J.R. Rain's Vampire for Hire World_I, Samantha Moon

by H. T. Night

  “And you can’t tell me what it is? Do I have a disease?”

  “No, Samantha. Nothing like that. But this is out of my realm. There is nothing more I can tell you without putting myself in danger.”

  “So, something you tell me could put you in danger? That can’t be a good thing.”

  “Only if events are revealed.” She stood and I followed.

  I reached into my pocket to pull out the money for the session but she put up her hand and stopped me. “There is no fee for today.”

  My gut told me something was wrong with this entire moment—something strange was tugging at me. What she had told me was basically nothing. And yet, I was certain that the woman was real—a genuine psychic—but a psychic who refused to tell me what I needed to know.

  On my way to the door, I stopped. “Tammy will be okay, though, right?”

  “Yes. Tammy will be fine, Samantha Moon.”

  I nodded and turned to leave. As my hand touched the doorknob, I heard her call my name.

  “Sam?”

  “Yes.”

  “Remember, not all lies within a name. Sometimes it’s the blood that will reveal the true facts.” She turned and disappeared behind her red curtain and she was gone.

  Chapter Nine

  Chad and I stood in front of a mansion-style home. The naked female statue in the fountain in front cascaded water into a pond of koi fish—massively large and friendly as they moved toward us in the pond waiting for some kind of food handout.

  Chad shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around the estate. “Annie Hines lives here?” my partner asked.

  “According to her license, this is or was her home address.”

  Chad turned to stare down the long driveway hidden from the road below. “I’d say the apple fell far from the tree then, wouldn’t you?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  My partner knocked on the door. We waited a few minutes before a woman answered, her hair tied up into a bun at the top of her head with blonde wisps framing her face. She had piercing blue eyes and a very straight, pointy nose. “Yes, may I help you?”

  Chad and I both flashed our badges. “I’m Agent Moon and this is my partner, Agent Helling. We’re looking for Annie Hines.”

  She cocked her head. “I’m sorry, agents, there’s no one here by that name.”

  I glanced at my partner and back at the woman. “We’re sorry to bother you, but we have this address listed for Annie Hines. Could she have lived here prior to you?”

  “Anything is possible, I suppose,” she said.

  Chad spoke. “Have you lived here long, Miss...”

  “Devonshire. Mrs. Devonshire. Please, come in. I was in the middle of baking a pastry for a dinner party tonight for my husband’s colleagues. We’ll all be disappointed if I ruin it.” She smiled at a middle-aged man who walked into the foyer. “This is Steve, he’ll be happy to escort you to the living room. I won’t be but a second.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Devonshire,” I said, following Steve into a large exquisite room. When he excused himself, I widened my eyes at Chad. “I think we made the wrong career move. Look at this place.”

  “You think we work for HUD for the money?” He snickered.

  “Then why do we work?” I laughed.

  “Because we are gluttons for punishment.”

  The beautiful beige sectional backed up against a floor-to-ceiling, full-length window across the entire wall—not just one wall but the connecting wall as well and they both overlooked the city of Fullerton. The day was especially clear and we could see the mountains in the distance past the endless homes.

  “What do you think? I asked.

  Chad rubbed his hands together and sighed, taking another glance around the place. “I think we’re barking up the wrong tree. That the address on the license is fabricated.”

  Mrs. Devonshire pulled off her apron as she walked through the dining room into the living room where we stood. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. You said you were searching for a woman named Annie Hines. I’ve lived here for more than fifteen years and I’ve never had anyone on my staff with that name. Do you have anything else that might help me identify her? A picture, perhaps?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m sorry, but we don’t. She does have a daughter named Lori Hines, but that’s all we have,” Chad said.

  Mrs. Devonshire put up her finger. “Hines. Annie Hines. Wait.” She turned toward Steve, who stood quietly near the wall in the dining room, watching the three of us. “Do you remember a woman who applied with us about ten years ago? Shortly after she applied, we had that fiasco with my identity.”

