"Evidence?"
"The whole place reeked of bleach, but it looks like Hammel was spending a lot of time at his place when he killed her, because he had a lot of her personal stuff—books, papers, that sort of thing. He should have incinerated the whole batch. Lucky for us, he filed it all away in storage, nice and neat."
"Yeah, Todd's a neat guy. Any murder weapon?"
"Most likely a plain old barbecue fork. There were a few in the unit, high end, heavy duty types. ME's running tests looking for metal fragments in the neck wounds."
"Which they should have done before now."
Eckhoff shrugged. “Ten minutes, Leighton."
* * * *
Ryder looked up when they entered the room. He was sitting on a plain metal chair bolted to the floor. There was a matching table, but it had been pulled away and shoved against one wall so the prisoner sat exposed, hands cuffed behind his back, ankles manacled. He was still wearing a striped rugby shirt and khakis, but they didn't look quite as neatly pressed. “Who the fuck are you?” he snapped.
"Not important, Todd,” Cyn said pleasantly. “But since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. I'm the one who figured you out."
"Bullshit."
"Such a mouth.” She tsked. “So tell me. I know it all comes back to Patti. I figure she was probably an accident, maybe an argument. She wants to leave, you're upset—"
"Fuck that! Do I look like the kind of guy who needs to beg a woman to stay around? Shit. Two hours after she'd left, I had someone younger sliding into my bed."
"Yes, but did she slide back out of your bed, Todd? Your girlfriends have rather short life spans lately."
"That's not my fault. They hang around with fucking bloodsuckers, stuff's gonna happen."
Cyn looked at him and gave a smile that would have made Raphael proud. Todd Ryder obviously saw it because he started to sweat. “I'm sorry, Todd,” Cyn said sweetly. “I didn't introduce you to my associate.” She stood aside so he could see Duncan clearly. “This is Duncan."
Ryder's eyes flashed over to where Duncan stood with his back to the observation window, arms crossed casually.
"Yeah? Big fucking deal. You gonna have your boyfriend there pound on me or something? I'm terrified. Hope you got a good lawyer, lady, ‘cuz I'm not going down for something I didn't do. Fuck you."
Cyn shook her head in mock disappointment. “And here we've been nothing but friendly. But don't worry—"
"I'm not worried,” he cut in quickly, but Cyn continued as if he'd never spoken.
"...Duncan here's not going to hit you.” She leaned forward and confided, “It's not really his style. Is it, Duncan?” She glanced over her shoulder.
Duncan never changed position; he just opened his mouth and smiled.
Ryder's eyes widened and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as the room filled with the stink of fear. “What the fuck's he doing here?” he gasped. “You can't do this. I've got rights."
"Patti had rights too, Todd. So did all those other girls you killed to cover your own ass. Or wait ... maybe you got off on it, huh? Are the cops going to find streaks of cum on those little souvenirs in your hideaway?"
He looked away from Duncan, his face twisted in disgust. “Jesus, you're a repulsive bitch—” His gaze snapped back, words cut off as Duncan took a step forward.
"You watch your mouth, human."
Ryder blinked furiously, his thigh muscles bunching beneath tan material as he struggled to push the bolted chair away from the vampire. “Look, look. I'd like to help but, I didn't—"
Duncan leaned a little closer and sniffed. “Nervous, little man?” he whispered, and blew a soft breath over Ryder's sweat-dampened skin.
Ryder jumped as if he'd been stabbed, his eyes rolling nearly white with fear as a high-pitched keening noise came from his throat. “You can't do this,” Ryder said again, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"But, Todd, I was never here,” Cyn said reasonably.
He stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. His face paled as realization struck. “No,” he whispered. “You can't, I'm not..."
Cyn smiled.
"Okay,” he croaked, his gaze shifting frantically between Cyn and Duncan as he strained to keep on eye on the vampire while talking to her. “Look. I'll tell you what you want to know, but don't let him...” He jerked his head toward Duncan.
