Alexandra Sabian 2 - Blood Secrets

by Jeannie Holmes

  “How the hell should I know? As you pointed out, I had no luck catching the bastard.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass. There’s still the possibility of a copycat.”

  “Damian, you know as well as I do that we made certain to keep his signature under wraps to prevent copycats. It has to be him.”

  They stopped beside the temporary yellow barricade and both focused on Alex as she leaned over a kneeling Freddy Haver to examine something the forensic analyst pointed to on the car’s open door.

  The omnipresent low hum of the blood-bond in the back of Varik’s mind grew louder as Alex seemed to sense their focus. She righted herself and when her eyes found his, Varik’s heart jumped with a surge of adrenaline. The bond crackled between them and made his flesh prickle. He couldn’t prevent the smile that sprouted on his face.

  She gave him a half-smile in return and refocused her attention on Freddy.

  Damian clamped a hand on Varik’s shoulder. “Keep it in your pants, Baudelaire,” he muttered.

  Varik’s glare earned a throaty chuckle in response.

  “Just remember one thing,” Damian said as Varik ducked under the barrier. “While you’re watching her ass, the Tribunal will also be watching it, and yours.”

  Varik recoiled in mock horror. “Kinky bastards.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell the Special Investigator you said that.”

  Varik laughed as he added his name and badge number to the communication officer’s log and then pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box offered by the officer. “Don’t you have some paperwork to file or something?” he asked Damian as he snapped the gloves in place.

  “Just watch your step.” Damian spun and backtracked toward the women’s dorm. “Keep me posted on your progress,” he shot over his shoulder.

  Varik let the comment go without response and joined Alex beside the car.

  “What’s up with Damian?” Alex asked as he approached. “He looked pissed as hell just now.”

  “He always looks that way.”

  “True, but I know that look, and it said ‘I’m going to kill Varik.’ What did you say to him?”

  “I told him the office was out of creamer for the coffee.” He circled the car and ignored her scowl. “Have Freddy and Reyes finished processing the interior? Taken photos?”

  “All done. It’s all ours until it’s moved to the impound lot.”

  He nodded. “Who found the car?”

  “According to Reyes, a security guard making his usual rounds. He noticed the driver’s-side door was left open, and investigated. Found a backpack and purse on the backseat. Identification in the purse and a check on the car’s registration all point to Mindy Johnson.”

  “No sign of the driver?”

  “None.”

  “Have her parents been notified?”

  “I called Tasha. She’s going to talk to them.” Alex picked up a clear plastic evidence bag from a bin next to her feet. “The security guard also found a BlackBerry shattered on the ground beside the car.”

  Varik took the bag from her and flipped it over. The contents shifted and clanked against one another. “Do we know if it belongs to Mindy?”

  “No. Freddy says he may be able to pull something usable from the SIM card, but he doesn’t hold out much hope.”

  He handed the bag to her, and she replaced it in the bin. “Anything else?”

  She nodded and knelt beside the open driver’s-side door. “Freddy and Reyes found a few fingerprints on the steering wheel and door handle. They also found blood spatter on the passenger seat.”

  Varik poked his head into the open door, brushing against Alex as he leaned forward.

  She shifted her weight to create space between them. “Reyes ran a field test and determined the blood isn’t vampire. He’ll have to wait until he gets back to the lab to run more tests, but he’s pretty certain it’s human.”

  Forensics had progressed greatly over the last few years while Varik enjoyed his retirement. Before he’d left the Bureau, the only way to determine if blood at a scene was vampire or human required lengthy lab processes. Now field tests to determine the origin were relatively simple. All analysts needed were cotton swabs and a few drops of a special chemical that reacted with the high iron content of vampire blood. If a reaction occurred, the sample was deemed vampire. No reaction meant it was most likely human blood.

  Alex continued to tell him of Freddy’s and Reyes’s discoveries, but her natural scent of jasmine and vanilla called to Varik and his focus shifted from her words to her body.

