Clearly, fifteen minutes meant nothing to them, but if the rogue had found Kristina. He whooshed out a breath, his hands trembling. Decided, he opened the door to the female locker room. He didn’t care what they thought; he only wanted to know if he needed to seek his wife. And if she was embarrassed, so be it. “Kristina!” he shouted into the vacant corridor. All the rooms were private, so it wasn’t as if there would be naked women wandering the halls. They all wore robes, courtesy of the hotel. He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. “Kristina,” he repeated, louder, and he could be very loud. His voice had a tendency to carry if he so desired. And right now, he had only one concern: finding his wife.
Chapter Thirty-one
Reece sifted through the files, dating back fourteen years. He’d been surprised when he searched Kristina Heskin’s records and discovered she’d been the victim of a brutal attack that had left her mother bleeding on the street, but she’d walked away.
“My Dark Angel saved me”, O’Brian had written in quotes on the now-faded police report, but thankfully as most cops, all his reports were scribbled in bold black ink, standard procedure for officers. O’Brian had also made a file he’d titled as “dark angel”. Too bad O’Brian was dead; he probably could have picked his brain.
Reece pulled out the stack of reports he’d lifted from the dead detective’s office. Most cops didn’t bother to keep paper copies, but O’Brian was old school, just like Reece’s dad. Reece remembered how his old man would never trust computers, always said, “What’re they gonna do when they all crash and burn? Or terrorists take out the Internet?” He missed his father; he was the one man Reece could trust with his life. Even in the military, Reece hadn’t felt completely comfortable. Things weren’t the same as they’d been when his father was a cop, as he’d always complained, and Reece had to agree with his Pop. Reece was born in the Deep South where loyalty meant something. Even the men he’d met overseas and in Miami would stab you in the back metaphorically as quickly as a punk would stick you with a blade on the street, if it meant they’d advance in front of you. He’d kept his nose clean while he served his country and his head down when he returned to the U.S. His promotion had nothing to do with the good ole boy system; he was where he was because he had a knack for finding missing links.
The reports under the “Dark Angel” tab dated back eight years, but then stopped a few years ago. Some of the reports hadn’t been O’Brian’s, but they all had one thing in common. Every report was of an attack on a citizen where a vigilante had intervened. Though said in different ways, each victim had claimed that one second the thief had been on them, and the next it was as if they’d disappeared. One woman had gone on to say that she was sure it was Batman who had protected her.
Reece reclined on the hard mattress of the cheap hotel room his agency had reserved. Whatever happened to the plush accommodations he’d seen in the movies? James Bond had never stayed in a fleabag hotel. Apparently holding a license to kill didn’t mean the same as it used to.
He stared up at the water and smoke-stained ceiling, wondering how the incidents connected. Fourteen years ago, this supposed Dark Angel protected an eight-year-old girl. Six years later, he saves others, but then disappears until the Tobin Bridge event, nearly three years after the last report.
Reece logged into Massachusetts’ police database, courtesy of his boss’ security clearance. After a rudimentary search, he returned a few situations where a vigilante had stepped in to help a civilian in the last eight years. However, none of those incidents included any mention of supernatural occurrences as the others had. Maybe that was why O’Brian had left them out. Again, he thought about what a waste it was that O’Brian was dead.
Clicking through the crime reports, he ran across a slew of homicides in the last couple of months. No mention of a vigilante stepping in, but the crimes in of themselves were interesting. Every corpse had been torn in pieces. The ME’s report had used torn for a reason, he was certain. Sawed, ripped to shreds by an animal, axed, hammered, and pulled apart by two cars—that wasn’t a pretty sight, even if the dude was a drug dealer—were all terms Reece was accustomed to from his investigations in Miami and South America. But he’d never run across the term torn.
Reece clicked on the images from the medical examiner’s office, zooming in the screen to get a better look. Torn was the correct word. Pieces of flesh and muscle hung from the appendages, indicating the body had in fact been torn apart.
Had the Dark Angel in fact gone dark? Could Derrick Ashton have finally had enough with society and instead of helping, decided to punish?
Chapter Thirty-two
Michael sat across from Rebecca at the sushi restaurant they always ate at when he came to see her for information.
She twirled a lock of her short hair as she leaned toward him. “I deleted all of O’Brian’s computer files, Michael, but I can’t find the hard copies, and I know he kept them,” Rebecca said.
“So you think the same guy took them?”
Rebecca bobbed her head. She was so cute, not nearly as intimidating as some creatus women. Her decision to cut her hair in the short bob had surprised him though. She already looked so young. She’d only been home from school for a couple of years, but she was a genius when it came to computers. He’d had Rebecca earmarked for a position in Boston’s PD immediately. It wasn’t hard to do. The man who’d interviewed her for the position had fallen in love with her looks, and her mind was sharp. All she needed was a position where she had access to a computer, and she could get Michael anything in the state. Of course, he had intentions of getting her to a government office in Washington, but at thirty-seven—twenty-seven to the rest of the world—she barely looked as if she were drinking age. So he had a few years to mold her.
