Ten minutes later the new girlfriend hurries out of the house. In the sunshine she’s even paler than last night. And I’d bet a grand the huge sunglasses she’s wearing have less to do with the sun and more to do with the bruise peeking out their side. Asshole. The girl climbs into the ancient Bug and speeds away, leaving clouds of exhaust in her wake. I don’t waste a second. Re-assembling my arsenal, I climb out of my car and hustle up to the house again. The teenager was in such a hurry she forgot to lock the front door. How considerate of her. I just stroll in.
The house is exactly as I remember it. He even replaced the Grateful Dead poster frame that broke when I threw him against it. Should have ripped out his heart then. More hindsight to keep me awake at night. No time for self-flagellation now. I have a murderer to catch.
A quick sweep of the kitchen proves fruitless, just tons of tofu sprouts, granola, and a bag of blood. Nothing in the living room either except a lone photo of Moon and his new lunch box at the beach with the stars behind them. Hall closet, guest bedroom, and another spare bedroom full of vinyl records and a tiny bed are also free of traces of Mariah. Crud, maybe he’s not the moron I thought. Maybe he burnt or gave away all her stuff. I sigh. Just keep going, Bea.
The master bedroom’s next, and it’s here I run into trouble. The door has a padlock on it. Ugh. Okay, I can do this. I remove the lock pick kit Will gave me on my birthday. I received the one lesson and it shows as I struggle with the lock. Ten minutes of swearing, pacing around to quell my frustration, and even a pee break I still can’t get the damn thing unlocked. I could just kick the door in but they’d know I was here. Okay, I’m giving up. For now.
The garage is next, and I run into another road block. Mr. Lipmann appears to be a hoarder. Great. I stare at boxes and boxes of God knows what stacked to the ceiling with rusted bicycles, magazines, and more than a few rats scurrying around in the few places there’s room to move. God, he could hide Mariah’s body in here, and it’d never be found. I don’t smell decay. No, the neighbors would complain about the stench. I don’t know where to begin. I close my eyes. God I wish Andrew were here I’ll have to do my best. “Mariah, if you’re still here, if your spirit is still here…help me. Help me. Help—”
Something clangs nearby, and I open my eyes. A shovel continues falling down suitcases a few feet away. Worth a shot. I have to literally climb over boxes to reach the suitcases. As I get closer, I see it. A streak of blood across the canvas fabric of a duffel bag. Is this it? I close my eyes again and try to access the memory of the night I came to rescue Mariah. She was packing a duffel bag. This is it. I think so. I snap a picture of the blood splatter with my iPhone before opening the bag.
Hello.
Inside I find nothing but clothes and a few photos of Moon and Mariah kissing at the beach like the photo of the new girl in the living room, and way too many of Mariah naked or engaging in sexual acts. I snap photos of these. Disgusting but not incriminating. Nothing else but more clothes. I put everything back in but when I shift the bag I notice another vaguely familiar sight. A purse saturated in dried blood. I snap a picture before carefully opening it. There’s not a lot in there either except for breath mints, gum, a card redder than white, and a pink plastic wallet. I open the wallet. A few dollars in cash, a picture of Mariah hugging a little girl, and a driver’s license with a photo of Mariah but with the name Mariah Lipmann and this address listed. Fake. Claims she’s twenty-one. I snap photos of everything, including the card. My card. Even with all the blood I can make out my name and the FBI seal. Motherlode. I think this’ll be enough to convince Connor. I put everything back in its place and do a quick look through of the garage. Nothing stands out. I climb my way back to the door.
