Thursday afternoons at the studio were usually slow and one of the best days to stop by and check in with everyone. I stepped off the elevator as the familiar sounds of voices humming into telephones and the tap, tap, tap of fingers skating over keyboards diffused through the air, giving me an excited sense of belonging. Pictures of celebrities, famous and not so famous, taken during interviews, and certificates earned by various reporters graced the walls. I strolled past the studio where rows of monitors glowed brightly, showing the team of newscasters currently on air, and headed to my desk. I loved my job, and I was good at it. My desk consisted of a white table, a computer, monitor, and keyboard, just like the other twelve that graced the middle of the area. Four glass-walled offices circled the perimeter of the large room.
Most of my correspondence was done via email, and Lex, my cameraman, and I worked on our own, so I usually didn’t have a reason to make an appearance on a daily basis. Unless they had a new recruit, and since I was the senior guy on board, it was up to me to show them the ropes. The last one, Magdalena, or Mags as I’d called her for short, had just up and quit one day. She’d called in early one morning before anyone arrived and left a message on the machine. She said she’d changed her mind about being a reporter and mentioned moving up north. I’d liked her, and was curious what had made her quit so suddenly. I’d even checked with her roommate to see if she could give me a clue as to why she’d left, but she didn’t have any more information than I had. In fact, her roommate had seemed rather pissed off that Magdalena had left her high and dry without paying the rent. Too bad, too, the young reporter had shown promise.
There hadn’t been another new reporter since her, though.
I headed into the coffee room, hoping for a hot cup, and almost turned back around when I saw Adrienne Rhodes, the assistant producer, inside making herself a hot cup of joe. She glanced up at me. “Hey, Barrett, I have something for you.”
She always called me by my last name, which I didn’t mind since she was a hot babe and it somehow kept our relationship distant. The last thing I needed or wanted was to get caught up in an affair with my boss. Though, one simple sign from her and I’d have been all over that fine piece of ass.
“What’s up?” I gave her my best I’m-your-man smile.
“One of my informants gave us a tip on this kid,” Adrienne said as she handed me an old photo. I glanced at the picture then back up into her no-nonsense brown eyes. As usual, she wore her blonde hair back and twisted into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Dressed in a pencil-skirted grey suit, Adrienne was all business from her head down to the pointed toes of her black, high-heeled pumps. She filled her cup full of coffee, then added two sugars, topping it off with about an ounce of cream. She lifted the lid to a box of donuts someone had left on the counter, sniffed the contents with her eyes closed, then quickly closed it. I’d never seen Adrienne eat anything, let alone a donut.
Adrienne was a one of those go get ‘em types. Type A personality. Probably from all the sugar and cream she poured into her coffee. “That picture is sixteen years old,” she supplied. I studied the photo of the kid, a little girl with long, dark hair and straight bangs covering her forehead. “She was five in that picture, Josh.”
“Cute kid,” I said and handed it back to her. Only she shook her head.
“Uh-uh. She’s all yours, buddy.”
I stared at Adrienne and waited as she took a sip of her coffee. I could almost see the sugar coagulating inside her arteries. I had to wonder how the hell she stayed so slim and fit. Then I remembered her high-strung personality.
“The girl was an eye-witness to a double homicide sixteen years ago. The only witness. The Feds are trying to keep it all hush-hush because the girl was tossed into witness protection immediately afterwards.”
“And you’re telling me all this because…”
“She’s missing.”
“How the fuck does someone go missing from witness protection?”
“I told you, it’s hush-hush. The Feds aren’t talking.”
“So, why give it to me?” I asked, shoving the photo back at her.
“We want you to help find her.”
“We? Who’s we?”
The sleek muscle in her jaw twitched. “Channel eight news and the SFPD.”
“You’re delusional. I’m not a fucking detective.”
“Don’t be insubordinate.”
“Then don’t ask me to do a job I’m not qualified for.”
“You’re an investigative reporter,” she said, shoving the picture back into my hand. “I want a story on her.”
I sighed. She had me there. “Why do the police want to stir up talk about a missing girl from the witness protection program? Seems like they’d want to keep that sort of thing under wraps. I mean, the whole point of that program is to keep witnesses safe and hidden.”
