by Jenna Barwin
Information on the third guard, Norman Tyler, had been more interesting.
Jayden had tailed Norman to an apartment in Vista, a little far from the prison, but near enough to commute if you didn’t mind spending two hours of your life on the freeway each day. She double-clicked the video player icon and started the surveillance video Jayden left for her, two video files: a handheld camera, along with his body camera.
She synced them up and started playing the videos side by side—grainy night videos, headlights flaring whenever a car drove past. She fast-forwarded to Norman’s arrival at the Vista apartment, an old-fashioned two-story building, with each apartment on the second floor facing a suspended balcony. The videos were shot at slightly different angles, so she had a pretty good view of the entire scene.
When Norman got out of his car, a person emerged from the shadows created by a large elephant ear palm. The person’s face was hidden from view by an oversized hoodie. After a brief hug, Norman escorted Hoodie up the stairs into his apartment on the second floor. No clue if the hooded person was a vampire—Hoodie could have been a thin, short male or an average height, small-breasted female.
Damn it! If Tig had gone with Jayden, she would have been able to identify Hoodie. She had an eidetic memory when it came to smells. She knew the unique scent of each vampire she’d ever met. And even if she hadn’t met Hoodie before, she would have been able to tell if Hoodie was vampire.
Movement on the video caught her attention. The door to Norman’s second-floor apartment opened, and he walked out alone. The cameras captured Norman climbing down the formed concrete stairs, the wrought-iron rail bending when the big man leaned on it with each step. At ground level, instead of walking toward his car, Norman headed straight for Jayden.
Jayden’s car started and the video from the handheld camera jerked as he pulled away from the curb. Norman darted in front of him, moving fast for a large man, his hands in the air. His white skin flared on camera, Jayden’s headlights illuminating him.
“I just want to talk,” Norman yelled through the windshield when Jayden’s car stopped inches from him.
“Keep your hands visible,” Jayden yelled back. The handheld camera jerked again as he tabbed down the driver’s-side window.
Norman kept his hands out and stepped closer. “Why are you following me?”
“Who’s in your apartment?” Jayden shot back.
“Not so fast. Tell me what this is about.”
“You know what this is about.”
“The three dead prisoners?”
“The only connection between all three is the guards.”
“You think I’m involved? You’re nuts. They can’t pay me enough. Do you have any idea how large my pension will be if I stay another ten years? I’m not going to risk my pension for a stupid bribe. They can’t offer me enough—I’ll get eighty K a year for life if I make it to fifty-five.”
“Then you won’t mind telling me who’s in your apartment?”
“A friend.”
“Your friend got a name?”
“Look, Johnson—that’s your name, right? Captain Johnson?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, Johnson, I’m not telling you anything else. We’re done here. Quit following me or I’ll report you to the local police. You’re out of your jurisdiction.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be glad to tell your superiors what we suspect.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave before the Vista police get here and you have to explain yourself.”
“Go ahead and call them.”
“You sure you want to do that? In this neighborhood, well, you kind of stick out,” Norman snapped.
“Why won’t you tell me who’s in your apartment?”
Good. Jayden didn’t take the racist bait.
“Go to hell,” Norman replied. He flipped off Jayden and stomped up the stairs.
The video ended there. With his surveillance blown, there wasn’t much for him to do in San Diego. Tig tapped her fingers on her desk. What next? More surveillance of Norman? Maybe she should send Zeke or Liza to follow the guard at night.
She looked up from her desk when she heard the door to her office open. Jayden barged in and plopped down on her couch. She picked up his report and waved it in the air. “How did you let this happen?” she demanded. “Now Norman knows he’s a suspect.”
“I can’t figure out how he spotted me. If Hoodie was a vampire, maybe he or she saw me in the dark.”
“Were you using your phone? He could have spotted the light.”
“Hey, I know procedure. I was watching for Norman, not playing with my phone.”
“Then how did he spot you? You must have done something wrong.”
Jayden stood up and stuck out his chin. “I’ve had four hours’ sleep. If you want to play the blame game, I’m outta here.”
She took a deep breath. Working for Phat hadn’t prepared her for working with her own mate. Phat had demanded perfection. The two words he forbade her to speak were “I’m sorry” when she screwed up.
“Captain,” she said.
He stood there, anger in his eyes. “What, chief?”
“Sit down,” she replied.
He didn’t move.
“Please,” she added, a little more gently. She wasn’t saying she was sorry.
Slowly, he lowered himself back onto the couch. Good.
“So, Hoodie never came out?” she asked.
He ran a hand over the top of his shaved head. “I stayed until sunrise.” He leaned his head back against the couch. Fatigue lines showed around his eyes. “Hoodie either slept in the apartment or crab-walked down the back wall and sneaked out the alley.”
“Then we need to send a vampire team to follow the guard.”
“Yeah, that makes the most sense. They can do things I can’t.”
“And you can do things they can’t. I appreciate the day work you did on all three guards.”
