by Alex Duval
She sounded ready to go up in flames. Should I go out there? Roll my IV out into the hall and … And do what? Jason didn’t know exactly. It was hard to think of anything he could say that wouldn’t be gasoline to the fire.
“Whatever! If you say so,” Brad told Sienna coldly. He sounded like he was trying to get a grip. “Are you still coming over tonight?”
“I told Dani I’d stay here until she got back,” Sienna said. Jason could hear tension in her voice now, but not anger. She was trying to control herself, too.
Jason could remind Sienna that he’d be fine by himself. But he thought he’d let her make the call on her own.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Sienna asked, irritation creeping back into her voice.
“Did I say anything?” Brad demanded.
“No. You didn’t have to,” Sienna shot back. “I cancel one time to—”
“It’s not one time,” Brad interrupted. “You’re always canceling. Or changing our plans into group things. It’s like you don’t want to be alone with me anymore.”
“Like the volleyball? I thought you had fun with everybody,” Sienna said.
“I would have had more fun spending the day at the beach alone with you,” Brad told her.
So the trouble between Sienna and Brad was bigger than this one incident. Jason didn’t know how to feel about that. Part of him was glad. He didn’t want to be solely responsible for their relationship issues.
“Brad, having time by ourselves is great, but—”
“Is this Jason Freeman’s room?” a new voice interrupted.
“I’m taking off,” Brad said coldly. “You stay with Jason as long as you want.”
A moment later, two men walked into Jason’s room. One was forty-something, in a suit and tie, and looked kind of familiar. Jason squinted at him for a few seconds, trying to place him. Then it hit him: The guy was a detective. Detective Carson. Jason had talked to him after he’d found Carrie Smith’s body. The detective had never figured out that Carrie had been killed by a rogue vampire. But why would he? Your basic sane Malibu PD official didn’t believe in vampires. And it had been a pretty way out situation, even within the vampire world. Vampires fed on humans because they had to, but one of their most sacred rules was no killing. They never drank enough blood to cause damage—unless they got caught up in a kind of madness, called bloodlust, the way Carrie’s murderer had.
“Raspberry-drizzled white chocolate popcorn,” said the other guy, who was probably half Detective Carson’s age, and had longish blond hair and stubble. He had picked up the bag of popcorn from Jason’s nightstand and was giving it a shake. “I like the fake butter myself. I wasn’t raised right, I guess.”
“Actually, me too,” Jason agreed. “I can go with cheese flavored. Especially if the cheese is actually cheez with a ‘z.’ But that’s about it. My friend Adam must have left that when I was asleep. He likes weird movies and weird corn.”
“This is my partner—”
Before Detective Carson could finish, Sienna ducked into the room. “I think I will go, if you’re sure it’s okay,” she said quietly to Jason.
“Sure. I’m fine,” Jason assured her. “Thanks for coming.”
Sienna nodded, picked up her purse, and quickly slipped back out again.
“Nice,” the scruffy guy said, dropping into one of the chairs and glancing after Sienna.
Nice, as in nice girl who stopped by to visit hurt friend? Jason wondered. Or nice, as in something Scruffy Guy shouldn’t really be thinking about Sienna?
“Like I was saying, this is my partner Detective Tamburo,” Carson said, nodding toward Scruffy. “I’m Detective Carson. We met—”
“After Carrie died. Yeah. I remember,” Jason said.
“You’re not too lucky, are you, sport?” Tamburo asked.
He needs to wear a nametag or something saying he’s a detective, Jason thought. Carson looked the part, pretty much, with his suit and lace-up shoes. But Tamburo had on motorcycle boots, jeans that looked real distressed, not two-hundred-dollar-new distressed, and a black shirt that was unbuttoned too far for someone who had a day job that wasn’t bartending.
“I guess I’m either not too lucky or incredibly lucky,” Jason answered. He touched the bandaged spot on his chest lightly. “A little unluckier, and I wouldn’t be alive. But a little luckier, and I’d be doing something a lot more fun right now!”
