Just to ease his mind, she nodded in agreement. Marcus might have ulterior motives, but anyone with half a brain could figure out what his primary interest was tonight.
Beau gestured toward the prep tables and the bodies lying atop them. “If you’re finished for the evening, I’ll get them into their caskets and you can go home. No more chasing vampires tonight.”
Instead of leaving right away, Emily stopped in Scott's office. She was a firm believer in the 'what he didn't know wouldn’t hurt him' motto.
She closed the door and snapped on the desk lamp. It wasn't hard to find the John Doe file. The funeral home had received only one in the five years it had been in business.
Scott's neat handwriting covered several of the pages. There were graphic descriptions of the body and the condition it was in upon reception. Toward the bottom, there was an addition, possibly after he'd figured out John Doe’s real nature. For now he detailed the areas that had miraculously healed.
Emily smoothed her finger down the page and stopped at the distinguishable marks and tattoos section. Scott had written “sizable wing pattern, spans entire back.” She tried to recall it from memory, but couldn't. Her quick glimpse of it hadn't afforded much of a picture to recall.
“Marcus.” She tested his name on her tongue again. She liked the sound of it. She touched fingertips to her bottom lip where he’d nibbled. Would she ever see him again?
Beau's head poked through the door. “Someone's here to see you.”
She yelped then shoved the file back into the cabinet.
Detective Denise Hahm, her sister’s friend, entered the office. She clutched a brown paper bag in her hand. “Hi. Do you remember me?”
Beau glanced at the file cabinet.
Using her elbow, Emily eased the drawer shut. “How can I help you, Detective?”
Hahm extended the wrinkled bag toward her. “Would you mind taking a look at this?”
She seated herself in the visitor's chair. Beau pulled up a chair next to Emily, who had dropped into Scott’s leather chair.
Hahm placed the bag on the desk and removed another from inside it. The plastic bag contained a wad of black cloth. The detective's cheeks glowed with excitement. She extracted the folded shirt and pushed it across the desk. “Your sister mentioned you had a knack for this sort of thing. Can you take a look and tell me a little about this guy? We seem to have lost track of him.”
Beau leaned forward. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. He looked at Emily, almost said something, but clamped his mouth shut instead.
The detective tucked chin length hair behind her ears. She looked comfortable in a light yellow polo and khakis.
Was her sister at home having a good laugh at her expense? “I’m sorry, but I don't understand why Liz would send you over here.”
“She didn't. Something Liz and I were talking about a few nights ago kind of struck me as odd, and I wanted to get your spin on it.”
Beau's light brows pulled down. “What is this about, Hahm?”
“Liz let slip that you had a talent for reading people.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Emily feigned confusion.
“You can read dead bodies.” Hahm smiled with practiced patience. “I want to know how it works. You see, I've done some homework on you. I know what kind of scam you and that boyfriend of yours were running a few years back.”
Hahm's views on the subject were unclear, and Emily wasn’t going to ask for clarification. She turned the cloth carefully in her hand and examined a rip in the fabric. Something dark flaked away from the frayed fibers. “Is this blood?”
Beau’s gaze seemed to follow her movement with interest.
Hahm grimaced. “I suppose blood doesn’t work?”
“Should I be touching this?” Emily dropped the crunchy cloth and dusted her hands.
“It’s been released. The other shirt he wore over it had more blood and brain matter to work with.”
“John Doe?” The words were a mere exhalation. Beau glared sideways at her, clearly disapproving of her fascination.
“Yeah, we took it from the cadaver's belongings the night of the attack.” Hahm picked up the shirt. “He didn't have any identification on him and I'm back to square one.”
“Why bother Emily with this?” Beau demanded. At this point, Emily wasn’t sure if he was protecting her or Marcus.
“The lab.” Hahm shook her head. “They've botched the findings. I was hoping she'd remember something else that might help me identify him.”
“I've told you everything I remember, Detective,” she lied.