  Chad and I both perked up.

  Steve thought for a moment and then stepped forward, almost stepping out of the shadows. “There was a woman by the name of Hines who applied to work here about ten years ago. I remember that, but Mr. Devonshire handled the interview, which is why you might not remember her.”

  Now, we’re getting somewhere, I thought.

  Chad stepped forward. “Do you remember anything about her or why she wasn’t hired?”

  “Not really,” Steve said. “The only thing I remember is Mr. Devonshire asking the woman about her work history and she mentioned that the system has a way of keeping the willing down. She went on a short tirade and stormed out of the office.”

  Mrs. Devonshire smirked. “My husband is a lawyer. He doesn’t condone those who throw blame on the system.”

  Steve said, “He’s pretty hard on criminals.”

  “What made you think Annie Hines was a criminal?” I asked.

  “As she was leaving, she said something like, ‘I’m not going to steal any of your precious things.’” Steve shrugged. “In my life experience, that usually means a guilty mind with a questionable background.”

  Chad glanced at me then back at the lady of the house. “We do appreciate your time, Mrs. Devonshire. You also mentioned a fiasco with your identity. Would you care to elaborate on that?”

  “Shortly after that interview, maybe a month or two, my credit card was stolen and maxed out. We had no proof that it was her and the criminal was never caught. But it was coincidental, that’s all. If you’ll excuse me, agents, I have to check my desserts, but I will be right back.”

  Chad whispered to me, “Coincidental, indeed. On one hand, we have Annie Hines, who is mostly a mystery, and on the other hand, we have Darlene Michaels, who is also connected to Lori Hines. And Darlene happens to be an identity thief. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Maybe. I’m thinking the answer is in the blood.” I’d gotten that phrase from the psychic.

  “Yep, DNA. I wonder what the thief used the credit card for.”

  “I bet I can guess,” I said.

  Mrs. Devonshire walked back into the room. “If there’s nothing else, agents, I’d like to tend to preparing for the dinner party tonight.”

  “Just one other question,” I said. “Do you remember what the thief used your credit card for?”

  “Of course. There were a bunch of small things like Walmart and Target, but the bulk included thousands spent at Babies R Us for infant clothing, cribs, changing tables, bottles and such and another twenty-five thousand was spent on a plastic surgeon. The works. Breast augmentation, some facial changes, tummy tuck. That’s all I can remember.”

  “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Devonshire,” I said as she walked us out.

  At his car, Chad said, “I think it’s time for us to pay Darlene Michaels a visit.”

  I slid into his Nova and sat back. “Do we have Darlene’s file with us?”

  “It’s in the back.”

  I reached into the back and grabbed a stack of files with pertinent information. I thumbed through until I pulled her file folder. Opening the folder and pulling out a copy of her license, I compared it with Annie Hines’ license, staring at the two photos, noticing everything. “If Annie is Darlene, then her plastic surgeon did an excellent job.”

  “He
better have, charging twenty-five grand to do fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of work.”

  “Since when do you know about plastic surgeons?” I asked.

  “I’ve dated a few women who have had a few things done.”

  “Uh-huh.” I reviewed everything again. “Wait a minute.”

  “What?”

  “Is that a mark at her hairline, just into her scalp? Does that look the same on both pictures?”

  “That speck?” he said, laughing.

  “Yes, right there.”

  Chad studied both pictures for at least ten minutes. “You know what?” he finally said. “I think Annie Hines is Darlene Michaels. Holy shit, Moon Pie. I think you found Annie Hines.”

  “We need to blow up the picture to be sure and we’ll want to do a DNA test, but with everything else we have on Darlene Michaels, I think we have enough to get our search warrant.”

  “We can try,” Chad said.

  “You don’t think we have enough evidence?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t hurt to keep digging.”

