Clark lit a cigarette, crossing his legs and staring at Sam. “Doc, why don’t you list what we know about this character? I want to see if you have a different slant on him than I do.”
“You mean you want to see if I’ve noticed anything that you haven’t? Okay, here goes.... Let’s see now.... We have a male, six feet or so in height, no distinguishing features except for striking black eyes. He’s not abnormally big or muscular, but seems to have the strength of several men. His skin is cold and clammy to the touch—”
Matt interrupted. “Chief, that seems to rule out PCP as the source of his strength since it causes a high fever in its users. Of course, intravenous methamphetamine or cocaine could do it. That would make him sweat, which could cause his skin to feel clammy.”
Sam nodded in agreement, then continued, “He is either a master hypnotist or has mental powers of which we’re not aware. . . .”
Clark sat forward, stubbing out his cigarette. “Whoa, wait a minute Doc. Where do you get that ‘mental powers’ bit?”
“Chief, look at the history of this killer. Not one potential victim escaped or called for help. Now, this club manager tells us that one of his employees watched calmly while her boss was picked up and his head squeezed until it cracked like a boiled egg, all without uttering a sound.”
“Yes, I see what you mean.” Damon shook another cigarette out of his case and put it in his mouth unlit.
Shooter agreed. “Yeah, Chief, it looks like somebody would have raised hell when this guy started chewing on their necks . . . if they were able to, I mean.”
“And yet, there’s been no sign of drugs or tranquilizers in the victims on the postmortems,” Matt added.
Damon motioned at Shooter’s notebook, indicating he should make a note of their comments. “Good thought. Go on, anything else?”
“You’re not going to like this, Damon,” said Sam.
“Oh?”
“I think the man believes he’s a vampire.” After saying this, Sam looked around and found the policemen looking at her with expressions ranging from derision to incredulity.
Matt groaned to myself. Sam was about to repeat the arguments they had gone over at Shelly’s house. He feared Shooter and Clark would think her unbalanced, or naive. It’s generally all right to discuss theoretical hypotheses with medical colleagues who know that often theories are thrown out for discussion to test their validity and to try and find flaws in the reasoning behind them. They are used to that kind of argument, and even relish some of the more offbeat theories, but Matt had no idea how hard-boiled cops would take her ideas.
“Aw, c’mon, Sam,” said Shooter. “You can’t really believe in that superstitious bunk.”
Barbara laid her hand on Shelly’s leg, looking directly into his eyes. She too was afraid his assistant was about to make a fool of herself.
Sam stood and refilled her coffee cup, seemingly unruffled by the doubt in the cops’ eyes. She leaned against the mantel and addressed the group as if she were giving a lecture to the freshman med students, waving the coffee cup around for emphasis. “I know, you think I’m crazy, but hear me out first. Let’s try to examine the evidence objectively, then form intelligent opinions based on that evidence. Someone once said, ‘Eliminate the impossible; then whatever you have left, no matter how improbable, is the answer.’”
Shelly grinned. “That was Sherlock Holmes, Sam.”
Damon stared at her. “But, Sam, surely we can eliminate the idea of a vampire as being impossible.”
Sam shot back, “Why? Because we’ve never caught one?”
“Well, uh . . .”
“Chief, two weeks ago you would have said a serial killer with over a hundred victims without anyone noticing would have been impossible.”
“Yes, that’s true, but . . .”
Sam raised her hands. “All I ask is a chance to propose my theory, without interruption. Then you can all have a chance to shoot holes in it. Okay?”
Clark and Shooter scowled at each other, Barbara looked puzzled, and Shelly seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.
When Shooter looked over at Matt, he nodded. “Give the lady a chance. If you can find anything wrong with what she says, say so.”
Sam waited a moment until she had everyone’s attention, then went on. “First of all, remember the list of facts we went over earlier—normal appearance, great strength, and possible mental power over his victims. Add to that the fact that tissue samples show him to be dead for over one hundred years.” She stopped and stared around at the group. “We still can’t explain that little fact. Also, and here I’m making assumptions that can be checked out later, all of the victims were killed at night, and all had their blood drained, or sucked out.”
