The line to the diner is out the door, a thick brunch rush desperate for their fried potatoes and syrup-coated cakes.
Two more blocks and I’m on the main avenue that will lead me to Alpha’s at the edge of campus.
Katie’s black hatchback is easy to spot. I climb out of my car and go press my face to the tinted glass—not that I expect to find her in there or anything. I pull on the handle and no dice. She probably never came back for her car after leaving the bar last night.
Choice 48
Go check Katie’s apartment
Go into Alpha’s and ask around
Go by Katie’s apartment
Seven minutes later, I pull up outside a row of duplexes in Midtown. The porch light is still on, which isn’t promising. But it’s also possible that she just hasn’t emerged from her cave yet.
I approach cautiously, looking around. A couple of kids chase a black lab around their yard at the end of the street. The dog barks enthusiastically, running circles around the kids.
A woman sits on a porch a few doors down from the kids, smoking a cigarette and talking into her cell phone. She’s still got what my mother would call a “rat’s nest” of hair, teased out and tangled in all directions.
I step through the line of cars parked on the street and start up the concrete walk.
I knock on Katie’s turquoise door.
No answer.
I knock louder and wait.
I keep pounding and when it becomes apparent that no one is going to answer the door, I creep around to the back of the duplex.
I check windows—all locked and no one to be seen.
And when I get to the back door, a sliding glass barrier, I also find it dark. I press my face to the glass, but there’s no movement inside. No sounds of a television or radio. No lights. I tug on the door and…it opens.
My heart skips a beat.
Choice 49
Take a closer look
This is a terrible idea. Go home and take a nap instead
Go into Alpha’s and ask around.
I leave my car parked besides Katie’s and walk to the bar.
Only when I pull on the door handle, it doesn’t budge. The big black and red Sorry, but We’re Closed sign mocks me.
Damn.
It doesn’t open until 5:00 p.m.
I decide to walk around this strip for a while and see if I can spot her. But after a lap around the park and I’m beginning to think this is pointless. Owners tossing Frisbees to their enthusiastic dogs. Sunbathers capitalizing on the rare bit of early spring sunshine and mothers pushing sleepy toddlers in strollers—all can be had. But no Katie.
I’m never going to just spot her on the street like this. So I try her cell one more time, but no one answers. I’m running out of options here.
What should I do now?
Choice 50
Report her missing
Go check her home first
Take a closer look
I push back the venetian blinds and step onto the linoleum. The kitchen is silent and dimly lit around me, with only the hum of the refrigerator purring in the background.
I slide the door closed.
“Katie?” I call out. “Are you home?”
Of course she isn’t, my brain chides. If she was, or if she wanted to talk to you, she would have answered her damn door.
It makes a lot of sense, my brain. And right now, it’s wondering what I’m doing wandering around in someone else’s home uninvited.
She could be choking on her own tongue, my altruistic half explains. Your 911 call might be the only thing that saves her life.
“Katie?” I ask again as if she’s going to answer this time.
The kitchen gives way to a living area. Pier One furniture with wicker end tables and plush throws dominate the place. One wall is painted a burnt orange and a large print of a teal elephant takes up most of it.
The television is off and the front door remains chained from the inside.
Chained.
From the inside.
I stare at that gold chain as my heart pounds harder. Is it always like that and she just leaves out the back? Or has she really swallowed her tongue?
“Katie?”
To the right of the living area is the hallway leading to two bedrooms. I know the one on the right is Katie’s home office. We drank wine and played Scrabble one night after orientation in there after I helped her paint it yellow.
The bathroom door and office door are both closed. But the bedroom door is open just a sliver, with enough room to see the shadows pouring out into the hallway.
I creep forward.
Suddenly I can’t find it in myself to call out her name anymore. I have a terrible, terrible feeling.
Choice 51
This is a terrible idea. Go home and take a nap
Look in the bedroom
Report her missing.
I call the police station while walking back to my car.
“Castle Cove Police Department, how may I direct your call?”
“I need to report a missing person,” I say.
“Name?”
“Katie Rogers.”
“Has it been more than 48 hours since you’ve seen this person.”
“No, I saw her at work yesterday, but late last night she left me a voicemail saying she’d been abducted and was calling from the trunk of a car. You can hear the man take the phone from her. And when I called back, I only got her voicemail. Her car is still outside the bar, so she obviously left with someone else.”
A long pause.
“Can you come to the station and let us hear this voicemail?”
“Of course.”
“Great, we will see you when you get here.”
She terminates the call and I have a strange sense of déjà vu. Emergency personnel aren’t chatty in Castle Cove, are they?
I check my clock again. It’s almost 11:20.
