“Consider it done.” Ray couldn’t muster much more than that, Gerri’s little smile fading, too. Mystery solved, at least. The detective had to be happy.
But Ray could see her mind was elsewhere. “See if you can match the drug in her system to the one that killed Tasha and Portia,” she said. Paused. “And Garret Jay. I have a feeling Brandon Forrest is going down for four deaths.”
Poor Kinsey. Ray just nodded.
Gerri prodded her gently, green eyes smiling, even if her lips weren’t. “You and Kins owe me dinner.” She winked. “Vampires.” She snorted. “Murder is murder. And there’s always an explanation.”
Ray rolled her eyes, looked away. But, for the moment, it appeared Gerri was right. Did that mean the things Ray knew, the things she saw about people, had an explanation, too?
With that interesting thought whirling around in her head, she followed the EMT’s out of Exotica. No way she was letting the body out of her sight this time.
***
INT. – KINSEY’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Kinsey dropped her keys on the kitchen counter in her dark apartment, shuffling a bag of takeout with her laptop bag as her phone began to ring. She already knew from the pulsing beat of a popular crime show theme song it was Gerri on the other end.
“Hey,” her detective friend said, sounding relaxed, even happy. “Myra’s safe and sound back at the morgue. Turns out her friends wanted her to have a final night of fun at the club.”
Kinsey leaned against the counter, staring into the dark of her apartment, not sure how she felt about it. “Glad it all worked out.”
“I’m sorry about your assistant.” Gerri’s tone changed completely, part professional, part comforting friend. “He confessed, Kins. Whether Tasha’s death was an accident or not, we know he killed Portia. And maybe Garret and Myra.”
Kinsey didn’t answer. Just breathed into the cool, quiet air, doing her best not to cry. She trusted Mitchell. Brandon. Whatever. It only proved to her yet again she was naïve and an idiot. Gerri wasn’t making her feel any better.
“Listen, about Simone Paris.” Gerri’s hesitation made Kinsey sigh. “While it’s probable he had nothing to do with it, Vice is now investigating Julian Black. Might be a good idea to keep your distance.”
Because she was naïve and an idiot and needed protecting. Kinsey’s temper snapped.
“I have a job to do,” she said. “And I’m doing it.”
Gerri took a moment to comment and Kinsey could only imagine the flash of anger on the redhead’s face. But, when Gerri spoke again, her voice was soft, kind.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. None of my damned business. Just…” Gerri sounded like she was driving, honk of a horn in the distance. “Keep me posted, okay? And if you run into anything you can’t handle—”
“I’ll be sure to call so you can run to my rescue.” Kinsey breathed through the flash of temper, heart hurting. This wasn’t Gerri’s fault, she shouldn’t be taking it out on her. Just because Kinsey was weak and pathetic, that didn’t make Gerri wrong. Worse, it made her completely right.
“Kins.” Gerri let it go. “Get some sleep.” And hung up.
Kinsey dropped her phone to the counter, her laptop bag to the floor, glaring at the brown paper bag with dinner cooling inside. Her appetite was gone. Maybe Gerri was right. Just grab a hot shower and crawl under the covers, hide from everything.
She intended to. Stood for a long time in the dark, staring at empty space. While symbols passed through her head one by one.
***
INT. – GERRI’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Gerri sat on her balcony, beer bottle cold in her hand, bare feet propped up on the iron railing as she looked out over the nighttime city. The pulse of it seemed to echo the beat of her heart, humidity finally easing a little as a bank of clouds washed in from over the ocean, the scent of rain heavy in the air.
While she had little hope a bit of rain would wash Silver City clean of much, Gerri grinned at the thought. And realized, for the first time, this really was the perfect place for her. She’d loved Boston, did well in Chicago. But there was a pull to the West coast she’d never understood before, like a pheromone perfume that triggered the instincts she lived with every day to sharper focus.
The phone rang and she reached for it immediately, hoping it was Kinsey or Ray. She was on her fourth beer, and though it took a lot more than that to get her drunk these days, she was feeling open, talkative. Almost happy. The byproduct of a case solved? Or something else?
“Meyers.” Gerri tipped back the bottle, settling deeper into the cheap lawn chair she’d scored her first week here.
“Detective.” Dr. Panther’s soothing voice startled her, but not enough to break the lush lull of her private moment.
“Hey, Doc.” Gerri set her beer down on the small, round table, swirling the bottom in the ring of condensation, making patterns as she spoke. “Something wrong?”
“Not at all.” The therapist sounded calm, even. “I heard through the grapevine you solved a case. I just wanted to check in with you.”
“You call all your patients at eleven-thirty on a Saturday night, Doc?” Gerri emptied the beer, ready for another but unwilling to get up, just yet. Her eyes followed the dark clouds as they swallowed the moon, the stars, coming to devour the city.
Dr. Panther sighed. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said. “Or if this seems inappropriate. I’ll call your precinct tomorrow.”
“It’s cool.” Gerri leaned forward. “Is there something I can do for you, Cici?” Her gut tightened, and for the first time Gerri used the doc’s first name. Because this call wasn’t about the detective.