“With the babe?” Tamburo asked, one corner of his mouth tilting up in a lopsided grin.
“Or with one of my other friends,” Jason replied coolly, wondering how it was any of Tamburo’s business.
Carson sat down in the other visitor chair. “What can you tell us about what happened, Jason?”
Jason walked them through it. His decision to take a jog after his friends left. What he saw on the way out: the dog and its owner, the couple under the blanket, the surfers. What he saw on the way back: just the one surfer. Then bending down to get his wet suit. The pain. The blackness.
“Our shooter is quite a marksman,” Carson remarked. “If you hadn’t leaned down, the bolt would have hit you square in the heart.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Jason joked weakly.
“And you didn’t get anything on him or her?” Carson asked.
“Even a general impression of height or weight? Anything?” Tamburo added, leaning forward, waiting for Jason’s answer.
“The sun was right in my face. I didn’t see anyone else on the beach,” Jason answered.
Carson let out a frustrated sigh. “Could be this was a random attack,” he said. “But let’s assume for a minute that it wasn’t. Who would want to see you dead?”
“No one,” Jason replied immediately.
“Slow down,” Carson suggested. “Take a little time and think about it. You never know what will motivate some people. Don’t try to think of some huge reason. Just consider whether you’ve had any arguments with anyone lately. That kind of thing.”
“I haven’t There’s nothing,” Jason said after he’d thought about it for a few minutes.
“What about Mr. All-American?” Tamburo asked. “We could hear him and the babe ‘talking’ from down at the nurses’ station. Didn’t sound like he was a big fan of yours, my friend.”
“Brad?” Jason shook his head, starting up a headache to add to the pain in his chest. “No way. Brad’s, like, the nicest guy in school.”
“Yeah, right. Nicest guy in school yelling at his girlfriend for wanting to—”
Jason didn’t let Tamburo finish. “Okay, yeah, Brad was pissed. He thought Sienna and I were, I don’t know—having a moment?—when he walked in. They were arguing about that in the hall, but other stuff, too. Stuff that had nothing to do with me. She doesn’t spend enough time with him or whatever.”
Carson and Tamburo exchanged a look that Jason couldn’t read. “Brad and I are friends, okay? We’re on the swim team together. I go to parties at his house,” Jason explained.
“Okay,” Carson said. “Let’s move on. Was anything stolen when you were shot?”
“I hadn’t even thought about that. I don’t know what happened to my board. Or my car. I had my keys in my pocket. Whoever shot me could have grabbed them when I was out,” Jason answered.
“Your car and board were both still at the beach. Anything else?” Carson asked.
“My wallet, I guess.” Jason looked around the room. “I’m not even sure where it would be. I don’t even know where my clothes are.”
“As a detective, I would say …” Tamburo got up and opened the tiny closet across from Jason’s bed. “Yep. Clothes”—he quickly went through the pockets—“but no wallet.”
Carson used the phone on the nightstand to call the nurse’s station. He asked if the wallet was in the bag with Jason’s personal effects.
“Cell phone. Keys. Watch. No wallet,” Carson announced as he hung up the phone. “What was in it?”
Before Jason could answer, Tamburo ta
pped his collarbone. “Nice bruise. Where’d you get it? Got one on your arm, too.”
For a second, Jason couldn’t remember. “Maybe when I fell …” he began. Then he remembered. “No, wait. It was playing volleyball.”
“Who were you playing with, King Kong?” Tamburo asked.
“And Godzilla,” Jason agreed. It was practically true. Vampires with superstrength could probably take on those two.
“What was in the wallet?” Carson asked again.
“Some cash—about sixty dollars,” Jason told him. “An AmEx.”
Tamburo snorted, but didn’t comment.
“And just, you know, wallet stuff: receipts, ticket stubs.” Like the ones for the psychic fair, Jason thought. But he did not feel the need to tell the detectives that he went to that particular event. “A grocery list my mom gave me, maybe.” Make that a list of potential vampires he and Adam had come up with when they first figured out that there were actually vampires at DeVere High and wanted to work out who they all were—but the detectives didn’t need to know about that, either.