  The car’s dome light set her auburn hair aflame and made her pale skin glow. Her eyes had returned to their normal color and reminded him of emeralds rimmed in gold. Her soft curves belied the strength she possessed and rose-colored lips hid the delicate ivory points of her fangs.

  His hand slipped to his chest and fingered the two-carat pink diamond ring he wore on a chain beneath his clothing. The ring had been hers. He’d slipped it on her finger while she slept six years ago—his way of proposing. She’d accepted but a few months later everything ended when he lost control of his blood-hunger and attacked her.

  Now she’d consented to having him back in her life, and he wasn’t going to squander his chance to make things right.

  “Hey,” Alex said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Varik.”

  He thrust aside the memories he’d been indulging. “What?”

  She smirked. “You were a thousand miles away. What were you thinking about?”

  “You,” he answered truthfully. “Us.”

  She sighed and stood, forcing him to take a few steps back. “Varik, now isn’t—”

  “I know,” he snapped. “Now isn’t the time. You’re here to work so let’s work. What were you saying?”

  She stared at him. Hurt swam in her eyes but was quickly captured and locked away. “I was asking you if we knew Mindy’s height.”

  “Five feet, three inches.”

  “Something’s not right.” She motioned to the driver’s seat. “Notice anything unusual?”

  He looked to where she pointed and shook his head. “No.”

  “The seat is too far back. Look at the distance between the steering wheel, the foot pedals, and the seat. I’m five feet seven, and the distance is too far even for me. It’s set for someone closer to your height.”

  “So whoever drove it last must be at least six feet.”

  “Exactly, and they forgot to adjust the seat or simply didn’t bother.” She looked toward the dormitory. “The driver also parked in plain view of the dorm’s front door. Whoever he is, he’s got a set of brass balls.”

  “Does the building have security cameras?”

  Alex nodded. “Reyes already collected the tapes and talked to the security guard working the front desk, who claims he didn’t see anything suspicious.” She thrust her chin toward the back of the car. “And then we have that thing.”

  A sense of dread crept over Varik as he moved closer to the car so he could view the small doll lying on the backseat.

  It was dressed in a pristine white gown with sleek black hair styled in a bob, and large dark brown eyes that seemed to follow him when he moved. The effect was not only disturbing but familiar. Recognition kicked his pulse into overdrive. Memories of similar dolls paraded through his mind.

  Alex touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he croaked. “I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit. You recognize it, don’t you?”

  He paused, debating how much information to give her. On the one hand, he didn’t want her unduly influenced by his prior knowledge. However, on the other, she needed to know enough to appreciate the severity of the danger they faced. Caution finally won. “When you were at the FBPI Academy, did you ever study or hear of an unsolved case known as the Dollmaker Murders?”

  “I remember reading about it. The murders began in the Chicago area back in the 1920s. A dozen or so young girls w
ent missing. Their bodies were found two or three weeks after their disappearance was reported. Each one had a handmade doll tied to the body, and the dolls supposedly resembled the girl in some way.”

  He met her steady gaze. “I worked that case.”

  Her brows rose and she glanced at the doll. “Copy-cat?”

  “I don’t think so. The last Chicago murders were in 1924 and the trail went cold. Another series of murders started in southern Nevada in 1938, and again in 1943 in Rhode Island.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of these other murders?”

  “The Bureau didn’t exist yet, at least not in its current incarnation. There were no Enforcers or central headquarters. Hunters worked out of regional bases of operations across the globe. Communications weren’t great, and information, when we could get it, was sometimes days or weeks old. By the time I heard about some of the killings, too much time had passed for me to be certain they were connected to the Dollmaker.”

  “But you checked into them anyway?”

  He nodded. “I broke in to coroners’ offices, police stations, courthouses, anywhere I had to in order to get the information.”

  “You broke in?”