I’m running out of time. The question becomes do I keep at the bedroom lock or—
The decision’s made for me. I’m close enough to the driveway in here I can hear the Bug choking out exhaust as it pulls up. Crap. When I get back to Connor’s I am so practicing my lock picking until he rises. I hustle to the living room as I hear a car door shut. Back door it is. I brush aside the heavy blackout curtains and open the sliding glass door. I’ll have to leave it unlocked, hopefully the only sign I’ve been here. Girlfriend will chalk it up to her own fleabrainess. I quietly shut the door and let out the breath I held. This better be—
It’s in the mid-eighties today but a chill runs down my spine, as if someone traced a melting ice cube from neck to tailbone. I’ve experienced it enough on the job to know the cause. A ghost. I don’t have Andrew’s mediumship gift, but we’ve been through enough haunted houses and cemeteries with the man to know a real ghost when I sense one. When it wants me to sense it. I turn around but of course don’t see anything. Just the small backyard that’s more dirt than grass. Another chill. What are you trying to tell me, Mariah? I walk the length of the lawn and when I put one foot on a long dirt patch there goes the chill again. I stop dead. This patch is about five and a half feet long. Another chill comes when I move to the next same sized dirt patch. Crap. I count three more patches. Jesus.
Before I can move to the next one, there’s a noise inside the house that catches my breath. I have to get out of here. I take a quick picture of the backyard as a whole before running to the side of the house and sneaking back to my car. I start the car and drive off. Maybe not all of them are bodies. Maybe none of them are.
Yeah. Right.
The purse should be enough. It has to be. And if Connor won’t help, I know a Federal organization that will. A small smile crosses my face. I did miss this. Investigating. Beating the bad guy at his own rotten game. Maybe I am what Carl claims. A true detective.
Will would be proud.
Chapter Ten
Sweet and Vicious Vengeance
“You did what?”
Okay, not the reaction I hoped for. My boyfriend glares at me, even baring his fangs. I stand my ground, even squeezing my shoulders and straightening my back. A large part of me knew this would happen, the fury, hell that he’d dump me on the spot for going against his wishes, but this is more darn important than us.
“You heard me. I have proof Moon Lipmann more than likely killed his consort Mariah, among others.”
“And how precisely did you gather this evidence?” he asks, jaw now clenched.
“I searched his house.”
“You broke in.”
“No, the door was unlocked. No breaking involved. And I made sure to leave no trace I was ever there. I am a professional, Connor. I’ve done this before.”
“You cannot…” He grunts, lightly punches the dining room table, and takes a step back. “I told you I would handle the situation. I forbid you from—”
“Yeah, as I told you before, no one forbids me from a thing,” I say, voice hard. “And you said you’d handle it someday. Maybe. But right now there’s another teenage girl living with a child killer who cannot afford someday. And look at it this way. Not only have I taken an item off your endless To Do list, but outside of us two who is to know you didn’t task me with this job? That you asked me to instead of telling me not to. There’s no face to save.”
He lets this logic sink in, the sides of his mouth slowly untensing. “Who else knows about this?”
“Carl from the F.R.E.A.K.S.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he says, literally throwing up his hands.
“He just did some research for me. There’s nothing on record, nothing official.” I pause. “At least not yet.”
“Beatrice!”
“He promised to give us two days to handle it in house. But police are already looking for Mariah. She’s in the law enforcement database. And if my hunch is correct, and there are more bodies in that backyard, not all of them will be his consorts, which does give the F.R.E.A.K.S. jurisdiction.”
“So you have boxed me in. Given me no alternative but to—”
“Do your job? I shouldn’t have to take a play from your book to get you to do the right thing, Connor.�
�� I fold my arms across my chest. “Hell, if you weren’t on the receiving end of this, I’d bet you’d be damn proud of me. You’ve been a good teacher.”
My boyfriend stares across the table at me, face suddenly a stone mask, as he works the angles in his mind. “Fine. Show me your evidence.”
I lay out the photos, my notes about Mariah, my theory. That mask of his never wavers. “I’m no expert on vampiric law, or how much evidence is required to convict him, but this should be enough to at least check out his backyard, right? And if you have a medium on staff they could talk to one of the ghosts there too.”
“I do not believe that will be necessary,” Connor says. “This is…good work. I will send my people to bring Mr. Lipmann here and investigate the backyard.”
“Is there enough even if I’m wrong about those patches being bodies?”
