Arlan chuckled, but he understood. She knew he understood. His hand felt good on hers.
She glanced at him and then away. “So where’s Macy?”
“She walked back to the hotel to drop off her camera and get a sweatshirt. She should be back any minute.” He squeezed her hand. “I needed to talk to you alone.”
“She come clean with anything else? Because so far, I’m not getting any information out of that box of crap, except that our guy may be even nuttier than we guessed, if that’s possible. And I’m still waiting on info from the Missouri police. Seems their inactive records room was water damaged when a contractor accidentally set off the sprinkler system. The files were moved to another room, only whoever logged them out didn’t exactly keep accurate records.” She looked at him, gesturing with open arms. “How the hell does that kind of thing happen?” She dropped her arms to her sides. “Anyway, they swear the file wasn’t destroyed, just misplaced, and they’ll have everything to me by Monday, Tuesday at the latest.”
“And no new evidence has come out of the Miller case?”
She shook her head. “No, there are no loose ends. No fibers, no footprints.” She chuckled without humor. “The lab did say that a hair collected appeared to come from an animal of the Canis lupus family.”
“A wolf in Pennsylvania?”
“They’ve sent the hair to another lab. There were several dogs on the property. I’m sure it belonged to one of them.” She shook her head. “I swear, I think he’s getting better.” She clenched her fist. “This is such a frustrating case. I just wish Macy could help me more. I’ve talked to her a couple of times, but she’s all but shut down on me. Which is certainly understandable, now that we know her connection,” she reasoned aloud. “But she doesn’t want to talk about the details of her family’s death right now, which leaves me with not knowing any more than what I could get from newspapers and news magazines.” She looked at Arlan. “Macy tell you why she wasn’t murdered along with her family?”
“I didn’t ask.” He put his hands together in his lap.
“I didn’t ask, either.” Fia stared at the bright lights again. “I wanted to have all the facts in front of me before we talked about it. I’m scared to death she’s going to take off. Just disappear. And I’ll never hear from her again if she does. I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah,” he admitted thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. She’s done photographing Eva’s rose garden. Finishing up the two other cottages on the block. In her mind, she won’t have a reason to stay much longer.”
Fia looked up at him. She always liked being with Arlan; at six-four, he was considerably taller than she was. “She won’t stay for you?”
“Me?” He looked at her, giving her one of those bad boy grins of his. “Nah.”
She sensed he was more disappointed than he was letting on, but she didn’t say anything more. She understood what he was going through, being with a human. She just wished she had been as practical as he was about it a year ago. “So what did you need to talk to me about?” she asked.
The squawk from the country and western band had finally ended, but Fia didn’t have much hope for the next group. One of the musicians had walked by wearing a Korn T-shirt.
“It’s about Regan, Fia.”
“He’s fine.”
“He’s not fine. He’s doing cocaine.”
She whipped her head around to look at him. “He is not!”
“You know what was stolen from the Rousseau brothers? I made a few phone calls. Talked to a zombie in Baton Rouge. A shipment of cocaine was stolen. That’s what they had their capes in a dither about.”
“You shouldn’t be making accusations like that, Arlan. You have any idea—”
“It’s not an accusation,” he said quietly. He cracked his knuckles. “It’s a fact.” He looked at her. “I’m hurt that you would suggest I would lie about this. I would never try to hurt you or hurt someone you care about. You know that, Fia.”
“You never liked Regan,” was all she could think of to say. Regan doing coke? He wouldn’t jeopardize his position in the sept that way. Of course he would, the small dark voice inside her said. He’s done it before. The truth was that Fia was often suspicious of Regan’s actions. They didn’t get along particularly well, except when Regan wanted something. Was that why he’d been nice to her the last few months? Because he was into drugs again and knew that if he got into trouble, he would need an ally?
“I’d have to have proof,” she said after a moment of silence between them. A musician with hair dyed blacker than any vampire she knew was tuning his electric guitar and making quite a racket.