“Josh, cop a fucking clue. They don’t. Hence the term ‘hush-hush.’ My contact in the SFPD wants her found before the Feds do. That’s all I’m allowed to say.”
I gave her a squinted frown. Something wasn’t adding up. It didn’t seem likely that a local cop would have an interest in a kid that had gone into witness protection sixteen years ago, unless… “What kind of story could I possibly do that would help find a missing kid that nobody wants the world to know exists? Seems to me the story took place sixteen years ago. What could I possibly add to it that hasn’t already been reported? And besides, if the Feds want to keep it out of the news, they usually have a pretty good reason for that.”
“Exactly. And what is that reason? It’s your job to find out. My contact at the SFPD thinks that if we do a current story on her and what happened sixteen years ago, it might spark public awareness and maybe someone will recognize her.”
“This is bullshit,” I mumbled.
“Let me put it this way, Josh. You do this story and I won’t send your sorry ass to Oakland to report on some shifty old folks’ homes they have out there. Those old people sure could use a guy like you on their side when it comes to the way they’re being treated.”
Fuck, she’d do it, too. “Well, do we even have a current picture?” I picked up one of the chocolate donuts from the pink box. No doubt, it was stale by now, but I hadn’t had a chance to eat anything yet and I was starving. I took a large bite and waited for her response.
“No. But we have one from a few years ago. You’ve probably seen it. It came across your desk about six months ago.” She reached inside a manila folder, pulled out another picture, and handed it to me.
I stared at the picture.
Holy shit! I almost choked on the donut.
“You okay?” She patted me on the back.
“Yeah,” I said, turning away so Adrienne wouldn’t see the shock on my face as I stared at a picture of Chelle. My Chelle.
What the fuck? It was an old picture, several years old, and she was still just a kid, but I had no doubt it was her.
“Are you sure these two pictures are of the same girl? A lot of years have passed since this first one.”
“It’s the same person, according to my source.”
This was a different picture from the one I’d found a couple of nights ago of Chelle, but it did look like her. Now, I was all in. But, there was no way I was going to do a story on her. I wasn’t sure why my Chelle was in witness protection and now secretly listed as a missing person by the Feds, but this explained why she’d asked me all those questions about procedures. Listen to me, my Chelle, like I fucking owned her or something. I wasn’t ready to divulge my knowledge of Chelle’s whereabouts yet, even if I knew them. Which I didn’t. And that was fucked up.
“You gonna tell me who your source is?”
“Nope. No more than you would ever divulge one of yours.”
I knew she wouldn’t. Except I had a feeling that Adrienne’s source was a dirty cop, and as much as I didn’t care about Adrienne in any romantic sense other than maybe a quick fuck in the utility closet, I st
ill didn’t want to see her get hurt.
With her cup of coffee in hand, she headed for the door then turned back around toward me. “Oh, Josh, there was a murder in the park last night. I sent Jasper out on it this morning.” I could almost see the evil grin on her too sexy mouth as she left the break room.
“Fuck.”
If there was one thing Adrienne knew how to do, it was piss me off. I followed her out. Carl Jasper was a sixty-year-old, seen-his-day-twenty-years-ago, nice-guy reporter. He was mostly used for covering social events and “around here” happenings for children nowadays.
“You called Jasper for a murder and me for a missing kid? What the fuck, Adrienne?”
“I told you, Josh. I need a good investigative reporter on this case. Jasper can handle one murder. Besides, from the way the victim was killed, everyone’s whispering stupid shit about vampires. You don’t need that circus on your resume.”
If there were one thing I couldn’t stand, it was talk of supernatural shit and she knew it. Though she didn’t know why and never pressed the issue.
Don’t go. Two words from long ago drifted into my mind again for the second time that day.
I scratched my head and let Adrienne’s sexy stride back to her glass-walled office lure me away from my horrible memories. Then she turned back toward me. “If it makes you feel any better, I do have another story I need covered, if you think you can handle it.”
“Funny,” I quipped. My sarcasm lost on her, I followed up with, “What is it?” Then trailed behind her into her office.
“Keep in mind, this is secondary to the girl. Okay?
“Sure. Whatever.”
“There’s been some burglaries at two major hospitals. One here in San Francisco, and the other in Daily City. The cops are baffled and again, not talking.”
“Another hush-hush story from your source?”