  Chapter Ten

  My partner wanted to take me to his favorite Mexican food place—Pepe’s on Placentia Avenue. After I fumbled around with my phone, I finally sent a picture text of Annie Hines’ license to detectives Monroe and Santino, I asked them to enlarge both the photos of Annie Hines and Darlene Michaels to show that area of their hairline. While we waited, we decided to have lunch.

  I wasn’t hungry. My stomach was still in knots from the night before when I took a trip to Maria’s to have my future read. It was easier to tell myself it was a dream because otherwise, I sounded completely insane. So, when Chad asked me what was on my mind, I told him the truth.

  “Last night, I went to a psychic,” I said.

  Chad nearly spit out his water. “Why did you feel the need to talk to a psychic?”

  “Honestly, I need to talk to one of our psych counselors at work. The truth was, I had a horrific nightmare and I thought it might do me some good. It bothered me more than it should have.”

  Chad shook his head at me in disappointment. “You know what I think?” he said more as a statement than a question.

  “You mean to tell me that you think?” I tried to make light of the situation because I sensed he had every intention of taking this to another level—a very philosophical and cerebral level.

  “It’s rare, but it does happen occasionally. Sort of like your ability to cook.”

  “Oh, low blow, Helling.”

  He laughed. “In all seriousness, I think you should schedule a much-needed vacation.”

  I glanced away from my horchata drink—a yummy beverage made from rice and cinnamon and milk and some other ingredients—and I noticed the concern in his eyes. “Maybe I do need a vacation. It has been a year since I took that one week.”

  “Not maybe, Sam. You’ve been stressed lately. Tammy was sick. Your sister has come to you about a few things and this case has taken its toll on both of us.”

  “Yeah. Fortunato told us to put our other cases to the side.”

  “Which we did.”

  “But you know what that means when we close the Hines case.”

  “Yeah, a pile of unworked cases to go through.” My partner never ceased to amaze me. He always had my best interests in mind. Even though his workload might be unbearable, the guy wanted to make sure that I received the much-needed rest that we both struggled without.

  I leaned closer to the table. “Truth be told, partner, I can’t leave you to go on vacation after we close this one.”

  “Yes, you can. I’d rather you come back refreshed. You’ve been too stressed lately. Look at you.”

  “What? What’s wrong with me?” I glanced down at my white blouse, black straight-leg jeans and boots under the table.

  “You look pale, Sam. Paler than usual.”

  I decided when this conversation started that I wasn’t going to mention my experience with Maria the psychic to him… or anyone else, for that matter. Even mentioning what happened would make me appear unstable or insane and the fact was, I was just downright, unbelievably exhausted. If given the chance, I could sleep for a week straight.

  My phone rang and I answered. “Moon here. Yes, detective. Okay.” I listened to Detective Monroe dishing out some facts about our case on the other end. “Right. Sounds good. We’ll meet you at the HUD office in twenty.”

  Chad used a napkin to wipe his mouth. “What’s going on?”

  “We have a match on Darlene and Annie. It’s a mole in the exact same place in the hairline and the exact same color—slight red with brown outer edges. It’s not DNA, but I consider it a match.”

  “And?” Chad asked.

  “A few days ago, they found a gun that matched the type used in Detective Sutton’s murder.”

  “Where?”

  “Martha Hernandez,” I answered.

  “Freddy’s mom. Makes sense.”

  “That’s not all,” I said.

  “You’re making my day, Moon.” Chad smiled and leaned forward.

  “They found a stash of antique guns hidden in a shallow grave under the house.”

  “Belong to our gun dealer?”

  “They’re running a check on the stolen weapons with the ones found. Apparently, there’s more he wants to tell us, but they want us to come back into the office.”

  “Let’s go. The sooner we close this case, the sooner we both get to go on vacation.” He winked at me, which made me smile.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Okay people, pipe down, will you?” Fortunato said in the large conference room. Just behind him hung a massive whiteboard and the almost-complete family crime tree. The room was filled with agents, detectives and other personnel from outside agencies.

