Blood of Innocence

by Tami Dane

  He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

  I went back to pretending I was asleep.

  He rolled around for a while. He got up and paced. He checked the trap a few times. He went to the bathroom and peed. Finally he settled back in bed.

  I lay there for a lifetime, next to a man who loved to flirt with me, who drove me absolutely crazy in lust sometimes, but who seemed to be struggling with his feelings for another woman.

  And I was bait. For a freakish vampire creature.

  Really, was there any hope I’d sleep? Of course not.

  I got up.

  “Where are you going?” JT asked, shifting positions.

  “I need a drink. And something for my headache. I’ll be back in a few.”

  JT flopped back down.

  With the full intention of returning as quickly as possible so that the aswang wouldn’t be disappointed, should she return, I crept down the hallway, down the stairs. In the kitchen, I helped myself to a bottle of JT’s vitaminwater. Next I went in search of some over-the-counter pain medications. I remembered having packed some in one of my suitcases. JT had put some of my stuff in the second bedroom, where it would be out of the way. Water bottle in hand, I went back upstairs, opened the door, and paused. Brittany was sleeping. I didn’t want to wake her.

  That put me in a very tough position. A that-time-of-the-month headache was coming on. I could feel it. If I didn’t start taking medication now, when the pain was still manageable, I’d be in absolute misery for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I flipped on the hall light, hoping it would illuminate the room well enough for me to see; then I tiptoed inside.

  It was then that I saw it.

  The pink proboscis.

  It was about a foot from the bed and inching closer by the second.

  Knowing I had mere seconds to act, I searched the room for something to trap it, grabbed a curling iron that I’d thrown into the top of my suitcase, clamped it around the slimy pink tube, and started twirling it up.

  Then I started screaming, “JT! Help me!”

  The pink thing was strong, like a snake. It writhed, threatening to break my grasp on the makeshift weapon. As I was fighting it, I got a pretty decent look at the very end of it. A series of concentric little sharp teeth circled the inside of what looked like a mouth. It reminded me of a long, skinny leech.

  “JT! Help!”

  Just as he pounded into the room and flipped on the lights, the pink snakelike projection slipped free from the curling iron, traveled across the floor, and exited out the window before either of us could catch it.

  “Damn,” I said.

  “Damn,” JT echoed.

  “Holy shit!” Hough said behind us. “What the hell was that?”

  JT turned to me. “You saved her life.”

  My face flamed. “It was dumb luck. I came in here for some Tylenol for my headache.”

  “Sloan, if you’re that lucky, you should be playing the lottery.” JT spun around. “Hough, are you okay?”

  Hough’s eyes were bulging from her head. “Sure. I wasn’t the one wrestling with that ... creature. It was the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t believe it was about to bite me.”

  “Why did you leave the window open?” JT asked, plopping down on the bed next to her. “I warned you. You know what we’re dealing with.”

  Hough shrugged. “I didn’t realize it was open. I wasn’t paying attention. Besides, I don’t fit the profile of the other victims. I’m still very early in my pregnancy. The others were all much further along.”

  “Except my mother,” I piped in. “We don’t know for sure yet, but there’s a small chance it also tried to attack her. Or she could have thought you were me.”

  “I told you about the danger,” JT said.

  “I know. I ... I ...” Hough looked at JT and blinked; then she started shivering and crying.

  I decided to make a quiet getaway while JT struggled through the aftershocks of Hough’s near miss. But he stopped me and grabbed my wrist when I passed the bed.

  “Sloan, we both owe you.”

  “Yes, we do,” Hough said through sniffles.

  “No, you don’t owe me anything. I just happened to have a headache, so I came in here for some medicine. Speaking of which ...” I went to my suitcase, grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and the water. “Now I think I’ll head to bed. JT, I’m pretty sure Onora Dale won’t be coming back here tonight. Don’t feel like you need to return to the room.”