He gave a quick nod. Okay, they were back on even ground—time to step past this interpersonal shit. She flipped to the end of his report, where a still photo of Hoodie was stapled. “From the video, Hoodie looked short and thin. Lots of vampires turned before the 1900s could fit Hoodie’s description. Bad nutrition and illness kept heights short.”
Jayden nodded. “I can think of a dozen vampires on the Hill alone who could be Hoodie. At least we know it’s not the mayor,” he said with a straight face.
She let out a snort. Yeah, the mayor’s paunch disqualified him—he could never be Hoodie.
Jayden smiled back at her. “I’ve got to get some sleep,” he said, standing up.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow at dusk,” she said. A little more damage control couldn’t hurt, so she added, “I’ll meet you at your room.”
He leaned over her desk and pressed his lips to hers. “Deal. I’ll see you then.”
He started to leave and turned around abruptly. “Ah, I almost forgot. Did you leave this for me? It was on my desk.” He dug into his back pocket and handed her a folded 911 report. “A mountain lion was in the hills just south of Gaea’s house.”
“No, I hadn’t seen this yet. Who reported it?” she asked, unfolding it.
“Yeah, I get where you’re going—all were reports from residents who sensed its presence. No one saw it in person.”
“As long as it stays up in the mountains, it’s not much of a threat.” She could go hunting for it. If she darted it, she could relocate it on the other side of the mountain—it might convince the cat to stay away. It couldn’t be a vampire; there was no recorded case of a vampire transforming into anything other than a wolf or a bat.
“Please put out a warning,” she said, “just to alert everyone to be cautious. We don’t want it taking out some mortal who goes hiking on the mountain.”
“Will do.” He looked up for a second, like he was considering something. “One other thing. Did you move stuff around on Maggie’s desk? It’s
been all messed up.”
“How can you tell?”
“Hey, I know it’s not as neat as she kept it, but I was starting to have a system. I sort of knew the contents of each pile before I left for San Diego. Now it’s all scattered.”
“It wasn’t me. Maybe Zeke was looking for something. While you were gone, there was a small burglary in the commercial district. Zeke helped with the investigation. I’ll ask him.”
Her phone rang. Jayden waved goodbye and left.
“Mayor?” she said when she answered.
“Good evening, Tig. I hate to impose, but I need you to deliver two warning letters. I don’t have anyone else I trust to do it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Could one of my officers do it?”
“I’d prefer you do it. Budget constraints, you know. We spent enough overtime on Jayden’s San Diego investigation. Stop by my office and I’ll give you the letters.”
Cheap bastard. He could have used one of his administrative assistants to do it. It didn’t require a police officer. She had enough on her plate. How was she supposed to solve the case if they kept pulling her six ways from Sunday?
“Who are the letters for?” she asked.
“Henry and Cerissa.”
Now it made sense. A touchy situation, so he wanted someone with enough gravitas, and it couldn’t be Rolf. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I shouldn’t have any problem finding them.”
Chapter 41
Cerissa ignored the darkening road in front of her as she drove to meet Henry at the corral. Three nights had passed since she saw him at the winery, and her resolve to cancel their date had died when she re-read his text message. Maybe the idea he wanted to discuss was a solution to her investor problem.
I can’t pass that up, can I?
She parked the car and walked to the split-rail fence, stopping to watch him. He lifted the saddle onto Candy’s back, handling it like it was made of paper rather than heavy leather. His ponytail was neatly tied back, his tight jeans tucked into his riding boots, his muscular butt looking sexy as he worked.
But this is a business meeting, not a date. At least, that was what she’d say if anyone asked. She couldn’t risk violating the Covenant.
So this was business, just business.
Yeah, right.
Anticipation buzzed straight through her from crown to root, her breath catching in her throat, her skin tingling, her body ready for him. The same way she’d responded when she first saw his magnetic eyes at the dance, except this time, her heart fluttered as well.
“Are you going to stand there watching me all evening?” he asked lightheartedly.
She opened the gate and walked over to him. His hands were busy tightening the saddle strap. He kissed her before buckling it, and then offered her Candy’s reins.
“You look lovely,” he said.
“Thanks,” she replied, glancing down. She’d worn a white shirt with her jeans, a small animal-print scarf tied at her neck. She felt self-conscious under his gaze, and to cover up her awkwardness, she handed him two small sacks. He slid them into one of the nylon saddlebags, and then placed a wine bottle wrapped in a picnic blanket in the other padded bag.
Candy took a step closer, nudging her for attention. She reached out to pet the horse and felt her balance waver. The sound of gunfire rang in her ears. She closed her eyes, clutching Candy’s bridle.
It’s all in my head.
Henry gripped her arm, steading her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
“A flashback?”
“I’m sorry. Just give me a moment.”
“I should have anticipated this.”
She still held tight to Candy’s bridle. The horse nuzzled closer, allowing Cerissa to lean her face against Candy’s soft cheek. “Are you sure it’s safe?” she asked. “I’m more concerned with your wellbeing—”
“I spoke with Tig. She promised to increase the patrols along the wall. But if you aren’t comfortable, we can go riding another time.”
