Sophia

by D. B. Reynolds

  But this morning he’d made a point of showing his face in the few establishments sprinkled around town. People had heard about Mariane. It was inevitable, really. The smaller the town the more active the gossip mill, and Mrs. Fremont had no doubt primed the pump on this particular story. His cell phone had been ringing almost nonstop since the attack. Some were worried about their own safety or the safety of their women. Others just wanted the news firsthand. And still others had the facts all wrong and were calling him nearly hysterical with fear about some vampire invasion.

  Not that the latter was completely off base. Colin hadn’t missed the parade of big, black SUVs that had zipped down the highway the other night with a limo snug between them. They’d driven right past him on his way home from Jeremy’s. And then this morning, there’d been a message waiting for him from Loren. Apparently, some big honcho had arrived and wanted to meet what passed for the local law. Colin could hardly wait.

  He frowned, rocking the chair against the wall behind him. He could understand Jeremy’s anger. Hell, he shared it, although he was smart enough to know that no matter how angry he might be, it couldn’t come close to what the vampire was feeling. But why would a single attack—as vicious as it had been—bring out the big guns like this? And how had they managed to arrive so quickly, virtually on the heels of the crime itself?

  His attention was drawn down the block as one of the SUVs he’d just been thinking about pulled to a stop in front of Emma’s, the local answer to Seattle’s coffee shops. Colin let the chair drop to all fours and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs as he studied the new arrival. The truck’s windows were all but blacked out, so he couldn’t see anyone inside, but the meager sun still rode the sky somewhere behind the thick clouds, so he knew whoever it was had to be human, at least. And human he could deal with.

  The truck door opened and Colin stood. A black clad leg emerged wearing thick-soled combat-style boots. He took a half step forward and tripped to a halt when the leg turned out to be that of a tall, slender woman. Closing the truck door behind her, she stood for a moment surveying downtown Cooper’s Rest. It wasn’t much, he admitted, and she seemed to agree, if the frown on her face was any indication.

  Her gaze fell on him where he stood under the porch overhang, then lifted to read the sign identifying the office as the local police station. Eyeing him once more, she gave a small shrug and headed his way.

  Colin watched her approach. She was wearing clothes that very nearly matched his own outfit—black combat pants tucked into sensible, lace-up boots, and a black t-shirt, although she wore hers considerably better than he did. His smile of appreciation didn’t last long as he registered the existence of a shoulder rig beneath her short, all-weather jacket, its presence in stark contrast to her graceful walk and the way she filled out that t-shirt. He took a step forward when she reached the stairs in front of him, stretching to his full six-foot-four height, his hands grabbing the overhang before dropping to rest on his hips.

  She smiled slightly, as if acknowledging his dominance display, before climbing the three stairs to stand on a level with him. “Colin Murphy?” she asked, tall enough that she very nearly met his eyes without raising her head.

  Colin tipped his head. “The very same, darlin’” he responded, enjoying a bit of satisfaction when her mouth tightened at the endearment.

  “My name,” she said. “Is Cynthia Leighton. Cyn, if you prefer.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Leighton,” he drawled, letting every ounce of his Georgian upbringing play with the syllables. He found most Northerners assumed anyone with a drawl was dimwitted, and he wasn’t above using it to his advantage.

  The Leighton woman’s mouth curved up slightly. “Don’t bother, Murphy,” she said dryly. “I’ve got friends in the South. Good friends. And besides, I know who you are.”

  Colin looked her up and down, narrowing his eyes. She probably played that killer body the same way he played his accent, and to a hell of a lot better effect, too. So who the hell was she? “What can I do for you, Leighton?” he asked bluntly, his accent still present, but considerably less so.

  “I’m a private investigator. Very private. In fact, I have only one client, and he’s sleeping at a compound not far from here.”

  Colin let his surprise show on his face. “You’re with the vampires?”

  “I am. And I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

  “I know a whole bunch of trucks drove through this town two nights ago.”

  “And you were there when Mariane was attacked.”

  “Afterward,” he amended sharply. “By the time I arrived, whoever had attacked her was gone.”

  “Forgive me,” she said, and seemed to mean it. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. Wei Chen and Loren have both vouched for you and your honesty.”

  “Is Mariane okay? I wanted to call an ambulance, but Jeremy—”

  “Mariane’s doing well, considering. Jeremy taking her to the compound really was the best course, Mister Murphy.”

  “Colin,” he said. “No need for formality between us, is there?”

  She grinned, the first honest, uncalculated thing she’d done so far. “Formalities aside, then. I’m here because I need to see the crime scenes—all three of them—in daylight.”

  Colin frowned. “Crime scenes?”

  She tilted her head at him. “I thought we’d moved past this, Murphy.”

