that Stacey was shivering, and her lips were a pretty shade of blue.
“You made it!” Kristen yelled, giving Megan a half-hug. “We haven’t been out in forever. I’m so glad you wanted to do this.”
“Yeah, me too,” Stacey said, her body trembling. “Can we go in?”
“You had nothing else you could’ve worn?” Megan asked, rubbing Stacey’s tricep vigorously. It was frigid.
“It’s been a while, okay? Isn’t this the kind of thing we used to wear when we went out?”
“Well, yes, when we went out in June. Not when it was forty degrees outside. You’re going to need a shot of whiskey to thaw you out,” Megan said.
Not much had changed over the last twenty or so years. The dark purple walls were lined with fluorescent 3-D beer advertisements, flyers for upcoming events, and twinkling Christmas lights. The mahogany bar was full of women, some hoping to meet Ms. Right, some hoping to meet Ms. Right Now, and some were just enjoying the atmosphere with friends. Two pool tables in the room off to the right had quarters piled high, where a smaller bar was decorated with a tropical theme. The dance floor in the main area was throbbing with strobe lights and a techno dance song that Megan was fairly sure would cause one hell of a headache later on that night.
“Come on, let’s go over there,” Stacey shouted over the noise, pointing to the side room with the pool tables. The music was somewhat muted on that side of the club, but Megan could still feel the pulsing within her temples.
Kristen ordered them a round of margaritas and found a small table in back. Megan looked down at her jeans and V-neck sweater and wondered if the younger crowd saw her as the sweet aunt dropping off oatmeal cookies for the party. She rolled her eyes at her own absurdity.
“So why did you want to come here tonight?” Stacey asked, squeezing her lime.
Megan shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I just figured it would take my mind off everything. I wanted to feel normal for a night. You know, relax without having to think too much. I’m rethinking the whole club thing, though. Maybe I should have suggested a movie or a ceramics class.”
“Oh, stop,” Kristen said. “This is fun. Do you want to go dance?”
“Maybe later,” Megan said. Maybe never.
Stacey moved her head to the rhythm of the music. “Do you think you’ve seen the last of her?” she asked in a low voice when Kristen excused herself to the ladies’ room.
Megan didn’t have to ask who Stacey was talking about. “I don’t know. I have these weird feelings about her, Stace. Like, I’m super attracted to her, which is weird in and of itself, and I sort of want to act on it. She makes me feel all mushy inside,” Megan said with a laugh. “I’m usually so pragmatic about this sort of thing. You remember, I made a fucking pro and con list before I started seeing Jessica! And right now, there are about four hundred cons to two or three pros. I don’t really know her. But I like Angeline, and it’s really confusing me.”
“What if she’s just crazy?” Stacey asked, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Megan noticed her looking around the room.
“I don’t think she is. I guess I could be wrong, but my gut is telling me I’m not. I think she might be the real deal.”
“What is it about her that makes you interested in her, like that? I get having a thing for bad girls, but isn’t this maybe a step too far? What if she sna
ps? Or if she really is just unbalanced and escaped from somewhere?” Stacey asked, scanning the room again.
“What are you looking at? I don’t know. She feels like some dark savior out of a romance novel, and as unhealthy as that may be, I find it…intriguing. I didn’t say it was smart.” Megan shrugged.
“Okay,” Kristen said, returning from the restroom and taking her seat next to Stacey. She looked toward the small bar and raised her eyebrows. “I think that girl over there is checking you out.” Kristen gave a subtle nod to a woman sitting at the bar.
Megan looked over and then immediately lowered her eyes. “She is not! She’s watching the game on the TV behind us.”
Stacey waved the woman over. Megan shot her a death glance and looked over at Kristen for support. Kristen refused to meet her eyes. “What are you doing?” Megan shout-whispered.
“Tricia, hey!” Kristen said, standing and embracing the woman. “How have you been?”
“Who is this?” Megan whispered to Stacey through gritted teeth.
“Don’t be mad. We thought it might be nice for you to hang out with someone, you know, human and not totally crazy. She’s someone Kristen used to work with.” Stacey put her hand on top of Megan’s. Megan slapped it with her other hand.
“Are you serious? You’re setting me up? Tonight? That is not what I asked for, Stacey. I wanted to just kick back with my friends. And after what I just told you about Angeline? I could kill you right now.” Megan wished she could just get up and leave, but it wasn’t in her blood. She knew they were just trying to help, even if it was wildly inappropriate.
“You said you were over Jessica and ready to move on, and that was months ago, and now with everything that’s been going on…obviously I am totally rethinking this strategy right now. I’m sorry, really. I didn’t think it through.” Stacey looked genuinely apologetic, but it didn’t lessen Megan’s intense irritation.
“Megan, this is Tricia. We worked together at the Fog Hollow Sun. Until she became a bigwig and started at the Times. Tricia, this is our friend Megan, she’s a real estate appraiser here in town. Can I get you something to drink?” Kristen asked. She seemed to notice Megan’s grim expression for the first time and adjusted the neck of her sweater.
Tricia nodded. “Another gin and tonic would be great.” She took the empty seat next to Megan. She was attractive, with short brown hair and bright blue eyes. “How’s the housing market?”
Instead of sulking, which was what Megan really wanted to do, she decided to put on a less-than-miserable face and try to act like the people person she was most decidedly not. She cleared her throat and took a sip of her margarita. “Falling right now, but you know, it’s cyclical. With rates rising, it’s a purchase market. If you’re thinking of selling, now is the time to do it.” Megan watched Tricia’s reaction to see if she was genuinely interested or just making conversation.
“I see. So, do you want to play pool? Dance?”