“I’ll be fine.” She buried her nose in Candy’s mane, the clean smell of horse musk grounding her in the present. She stroked the horse’s white blaze and, after giving her neck a final pat, let go and swung up into the saddle. Henry released her arm after she was firmly in the saddle, and joined her, riding a gelding. The floodlights bordering Rolf’s property lit the trail.
The gelding paced Candy, keeping the two horses side by side. “Have you had any further luck wooing investors while I was gone?” he asked.
“Not so far. I have to prove to the community the project is real.”
“How would you do that?”
“I could provide samples of clone blood—would that convince them?”
He pursed his lips for a moment. “You would need to prove it didn’t come from a regular mortal. Could you bring a clone to show them?”
“Not yet—I have to develop a life-support system using human technology. I’m sure I can do it, but it will take time. With all the rumors floating around saying the project isn’t real, I need to do something.”
“I see. Let me consider it. Even if I told others the blood was produced from clones, they might say I was biased.”
She smiled slightly. “Would they have good reason to say that?”
“Indeed they would,” he said, smiling back at her, “which brings me to why I wanted to talk with you. As I told you at the winery, I want your lab built here in Sierra Escondida. I’m willing to invest in your project to make it happen.”
She froze in the saddle. Shit. How can I tell him no? I can’t tell him what Leopold said. I don’t want to hurt him, not after he’s been so supportive.
“Ah,” she said, “I don’t think Leopold would like me mixing business with pleasure.”
* * *
Henry glanced over at her and wrinkled his brow. What a strange evasion. She’s been so desperate to get investors; why turn me down now?
“Are you having second thoughts about the project?” he asked.
“No, not at all. It’s just—”
“Leopold.”
She looked crestfallen. “He won’t let you invest. I think it has something to do with the treaty…”
“It’s not only the treaty.” The old curmudgeon still carries a grudge over the restaurant. He reached over and patted her leg. “Don’t let it trouble you.”
They rode in silence for a while, Cerissa looking pensive. “I meant it,” he said. “Don’t worry about Leopold. I’m not offended.”
“It’s not that. Ah, I wanted to tell you something, so you didn’t hear it from someone else. Zeke asked to see me when he returned.”
“I already heard,” he said, dropping all expression from his face. His grip tightened on the reins, and he felt the abyss beckon to him.
“You did?”
“Rolf mentioned it.”
“I should have known he would,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I just wanted to be open with you about it. I’ve made it clear to Zeke before that I wasn’t interested in dating him, but judging by his persistence, I’m not sure he really heard me. So I’ve made a decision. I’m not going to see him anymore, not even on business.”
He relaxed his grip on the horse’s reins, his dark thoughts retreating. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“I’m glad you’re glad,” she said, and looked away. “Ah, is there any possibility Zeke hired the shooter?”
“Zeke?” He allowed his surprise to register in his voice.
“Zeke left town so quickly after I was shot.”
“He goes to South America for his work—he doesn’t always have advance notice. Tig is well familiar with it.”
“Do you know what he does there?”
He dropped his face into a mask again. It was not for him to reveal Zeke’s secrets. “Zeke is no threat to anyone on the Hill.”
He clicked on an LED flashlight to light the entrance to a connector trail. From the dirt road, he guided h
is horse onto the narrower path leading to a park-like area, and her horse followed.
Floodlights threw circles of light around picnic benches and a baseball diamond. He avoided those, wanting a little more privacy.
“How does this look?” he asked, using the flashlight to indicate a secluded, grassy area surrounded by large oak trees.
“Lovely.”
They dismounted, and he unfastened a saddlebag, handing it to her. She slid out a plastic food container from the bag. “Treats for the horses,” she said.
“Let me take the bits out first.” He swapped out their bridles for halters to make it easier for them to chew.
While he hung three electric camp lanterns from the trees, she fed the horses carrots and apple quarters. He admired the way she treated them with respect—a light stroke of their fur, an offer of food. Very thoughtful of her to bring enough for both horses.
“Is there any reason Zeke might want you dead?” she asked.
He stopped cold, holding the third lamp in midair. Hadn’t they finished their conversation about Zeke? Why did she want to know more?
“We are on good terms,” he replied, and finished fastening the lamp to a tree branch.
She didn’t look persuaded. “How can you be sure?”
“I did a favor for him many years ago, for which he has remained grateful throughout the years.”
Okay, so he was cutting the truth with a sharp knife. He hadn’t killed Nathaniel as a favor to Zeke, even though the death of Zeke’s maker set the cowboy free.
“Maybe he’s tired of being grateful,” she said.
“I have no reason to suspect his gratitude has turned to bitterness.” He wished she would leave it alone. He didn’t want to be reminded of what happened, let alone speak of it. “Perhaps you don’t remember—Zeke was closer to the shooter. He could have been shot instead of you. If Zeke was behind it, he wouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”