Carson frowned. “I can’t see you getting shot by a crossbow for sixty dollars and a credit card. Remember to call and cancel it, by the way.”
“Seems like you just happened to get yourself in the path of a whack job with a lethal weapon,” Tamburo told Jason. “I’m thinkin’ our sicko isn’t going to be happy until he’s managed to off somebody with his little toy.” He turned his eyes—blue laser beams—on Jason. “You sure you don’t remember anything that can help us catch this freak before that happens?”
“I wish I did,” Jason answered.
Carson handed him a couple of business cards. “This is where you can reach us if you remember anything later. I want you to call if you remember the slightest little thing—even a piece of trash you saw lying on the sand—okay?”
“Yeah. I will. I definitely will,” Jason promised. He didn’t want his family, Sienna, or anybody walking around Malibu with a deranged crossbow-wielding killer on the loose.
FIVE
“You’re awake!” Jason’s mother exclaimed as she rushed into his hospital room, followed by Jason’s dad and Dani.
Jason glanced at the clock over the door, trying to figure out just how long he’d been asleep. He was finding it hard to keep track of time here, but he thought it had probably been about two hours since the detectives had left.
“I’m going to have the words ‘Yep, I’m awake’ tattooed on my forehead,” Jason answered, trying not to wince as his mom hugged him carefully.
“I’m sorry it took us so long to get here,” she told him as she gently let him go. “I called and called, but you were always asleep, and I didn’t want anyone to wake you.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he told her.
“You’re going to have to have that tattooed someplace too,” Jason’s dad said, elbowing his wife out of the way and giving Jason a hug that brought tears of pain to his eyes. “Your mother’s going to have to hear that a dozen times a day for a month. Then she might believe it.”
“Doubtful,” Dani commented, perching on the windowsill. “Try a dozen times a day for a year.”
“Your father was just as worried as I was,” Mrs. Freeman replied. “You should have heard him yell at those airline people. As if it were their fault we got snowed in.”
“I got Detective Carson on the phone before we took off,” Mr. Freeman told Jason. “He said he was coming by to talk to you.”
“Yeah, he and his partner were here a couple of hours ago. I couldn’t tell them much, though,” Jason answered.
His father frowned. “I expect them to have some things to tell us pretty fast.”
There was a light tap on the door, and Jason’s doctor walked in. “Ah, the whole family’s here,” she said pleasantly, pushing her wire-rimmed glasses up into her reddish hair. “I’m Dr. Quazi. I’ve been treating Jason since they brought him in.”
Jason’s mother pounced. “How is he?”
“He’s fine,” Dr. Quazi answered. Jason shot his mom a told-you-so smile. “As I said on the phone, he was very fortunate in the location of the wound. None of his organs were touched.”
“Thank God,” Mrs. Freeman said.
Dr. Quazi put her glasses back on and studied Jason’s chart. “The pain and shock had him in and out of consciousness initially, but the wound itself should heal nicely,” she told them. “Jason will need to keep it dry until the stitches come out, and he’ll need to limit his activity for a while. I’ve told him no swimming for two months.”
“Are you listening to this, Jason? No swim team until the beginning of February,” his mother cautioned.
“And if there is any new swelling around the wound, or redness or drainage, or an increase in the skin temperature, please call me,” Dr. Quazi concluded.
“So you’re saying I can go home now? Right?” Jason asked.
Dr. Quazi smiled. “Right. After your parents fill out several dozen forms,” she answered. “Please don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions or problems, though.” She handed Jason her card and left the room, after being thanked a couple of times by Jason and his dad, once by Dani, and about fifty times by Jason’s mom. Jason set the card on the nightstand along with Carson’s and Tamburo’s. He was going to need a new wallet before he left the building, the way he was collecting business cards.
“I’ll go and handle the paperwork,” Mr. Freeman announced. “I know your mother won’t want to let you out of her sight.”