"Confession is good for the soul,” Duncan said softly. “Or so I've heard.” He laughed and it was a terrifying sound.
"Please,” Ryder whispered breathlessly. “I'll talk, but don't—"
"So talk,” Cyn said in a bored voice. “Start at the beginning."
"Okay, okay,” Ryder said, then swallowed noisily. “You've got to believe me, though. I didn't mean to kill her,” he said quickly. “Patti. We had a fight, like you said.” He nodded at Cyn. “She got invited to one of those parties with the vampires, those blood houses. She was so excited. It was sickening."
He obviously remembered his audience and looked up, eyes wide. “I didn't mean...” He swallowed again nervously and continued. “I loved her and I asked her not to go, but she didn't care. I got pissed and threw something. I don't even remember what it was, but I didn't mean to hit her. I loved her,” he repeated in a pitiful whine, as if that excused everything.
"But I knew the cops wouldn't believe me, so I...” He sat up straight suddenly, sucking in a breath, as if aware for the first time what he was about to say. He frowned and gave Cyn a calculating look, but Duncan was suddenly there, right in front of him, blocking him from seeing anyone or anything. Ryder's eyes glazed over and he kept talking.
"I decided since it was the vampires that started it all, they should pay for it. But I had to do something fast. I took Patti to the tub and bled her so it would look like a vampire had done it, then I dumped the body somewhere the cops would find it. I only did the other girls to make it look like Patti was part of a killing spree. I mean those vampires kill people all the time, so what difference..."
Cyn tuned out Ryder's voice, disgusted by his pathetic attempts to justify everything he'd done. As if those girls deserved to die because Patti Hammel had fucked a vampire. She didn't need to listen to know the kind of shit he would shovel. And besides, no matter what Eckhoff said, she knew the conversation was being recorded. Not officially, and the cops wouldn't be able to use it as evidence, but it would tell them everything they needed to know to get Ryder for the murders. She sat in the chair, staring at her feet, until Duncan touched her shoulder gently.
"Cynthia."
She looked up, startled to realize Ryder had stopped talking. The whole room stank of sweat and fear and she wanted out. She stood. “Duncan? Are we finished?” She had enough presence of mind to keep her back to the window, but Duncan was studying her with concern, so she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm okay. Let's just get the hell out of here."
* * * *
When she dropped off Duncan in front of the main house, it wasn't even midnight yet. She pulled up and left the engine running, and Duncan turned to her in surprise. “You're not coming in?"
"Not tonight. Listen, Duncan. Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you."
He shrugged. “None of what he said will stand up in court."
"No, but now they know what to ask and they'll get something out of him. Enough to convict anyway. Besides, you're one scary vampire. I don't think Todd's going to be in any hurry to get out of jail."
"I'll fill Raphael in on the details unless you...” He didn't finish, but looked at her expectantly.
"No, you go ahead. I need some sleep. There's always sort of a letdown after I close a case, you know?"
Duncan smiled knowingly which irritated her somehow, and so she grumbled, “What's with the accent? You had it at the airport, too, with Mirabelle. You don't normally talk like that."
His smiled broadened. “But I do, Cynthia,” he said with a heavy drawl. “It's that northern speech that's not normal."
"It was once,” he said somberly. “Now it's just Duncan."
"Well, just Duncan, thank you."
He tipped his head in a little bow and slid out of the car. “Enjoy your rest, Cynthia."
"Thanks. And I guess I'll see you on Sunday, right?"
"Oh, yes,” he said with a satisfied expression. “I wouldn't miss it."
Chapter Forty-two
The next day, Liz was waiting when Cyn arrived at the house. Luci had found clothes for her somewhere, a pair of clean denims that hung low enough to show off the glint of silver in her bellybutton, along with a couple of tops layered over one another in a clash of color that was suitably defiant. Cyn smiled. She had a feeling she and Liz would have had a lot in common once upon a time.
"I talked to Mirabelle,” Liz said without preamble. “She knows we're coming."
"So I hear. You ready?"