  The room quieted down and everyone took their seats. In the middle of the table was a box of donuts half gone and a pot of coffee. Chad and I had just finished discussing the case with Santino and Monroe. We were all exhausted, but we knew that we were in for the long haul.

  Before the meeting was underway, Chad’s cell phone rang and he stepped out of the room to take the call.

  Fortunato glanced around the room. “I’ve had an opportunity to talk to the FPD detectives who were assigned to Detective Shaun Sutton’s murder, and I spoke with two of my own agents who have been looking into housing fraud with those related to Freddy Hernandez, the arrested suspect in Sutton’s case. What we discovered is that this crime ring goes far deeper than any of us might have imagined.” He scanned the room. “Please pay attention. I’m going to now turn this over to those working this case.” Fortunato took a seat.

  When Chad walked back into the room, he gave me half a grin. That smirk meant that we had just received new information in the case.

  Detective Mike Monroe stood and moved to the whiteboard. “As you can see from the family tree, we believe that the matriarch of the crimes that have been committed is a woman named Darlene Michaels. Up until ten years ago, she was known as Annie Hines, a woman with a squeaky-clean record, yet down on her luck. With a stolen credit card and a little nip and tuck, she changed her identity to Darlene Robertson and eventually married and changed her name yet again to Darlene Michaels. This is where the fun begins.”

  Helling raised his hand and then leaned into me and whispered rather loudly, “Everything we thought has just been confirmed.”

  “Yeah, Chad, what is it?” Monroe asked.

  Chad stood and moved to the whiteboard where he drew a line from Annie Hines’ name—in parentheses next to Darlene Michaels’ name—and with a red dry-erase marker he wrote in capital letters: ‘WANTED IN ITALY.’ And next to that in parentheses he wrote: (Adriana Moretti).

  Then he turned to the group and said, “For the sake of all of our sanity, we’ll continue to call her Darlene Michaels.”

  Detective Monroe confirmed, “So she’s from Italy and is known as Adriana Moretti?”

  “Correct. That was what I wrote on the board. N
ice red letters,” Chad said sarcastically.

  Monroe continued, “She came to the United States and changed her name to Annie Hines?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And changed it again to Darlene Robertson, but got married and changed it yet again as Darlene Michaels?”

  “You got it! Samantha wasn’t convinced that Annie Hines was clean enough to not exist in our databases. So, we ran an international search on an international phone number dialed from her cellular phone thirty-two times in the last two years,” Chad said. “That’s how long she’s had the same phone number.”

  “Ambitious,” Monroe said.

  “I just received a phone call that sheds a bit more light on this woman with multiple names and aliases. She’s wanted abroad for robbery, identity theft and a long list of other crimes. The number she had called belongs to her 78-year-old grandfather to whom she sends money.” He smiled in my direction again.

  I was pleased to hear that the phone call he received thirty minutes prior was answering the questions we had about the phone number abroad.

  “Annie came to the United States,” I said. “She changed her name, and had her daughter, here in Fullerton. For years she laid low, staying out of trouble under the name Annie Hines.”

  “So why did she take on another alias as a permanent name?” Monroe asked.

  “At this time, we don’t know,” Chad said. “But we do know that the answer may lie within her belongings.”

  “How much will we really find?” Monroe asked.

  “She’s a bit sentimental, if you ask me,” Chad said.

  “Why do you say that?” Detective Monroe asked.

  Chad smiled in my direction once again and then pointed at me to do the honors. I stood and moved to the front of the room to address the new detectives now assigned to this case. “Darlene filed a restraining order against her estranged husband, Andre Michaels, claiming that he pulled a gun on her. She is also claiming that the gun he used was a family heirloom from the old country and has since filed an insurance claim with a renter’s insurance policy she had in her name.”

  “Okay,” Monroe said, obviously waiting for me to give him the juicy stuff.