Mrs. Freeman sat down in the closest visitor’s chair. It did seem like she planned to get some staring time in.
“Uh, how was New York?” Jason asked her.
She used both hands to push her hair away from her face. “Do you know it feels like about a hundred years since I’ve been anywhere but the airport trying to get back here?” she told him. She reached for her purse and stood up. “I bet you a hundred dollars your father doesn’t have his insurance cards with him. I’ll take mine down and come right back.” She hurried to the doorway, then turned back and looked at Jason again. “It’s really good to see you safe,” she told him. Then she hurried off.
“I’m glad she’s gone for a minute,” Dani said. “I didn’t want her to hear this. She’s already freaked enough.”
Jason sat up a little straighter, trying to ignore the electric zaps in his chest. “What?”
“Everybody’s looking for Dominic Ames. He’s been missing since Sunday afternoon,” Dani told him.
“Sienna didn’t say anything,” Jason said, frowning. He was sure she would have known. The vampire grapevine was way faster than the ordinary school one.
“It took everyone a while to figure it out,” Dani explained. “Seems like Dominic’s parents were out late on Sunday night and they didn’t even realize he hadn’t come home. Then, at school, nobody thought it was strange that he missed a day. He’s kind of a class optional kind of guy, anyway, right?”
“He shows up just enough to get by,” Jason agreed.
“So what I heard is that Belle went over to his place after school. Dominic wasn’t there, but his mom was. She checked with the housekeeper, and it turns out Dominic hadn’t slept in his bed Sunday night. I guess he’s bed-making optional, too. Anyway, his parents are calling everyone he knows. They’ve called the cops already.”
“Are the cops doing much? He hasn’t been gone that long in cop time,” Jason said.
“Are you kidding? There’s a big search happening,” Dani answered.
“Oh, right, I always forget how rich everyone in DeVere Heights is. I guess if someone from the Heights calls the police, they move, huh?” Jason observed.
“That’s not it,” Dani told him. “Or maybe it is, partly.” She leaned closer. “But don’t you get it, Jason? It’s because of what happened to you.” Jason’s wound gave an extra-strong zap. “Everyone’s really scared that Dominic’s missing and the guy who shot you with the crossbow is still out there somewhere!”
Jason flipped through the channels—again. Daytime TV sucked. He should have gone to school.
Yeah, because school is so much more amusing, he thought, settling on a rerun of Friends he must have already seen ten times.
“Do you want an apple, Jason?” his mother called from the kitchen. “You should see how red and shiny they are.”
“No thanks,” Jason answered from the living room, trying not to let his impatience show in his voice. His mom turned into a demented, hypercheerful kindergarten teacher whenever he or Dani got hurt or sick. She’d just told him how red and shiny an apple was, for God’s sake! And an day she’d been trying to get him to eat stuff. Or trying to find out if he was too hot or too cold. Or trying to check his wound for symptoms of gangrene, or the flesh-eating supervirus, or whatever.
Yeah, school might have a low amusement value. But it also had a lower annoyance value than home right now. There was no mom at school.
And there was Sienna.
Jason had been thinking about her all day. With daytime TV being so bad, his mind kept drifting to what had happened at the hospital. He wondered what she’d done after she left. Had she caught up to Brad? Had they had another fight? Had they made up?
At school, he’d have been able to suss things out. Get a vibe from Sienna just by sitting in class with her.
Jason picked up the remote again. He needed something to distract him. He’d already gone over every permutation of the situation between him, Sienna, and Brad multiple times. His brains would start to leak out his ears if he kept it up.
Click. Soap opera. That wouldn’t do it. Click. Dr. Phil. Jason probably needed, the guy, but no. Click. One of those home makeover shows. Click. Dora the Explorer.
The doorbell rang.
“I got it,” Jason yelled, abandoning the television.
“You’re supposed to stay still,” his mother called.
“No one said motionless,” he answered. He pulled open the door and saw Adam standing there with a bag of what he hoped and suspected were cheese fries in one hand and some DVDs in the other.