“Ask him,” Arlan said.
“He’ll just lie to me.”
Arlan was quiet again for a minute. “So you believe me?”
Fia looked toward the funnel cake booth. She really wanted one. She needed some fat and sugar and excess calories. “I believe you,” she said miserably, launching herself off the car’s bumper. “You want a funnel cake and a beer?”
He grinned. “Sure.”
They started walking toward the bright lights and commotion and Fia caught a glimpse of a shadow near the rear of the end booth. Two young people in a lip-lock. She squinted. Having superhuman vision in the dark came in handy sometimes. “I’ll be damned,” she said, realizing who it was.
“What?”
Fia pointed. “Isn’t that Kaleigh and Rob Hill?”
Macy looked both ways and crossed the street, slipping into her hoody sweatshirt. It had been a hot day, but the ocean breeze was cool now that the sun had gone down. She had run back to the hotel to leave her camera and get the sweatshirt while Arlan stayed at the block party. He had said something about catching up with Fia and her boyfriend.
Macy walked down the street, passing families pushing tired kids in strollers, pulling them in wagons. Red, white, and blue helium balloons floated over their heads, dancing in the breeze. The people who walked by her—moms, dads, children—looked tired but happy.
Macy remembered the county fair she and her family had gone to each summer. She remembered the rides, the cotton candy, the smiles on her parents’ faces.
As she walked, hands in her sweatshirt pockets, she wondered if this wasn’t a good time to just load her car and go. Wouldn’t this day, this moment, be a fine note to end her visit to Clare Point?
She knew Fia would be disappointed, angry, if she took off now. And Arlan would be hurt. Sweet, handsome, hot Arlan. But she had no intention of saying good-bye to him whenever she did go. She never said good-bye.
At the corner, Macy spotted a crowd of people. Sunburned tourists, kids perched on their shoulders, were trying to get a better look at whatever was going on. Macy skirted the crowd. There were several news cameras. Someone was interviewing Senator Malley, a U.S. senator who hailed from Clare Point.
News cameras. Cameras flashing.
As much as Macy enjoyed taking photographs, she was weird about having her own photograph taken, even accidentally. Years of hiding did that to a girl. She hurried past the commotion and cut down a side street toward the bright lights of the food booths. She’d left her cell phone in her bag back at the hotel, but she doubted Arlan would be hard to find. When there was food and beer, he wouldn’t be far.
Chapter 25
“There you are.” Arlan looked up as Macy approached. He and Fia were sitting on the curb, eating funnel cakes and drinking ale from plastic cups. Tavia had set up shop for the day in a booth between the fried oyster fritters and clam boats and was doing a banging business selling her microbrews. “I was beginning to worry.”
“That I got lost?” Macy nodded in Fia’s direction as she sat on the other side of Arlan, leaving him in the middle.
Fia acknowledged Macy with a return nod.
“No, I didn’t think you got lost.” Arlan offered the paper plate he balanced on his lap. “I just—”
“He’s afraid I’m going to take off,”
Macy told Fia as she tore off a piece of the funnel cake on his plate.
“So am I,” Fia admitted. “That mean you don’t intend to?”
“I don’t intend to,” Macy said. “I intend to see this through.”
Arlan took note that she did not say she wouldn’t flee, only that she didn’t intend to. She was clever, his Macy. Clever with words.
“You stag tonight, Fia?”
The sweet confection had left powdered sugar on Macy’s upper lip and Arlan wanted to lick it off.
“I thought I was going to get to meet your hot FBI beefcake,” Macy continued, reaching for another piece.
“Not a good subject,” Arlan said.
Macy leaned forward to speak around him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Short term issue or permanent?”
“Headed for permanent, I’m afraid.”