Rebecca took a bite of her tuna, careful to scrape off the rice. “I also tracked down the guy who recorded Kristina’s free dive off the Tobin, but he doesn’t have another copy.”
Michael cocked his head. “He gave the original to O’Brian, right?”
“Uh-uh,” she said, taking a sip of her water. “He’d given him a copy, since he had material he needed on it. When I told him we lost the copy and needed another, he said he’d gladly give us another disc, but he’d already told O’Brian that someone else from the department had taken his only copy. He said if he gets it back, he’ll call me.”
“Do you think he was telling the truth?” Michael asked.
She shrugged. “Why would he lie? He’s the one who came to the PD and offered it to O’Brian in the first place.”
Michael bit down on his lip and glanced around the restaurant. Derrick always complained about everyone else doing things to screw up, and here he’d screwed up twice. And now, as always, Michael had to clean up behind him. Derrick had thought that no one would believe a little girl’s claim of seeing a “dark angel”, and yet, O’Brian had held onto the report for fourteen years. “You got the copies for me?”
Rebecca dug in her briefcase. “Yep. All of them.”
“All? I thought there were only two,” Michael questioned.
“When I searched his computer, I found more reports filed under “dark angel”; I assumed you’d want them all.”
Michael smiled, and if he weren’t mistaken, pint-sized Rebecca gave him a little wiggle. He was flattered, but she wasn’t his type. And she was too young. Granted, she was only twelve years his junior, but—who was he kidding? He’d never had a type. Until Victoria came on the market, that is. Now, his days and nights were inundated with thoughts of her. And clearly, Jonas wanted her too. So after waiting years for Derrick to make up his mind, Jonas strolls back into town and makes a pass at her. Michael had decided not to mention to his brother about Vic and Jonas’ pow-wow last night, as he certainly didn’t need to add any additional fuel to Derrick’s animosity against Jonas. At first he’d been overjoyed when he watched Victoria fend off Jonas’ advances, but the moment Jonas had turned to leave, she’d bolted
after him.
He did have to be thankful to Jonas for one thing, though; he’d told her that both of them had liked her since high school, so maybe she wouldn’t be blindsided when he confronted her.
“Michael?”
Michael lifted his head to see Rebecca’s eyes as they bore into his. “I’m sorry, what?” He’d heard her speak, but had lost total focus on the issue at hand as his mind battled with how to approach Victoria. All of a sudden, he felt as though he were out of time, realizing if he didn’t do something quickly, he’d lose her forever.
Rebecca batted her long black eyelashes over her liquid-ink eyes that reminded him of a fawn in their innocence. “I asked if you’d like to meet me after work.”
“Oh.” He gulped, not wanting to offend such a pretty little thing. If he couldn’t get Victoria’s attention, perhaps Rebecca could be his type. He flashed a sideways smile, the one his mother always told him would get him his way. “I can’t tonight. Raincheck?”
She chewed on the tip of her nail as she stood up. “Sure. Let me know if you need anything else.” She tromped off, obviously knowing he had no intention of taking her up on her proposal. There weren’t many secrets within the family. If Derrick and Jonas had known he was in love with Victoria, more than likely everyone did.
Michael threw a fifty on the bill and left the restaurant. He had one more stop to make before he did anything else.
Before exiting his Dodge Charger, Michael grabbed his ID from the glove box. Though technically he was a medical doctor by degree, he’d stepped away from the profession, seeing a need elsewhere within the family. Derrick was skeptical at first, but he’d realized in this day and age, they needed his expertise. In the last twelve years, Michael had situated creatus in high-level positions around the globe. So if anything ever got out of control, a couple clicks of a mouse, and the evidence would disappear.
He used the designated entrance, positive no one would stop him; of course his ID was up-to-date if they did. He smiled as he passed the nurses’ station, listening to their whispers. Probably the women who didn’t know his brother personally would mistake him for Derrick. Sure he had two inches and about twenty pounds on his older brother, but most women only saw the tall, dark, and handsome doctor. Why couldn’t Victoria see that? he wondered. Though, he knew why. To Victoria, he was just another creatus, a brother in arms. She’d grown up with him, had fought most of the males. She’d been the only female near their age, so she didn’t hang out with the girls. She played football and basketball with them. It wasn’t as if they’d complain; they needed players, as they certainly couldn’t play with humans.
Michael stepped into the hospital room, pleased to see that she was alone. He’d rather not have to explain to a parent or fiancé why someone other than her regular doctor was here.
Beth’s face had cleared up some over the last couple of days. Such a shame. She really was a pretty girl. He’d always been a fan of strawberry blondes. Derrick thought he hated all humans. He didn’t. He just wasn’t willing to let any human jeopardize their way of life, nor would he let a creatus for that matter. He planned to do his job to the fullest, whatever it took.
Chapter Thirty-three
Kris grabbed the plate of pizza as soon as the man threw it on the counter and shoved bites down her throat as she ran the long stretch of corridor, which she was positive had doubled in length. Not as enjoyable as she’d imagined when she had to keep checking the time. At a couple minutes late, she was fine. Ten, she started to tap her foot in exasperation. Fifteen, she’d demanded they just give it to her as it was.