Choice 52
Go to the police station
Go home and take a nap before Labyrinth
Look in the bedroom
I’ve come this far. And I don’t think I’ll be satisfied unless I make sure she hasn’t died of alcohol poisoning.
I take a deep breath and place one hand on the bedroom door.
On impulse, I shove it wide. It opens with such force that it bangs against the wall and wobbles.
But it achieved my aim—giving me a clear, unblocked view of the bedroom.
And the body lying on the bed.
Two bodies.
I creep toward the two lumps under the cover with the tops of dark heads poking out from underneath.
I place a hand over my chest.
She’s probably sleeping off that awful hangover with whichever of the guys she brought home. After all she was hella drunk when she left. But I should probably make sure she hasn’t swallowed her own tongue or choked on her vomit or something.
So one little peek, just to make sure she’s breathing and I’m out of here.
But it isn’t easy to see considering how dark the room is. The black-out curtains are pulled very tight.
Choice 53
Open the curtains first
Throw back the covers
Open the curtains first.
I can’t really see anything, so I pull back the curtains. I start with just a sliver of light, but it falls across the floor and doesn’t even reach the bed at all. No help.
I throw the curtains wide.
Three things happen all at once, the moment the curtains are parted.
First, the two bodies in the bed spring to life hissing and snarling.
Hissing and snarling.
Second, I scream.
Third, the sudden swell of sound is cut short when the two bodies burst into flames.
Burst.
Into flames.
One minute they were sleeping, the next they were combusting in a fiery blaze.
“What the fuck!” I don’t know who I am
shouting at.
I’m left standing in Katie’s bedroom, watching clumps of ash float in the air, looking like so much stardust in the filtered sunlight.
I approach the bed and pull back the covers in disbelief. Thick black smudges mar the sheets. The air holds the distinct scent of burnt paper.
What just happened? What the hell just happened?
One thing is clear. Katie was never here.
“You need to call this in,” someone says.
I turn, screaming.
“Well, excuse me.” It’s the woman who sat on her porch earlier talking into her cell phone and smoking a cigarette. I can smell the cigarette smoke on her now, but it pales compared to the burnt paper smell.
“You’re damn lucky you opened the curtains,” she said. “They might’ve well just ate you.” She sucks on the end of her cigarette until the cherry burns red.
“Ate me?”
She laughs. “Just got your first look at vampires, did you? Stick around sweetheart. You’ll see a lot worse in this town.”
“Vampires,” I say and the truth of the word echoes in my mind. “Vampires.”
“Quick’n, ain’t cha?” she teases in a faux southern drawl.
“But this is my friend’s house. Where is she? Why were these guys here in her bed?”
“The body will turn up,” the woman says, all teasing gone from her voice.
“Or she’s a vampire now too?”.
The woman gives me a sad look. “It ain’t as easy to turn ‘em as you may think. And there are rules. It’s much more likely they dined and dashed.”
My heart flops.
Oh god, Katie. I hope not. I hope you ditched these guys before you got into trouble and you’re just sleeping off a hangover somewhere.
“How do you know her body isn’t here?” I ask, wondering if I would dare to look for it, or if I’m done opening doors to rooms that aren’t mine today.
“I didn’t hear anything before you screamed. Of course, that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen here. But I’ve got good hearing.”
“You heard me scream when they lunged from the bed?”
“Sure did.”
“You got here fast,” I say.
She grins. “I’m pretty fast.”
The hair on the back of my neck begins to crawl.
I lick my lips. “Are you a vampire?”
She laughs, a cracking, dry rasp. Probably from her smoking.
“You see me standing here in all this sunlight, don’t you?”
No way I’m going to ask her the question pressing against the back of my teeth.
So what are you?
“You gonna call this in or just stand there shaking in your boots?” she asks. She pulls a new cigarette from the pack and lights it, cupping her hand around the flame.
“Katie doesn’t like smoking.”
The woman harrumphs. “Katie don’t give a damn anymore. I assure you. Well?” She gestures at the ashy sheets.
I straighten my spine. “Who do I call?”
“I’d start with the police.”
I scoff. “Won’t the police have a hard time believing that vampires killed my friend?”
She barks another laugh. “Honey, you’re in Castle Cove. Call it in.”
I dial 911. When the operator asks what my emergency is, I hesitate.
The woman waves her hand encouragingly, smoke trailing through the air in front of her face.
“Uh, I think my friend has been killed by…vampires?”
It comes out as a question.
I am not sure what response I expect…that the operator would hang up? That she would tell me to stay where I am, so they can come and arrest me for pranking 911? Call me crazy?
Instead, she says, “Please state the address of your emergency.”
What follows is the strangest conversation of my life. When it’s over I step outside with the neighbor and sit on the porch, waiting as I was instructed to do.