Not entirely.
Cici’s hesitation told her she was right, again. As if there was any doubt.
“I have something I’d like to talk to you about,” Cici said, “can you meet me at my office tomorrow?”
“Sure thing.” Gerri stood, stretched out her tall, broad shouldered body, just as the first drops of rain hit the balcony. She blinked into the soft patter of moisture while the therapist on the other line sighed softly.
“Thank you. I’ll see you at 9am.”
Gerri hung up, frozen a moment as a wash of heavy rain fell over her. Washed her clean. Laughing, not sure why she was happy, she finally turned and fled inside, closing the door to the pounding rain.
***
INT. – JULIAN BLACK’S MANSION – NIGHT
Simone poured the fragrant scotch into a heavy, crystal tumbler, the rich, amber color appealing to her in so many ways. She traced her fingers over the pattern in the glass, black eyes reflecting the low light as thunder echoed overhead.
Julian was waiting for her on the sofa, his long, lean body relaxed against the expensive leather, arms stretched out across the back as he watched her with quiet, gray eyes. Simone inhaled the delicious aroma of his drink before crossing to him, stepping out of her high heels as she went, pulling at the side of her skirt until she could straddle his lap. She fed him a single sip of the drink, tracing one finger over his lips, bending to smell the flavor on his mouth.
She might not love much in this world, but Julian’s mouth topped the list.
When she leaned away, ready to offer him another taste, he spoke.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, having her here.”
Simone’s nostrils flared, cold replacing the small, soft heat building inside her. She stepped off him, turning her back, taking a drink from the smooth lip of the tumbler. How dare he challenge her?
“Maybe you play games,” she said, chill as ice, just the way she liked it, “but I do not.”
She felt him stand, his hand slip up her back, the warmth of his body pressing against her. Simone ignored the temptation, glaring into the dark of the garden beyond the glass, at the pounding rain.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
“I only meant,” Julian said, lips against her ear, heat of his breath trickling inside
her, “there are those who would rather you didn’t involve the DanAllart family at this juncture.”
Simone swatted him away, the irritating fly. Who was he to tell her what to do? She owned him. And his people. When she turned to face him, she let him see it and watched as his expression tightened, hand falling away.
Good. He needed the reminder from time to time. While he was a fine enough bed warmer, he was still the help.
“You leave Kinsey to me,” she said. “Considering you’ve made yourself a liability with that damned club of yours, I would think you’d be begging my forgiveness for involving the detective and the doctor in my private business.”
Julian bowed to her, backing down. “Forgive me, Mistress.”
The arrogant bastard. She threw the remains of her drink at him, splashing across his face. Julian groaned as Simone’s power grasped him firmly and pushed. She had him on his knees a moment later, groveling, kissing her bare feet while his own, weaker, ability fluttered in protest against her.
He was nothing. She was a Nightshade.
“Kinsey DanAllart is the key to everything,” she said, relenting enough Julian was able to sit back, look up at her with angry, resentful eyes. Let him hate her. She didn’t care one way or the other. As long as he did what he was told. “Let the others allow their fear to hold them back. I’m ready to act now.”
He bowed his head to her. “Your slave, Mistress.”
She laughed, soft tingle of desire rising within. Simone’s power released him, as her hand wound in his hair, stepping forward, bending to kiss him with harsh control, claiming that lovely mouth with hers. When she pulled away again, she’d forgiven him.
For now.
“Margot and the others are no match for me,” Simone whispered as Julian rose, mouth exploring her neck. “Or the lure of the truth. I own her already. It’s only a matter of time before I’m ready to act.”
Julian didn’t speak. He was too busy. Just the way she liked him.
***
INT. – SILVER CITY MORGUE – NIGHT
Ray slid the tray with Myra’s body firmly into place before closing the lid until the latch clicked. She wished she could padlock it, find some way to keep the girl’s still form safe. Knowing she was being silly, Ray turned away, grabbed her bag, switched out the light over her desk.
She was leaving early, wiped out. She'd let her assistant, Robert, go home an hour ago. The preliminary investigation of the girl’s body gave Ray no reason to believe her death had been anything but an overdose, like the other three. And, though maybe she could have gotten started now, she was tired. Heart and mind and soul tired.
And she needed a drink, damn it.
Ray paced the hall to the exit, shoes squeaking on the polished floor. By the time she reached the security desk at the door, she briefly considered leaving her car in the lot and taking a cab.
Manny tipped an imaginary cap to her as Ray signed out, checking the giant clock over his head for the proper time. 2:12am was late enough, thanks. When had she slept last? Ray covered a yawn with one slim hand while the older man in the duty uniform grinned.
“I saw that,” he said. “You work too hard, Dr. Rachel.”
She smiled at him. “No rest for the wicked. Did you check the security tapes?” She’d meant to ask him earlier.
Manny’s frown bothered her, if only because she liked him a great deal. He was always friendly to her, kind, not like some of the younger, more arrogant guards who worked rotations. Manny’s bald head shone in the light as he shook his head.