  “Don’t look at me like that. I did what was necessary. You have to remember vampires were still hiding from humans back then. I couldn’t exactly walk into the coroner’s office, flash a badge, and ask to see the bodies.”

  “Please tell me you never robbed a grave.”

  “Define ‘robbed.’ ”

  Alex threw her hands up and turned back to the car. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Varik chuckled. “You asked.”

  She opened the car’s back door, squatted to examine the doll more closely, and changed the subject with her question. “If this really is the work of the Dollmaker and not some whacked-out copycat, what’s he doing in Jefferson of all places?”

  “That’s what we need to find out.”

  “When was the last report you had of his activity?”

  He shuffled his feet. Apprehension sliced through him and he strengthened the mental barriers separating his mind from hers. “March 14, 1968.”

  Alex stilled. Her voice was low and steady when she spoke. “Where?”

  “Louisville, Kentucky.”

  Silence reigned beneath the protective canopy and between them.

  Varik could feel her mind pressing against his mental barriers, seeking entry. He sensed the deeply rooted desire to know more pulsing over the blood-bond. “Alex—”

  “Two days,” she whispered.

  Varik waited for her to continue.

  “The last murders were two days before my father’s?”

  “Yes.”

  She rose and faced him, a question embedded within her emerald eyes.

  “No,” he answered before she gave it a voice. “I don’t think there is a connection between the Dollmaker and Bernard’s death.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe me or not, but I’m telling you what I know.”

  Her barely controlled anger vibrated the bond and made his head pound. “You know more than you’re telling me.”

  His own anger heated his words. “You’re reading too much into things and jumping to conclusions. Why can’t you just trust me and leave it at that?”

  “Because I know you, Varik. You always have an ulterior motive. You convinced Damian to reverse my suspension. You dragged me out here. You asked for my help. Why?”

  “I want your help to catch this freak.” He pointed to the doll lying on the seat. “Before another girl goes missing.”

  “Why was the Dollmaker in Louisville?”

  “I don’t fucking know but I’ll be sure to ask him as soon as I catch his ass.”

  She folded her arms in front of her and looked away.

  “Damn it, Alex, I don’t want to fight with you. I need your help with this investigation. Not something that happened forty goddamn years ago! If you can’t do that, then you can go back on suspension.”

  “You want my help? You’ve got it.” Alex ripped away one of her protective gloves.

  “Wait—”

  She seized the doll. Her body went rigid, and her head snapped back, eyes wide and staring.

  “Alex?” Varik reached for her and stopped, uncertain.

  She began to shake.

  “Baby, can you hear me?”

  She screamed.

  “Fuck,” Varik hissed and batted the doll out of her hands.

  The doll landed on the car’s seat. Alex collapsed into his arms, clawing at her eyes. She continued to cry out in pain as Damian and other Enforcers converged on the scene.

  “Alex!” Varik seized her wrists in an effort to keep her from damaging her eyes.

  “Get off!” She fought against him and whatever vision she’d seen.

  “Stop!” Varik tightened his grip and pulled her closer to him. “You’re safe, baby. Nothing can hurt you.”

  She screamed again, arched her back, and convulsed.

  “Alexandra!”

  Finally, she fell limp in his arms, motionless, eyes closed, but breathing rapidly.

  “Alex?” He shook her gently. “Talk to me.”

  She remained unresponsive.

  He dropped the mental shields that kept his mind separate from hers and opened the bond. The familiar warmth of her mind washed over him, but it seemed to come from a great distance. She was alive but lost in whatever vision she’d tapped into by touching the doll.

  Damian knelt across from him, careful not to touch either him or Alex. “Damn.”

  Varik held her close and glanced at Damian over her shoulder. “So you believe me now?”

  He nodded slowly.

  It was little consolation to Varik. He brushed the hair from her face, reaching out to her over the bond. Come back to me, baby.

  Minutes passed before she groaned. Her lids parted into thin slits. “Varik?”