Awkward. Megan saw Kristen close her eyes and down half her drink. At least she was coming around to the fact that the setup was a horrible idea. What the hell. My night out with friends couldn’t get any worse. Could it? “Sure, let’s play pool.” Megan swallowed a giant mouthful of margarita and slammed her glass on the table. She raised her eyebrows at Stacey in a silent demand for another. Stacey went to the bar immediately.
Tricia put four quarters in the slot and racked the balls. Megan selected a medium-sized pool cue and chalked the top until her fingers were bright blue. She wasn’t very good at pool and she really didn’t care.
“So, Kristen told me that you’re single?” Tricia asked, apparently not well versed in the art of subtlety.
“I am.” Megan shot a quick glance around the bar to see if Angeline would magically appear to rescue her from the fresh hell she’d found herself in. Oddly, she was sort of hoping that she would.
“Nice, me too. My last relationship was rough. She was a straight girl who thought she’d give being with a woman a shot. You know, the whole guys suck thing, so maybe a woman is the way to go. I shouldn’t have fallen for it, but I did, and big surprise, she’s with some dude now. How about you? Have you been single long?” Tricia concentrated as she sank the three ball into the corner pocket.
Megan sighed. She supposed she might as well just lay it all out there. Not exactly first date conversation, but since nothing else about the night was first-date-like, nor did she want it to be first-date-like, she might as well follow the leader. “About six months or so. It wasn’t any kind of dramatic breakup, we just sort of grew apart. We still talk once in a while. Man, these drinks are strong,” Megan said, polishing off her second.
“Another?” Tricia asked.
“Yup.”
Megan scratched on her shot and leaned against the pool table. She was on the right side of buzzed, heading toward drunk at an alarming rate. Since she only drank hard liquor once or twice a year at most, her tolerance was at ground level.
After two more drinks and a good amount of polite conversation, Kristen and Stacey announced that they were leaving. Stacey wrapped her arms around Megan, bringing her close.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We thought it was a good idea.”
Megan snorted, her head heavy from the alcohol. “It’s fine,” she said, a hair louder than she meant to. “She’s nice.”
“You know you can’t drive home, right? Do you want us to take you?” Kristen asked Megan, while saying her good-byes to Tricia.
“No, no I’m good. I’ll get a Luber. Or a Ryft.”
Kristen and Stacey exchanged skeptical looks, but Tricia stepped in. “I can give her a ride home. We’ll just finish up our game and then hit the road. I’ve been drinking ginger ale since my last G&T when you first got here.”
Megan overheard the conversation and decided that it didn’t really matter either way, as long as she was delivered to her bedroom in one piece. “Whatever. She can take me home. But she doesn’t know where I live!”
Megan watched as the other three chuckled and realized she was probably a little more intoxicated than she had realized.
“Don’t worry, I have GPS. Kristen, thank you. I’ll give you a call soon,” Tricia said, smiling broadly. She must have thought the date was going well. Maybe it was. Megan wasn’t sure of anything at that moment.
“You sure?” Stacey asked, looking pointedly at Megan.
“Yeah. I’m sure. Go.”
Stacey frowned but took Kristen’s hand and headed toward the door. Kristen waved over her shoulder and made the phone gesture with her fingers. Megan nodded, or at least thought she did.
After Tricia sank the eight ball for the third or fourth time, she suggested that they get going. Megan was totally on board with that plan. She was pretty sure she was going to nod off standing up if she didn’t get to bed soon.
The cold air hit Megan in the face like a ton of bricks, sobering her up just a little. She followed Tricia warily to her car. Tricia chirped her locks open with her key fob and opened the passenger side door of a small silver coupe. Megan crouched in, wondering what in the hell she was doing, exactly.
Tricia slid into the driver seat and started the engine. She turned the heat up and rubbed her hands together. “Before I take you home, I just want to thank you for a really nice time. I had fun.”
“You’re welcome.” Megan knew that wasn’t the correct response, but she wasn’t in the mood to sort out what was.
Before she knew what was happening, Tricia leaned over and kissed her, her lips wet and mushy. Megan felt Tricia’s tongue breach her lips, and she put a hand on Tricia’s chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this right now.”
“Oh, sorry. I got the feeling you were really into me, so I just assumed you wanted me to kiss you.”
Megan had no idea how to respond to that. Even in her altered state, she was fairly certain she hadn’t made any comments or gestures that would lead Tricia to believe that she’d been “really into her.�
� She seemed nice enough, but that was about it.
“Sorry.” The apologies were flying left and right.
“Does that mean you’re not really into me?” Tricia asked, still facing Megan.
Stacey is dead to me. Megan swallowed. She really should have left with Stacey and Kristen. She’d already be at home, sound asleep with Merlin kneading her calf. “I just don’t think…you know, I might throw up, so maybe now isn’t the best time for this conversation.”
Tricia backed away toward her window. “Okay, no offense, but you can’t throw up in my car. Maybe you should go sleep it off in yours or something.”
Megan had underestimated. The night clearly could get worse. She thought of telling Tricia that she’d be fine until she made it home, but the thought of begging her for a ride made Megan feel even sicker. “Fine. I’ll go call for a ride. Thanks.” Megan fumbled with the door handle. She stood up and straightened out her sweater.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Tricia said through the cracked passenger window, before she sped off into the darkness. She even peeled out a little, like a rich villain from an eighties movie.
Megan watched her drive away, dumbfounded. Not that she expected anything from someone she had just met that night, and had summarily rejected, but human decency seemed to dictate that Tricia should have made sure Megan at least made it to her car okay.
In the Shadow of Darkness Page 8