“If that is the case then I will get the evidence when I interrogate him.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile.
“There is no need to thank me. It was me, after all, who asked you to investigate this matter,” he says, all business.
He nods and begins walking toward the door. “Connor…” He turns around, face unreadable. “I wouldn’t have done this behind your back if it wasn’t literally life and death.”
“I am just…disappointed that you did not trust me. That you lied to my face when you promised to do just that. How can I trust you now?”
I don’t have an answer for him. Because at the end of the day I didn’t trust him. “This was a special circumstance. This was me cleaning up my mess. I can’t mop them all up, but this one I could. And for the first time in months, I felt like me. I felt good. I needed to do this, Connor. Can you understand that?”
Connor gazes down, the tension waning. After several seconds, he says, “I will try.”
That’s the best I can hope for right now. “Thank you.”
“Please wait here. I shall return in an hour or so and we will put this mess to bed.”
“Okay.”
After a curt nod, he walks out. I all but flop into the dining room chair. The gourmet Ahi salad and soufflé my personal chef whipped up sits half eaten and will probably stay that way. I’ve lost my appetite. I couldn’t have waited until after my dinner to spring this on Connor. Really, I want to run. I want out of this apartment, away from him could I? I can handle someone being angry at me, disappointed not so much. And his disappointment kind of makes me mad. There is no downside for him to what I did. He doesn’t have to waste resources or time investigating. A potential threat to his reign is being eliminated. It would be worse if Moon killed again after Connor became aware of the issue. He should be thanking me, proud, not scolding me like a stern father.
This whole “obey me or else” attitude of his is getting to me. I’m not an underling, I’m his girlfriend. And if he wants some blind follower who just fetches his slippers and awaits his every command, he should get a damn dog. Maybe he’s not used to dating a modern woman with drive and a mind of her own. For a centuries old vamp the feminist movement has relatively been around for like a year. Well, he better learn to accept it or…what, Bea? This was meant to be a fling. A rebound. Fun. Instead it’s been fights with everyone I love and now him. The sex has been great but all else weighs on me. I should be happy, right? Living the dream with my rich, sexy boyfriend catering to my every desire. Then why do I have to keep telling myself I’m lucky? Why don’t I feel it like I did when I was investigating today?
I clear my plates, do the dishes, and return to my lock picking training and the Doctor Who marathon. It’s not nearly as much fun watching the show without Oliver’s snarky commentary but my other task helps keep my interest. Five hours of practice before Connor woke and I can now open a padlock, handcuffs, and Connor’s front door deadbolt within minutes. Once I master the kit I’ll move onto bobby pins, regular pins, and my bra’s underwire. Will once opened a jail cell with that last one. It was damn impressive. Of course not fifteen minutes later I lost all respect for the man when he wanted to leave Oliver to his torturers. Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised by Connor’s reaction to my rebel ways. Will was all “my way or the highway” too. It pissed me off then too. Guess that’s my type: unyielding control freaks. Will’s came from a place of insecurity, I don’t know where Connor’s comes from. That makes me nervous.
Yet here I am in his apartment, waiting around for him to beckon me. Shit, I’m practically living with him. A man I don’t really trust. I put the lock down and sigh. I think I need a night away from here. From him. From everything and everyone. A place where I can breathe. Yeah, I’m doing it. After this Moon business gets settled, I’m going to a hotel. Just not before. I’m not moving until that bastard’s faced justice.
I don’t have to wait too long. Almost an hour on the dot, there’s a knock on Connor’s front door and Avril steps in. “His Lordship requests your presence downstairs. Please come with me.”
About damn time.
Avril leads me down the stairs and into the underground garage where Edgar and another vampire stand sentinel by a concrete wall. As we weave through the cars toward them, Edgar presses on the wall, which slides a door sized slab to the right. Hidden door. I can hear the sobs and screams through the hole. My stomach clenches with each wail of agony. You never, ever get used to the sounds of pain and misery coming from another living being. I guess the day you do is the day you become a true monster.