She rounded the hallway and saw Derrick coming out of the couple’s lounge, his white robe still wrapped around him. He made eye contact, and at first, a look of utter gratitude washed over his features as he pulled to a stop, both of his hands running through his hair. But then, if looks could kill, well, when she’d thought Victoria was dangerous looking, she’d been way off.
“I’m sorry…” She almost fell into him, the paper plate still clutched in her hand. “I’m so sorry. I was running to get back before we were supposed to meet.”
He exhaled a breath as one arm latched around her body and his hand cupped her face. Kris stared up to see his eyes completely glazed over. He pulled her against him. “I thought—” He ran his hands through her hair and kissed her forehead. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again. Any other time I wouldn’t freak out that you’re late, but right now, with that maniac—”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, her words disappearing into his chest as he squeezed her tighter.
“Pizza?” he groaned, pressing his lips to the top of her head, as if just happy she was with him. “All you had to do was order it. They would have brought it to you.”
She peered up at him, feeling like a little girl. “I didn’t want to eat it in front of you.”
“Why on earth not?” he demanded, his voice rising a fraction.
“Because you can’t eat it.”
Derrick swiped his hand across his forehead. “Kristina, I’ve never even tasted pizza, so I don’t miss anything. But oddly enough, it doesn’t appeal to me. It’d be like offering a great white shark ice cream.”
She covered her mouth to retain a laugh. “Yesterday a superhero, today a great white?”
“I’m not comparing myself to a shark. I’m just saying pizza isn’t in our food group. We don’t crave food the way humans do. We eat when we’re hungry, simple as that.” He lifted her chin. “And you’re in trouble, so stop trying to change the subject by laughing.”
She dropped her head. “I really am sorry. I knew you’d be worried, but I thought it’d only take a few minutes.”
Derrick scooped up her hand and led her to the couple’s area so they could change and be on with their day. “We’ll find him, Kristina. I promise. And then I won’t go insane when you’re fifteen minutes late. It’s just—”
She pulled him to a stop before he opened the door. “I understand, Derrick. This is serious. I know you’re not being ridiculously obsessive. I saw Beth; I know this is real. I just figured I was safe here.”
He nodded and pulled her against him again. “You are safe, but I can’t take any chances. I can’t lose you. I just got you.”
She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. She felt the same way. She’d been irresponsible. “I promise. I’ll never cause you to worry again.”
Obviously comforted, he lifted her chin and kissed her again. “Okay. So, since you’ve already eaten lunch, how about we go change before we head off to our next adventure?”
“Maybe we can take a little nap before getting ready,” she said suggestively, hoping he wasn’t too upset with her. Though, oddly enough, he didn’t seem angry at all. It’s as though he’d gotten over his frustration in seconds.
“Well, our reservation is at two, so I’m sure we can fit in a nap if you’re tired.” He raised his eyebrows in question, but then continued, “But first off, I have to go in and settle our bill and make certain the staff doesn’t have us thrown out for disorderly conduct.”
Kris bit down on her lip. “Um… exactly what did you do?”
“I was looking for you the last place I saw you—the ladies’ locker room. They don’t like men in there, it seems.”
Catching the gist of his confession, Kris mashed her lips together to keep from laughing again, even though she knew it wasn’t funny. “You think? It’s not as if you can sneak in and out.”
He shook his head. “There wasn’t any sneaking going on, believe me. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me from the other side of the hotel.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, her head lowered. She’d have to be extra nice to him when they returned to the room. He was being kind, but evidently, he’d been more upset than he’d let on. “Okay. I’ll go get my stuff out of the locker while you make amends.”
“I’m sure there will be a hefty tip involved.” He pushed open the door and stopped, peering into the e
yes of the woman who’d checked them in earlier. He shrugged. “Found my wife.”
Kris cringed and then slunk off toward the ladies’ room, knowing Derrick would take care of everything.
Two hours later, Kris stood bundled in a harness and helmet, ready to take on the largest treetop zip line, approximately 165 feet off the ground. It didn’t sound high when she was on the ground, learning how to zip line five feet above the snow. But now looking over the expanse of the hemlock canopy below her to the platform over eight hundred feet away, she knew she’d been utterly insane to think she could do this. She was sixteen stories up; even Derrick couldn’t fall from this height and live. Or, at least she didn’t think he could. She’d never actually asked. The guide had mentioned that some of the trees were two hundred and fifty years old, dating back to The Revolutionary War. So they were strong and sturdy. The zip lines consisted of two vinyl-covered cables, assuring they were completely safe, and she’d been okay on the first few zips. Even the sky bridges they’d crossed had been okay. But getting a bird’s eye view of Rosebrook Canyon, she was having second thoughts.
“You okay,” Derrick asked, encircling her waist with his arms.
She afforded him an unconvincing nod, gulping in the process, her hands sweating. She knew she didn’t have to hold on, but the instructor had told her to be careful that no part of her skin touched the line. So what if her hand slipped out of the glove?
The guide stepped in front of her. “It’s no different than the others, Mrs. Ashton. Just let the harness do all the work. Lean back in the cannonball position we showed you, point your toes downward, and have fun.”
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