Arlan was surprised that Fia was willing to speak about her personal life with Macy. She was usually pretty tightlipped about that sort of thing. He admired Fia for having the guts to cross her own comfort zone to reach out to Macy. At this point, it could only help the case. Both women could certainly use some female companionship.
“Bound to happen in my line of work. Relationships don’t seem to last long,” Fia said.
She had powdered sugar on her lip, too.
Arlan licked his own lips, trying not to think of Fia’s. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He really was a monogamous kind of guy. For the most part. But all bets were off when it came to Fia, and always had been. It wasn’t that he was happy that her relationship with her human was falling apart. But he had known from the beginning it was a bad idea. He had known it would never work. He just didn’t want to see her hurt, and emotional upset seemed to be the only thing she was getting out of the relationship anymore.
Fia wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “I should have the police report on your family by Monday or Tuesday,” she told Macy, keeping her tone professional. “I’d like to read it over and then talk with you.”
Macy reached for Arlan’s beer.
“I bought you one,” he said. “But you took so long, I drank it.”
She smiled at him as she lifted the cup to her lips. When she took a sip she made a face, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yuck. That’s awful. Beer and sugar.”
Arlan laughed. “Everything goes with beer.”
Fia stood. “I’m out of here. You want the rest?”
“Sure.” Arlan accepted the plate.
Fia licked her sticky fingers and wiped them with her napkin. “We’ll talk Tuesday or Wednesday, Macy? Same number?”
“Same number.”
Fia seemed ready to go, but she hesitated. “You talk to him?”
They all knew who him was.
Macy tore another piece of funnel cake. “Two nights ago. He didn’t bring up the Millers and I didn’t either. I think he was away on business. I can usually tell. He’s better when he’s away. He says he can’t hear her as loudly.” She looked up. “I can send you a copy of the conversation, but we really didn’t talk about anything.”
“Send it anyway.” Fia turned to Arlan and tapped her foot against his. “I’ll look into that other matter, okay?” She glanced at Macy. “Talk to you later.”
Macy watched Fia walk away. “What was that about?”
“What?” Arlan bit off a big piece of funnel cake. He loved hot, fresh funnel cake, deep fried and covered in powdered sugar. Sometimes, at council meetings, they all sat around and talked about the good old days; peat fires to warm the house, horses for transportation, Sunday mass in a roofless stone building. Arlan liked the present. He liked fast cars, he liked cell phones, and he adored deep fried funnel cake.
“The matter she was talking about,” Macy pushed. “That about me?”
“Nah.” He turned to look at her and her face was only inches from his. “You’ve got some sugar here.” He touched the corner of her mouth with his finger.
“Here?” Looking into his eyes, she dragged her tongue along her upper lip.
“Here.” He licked the side of her mouth and then kissed her. He pulled back. “We finish this, you want to go for a walk? I snitched a beach towel from one of my niece’s friends. We could sit and watch the tide come in.”
She cut her green human eyes at him. “Or we could do something else.”
Arlan laughed, thinking how sad he would be when Macy was gone from his life.
They finished the beer and the funnel cakes and tossed the trash into a can before cutting across the sand, down to the water’s edge, leaving behind the noise and bright lights of the Independence Day block party. Beach towel flung over his shoulder, Arlan held Macy’s hand as they walked. At the water’s edge, they turned north. They passed a bonfire where all the local kids were gathered. The vamp camp, the teens liked to call it. Arlan had good memories of the vamp camp when he was a teenager.
“Bonfires are allowed on a public beach?” Macy asked.
He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “With a permit. It’s usually just local kids. A once or twice a year thing. They do it on All Hallows’ Eve, too.” He spotted Kaleigh as he and Macy walked by and he raised a hand in salute.
Kaleigh was snuggled up to Rob Hill. She waved back, a silly grin on her face.
Arlan had to smile. He was happy for Kaleigh. She’d been waiting for more than a year for Rob to die and be reborn. She was ready for a boyfriend.