"Yeah. This your car?” she asked, eyeing the big SUV. “Nice. Can I drive?"
"You got a license?” Liz shook her head. “Then the answer's no. But we'll see about fixing that real soon. Come on, it's not far."
"Are we almost there?” Liz asked thirty minutes later. “I thought you said it wasn't that far?"
Cyn didn't answer immediately. She was concentrating on crossing four lanes of congested traffic in a last minute daredevil zip between freeways, earning more than one obscene gesture and a chorus of honking horns from her fellow drivers.
A few minutes later, they passed through McLaren Tunnel and were dumped onto Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. “Anything less than an hour isn't far in this town. But it won't be long now,” Cyn assured her.
Liz stared at the tight row of expensive houses sitting next to the highway, their front doors only feet away from the rushing traffic. Beyond them was nothing but the sand and the roiling black velvet of the Pacific Ocean beneath a nearly full moon. “L.A.'s bigger than I thought,” she said in a small voice.
"It seems that way,” Cyn agreed. “The problem is there's no real center. It's sort of spread out all over the place."
"I guess."
Cyn glanced over. “Mirabelle's really excited about seeing you."
"Mmm. Me too.” She gave Cyn a sideways look. “You're sure it's okay, right? I mean, Luci said I should trust you and all, but you don't know what Jabril's like. He's really sneaky, and he gives the judges and everyone money, so they do whatever—"
"Liz."
"I love Mirabelle, and I know she tries, but he hurts her and—"
"Liz."
Elizabeth stared at her, eyes wide with trepidation.
"Elizabeth, honey, it's okay. Jabril doesn't have any power here, and you can trust Raphael. I trust him. He won't hurt Mirabelle and he won't hurt you. And even if someone tried to hurt you, I wouldn't let them, okay? I'll stay with you as long as you want, until you feel safe. And anytime you want to go back to Luci's, you say the word and we're gone."
Liz swallowed hard.
"Okay?” Cyn asked.
"Okay.” It was weak, but definite.
"Good enough,” Cyn said with a grin. “Because this is it.” She gestured ahead and to the left where Raphael's estate was nothing more than a dark forest of tall trees on the side of the road. “It looks worse than it is,” she confided. “Once we get through the gate, it's pretty nice.” She made the turn but stopped before they reached the gate. “You're sure you're okay with this, right? If not, we'll turn around right now and forget the whole thing."
Liz bobbed her head, sucking in a deep breath. “No. No, I'm good. I want to see my sister."
"Don't worry about them,” Cyn said, when they pulled up to the gate. Raphael's vampire guards closed on the Land Rover, looking it and them over very carefully. The one closest to her side acknowledged Cyn with a friendly nod, and she knew Alexandra had warned them about Elizabeth's visit, but they followed procedure anyway, which was the way it should be. She heard Liz's relieved exhale when the guards backed away and waved them through the opening gate.
"Scary,” Liz said.
"Yeah, pretty much. Raphael's security seems a lot tighter to me than Jabril's."
"You mean Dickhead."
"Yep, that's who I mean. Here we are.” She pulled the Land Rover to the side of the road near Alexandra's manor house and turned off the engine.
Liz stared out the front window. “What kind of house is that? It looks like something from an old movie."
"Uh huh. But don't say that to Alexandra, okay? She loves this house."
"Duh. Like I would. So what now?"
"Well, now, we get out of the car and...” Her peripheral vision picked up movement near the house. “Here comes Mirabelle."
Liz tensed as Mirabelle left the kitchen door open behind her and tore down the driveway toward them. “She almost looks normal,” Liz whispered.
"She is almost normal,” Cyn whispered back.
Liz laughed suddenly and threw open her door, nearly falling from the truck in her eagerness to meet Mirabelle halfway. Cyn watched the two sisters embrace, embarrassed to feel tears tugging at her eyes. “My work here is done."