“I don’t know what happened,” he said, distress obvious. “There’s not a sign of the body being tampered with.”
Ray leaned forward and patted his hand. “Then, for all we know, it didn’t happen on your shift, did it?”
He grinned. “Thanks, Dr. Rachel. But we both know it did.”
“Well, she’s home again, safe and sound.” Ray turned toward the glass doors, the parking lot, frowning into the rain. “Have a good night, Manny. Take good care of our customers.”
“You got it, Dr. Rachel. See you.”
Ray waved back over her shoulder and walked out into the rain.
***
INT. – SILVER CITY MORGUE – NIGHT
Manny shifted his bulk in the office chair, the wheels skidding over the tile under him as he sat back, sandwich in one hand, coffee in the other. The missus did a great job with his ham and cheese, adding a bit of spicy something to the mayo tonight. He sipped the black java, feet crossed at the ankles, and focused on the hockey game on his small TV.
The next shift wouldn’t be in for about an hour, so he had the place to himself. While some of the other guards complained about being alone in the morgue at night, Manny didn’t mind at all. Kind of liked the solitude. And the night shift meant more pay, something the missus couldn’t complain about.
His routine rarely varied, part of the reason it still irked him the girl’s body vanished on his watch. Again, unlike the other guards who sat on their asses all night unless they were forced to move, Manny insisted on regular walkthroughs of the morgue. It broke up the monotony of the night and got him a little exercise. Though, he doubted his doc would consider a quiet stroll once an hour through the halls qualifying as the daily dose of cardio he was told he needed at his last checkup.
Manny finished his sandwich, carefully dusting the crumbs from his lap, humming softly to himself as he downed the last dregs of his first cup of coffee. There was enough in the thermos to last him all night, if he was careful. With a quick swipe from the napkin in his lunch box, he replaced the cup top and set it aside, heaving himself to his feet.
Time to make his third set of rounds for the night. His flashlight felt heavy at his hip, knees protesting a little as he straightened. He’d been varsity football in his youth, always a big guy, like his dad. But the years and the missus’s cooking added more pounds to the front than he knew was good for him.
Manny slapped the rounded belly that preceded him and shrugged. His ticker still pumped and his pecker still got hard without help. He was in better shape than most of his buddies. So, he wasn’t complaining.
As he turned away from the monitors to begin his rounds, Manny’s eyes settled on the main morgue where the drawers of the dead were kept. Those same eyes bugged out as he realized he’d been too sucked into the hockey game to notice an important detail.
In the dark, quiet room, one of the cabinet drawer doors stood open.
God fucking damn it. Manny spun, hoofing it as fast as his feet and angry knees could carry him, down the hall to the swinging doors to the morgue. No way was this happening to him again. No way would he let down the pretty and quiet Dr. Ray. He’d already been questioned by the cops, by his boss. He needed this job, was good at it.
He’d be damned if he’d let this happen again.
Manny skidded to a halt outside the doors, reaching for the gun at his hip, flashlight raised and lit, shaking in his left hand. He hit the swinging door with one shoulder, jerking out his gun and pointing it at the open cabinet, flashlight whipping around the dark room.
Empty. Not a soul in sight. Heart pounding, Manny eased toward the open cabinet, light shining inside. Maybe Dr. Ray hadn’t closed it properly. God knew this place had repair issues, toilets that didn’t flush right and a fridge in the staff room that heated shit up instead of keeping things cold. But, as he drew closer, bending a little to peek inside, he swore a long, steady stream of curse words that would make the missus smack him with her wooden spoon.
The tray was empty. Whoever had been inside, the body was gone.
Manny half turned, reaching for his radio. He needed back up on this one. Even if this particular tray had been empty to begin with, there was no way he wanted to deal with this alone. Better to call it in and be wrong about another missing body than to fail to report.
He caught a flicker of motion, glaring eyes and sharp, white fangs as something flew from the darkness toward him. His fla
shlight flinched, caught the girl’s face in the bright, bright light before she was on him.
The flashlight fell from his hands, his muffled shout cut off, gurgling into quiet. It landed on the floor, spun sideways, the edge of the beam lighting a pair of naked feet, to the sound of slurping in the darkness.
A moment later, a sigh of satisfaction, and the feet vanished, the silent, still body of Manny unmoving as the flashlight’s illumination shone on into the dark.
(CUT TO BLACK)
###
Next time on The Nightshade Cases…
The mysterious deaths of John and Emma Sonniker lead Gerri, Ray and Kinsey down a trail of weird even they couldn’t imagine…
Episode #3: Stolen, is now live!
The countdown continues…
Stolen
Shelter
Exorcized
Try Dying
Booty Call
Death Song
Zoology101
Teacher’s Pet
Panic Room
Bad Shoot
Sicko
Federali
Witness
The Hit
Mimic
The Maze
Haunted
Splish Splash
Divided We Stand
Don’t miss a single episode of Season One! Sign up for new release emails at www.bit.ly/pattilarsenemail.
***
About the Author
Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.
Exotica (Episode Two: The Nightshade Cases) Page 10