  “Of course I’ll be back. Please close the window until I can figure out what to do to keep you both safe.”

  I shut the window, even though I had no doubt that Onora Dale had been scared off—which meant she’d be hunting elsewhere—and crawled back into bed.

  Even with one ear muffled by the pillow, I could hear JT and Hough talking. As I recalled the way JT had looked at Hough, my insides twisted into a knot.

  I gave myself a mental head slap.

  That was it. No more pining for a man.

  He was the wrong man for me, anyway. I’d said that from the start.

  Yes, the wrong man.

  And the wrong time.

  No reason for tears.

  That just meant I was free to find the right one ... when the time was right.

  Sure.

  Right.

  I grabbed JT’s pillow and crushed it over my other ear.

  Immediately his scent enveloped me.

  Bad move.

  No man is worth his salt who is not ready at all times to risk his well-being, to risk his body, to risk his life, in a great cause.

  —Theodore Roosevelt

  23

  I woke up sometime later curled up against JT’s hard bulk. Irritated that I’d snuggled up to him while I was asleep, I pushed myself upright.

  It was then that I discovered I’d been part of a threesome.

  JT and Brittany were still sleeping, and JT was looking mighty comfy settled between the two of us.

  I bet he’d love it if that became a permanent thing.

  I headed to the bathroom first and took care of a few essentials; then I trotted down the stairs in search of caffeine. When I rounded the corner downstairs, I discovered JT and Brittany had gotten up while I was busy. They were now in the kitchen, talking, sipping vitaminwater, and munching on protein bars.

  We all exchanged good mornings.

  And I fired up the coffeemaker.

  “Coffee, anyone?” I knew JT didn’t drink coffee. But I didn’t know about Hough.

  “No thanks,” Brittany said as she ran her hand over her stomach. “My doctor told me I should try to stay away from caffeine.”

  Waiting anxiously for the first drops of coffee to fall into the carafe, I patted my fake belly. “It’s a good thing I’m not pregnant for real, then.”

  Hough chuckled. “Oh, JT, I have something for you.”

  “Yeah?” he said as he unwrapped a second PowerBar.

  “I did some digging on your suspect last night. She has an ex-husband who doesn’t live far from here. I’ve got the address upstairs.”

  “Excellent. Thank you.” JT’s eyes sparkled as he beamed at her.

  I tried hard not to notice the sparkles. Or the beaming. They were making me a little ill.

  “I’m going to get dressed,” I announced before escaping upstairs. I dug out a cute black maternity dress from the closet and shimmied into it. I picked out some cute kitten-heeled shoes. Then I curled my hair and put on some makeup. I was admiring the end results when I heard JT and Hough come up the stairs.

  It was safe for me to go down now. I hustled past them in the hallway.

  “I’ll be down in a few,” JT told me.

  “I assume we’ll be interviewing the ex-husband?” I click-clacked down the steps.

  “You assumed right.”

  “I’m ready to roll when you are,” I said when I reached the landing.

  While waiting for JT, I guzzled a couple cu
ps of coffee. The caffeine kicked in, killing the little, niggling headache that had remained. It was a glorious thing.

  “Ready?” JT asked about ten minutes later. He was alone.

  “Sure.”

  “Hough’s staying here until we’ve got Onora Dale in custody. She needs to get some sleep. There’ve been some complications. She’s supposed to be resting.”

  “I’m sure she’ll get plenty of rest here. After all, she’ll be safe during the day.”

  JT and I headed out to his car. “You know, I’m still grateful for what you did last night. You saved her life.”

  “Anyone would’ve done the same.”

  “Maybe.”

  We didn’t speak the rest of the drive. I think we both knew things had changed between us, and that change was a permanent one. And necessary.

  Lucas Dale lived in a nice home on a quiet street in a tidy subdivision not far from our rental. A man in a gray suit was strolling out to the Lexus parked in the driveway when we rolled up.

  With any luck, that man in the nice suit would be Lucas Dale.