  Relief washed over him. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

  She reached for him and he caught her hand. Fear, pain, and anger surged through the blood-bond. Tears slipped over her temples to mingle with the murky puddle beneath her. Her arms slipped around his neck and she clung to him as she sobbed.

  “You’re safe, baby,” Varik murmured in her ear. “What did you see? Tell me.”

  “Death,” Alex whispered between sobs. “I saw death.”

  The FBPI’s mobile lab was a forty-foot-long converted recreational vehicle. Tasha kept her eyes on the smoked windows as she approached it.

  Alex had called her earlier to tell her to inform Mindy Johnson’s parents that the Enforcers had recovered their daughter’s car and to ask the Johnsons some follow-up questions. Tasha asked if a forensics team was present—a natural enough question—and was told both Freddy and Reyes were processing the car on-scene.

  While she suspected someone might be on hand to guard the lab, it was an opportunity to retrieve the journal she couldn’t let pass. The Johnsons lived only a few blocks from the Nassau County Municipal Center, where the mobile lab was parked. She could easily stop at the lab, grab the journal, and be on her way with no one being the wiser.

  In theory. She just hoped her suspicions about guards and security systems were wrong.

  As she drew closer, the RV remained a silent fixture in a little-used corner of the Center’s parking lot.

  She reached the door and glanced around, expecting someone to appear and question her presence. When no one confronted her, she pulled on the flipper-style door handle.

  The lock clicked and the door quietly swung open.

  “This is too fucking easy,” Tasha muttered and mounted the steps.

  The lab’s interior was cool and eerily still. Again, no one confronted her or challenged her right to be there. Her heart raced inside its bony cage as she moved around the various equipment and stations to the back.

  Dozens of bins filled with evidence bags of differ
ent sizes and shapes had been crammed into the small lounge area at the rear of the RV. Looking over the ordered chaos, she discovered a small binder cataloging the contents of each bin. She flipped through the pages, scanning for the one item she sought.

  Once she located the correct bin, Tasha rifled through the various containers until she found a small brown paper bag sealed with red tape with blocky letters reading EVIDENCE printed diagonally across the tape’s surface. She checked the chain of possession grid printed on the front of the bag.

  CASE NO. 200911-23-NC ITEM NO. 14

  DATE COLLECTED: 11-14-2009 TIME COLLECTED: 13:24

  COLLECTED BY: F. HAVER BADGE NO. 9851

  DESCRIPTION OF ITEM: small journal, embossed pink leather

  LOCATION WHERE FOUND: right bedside table, Mindy Johnson’s dormitory room, RM# 2-16

  This was the journal she’d been instructed to retrieve. However, now that she had it, what was she to do with it? For that matter, why did her mystery caller want it?

  She hesitated to pick it up. If she took the journal, she would be starting down a path she knew could end her career. If she didn’t, she risked losing something even more precious.

  “It’s for Maya,” she whispered. “Think of Maya.”

  Her hands closed around the brown bag and freed it from the bin. Stuffing it in an inner pocket of her jacket, she replaced the boxes and catalog and hurried outside, making sure to close the lab’s door behind her.

  As she turned to leave, she thought she heard a soft double click. She frowned, fearing she’d triggered some hidden security system, and pulled on the door’s handle.

  The door refused to open. She tried again and realized the door was now locked.

  “What the hell?”

  Her cell phone clipped to her belt beeped with an incoming text message.

  EXCELLENT WORK. WE’LL BE IN TOUCH.

  Fear lanced her spine. She scanned the lab’s exterior, searching for hidden cameras, but found none. How could anyone know what she’d done, so quickly?

  Did it matter as long as the deed kept her from losing Maya?

  Her thoughts leapt to the Johnsons, tucked in their home, jumping whenever the phone or doorbell rang, anxious to learn of their daughter’s fate. For ten years, she’d experienced a milder form of their anxiety, separated from Maya by her own inability to stand up to Caleb.