With this last statement, Shooter took out his pad and began to make notes to have Sherry check out the times of death of the other throat victims.
“Now, I’m going to also assume that our vampire is not the only one in existence. In fact, that would be far more unlikely than the existence of many of these creatures. I think the murder victim whose tissue was also abnormal was another vampire and that our boy killed him. Or it.”
This was news to Matt. “But why, Sam?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe vampires are natural enemies, or maybe they’re territorial and one intruded on the other’s territory. I don’t know, yet.”
Matt looked at the others, warming to her theory. “You know, it makes sense, in a crazy sort of way. What if all the old legends had some basis in fact? Over the years, the truth in them has been ignored and they’ve been discounted as mere fantasy, when in fact vampires have always existed side by side with humans. Living in fear and hiding, afraid to let their existence be known for fear of being eliminated . . .”
Shooter looked at Matt as if he had lost his mind. “C’mon, Matt, you can’t believe that creatures like these could live among us for hundreds of years and not be found out.”
“You’re right, Shooter,” Shelly said, joining in the argument for the first time. “It is hard to believe. The only way this could happen is if the creatures possessed great intelligence and cunning.”
Barbara broke in. “Of course, not all of the aspects of the old legends have to be true. You know, the tales that they can’t stand sunlight, can’t be seen in a mirror, can’t stand the sight of a cross, and all the other bits that have been perpetrated by authors over the years.”
Clark held up his hands, shaking his head. “People, before we get totally out of hand with this speculation, I propose that we make a list of what we know about the creature, and what ways we have to deal with it, if we ever manage to confront him.”
Matt smiled to himself. Clark’s use of the word creature to describe the killer showed that he hadn’t rejected Sam’s theory out of hand.
Shooter smirked. “Yeah, maybe I should have some silver bullets made and start carrying a wooden stake.”
Matt glanced at him. “Might not be such a bad idea, pal.”
The group gathered close and began to work on a list of attributes of the killer that had been documented.
After a while, Shooter, who had grown bored with all the talk and no action, looked at his watch and announced he was off to interview the prostitutes who worked with the latest victim.
“Chief, how about me going along with Shooter?” Matt asked.
“What? Why?”
“Well, I might think of some things to ask that wouldn’t occur to him. Questions about the victim’s past medical history, possible venereal diseases, things like that.”
“I don’t know, Doc. I said at the outset that you doctors wouldn’t be involved in the active investigation.”
“It’s okay with me, Chief,” said Shooter. “I’m just going downtown to check with the other girls where she worked.” He winked at Matt. “Shouldn’t be too dangerous. In fact, I planned to pick up . . . a friend on the way and go out for a late dinner afterward.”
Sam punched S
hooter on the shoulder. “Well, if that’s the case, then you shouldn’t mind if I tag along to keep you men out of trouble.”
Clark threw up his hands in exasperation. “Okay, okay.” Then he fixed Shooter with a fierce glare. “But it’s your butt in the fire if anything happens. You know how the PC feels about civilians being involved in departmental business.”
Sam grabbed Shooter by the hand and pulled him to his feet. “We’ll meet you at the car, Matt,” she said as she pulled him toward the door, evidently afraid the chief would change his mind about letting them go.
“Do you really believe in this bogeyman, Chief?” Matt asked as he stood and prepared to follow them.
“Matt, I’ve been dealing with bogeymen in one way or another ever since I became a cop. Hell, a vampire is only slightly harder to believe in than a man who would abuse and murder his kids, or someone who would walk into a McDonald’s and kill thirty-two strangers.”
After they left, Shelly got out his Harris County Medical Association address book. He looked up Roger Niemann’s office phone number and dialed it.
“It’s awfully late to be calling anyone, Shel dear,” Barbara said as she gathered empty coffee cups from the living room.