  JT wasted no time getting out of the car and approaching the man in the suit. “Lucas Dale?”

  I waddled behind him.

  “Yes, that’s me,” Lucas Dale said, his gaze shifting back and forth between us. “What’s this about?”

  JT flashed his badge. “I’m Jordan Thomas, FBI. This is Sloan Skye. We’d like to speak with you about your ex-wife, if you have a few minutes.”

  “Sure.” Appearing slightly confused, he turned back to his house and ushered us into his foyer. “How can I help you, Agents?”

  “We’d like to know if you’ve seen or spoken to your ex-wife recently,” JT asked.

  “Yes, I have.” Lucas Dale tugged on his tie’s knot, loosening it. “Why?”

  “When was the last time you spoke with her?” JT asked, intentionally avoiding responding to the man’s question.

  “Last night.” His gaze flicked to one side.

  “Is she here now?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Was she here last night?” I asked, following a gut feeling.

  The man’s neck turned red. “Yes, she was. Why? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

  “We’d like to ask her some questions, but we haven’t been able to reach her,” JT said. “It seems she hasn’t been home in a while. If she wanted to get away for a few days, do you know where she might stay?”

  “Well ...” Lucas Dale looked at JT, then at me, then back at JT again. He visibly swallowed, and then he crossed his arms over his chest. An expression flashed across his face. “Let me think.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t have a clue where Onora would go.”

  He was lying. I had a feeling. But I had no proof, at least no solid proof. Profiling criminals involved the study of human behavior. One of the first things I’d learned during my first course in criminal justice was how to detect signs of lying.

  To me, Lucas Dale’s body language was screaming, “I’m lying!”

  JT pushed him. “You said she was here last night. Did she mention why she wasn’t staying at home?”

  “No.”

  “Did she mention anything about her work?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Has she ever spoken to you about her work?” I asked.

  “No.” Lucas Dale cleared his throat and looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

  “If we could ask you just a few more questions,” JT insisted.

  The man’s jaw pulsed. “I’m going to be late for work.”

  “We’ll make this quick. I promise,” JT reassured him. “If you answer each question to your best ability, it will make things go a lot faster.”

  Lucas Dale’s lips thinned. “I am answering to the best of my ability. Are you trying to suggest I’m lying?”

  “Have you ever seen your ex-wife in possession of an infant?” I asked.

  “What the hell is this about?” Lucas Dale glared at us. He searched our faces. We didn’t give him the answer he was looking for. “Wait. I’ve heard something about some missing infants on the news. You don’t think my ex-wife has anything to do with those children, do you?”

  “No, not at all,” I lied, hoping to reassure him. If I was to believe his body language, he was very close to shutting us out. “We’re trying to collect some information on the victims. We’re hoping your wife—ex-wife, sorry—can help us.”

  The man’s shoulders visibly dropped. “Ah, okay.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. I could tell he was feeling conflicted, confused. “Onora is a wonderful woman. She’d never hurt anyone.”

  “Of course not,” I said. To my ears, my tone was convincing. I hoped it would be to Lucas Dale’s ears too.

  His lips twisted.

  I tried to give him the friendliest please-help-us look I could muster.

  Lucas Dale glanced at his watch again. He fiddled with his tie. Finally he said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. And I have no idea where Onora might be staying. Nor am I aware of any reason for her to stay away from her home.” He opened the door, using his body to shepherd us outside. When we were all out, he turned and locked the door; then he headed down the walk toward his parked car. “I’m sure she’ll return your phone call if you leave a message.”

  “We’ll do that. Thank you,” I said.

  Lucas Dale roared away in his Lexus. We got into our car.

  “Obviously, he was lying,” I said.

  JT was reaching for his cell phone. “I’m going to let McGrane know what’s up. Maybe he can get someone to tail him.”

  “What about a phone tap?” I asked as I buckled myself in.

  JT shook his head. “We don’t have enough evidence on him for that.”