  He shook his head, puzzled. “No, I mean, I understand you want to see Jeremy’s place. I don’t think he’s been back there since it happened, but, crime scenes, as in plural?”

  She studied him intently. “You don’t know,” she said, making it a statement not a question.

  “Know what?” he snapped.

  “About Marco and Preston.”

  “Marco? What about Marco?”

  “You knew him?”

  “Knew him? Why are you talking in past tense? Has something happened to Marco?”

  He saw a flash of sympathy in her eyes. “Marco’s dead,” she said quietly. “And so’s Preston. Both of them murdered, presumably by the same people who attacked Mariane the other night.”

  Colin felt a hard stab of grief, his jaw tightening as he stared at her. “When?”

  “Two days before Mariane was attacked. Both Marco and Preston on the same night. I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

  “No.” He inhaled deeply, looking away from her too perceptive gaze.

  “You were friends?”

  “With Marco, not Preston. He had horses and my dad’s a trainer back in Georgia. Marco ordered some equipment from a tack shop a while back, and I saw him loading the stuff into his truck. We rode together sometimes.” He shook his head. “Dammit. Are you sure he’s dead?”

  “Very,” she said, nodding once. “There’s no mistaking something like this.”

  “Fuck.”

  “What about Preston?”

  “I didn’t know him,” he repeated. “Marco mentioned him once or twice, but that’s it.”

  “Did you know where they lived?”

  “Marco, for sure. Like I said, we rode together—his horses, I don’t have any here. Wait, what happened to the horses? He loved those animals.”

  “They’ve been taken care of. They were sent to a ranch in Wyoming,” she added at his skeptical look. “Vampires have no interest in horse flesh or blood.”

  Colin shrugged unapologetically. “What I know about vampires wouldn’t fill a single page, Leighton.”

  She gave him a half smile. “My knowledge is somewhat more extensive. I’d like to see all three crime scenes. Can you take me there?”

  “Sure. I’ve got a roster inside. Let me look up Preston’s address and we’ll get going.”

  “A roster? It lists everyone?”

  “Everyone I know of,” he said over his shoulder as he strode into the small office.

  “Who has access to something like that?”

  Colin stopped and look
ed at her. “No one but me, I guess. It’s on a computer, a laptop I take home with me every night. Why?”

  “From what Jeremy’s said, the two of them were pretty open about where they lived. They were new to the area, and Mariane even shopped here in town. But Marco and Preston shouldn’t have been that easy to find. If someone got hold of your roster there—”

  “Darlin’, this is a small town. Everyone knows everything,” he muttered, not looking at her as he brought up the file on his computer.

  “Apparently not, stud, since you didn’t even know Marco and Preston were dead.”

  Colin looked up, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “You’re right,” he agreed finally. “And I’m sorry about the darlin. It’s a habit.”

  “Yeah, okay. Truce. We’ve got bigger fish to fry anyway.”

  Colin stood and grabbed his windbreaker from the back of the chair. “Damn right. There’s something going on in this town, and I intend to find out what it is.”

  * * * *

  They took his Tahoe and headed for Jeremy’s place first. It was closest to town and they passed right by Colin’s house on the way, which meant he had the chance to stop and grab some more firepower.

  “Planning to invade a small country there, Murphy?” Leighton asked, eyeing the Benelli as he laid it on the backseat. He’d invited her into his house, but she’d chosen to wait by the car, muttering something about “throwing fuel on the fire.” Whatever the hell that meant.

  “I don’t know about you, Leighton.” He closed the back door of the truck and opened the front. “But when I’m dealing with vamps, I like to go armed for bear.”

  “No argument from me,” she said easily. “Although my personal choice of weapon focuses more on the load rather than the delivery system.”

  He gave her a puzzled look as he slid back into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition key. “I thought you worked with these guys.”

  “I do.”

  “Yeah, so?” He whipped into a fast 180 turn and headed up his driveway to the main road.

  She gave him a sideways smile. “Not all vampires are created equal, Murphy. There are all different kinds, just like the rest of us.”

  Colin shrugged and turned onto the highway toward Jeremy’s. “Makes sense, I suppose, since they all started the same way as the rest of us, right?”

  “That’s very enlightened of you.”

  “Yeah, well, I do what I can, ma’am,” he said with an exaggerated drawl.

  She laughed, but sobered almost immediately, fingers tapping nervously on the door frame next to her. “Vamps didn’t do this, though,” she said thoughtfully. “It happened in daylight, for beginners. You have any idea which of your fellow citizens might be a little less enlightened than you are?”