“I’m just gonna leave Roger a message on his voice mail at the office,” Shelly said. “I want to give him a heads-up that I’ve got some more special studies I want him to do for us tomorrow so he’ll have the machines ready when I take the specimens by there.”
“Well, hurry to bed,” she said as she disappeared into the kitchen. “You know you haven’t been sleeping well since all this vampire foolishness began.”
Twenty-four
When Matt got to the car, Sam placed her hands on his cheeks, pulled his face to hers, and kissed him lightly on the lips. He smiled and ran his hands through her hair. “Ummm, what’s that for?”
“For letting me come with you tonight.”
Shooter piped up. “Yeah, me too, Matt. But I’m not going to kiss you for it.”
Sam put her hand on Matt’s arm and pulled him closer as Shooter pulled out of the driveway. Matt glanced out the window, a feeling of being watched tickling the back of his neck, but he didn’t see anyone around, and missed the black Mercedes that pulled out of a parking space down the street and slowly followed Shooter’s car with its lights off.
“Shooter,” asked Sam, “what do you really think about all this? Do you really, deep in your gut, believe in the existence of a vampire?”
He arched an eyebrow and looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Sam, I don’t know. I’m just a working stiff. I’ll leave all the thinking to you brainy types and just do what I’m told.”
“Don’t give me that ‘humble pie hick from the sticks’ routine. TJ told me about you going to night school to get your law degree.”
He turned and stared at her, then shook his head, a rueful grin on his face at the fact that the girls shared everything. “Yeah, well, it’s a long way off yet and no guarantee that I’ll make it.”
“That’s not all she told me. She also said that as soon as you pass your bar exam, you’ll be up for a promotion.”
He glanced at her. “Hey, let’s not count our chickens, okay? Hell, I’m just taking a few classes. Who knows if I’ll even continue.”
“Well, TJ has faith in you, and I do too. We both know you can do it.”
“Thanks, I hope you’re both right.”
Sam nudged Matt with her shoulder. “No doubt about it, Matt. We’re sitting next to the next F. Lee Bailey.”
Shooter made a face. “No way! If, and remember I said if, I ever do get a law degree, I’ll be working on the other side. I intend to try to put the bastards away, not get them off!”
“Okay, okay, so we’re sitting next to the future district attorney. They’ll probably call you Maximum Kowolski.”
“Jeez, Sam, I don’t know,” Matt said. “We’d better be careful. I hear the AMA has been known to take away doctors’ licenses to practice for fraternizing with lawyers.”
Shooter pulled up in front of Sam’s and TJ’s house and ran up to the door. Sam and Matt shifted to the backseat and Shooter was soon ushering TJ into the car.
Even before Shooter had the car started, Sam was excitedly telling TJ about where they were going and why. Shooter held up his hand and said, “Just a minute, ladies. In the first place, you’re not going to interview anyone. Matt and I will do all the talking. You girls will wait patiently in the car.”
TJ sat forward in the seat and glared at Shooter. “Rank discrimination, that’s what it is!”
Sam punched Matt on the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s what it is. You’re not gonna put up with that, are you, Matt?”
Matt just shook his head. “Be reasonable, girls. How can Shooter do his job if he’s busy looking out for you two? This is not a very nice place we’re going to. Give us a break!”
Sam and TJ looked at each other and both broke into smiles. TJ said, “Okay, but it’s gonna cost ya.”
“Yeah,” echoed Sam, “at least dinner and drinks at Giorgio’s.”
Matt sat back in the seat, grinning. “Looks like we’ve been had, partner.”
Finally, they arrived at the area where the prostitutes and transvestites roamed, looking for tricks. Matt glanced around at their surroundings. They were parked on a busy downtown street. There were several nightclubs in the area with marquees announcing nude dancing, and every few yards there was a girl standing in the shadows or leaning up against a wall. Cars were cruising slowly by, and every so often one would slow and pull to the curb for a closer look at the merchandise or to strike a bargain for the evening.