“Since I'm here, there are a few things I'd like to ask you.” She stuffed the shirt into the baggie. “Something you said has been bothering me.”
Emily stared at her. She should have left instead of nosing around Scott’s office.
“The John Doe had severe head trauma,” Hahm said after checking her notes. “You likened it to hamburger meat.”
“I don’t remember what I said.”
“What bothers me is how a man who was clinically dead got up and walked away.” The detective shook her head and made a sweeping gesture with a hand.
Beau's fingers found their way into Emily's beneath the desk and gave them a not so gentle squeeze.
“That's not possible.” Never mind she had witnessed him do exactly that.
“That's what my brain tells me, but my gut says something else.” Hahm's voice was quiet. Except for the two bright spots on her cheeks, all color had drained from her face. She picked up the zippered baggie full of the crusty shirt and crammed it into the paper bag.
“What is it telling you?” Beau looked skeptical.
“It doesn't make any sense.” Hahm picked up the small, tattered notebook again. “Did you touch him? Did he touch you?”
“I fell across him during the attack.”
Beau's gaze met Emily's for a moment. She couldn't read the expression that flitted across his face.
“What did you see?” Hahm demanded, not bothering to hide the excitement in her voice.
“Him being beaten to death.”
“By the same men who attacked you? After he got up, did you follow him outside or see which way he went?”
“Yes.” They had already covered this several times, and Emily had grown impatient. “I already told you. He ran out the back.”
“I assume you got a good look at him. Besides dark hair and blue eyes, were there any identifiable marks or scars you noticed? Any birthmarks, tattoos or things like that?” She flipped a few pages. “The others called him by a name, but you couldn't recall what it was. Do you remember now?”
“No, I'm sorry.” Okay, that was a blatant lie. Curiosity pushed her to ask, “Didn’t Scott give you any notes regarding the body?”
“He said it had just arrived, and he didn't have time to start any paperwork.” Hahm removed a small, dog-eared photo from between the pages of the notebook and handed it to her. “What about this guy?”
Emily recognized him immediately. “They called him Pete.”
“Peter Edwards. He thinks he’s a vampire and hasn’t seen his shrink in a few years. That means he isn’t taking medication either. The last time anyone saw Peter he was in the company of a blond man. He might be able to lead us to the John Doe as well.”
“I'm just curious, but why are you so eager to find the John Doe? I mean, he saved my life. He didn't hurt anyone except the people who attacked us. Maybe he doesn't want to be found.”
“Why are you protecting him?”
“I’m not.” She wanted to touch the necklace at her throat, but instead squeezed Beau’s hand.
Hahm dipped fingers into her front pocket and withdrew a silver pentagram necklace. She slid it across the desk. “Is this yours?”
The detective sat back in the chair, willing to wait her out it seemed. Beau shifted restlessly and cleared his throat.
The silver plating was scuffed, and the necklace’
s chain was broken. Emily shook her head. “It isn't mine.”
“We found it in the alley. If John Doe is what I believe, he is…” Hahm grimaced.
“What kind of nonsense are you talking?” Beau asked. He sent a cagey glance in Emily’s direction.
“Did you find a body?” Emily pulled her hand out of Beau’s then found the heart lying in the hollow of her throat and toyed with it.
“No. We found a little blood behind the dumpster. You said he didn’t attack you, but ran out the back?”
Emily vaulted out of the chair and headed for the door. No way was she going to get further involved in this. All of this was far too complicated, too dangerous. Starr Carter tried to use her, and now the police department was asking questions too? Just what kind of mess had she gotten herself into?
Beau was hiding something and Emily was determined to find out what it was. Right now though, she wanted to get away from everyone and think. Too much was happening all at once.
“Emily?” Hahm stood and tucked the necklace back into her pocket. “Is it safe to assume you know something you aren’t telling me?”
Emily's back stiffened, and she took a deep, measured breath. “I told you what I know.”