Arlan and Macy walked past the bonfire. They kept walking until they were alone, beyond the city limits, at a section of beach that backed up to the wildlife preserve.
“How about here?” Arlan asked, standing back far enough from the water that the incoming tide wouldn’t wet the towel.
Macy turned slowly in a circle, taking in the dark night. Pale sand stretched to her left and right as far as she could see. Behind them were dunes, in front of them, the Delaware Bay, stretching into the vast Atlantic Ocean.
“This is perfect,” she said softly. She sat down on the brightly colored beach towel, making room for Arlan. It was a warm night, but the breeze coming off the ocean was cool. She was glad she had gone back for her sweatshirt. She peered into the sky. There would be a full moon again in a couple of days. “You think he’s looking at the moon right now?” she asked, turning toward Arlan. “I think he is.”
“Macy…”
She knew Arlan wanted to comfort her, he just didn’t know what to say. What was there to say?
She put her hands behind her and leaned back on her elbows, so that she could look up at the moon hanging low on the horizon. A rising moon. “You didn’t ask me why he didn’t kill me. I divulged my dirty secret more than a week ago and no one has asked.”
“I was trying to respect your privacy.” He lay back beside her, tucking his arm under his head. “I thought you would tell me when you were ready. If you wanted to.”
She turned her head to scrutinize him. “Are you human?”
He seemed so startled by her question that he took a moment to respond. “Excuse me?”
“Are you human or are you some kind of creature from another planet? A creature created merely for the pleasure of women?”
He laughed.
“Because you just don’t act like guys do. You’re way too good a listener. And frankly, you’re way too nice.”
“Well, thank you.” He looked up at the sky again, frowning. “I think.”
She lay back beside him. “And what about Fia? Why hasn’t she asked me why I didn’t end up in a grave under that tree?”
“You know Fia. I think she wanted to read the official report first.”
“Ah. To be sure I hadn’t made the whole thing up to look like the poor, terrorized victim.”
“She’s a good person, Macy.” Macy could hear the smile in his voice. “She just likes to be thorough,” he explained.
Macy stared at the dark sky, trying not to think about the moon on the horizon. Trying not to think about Teddy, who she knew was
thinking about her. She had told Fia she didn’t believe in psychic abilities, but she had lied. It was a phenomenon she had been trying to deny for years. What else could this be, this bizarre connection she had with him, this tie she couldn’t break?
“That night I had a fight with my mom at dinner,” Macy started slowly. “I wanted to go with my new boyfriend to hear some garage band in the next town over. It was a school night and Mom said no. She was concerned about the friends I was hanging with, and with good reason. They weren’t bad kids, but they were drinking, smoking pot, driving too fast. You know, kids-headed-for-trouble stuff.” She exhaled. “Anyway. Mom said no. She didn’t like the guy I was dating. He was older than I was. Seventeen. She was afraid we were having sex, which we were, but I resented being accused. I went to my dad to ask if I could go, but he checked with my mom, so I was really in trouble then.”
Arlan was quiet as he listened.
“I was so angry with them that I sulked through dinner. She made pork chops and homemade macaroni and cheese,” Macy recalled. When she closed her eyes, she could still smell her mother’s farmhouse kitchen. “They made me sit at the dinner table with the family, even though I refused to eat.” Her voice caught in her throat as the images flashed in her head like pages in a photo album. “I was mean to my two little sisters. I said ugly things.”
Arlan rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his elbow on the towel. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion and she loved him for that.
“You were only fifteen years old,” he said.
She kept staring at the sky. She couldn’t look him in the face, she was so ashamed. “After dinner, I was sent to my room. I played my music loud until my dad threatened to ground me for a week. After they went to sleep, I sneaked out the window. I walked down our lane, through the orchard that ran on both sides of the road. Most of the trees had been planted by my granddad. My dad was so proud of that orchard. There were lots of people with big orchards in the area and ours was small, but he loved it.”
Undying Page 23