  “Urgh.” I sighed. “Search warrant?”

  “Not a chance.”

  I knew he was right, but damn it, it sure was frustrating. I heaved an exaggerated sigh.

  “I know.”

  “Onora Dale is our killer,” I told JT. “I know it.”

  “I have a good feeling you’re right. Maybe the Baltimore PD will get lucky.”

  “Or maybe she’ll move to Florida. Or Ohio. Or Massachusetts. Or Texas—”

  “I hear you, but there’s nothing we can do.”

  I mulled the situation over as JT called and waited for McGrane to answer.

  Thirty seconds later, JT left a message; then he dropped his phone into the cup holder. “I guess we’re in a holding pattern until McGrane calls back.” He shoved the key into the ignition, but he didn’t start the car.

  “Maybe there is something we can do in the meantime.”

  “What?”

  “We could break in.” I couldn’t believe I was actually suggesting we commit a crime, but I was desperate. And I was mad. And desperation and anger was a bad combination.

  JT jerked the key and the car’s engine cranked over. “No way. Anything we find will be inadmissible in court. That could kill our case. I know you know that.”

  “You’re right. I do know that. But ... this case is pissing me off.” I took a few seconds to brainstorm in silence. An idea popped into my head, and I blurted it out, “What if someone else broke in? And what if that person sort of ... left any evidence she found outside, where we could find it? Or called in an anonymous tip?”

  “No way. If a judge caught wind of anything like that, we’d not only risk letting Onora Dale walk, but we’d lose our jobs. The PBAU could be disbanded.... No, we can’t take those kinds of risks.”

  “Gah!” I covered my face with my hands. “I can’t just sit by and wait for something to happen.”

  JT shifted the vehicle into gear and turned the steering wheel, angling the tires away from the curb. “You’re still undercover. We can pay a visit to Dr. Patel today, and then leave the window open—”

  “And hope for the best? How many other patients are in danger? She may be widening her circle of potential victims to include newly pre
gnant women. And after her close call last night, she’ll probably avoid our house like the plague.”

  He punched the gas, and we zoomed away from Lucas Dale’s house. “It’s still better than your plan. Mine is legal.”

  “Legal but reactive. Being proactive is so much better.”

  At a stop sign, JT stomped on the brakes. “Think of a way to be proactive without breaking the law, and, I assure you, I’ll be glad to hear it.”

  “Okay. Just give me a few minutes to think.”

  “Fine. In the meantime, we’ll pay a visit to Dr. Yokely for a—”

  “Headache. I have a raging headache.” I pressed on my temples, which were throbbing. “But first we should swing by my mom’s place. I need to get some advice from my father.”

  The minute we arrived at my folks’ place, my mom started shooting questions about the case at us nonstop. Both JT and I did our best to be evasive, but Mom was like a hound on the trail of a rabbit. She wasn’t about to let up.

  Thankfully, she gave up after only about five minutes of that. But sadly, the direction she took her questioning made me even more uncomfortable.

  “So, Agent Thomas, have you slept with my daughter yet?” she asked.

  JT turned the shade of a glowing neon stoplight. “You know, I need to make some important phone calls. I think I’ll go out to the car—”

  “No, you won’t, young man.” Mom smiled, but her eyes were not smiley.

  “Okay. I guess they can wait.” JT slid me a beseeching glance.

  I excused myself to go find my father.

  “He’s down in the basement, tinkering around with something,” Mom informed me when I asked her where I might locate him.

  He was exactly where she said.

  “I need your help,” I told him, wasting no time. Better to make this brief. Otherwise, Mom would have more time to make things even worse with JT.

  “Sure. What is it?” He was fiddling with the cables going to the big TV in the movie room. The TV’s screen was black.

  “I need help calling Elmer.”

  He stopped tinkering and turned his full attention to me. His eyes twinkled, telling me he was happy to hear I was looking for Elmer. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about marrying him?”