“I understand that you’re scared.” The detective took a step toward her. “Help me identify him. I just want to talk to him. Don't you want to put the men who attacked you behind bars? They obviously know each other. Maybe he can help us find them.”
Trent and Pete were with Starr at the old park. But how were they all connected to everything that had happened? A series of events were in motion, and she didn't yet understand the meaning behind them. “I can't do this right now. I have to go.”
The detective called after her. “I think John Doe hurt someone outside the mortuary. If you could shed any light on this, I’d sure appreciate it.”
“Listen to what you're saying.” Emily groaned at her choice of words. She sounded just like her sister. “These things are not possible. I must have made a mistake.”
“Surely you of all people know there are strange, unexplained things in this world. They keep to the shadows, but there are monsters out there, Emily.”
“What does the rest of your department say about this?” Beau questioned in a calm manner. “Do they support your beliefs?”
The detective's gaze was downcast. “I haven't brought all my suspicions to light. I'd be forced to quit and become a laughing stock.” She turned back to Emily. “How else could a man with a bashed in skull do the things you claim?”
Emily struggled to find meaning behind Marcus’s actions. “He could have hurt me, but didn't.”
“He probably would have if we hadn’t shown up. Please help me find him.”
Beau watched Emily and the detective. It looked like it was a great effort to keep his mouth shut.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t see anything. I can’t help you.” Emily pushed through the door and hurried across the parking area, eager to get home and put this behind her.
Beau caught up to her by the time she reached the Bug. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You handled that well, Emily.”
“I couldn't tell Hahm her suspicions were correct, now could I?
“Of course not. I just wish you hadn't told her the cadaver walked off in the first place. I don't think she's going to let it die.”
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I was frightened and confused that night. As soon as it popped out of my mouth, I wanted take it back. Can't you wipe her mind so she'll forget?”
“I can. Is that what you want me to do?” He took a step in the detective's direction.
Emily grabbed his sleeve. “No, don't. It's not right to fool with people's heads like that.”
Emily crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Tell me who Marcus is. How do you know him?”
Beau seemed taken aback.
“You were all freaked out that he was going to do something to me tonight. The two of you obviously know each other.”
“No,” Beau argued. “You were standing in the middle of the street, kissing a vampire.”
“I don’t buy it. You hauled me away from him at the park too.”
He studied her a moment. “You’ve got to stop trying to find him. He’s a very dangerous man.”
She looked up at her friend. “Trent and Pete, the two vamps at the park, are the ones who attacked me and Scott.”
“Is that why you want to find him? You think he’ll be able to help Hahm find them?”
“No, of course not. Do you seriously think Hahm believes in vampires and monsters? She’s trying to fluster me. Even if I were to tell her, what’s she going to do about it?”
“Please, Emily, if you see Marcus…”
She stared up at him. Why did everyone keep warning her about him? She totally didn’t get it. Marcus seemed harmless enough.
He gripped her arm. “Run the other way.”
Emily wrenched the car door open and considered her friend’s words of warning. “Why’d he fight Trent and Pete off the night they attacked me? And why’d he protect me at the park? He can’t be that bad, Beau.”
Emily dropped into her car and put it in reverse. Leaving Beau standing in her swirling road dust was not something a friend should do. A twinge of guilt stabbed through her. Surely he could understand that she just needed time to think.
A loud crash followed by the sound of shattered glass resounded from the living room. Someone’s heavy tread creaked across the wooden floor.
Emily threw the tangled blankets off her legs and slipped out of bed. Tiptoeing across the bedroom, she peeked into the dark hallway.
The door across from hers jerked open, spilling light into the dark hall. Brenda stood in an oversized nightshirt with frogs printed on it. Her hair was wild with tangles, and she was still half asleep. The current lover of the week stood shirtless behind her with sleepy eyes and jeans half zipped.
Brenda pushed the hair out of her face. “What’s going on?”