* * * *
Cyn wandered away from the manor house and in among the trees, pausing as she passed the newly planted garden maze. It was amazing what enough money could do in such a short period of time. You want a maze? No need to wait for the shrubs to grow. We'll bring in fully grown specimens and carve them into whatever shape you choose. No doubt Alexandra planned for these to grow even taller, especially if Stephen King's book The Shining was her model. She walked on past, having no desire to test the shadowy pathways among the shrubs. Maybe in full daylight, but not in darkness and not surrounded by vampires, no matter how friendly.
She heard someone start on the piano upstairs and smiled, wondering if Mirabelle was showing off her newly acquired playing skills. She couldn't imagine that enthusiastic rendering coming from Alexandra's fastidious hand.
Alexandra had invited her to stay, of course. Mirabelle and Liz had taken off almost immediately, their heads tucked together, exchanging conspiratorial whispers. But Cyn wasn't in the mood for Alexandra's games. It was too much like work and Cyn figured she'd earned a break. After all, she'd found Elizabeth and solved several murders, all in the space of twenty-four hours. The thought of Jabril's reaction to what his advance money had bought made Cyn smile.
She made her way around the perimeter of the maze and out onto the pathway between the two houses. The grounds were carefully groomed here, the thick undergrowth cleared away to create more of a forest than a barrier. The gravel beneath her feet shone white in the moonlight which was the path's only illumination. The vampires didn't need anything more, and no one else was ever invited to walk here. Except for Cynthia, of course. She'd come this way with Raphael the first night they'd met, when she'd agreed to help him recover Alexandra. The ground beneath her feet began to slope up gently and she knew the main house was beyond the rise. But she didn't want to go there. Not yet. So, she turned off the pathway and found her way through the trees, gliding her fingers over the rough bark as she passed until she reached a clearing of sorts, a private glen created by the gardener's art.
She dropped to the ground, enjoying the pretense of being alone in the woods. It was mild, not warm, but comfortable enough in her leather jacket. She leaned back against a wide tree trunk and closed her eyes, listening to the steady murmur of the ocean.
"You found your little bird.” His voice came out of the night, honey smooth and hinting of dark things.
Chapter Forty-three
Cyn had known he was there, had felt his approach through that indefinable connection they seemed to share. She opened her eyes, but he was no more than a deeper darkness beneath the trees. “I did,” she said without moving.
Raphael shed the shadows that surrounded him and entered the clearing, selecting a tree of his own to lean against. He w
ore his usual elegant suit, and Cyn watched in amusement as he removed the jacket and threw it aside to slouch gracefully onto the ground. He sat opposite her, loosening his tie and stretching his long legs out, until their feet were nearly touching.
Neither of them spoke at first. Cyn could hear his slow, steady breathing and knew he could detect far more than that from her—the sudden racing of her heart at the sight of him, the blood that was rushing to flush her cheeks with nervousness and excitement, even the warmth of desire that was an almost instant reaction to his presence.
"Why?” she asked finally.
Raphael's black eyes were frosted with moonlight as his gaze found her in the night. He didn't insult her by pretending not to understand the question, but he looked away, staring into a past she couldn't see.
"My first decades as Vampire, I lived alone,” he said. “I killed, but only when I was hungry—I give myself that at least. Some young vampires, flush with their newfound power, will kill indiscriminately until they are stopped one way or the other. I was never one of those. But even so, when I killed I gave no thought to the individual, to the life I was taking. It was food, nothing more, and I needed it to live, so I took it. I never consciously considered these things at the time, of course. I was little more than an animal, a creature of cunning and instinct, knowing only the drive to survive this day and the next and the one after that.” He brushed an invisible speck off his trousers in a gesture she would have taken for nerves from anyone else.
"Time passed,” he continued. “And I began to master my new life, to regain control over who and what I was. And what I found inside myself was power. True power for the first time in my life. No more of being my father's lackey or my prince's badly used tool. I was Vampire, and not just Vampire, but a master with power to spare. My Mistress, she who made me, sensed my awakening and my growing strength and called me to her at last, intending to use me for her own purposes, even as I had been used by others all through my life."
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