Sure enough, a police car pulls up behind my car a few minutes later. Two officers get out and walk toward us. They’re large, bulky men.
“Walk us through what happened,” the darker one says.
I do, starting with last night, and then the voicemail. I provide an abbreviated version of everything that led to two vampires exploding into dust.
They ask a lot of questions, some of which I don’t understand. I feel like I’ve fallen through the crack into another bizarre world and now everyone is conversing in a foreign language.
“Go easy on her gentlemen. She’s new,” the neighbor explains, exhaling another stream of cigarette smoke.
The officers tense.
“I have an apartment in Old Town,” I tell them. “Katie and I worked together.” I give superfluous details about our firm and job descriptions. I don’t know if any of this is helping or hurting.
But their shoulders relax.
New, but not an outsider. That’s what those eyes say. And I’m not really sure what this means.
“We will find her,” the taller officer says. “Did she have any other family in town?”
“No,” I say. “She’s got parents and two brothers back east though.”
“We’ll contact you if we learn anything.”
It seems like an empty promise. Why would they anyway? I’m not family. I’m barely a friend. I’ve only known her in the time it took us to complete training and a full week on the job.
But now they’re thanking me, and I realize they’re politely telling me to leave.
“Crime scene. Right,” I say by way of apology. I stand up from the porch, brush off my butt and walk to my car.
The two officers and the neighbor stand in the front yard watching me turn on my car, put it in drive, and pull away from the curb.
Back home, I kick off my shoes and stumble through the living room into my bedroom. I hit the bed and sigh.
I check my phone and note that I still have time before I have to be at Labyrinth. A nap and a hot bath. That sounds perfect…
Take a nap.
Take a nap.
I wake up with twilight pressing in on the windows. That wispy purple light making the room seem much darker and later than it really is.
I sit up, swearing. My heart pounds the way it does when I wake up, certain I’m late for something.
But it’s only 7:30. I still have over two hours before I have to be at Labyrinth.
I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair.
More wine.
And a bath.
Once the steaming water begins to fill the deep, white tub, I head into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. Probably not the first thing one should drink when they wake up, but I’m hoping it’ll take the edge off this headache sitting behind my eyes.
I also heat up two slices of pizza and eat them standing over the kitchen island.
By the time I finish, the tub is full, and I slip inside to soak with a fresh glass of wine.
Sushi meows me a good evening from the doorway, uninterested in coming any closer. He doesn’t like water, and I’m not good company right now anyway.
I can’t seem to quiet my mind. I’m just so worried about Katie and what may have happened.
The shadows grow long in the bathroom as full night arrives. I’m halfway through a third glass of wine, aware that I need to get out of the tub in about ten minutes if I have any hope of drying my hair or putting on makeup.
Sushi meows, and I scream.
Ears laid flat against his head, he bolts, terrified by my shriek.
“Jesus.” I put my face in my hands. “Pull yourself together.”
I’m way too jumpy tonight. Clearly the events of the day have freaked me out. There is no one in this apartment. It’s locked and on the second level. If they broke down the front door, or even just picked the lock, I’d hear it.
Or they could climb onto the balcony. Did you lock it?
I chug the rest of my wine and climb out of the tub
.
Dripping, wearing only a towel, the first thing I do is lock my balcony door.
My phone chirps. It’s Laura, telling me that Mr. Benedict is sending a car to my apartment. It’ll be here in thirty minutes.
I swear and get a move on.
I’ve got clothes thrown across the bed and my hair up in the towel. I manage to get my black dress, heels, and makeup on in record time.
My hair is still a little damp, but I decide brushing my teeth is more important.
When I finally reenter the open living area, I scream.
Every drawer and cabinet is open. It looks like someone searched my kitchen, but nothing looks taken or moved.
The front door is also open about six inches.
I stare at that crack of darkness. It’s just the hallway out there, I tell myself. It’s just the hallway. It’s not someone waiting in the dark for me.
But I see the broken chain…the one I placed over the door myself when I got home. And now it’s snapped in half.
“Hello?” a voice calls from that darkness.
I scream again, a full-throated cry. I scream like I’m being flailed alive.
The door flies open and a young, blond man bursts in. All I can see is his wide, terrified blue eyes. When I raise a phone book to throw at him, he freezes, palms out as if surrendering. “Whoa. Hey.”
“Who the fuck are you?” The words are out of my mouth before I can consider them.
“I’m John. I’m here to give you a ride. Mr. Benedict sent me.”
I suck in air as if I’d just been drowning. I put down the phone book.
“I’m so sorry I scared you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” His wide blue eyes slide over the open cabinets, and drawers. “Are you okay?”
Welcome to Castle Cove Page 21