Emily pressed a finger to her lips and pointed toward the front of the house. “I think someone broke in.”
“I'll check it out,” the man whispered. “Call the police.”
Brenda slipped past him to cross the hall. Fear flickered in her dark brown eyes.
“Don’t.” Emily shot an urgent glance toward the front of the house.
“I’ll be okay.” He went back into Brenda’s bedroom.
Emily pushed her door shut, save an inch to peek through.
She glanced over at her friend. “Hurry, open the window.”
“Get away from the door,” Brenda’s whisper was shrill, her eyes wide with fear. “They’ll see you.”
Emily pressed a cheek against the doorframe to keep an eye on the hallway. Trent rushed past, and she shrank back to avoid discovery.
“Check these other rooms, Pete. She’s gotta be in one of ‘em.” He opened the linen closet in the hallway. “I can’t wait to see the look on her face.”
Brenda’s new boyfriend chose that moment to venture into the hallway. He’d taken the time to put on shoes of all things. He didn’t have the opportunity to ask what the intruders wanted. Instead, Trent grabbed him by the throat and smashed his head against the wall.
Brenda’s boyfriend slid to the floor. He settled against the wall with lifeless eyes. He left a long smear of blood behind on the cream colored paint.
Emily clapped a hand over her mouth and stifled a scream. She snatched the cordless phone from its base. There was no dial tone. She glanced around the room then realized she’d left her cell phone in the living room. Shit!
Brenda hadn't moved. She huddled against the wall instead.
Emily fell to her knees next to the window and fumbled with the lock. The rusty latch refused to open.
The rattling thump of the lover's heels drummed against the floorboards like a macabre drum beat. Someone laughed at his gurgled plea for mercy. What followed was a silence that was
worse than any scream.
“Hurry,” Brenda begged as Emily struggled to disengage the lock.
“I’ll have to break it.” Emily moved toward the closet with a sense of purpose. Brenda followed close on her heels.
Emily shoved her into the closet, and she sank to the floor. Hangers snarled in Brenda's hair and the toes of Emily's favorite tennis shoes pressed against her spine.
“They'll hear you.” Brenda wrapped her arms around her knees. Her hands trembled, and her eyes were huge and liquid. “They'll hear you and come in here.”
“Yes, they will,” Emily agreed with grim certainty. “Maybe I can distract them while you climb out the window.”
Brenda grabbed her arm. Her grip was painful, but Emily didn’t shake her loose. “Stay with me, they’ll kill you.”
The sound of breaking glass and crashing furniture resumed.
Emily imagined they’d finished feeding. She wiped her friend’s face on one of the dresses hanging above her head. “Promise you'll make a run for it?”
The bathroom door down the hall banged open. The shower curtain ripped from its rod. Someone yelled, “Gotcha!”
Emily cast a glance at her friend. “Get ready.”
Brenda nodded in acceptance.
She turned and struck the window. Pain shot up her elbow all the way to her shoulder. A spider web fracture ran through the glass. She’d have to hit it again.
The bedroom door banged against the wall and shuddered to a stop. Pete stepped into the room and snapped on the light. A slow smile spread across his grimy face. “Now I got you.”
Emily screamed, and he threw her aside. Her shoulder glanced off of the wall and shook the window. She lay dazed for a moment, expecting the worst.
Instead, Pete jerked the closet open only to get a face full of plastic hangers. He jerked Brenda out by the hair.
Emily gripped his filthy coat. “Let her go!”
Pete picked Brenda up and moved toward the hall. Brenda screamed and flailed against the creature. Without much grace, he threw her into the hallway. “Here’s the roommate, boss!”
Emily pressed her hands against the clutter beneath the bed in search of a weapon. Her fingers brushed across a stray shoe, an empty shopping bag, hangers, and a belt. Finally, they closed around the handle of an aluminum softball bat. With renewed determination, she scrambled to her feet.
Of A Darker Nature Page 8