If the sounds weren’t bad enough, the sight of what’s occurring inside this 14X14 concrete tomb now adds chills to the mix. An impassive Connor and Jack stand on either side of the bound Moon, who has been forced to his knees. Literally. Blood already drips onto the plastic tarp below him from his broken nose, slashes to both his cheeks, and the tears flowing from his eyes. “Please, please, please…” he sobs.
My whole body becomes a pillar of stone. I know this man is a murderer and God knows what else, but still. His utter terror and torment bring revulsion and guilt all through me.
“Sir, Neil phoned,” Avril says, all business. “He sensed six bodies in Mr. Lipmann’s backyard.”
“Then with his confession, the burden of proof has been more than met,” Connor says. Moon just sobs harder. “Call Neil back and tell him to wipe the girl’s memory of the past six months, give her some money, and drop her at a shelter.”
“And the bodies?” Avril asks.
“Contact Det. Harvey Berry. He will know how to handle the situation for us.”
“Very good, sir,” Avril says with a little bow before leaving the cramped room. Lucky her.
The concrete slab slides shut behind her. The reek of metallic blood grows heavier the moment it does. The adrenaline. Even his sobs grow louder, each one ratcheting up the tension inside me to another level. “He-he confessed?”
“To your Mariah’s demise, yes,” Connor says. “However, a decade past, he registered another consort with me, a Jennifer Carson. She will no doubt account for one of the other bodies. Tell Miss Alexander what you told us, Mr. Lipmann.”
Moon simply continues sobbing. After a few seconds, Jack kicks the pathetic man in the stomach. The vamp shouts and doubles over in pain. “Lord Connor gave you an order!”
“Is that necessary?” I ask.
Jack glares at me and Connor purses his lips in disapproval. “Yes. It is,” Connor says. “Talk, Mr. Lipmann.”
Moon lets out a few more sobs before croaking out, “I-I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn’t.”
“Tell Miss Alexander precisely what you told us,” Connor instructs again, “or I will remove your tongue and make you write it out in your own blood.”
“I…I…” he sobs. “She was going to leave me! She was leaving me! The police questioned her, and she lied, she stayed, but…but we fought again. She was going to call you again. And she was leaving me!”
“The night you and I met, he beat her to death,” Connor finishes.
“You son of a bitch,” I grow
l.
“I didn’t mean to!” he wails. He looks up at me, pleading with his eyes. “I swear! It was an accident!”
“Six times?” Connor asks.
“Those were…yes. They wouldn’t stop bleeding. I-I lost my temper. I was stupid. They…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Who were they?” I ask.
“I don’t know! Just some girls!” Right. Just some girls.
“And Jennifer?” Connor asks.
“I…yes. Jen. Oh, Jen, I’m so sorry,” he sobs as he peers away from me again.
“We need names for the other girls,” I say. “The others you butchered.”
“I didn’t know their names! I don’t remember—”
“You don’t remember the women you murdered?” I spew out.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t mean to,” I shout, before grabbing his jaw and forcing his eyes up to mine, “but you did! You killed the sixteen-year-old girl who loved you! Who trusted you! Who wanted nothing more than to spend her life with you! You betrayed her! Then you threw her out like fucking trash! You’re a pathetic, weak, selfish, bastard who never, ever deserved her!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he sobs and sobs and sobs.
I release his face. I’m so disgusted, so infuriated, I can barely breathe. I can barely do anything but tremble. I take a step back before I give into my deep, deep desire to beat this bastard to death. “No, you’re not. You’re just sorry you got caught.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he continues to wail.
“Do you have any other questions for the prisoner?” Connor asks me.
“No. Let’s get this over with.”
“Very well. Gary ‘Moon’ Lipmann, I hereby sentence you to death for the murders of your legal consorts Jennifer Carson and Mariah Wilson. Sentence to be carried out immediately.”
“No! Please no! Please don’t! Please…”
The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5) Page 14