  Colin shook his head, frowning. “When this thing with Mariane happened, I figured it had to be someone from outside. We get a lot of people passing through—tourists, people looking to commune with nature, loggers. This is a small town and it just doesn’t sit right that someone I know could have done what was done to that little girl. Besides, judging by what I saw in that house and . . . well, Mariane’s condition, I’m pretty sure there was more than one of them there that day. To my way of thinking, that makes it even less likely that it was locals. People around here know Mariane and they like her.” He slowed slightly, making the turn onto Jeremy’s drive. “But now you tell me that Marco and this other guy Preston were killed, and it makes me wonder how well I really know the folks I live with.”

  “This is a pretty wild area,” Leighton offered. “Could be all sorts of people hanging around in the woods and you’d never know it.”

  He gave her a sharp look as he pulled up in front of Jeremy’s house. “You know something I don’t?

  She scoffed lightly and gave him a toothy grin. “Probably all sorts of things.” She showed him both hands and said, “I’m going to check my weapon. Don’t panic, okay?”

  It was his turn to scoff as she pulled a Glock 17 from her shoulder rig, checked the magazine and worked the slide before securing it back beneath her jacket.

  “Panic isn’t a word in my vocabulary, dar’ … Leighton,” he said with a shit-eating grin of his own.

  “Good to know,” she said, opening her door. “That might come in handy in the next few days.”

  Walking around to the back of the house, he saw that someone had boarded up the broken windows and replaced the shattered door with a makeshift replacement and a heavy padlock. Leighton produced a key to the lock, which told him it was probably Jeremy who’d arranged the temporary repairs, or at least someone who cared about him and Mariane.

  Inside, she barely looked at the room where Mariane had been savaged, heading instead for Jeremy’s office, where she looked around, carefully examining what to his eye was the utter destruction left behind. Furniture had been tossed or tipped over, computers smashed and paper was strewn everywhere.

  “You looking for something in particular?” he asked finally.

  She gave him an absent look. “Hmm? No, just looking. More curiosity than anything else.” She turned her hands over, scowling at the grime clinging to them. “Let me wash my hands, and then I’m done here, if you are.”

  Colin watched as she washed at the kitchen sink. “Jeremy’s daytime hiding place, right?”

  She turned off the water and grabbed some paper towels before turning to give him a careful look. “What?”

  He smiled knowingly. “Whoever did this tore the house apart. There was equipment they could have fenced for good money, but instead they trashed everything. And Mariane—” His lip curled. “I found her, Leighton. She wasn’t just raped; she was tortured. They wanted something from her, and I’m guessing that something was Jeremy. They didn’t find him, even though he was close enough to scare the shit out of me within minutes of sundown. Now, we’re either working together, or we’re not. I’m not asking for any deep vampire secrets, but I like to know I can trust the person I’m working with.”

  Leighton stared at him for a long minute, then drew a thoughtful breath and exhaled noisily. “You have a point,” she said slowly. “So, yes, Jeremy’s daytime resting place is under that floor. I’m guessing the vamps who boarded up the house moved some stuff around to conceal its location, since the house isn’t really secure anymore. But, truthfully, even knowing where it was, I can’t get inside. Which is why Jeremy’s still alive.”

  “What about Marco?” he asked, as they locked the door once again and headed for his truck.

  “He and Preston both built their houses a while ago, and I’m betting neither one of them had updated their security.”

  Colin shook his head, then stopped, eyeing the ground around his truck. “There’ve been a lot of vehicles here recently. Your guys?”

  Leighton nodded. “Lord Raphael’s security team was out here night before last, and some others came out last night to pick up some things for Jeremy. They’re also the ones who boarded the place up,” she added, gesturing toward the house.

  “Lord Raphael?” he repeated, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “You better believe it. In the vampire world, he controls all of the U.S. west of the Rockies, plus a big chunk of the mountains themselves.”

  “What the hell does that mean, controls? I’ve never ever heard of him. How powerful can he be?”

  She shrugged, unconcerned. “That’s because you’re not a vampire. If you were, believe me, you’d know about him, because, living here, he’d be the only thing between you and instant death.”

  Colin frowned.

  “Trust me on this one. He’s scary powerful. But you can judge for yourself tonight. You’ve got that meeting at the compound. He’ll be there.”

  “Fantastic,” he muttered, as they climbed back into the truck.

  Neither of them said much on the way to Marco’s. For his part, Colin was not looking forward to seeing the place with Marco gone. Not that they’d b
een close, not like his friends from back home, and sure as hell nothing like his buddies from the SEAL teams. But they’d both loved horses—not just riding them, but the simple beauty of the animal. Marco had been so pleased to find someone he could talk to, someone who understood the fine points of horse breeding and training the way Colin did. Colin may not have taken up his father’s business, but he’d been raised on the family’s ranch, had worked in the barns almost from the day he took his first step until he’d walked away and joined the Navy. He’d gone into the service partly because it was the last thing anyone expected of a boy from Georgia who’d been nothing but trouble all through high school. But he’d also done it to escape his father’s determination to control every aspect of his youngest son’s life.