Interspersed with the prostitutes were the drug dealers, who were almost like carnival pitchmen hawking their wares. When a car pulled to the curb, window down, the men would call out, “How about some nice Asian White, finest in the city,” or “Getcha Mexican Brown right here, special price tonight.”
Matt leaned forward, elbows on the seat back in front of him. “What’s Asian White and Mexican Brown, Shooter?”
“Heroin,” he replied, looking out his window at the dealers.
“You mean they have brand names for it?”
“Sorta. The name tells you where it’s from, which also tells you what quality and price it is. Asian White is from the Golden Triangle in Laos and is the premium stuff. Mexican Brown is from Mexico or Colombia and is less pure and therefore cheaper.”
Sam leaned across Matt to look out the window. “Aren’t they afraid someone will rob them?” she asked.
Matt was wondering that too, considering the type of clientele these men dealt with every night. They looked vulnerable as they walked out to the curb and leaned in the car windows.
Shooter smiled. “Naw.” He tilted his head sideways and said, “Look in the doorway just behind that dealer over there.”
In the darkened doorway, Matt could see the intermittent glow of a cigarette, followed by a cloud of smoke swirling in the breeze.
“The real dealer is in that doorway. He keeps all the money and the majority of the drugs on him, and believe me, he’s heavily armed. The pusher out front only has one or two dime bags on him and only enough money to make change. After every couple of sells, he’ll go to the doorway and exchange the money he’s collected for more dope.”
Matt had been treating patients from this area for years, both male and female, but this was the first time he’d ever really seen it. Prostitutes lead lonely, dangerous lives. He knew that most were addicted to drugs and alcohol, but he hadn’t realized how they were preyed on by everyone in the system, from their pimps and customers to policemen. “Is this where the girl worked who was killed?” he asked.
Shooter took a cigarette out of his coat pocket and stuck it in his mouth. While he searched his pockets for a match, TJ reached over and flicked his cigarette out the window. “That’s gonna stop, big boy. Those things will kill ya.”
Shooter gave her an exasperated look, then
glanced back at Matt. “Yeah. Her street name was Blaze, and she’d been on the streets for about two years.”
He reached in his coat and took out his revolver, flipped the cylinder open and spun it before returning the gun to his holster. As he leaned over and kissed TJ’s cheek, he said, “Don’t open the door or leave the car. We’ll check around and be right back.”
TJ grabbed his coat. “Wait a minute! Maybe the girls’ll talk more freely if Sam and I are with you.”
He looked at Matt, who shrugged. “Okay, but let us bring them over to the car.” Looking over his shoulder at the dark streets, he added, “I don’t want you on the street. Like I said before, it’s not a place for nice girls.”
After watching them cross the street, TJ leaned back and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. As she opened her eyes, she noted a movement to her left.
She glanced over and saw a shadowy form materialize in the driver’s window. She opened her mouth to scream a warning to Sam, then gasped as the shadow grabbed the door handle and jerked the door open, tearing it partially off its hinges with a grinding squeal of tortured metal.
Before she or Sam could move, a hand reached in and grasped her by the throat, dragging her out of the car. She tried again to scream, but the hand tightened, cutting off her breath. Gasping for air and struggling to free herself, she grabbed the wrist holding her and was terrified by the cold, clammy feel of it.
Sam swallowed her terror long enough to reach over the seat and grab the man’s arm, trying to break his hold on TJ. He let go long enough to backhand her in the face with a closed fist, shattering her nose and knocking her unconscious. TJ pulled frantically at the door handle, but the door was locked. She sobbed hysterically in frustration as she felt the hand entwine itself in her hair and pull her backward out of the car.
As she was dragged across the pavement kicking and twisting, she tried to get a look at her assailant. He was wearing a dark overcoat with the collar pulled up and a snap-brim hat pulled low over his eyes. She dug her fingernails into the wrist, peeling the skin back and creating tiny furrows as if she were plowing a field. Her last thought before the darkness swallowed her was to wonder why the furrows did not fill with blood.
Night Blood Page 19