“Yes. The reason they aren’t talking is because the only thing stolen was blood, and shortly after delivery from the blood banks. They completely wiped out the entire supply from both facilities, but there were no traces or fingerprints left. The cops don’t want the public to panic and start spouting off more rumors of the supernatural. I hesitated giving it to you, because…well, you know, with the recent rumors of vampires slaying victims and leaving them in the park…” She smirked.
“You’re a bitch. You do know that.” Adrienne and I had a love-hate relationship. But it was one of mutual respect. She’d called me far worse things in the past, but we both knew they were always in jest. Well, most of the time.
“But you love me anyway, right?” I rolled my eyes, a gesture of acceptance.
“Give me the intel you have so far and I’ll check it out.”
She handed me a folder. “It wouldn’t hurt to pay the hospitals a visit. See if you can come up with anything worth printing that would still be under the radar so the police won’t be pissed off and threaten to throw your—as well as my—tight ass in jail for obstruction of justice.”
“Thanks. I’m going home to work.”
“Home? Why?”
“You said these were both to stay ‘under the radar.’ I need my own computer programs.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
I turned to leave. “Josh?”
“Yeah?” I stopped mid-stride and pivoted back around.
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Shut the door will ya?”
I was anxious to get home after receiving not one but two bizarre assignments from Adrienne. But it seemed as if everywhere I turned someone wanted my attention. If it wasn’t help with some software program they couldn’t figure out, it was someone thinking I was interested in hearing about their recent trip to the Grand Canyon with their long-lost cousin Ernie. I didn’t get out of the office until nearly three in the afternoon.
The delay made me antsy. I needed a drink and the privacy of my own computer. This wasn’t an investigation for the shared, office-monitored network.
I walked down the hall toward the garage and my car. When I got behind the wheel, I pulled the two pictures out of their envelope. If this was Chelle, I had no intention of turning her over to the cops or the news. If she’d been in witness protection, there must be a damn good reason. Whoever Adrienne’s contact at the SFPD was, they must be dirty, because keeping Chelle listed as missing could only work in her favor. If she’d run away from the protection services, she must have had a good reason.
Why did they have such an old picture to go on when there was the one I’d discovered that was more current? Maybe they just hadn’t put the two together. Adrienne wasn’t exactly the best reporter in the world. I decided to keep my mouth shut for now. I needed to find out what this was all about. One thing was certain; I needed to see Chelle again. If for nothing else, than to warn her. Why had she run out so abruptly this morning when she’d seen the time? I didn’t believe the married reason anymore, so what was it? Was she actually the same girl who’d been thrown into witness protection? The fucked up part was, I had no idea how to contact her unless she came to me.
Chapter Sixteen
Chelle
It had been a restless day’s sleep. Probably because I’d slept most of the night with Josh. In his arms. And that felt extremely nice. But it had been stupid and reckless of me. It’s just that I’d felt so at peace there in his embrace. It felt too much like I belonged there. He’s human, I had to remind myself. I thought of the hurt look on his face when I’d left him standing in his hallway naked, wondering why I was leaving so abruptly. It tore my heart to pieces to have him think I was married. But that was safer than the truth. I wish I could have just told him.
I forced myself out of bed and went to take a shower. It was close to dusk, and everyone else in the house was probably already up. The band usually practiced on Thursday afternoons, in preparation for their weekly Saturday night performances at Club Royal.
After my shower, I went in search of Maggie. I needed some advice, and she was the closest girlfriend I had these days. I was sure she’d understand my situation, having been human just a few months ago. I didn’t have to look far for her. I knew exactly where she’d be—front and center, watching the band. She and Cian were hopelessly in love and always together.
I quietly opened the door to the studio as Lane crooned Guns N’ Roses’ Sweet Child of Mine, igniting me with all sorts of unhealthy desires again. I tiptoed across to the chair next to Maggie and thought of Josh instead, quickly shrugging off the unwanted feelings for Lane. Several guitars of various types lay strewn about the room. Lane stood in front of one of the microphones, his guitar hanging loosely from the strap on his shoulder. Cian was hunched over the keyboard, while Elvis stood to the side, picking a bass guitar. Gage whipped drumsticks like he’d been born with them in his hands. It was amazing to watch them, because they all took turns singing or playing the various instruments. Their talents went beyond the norm. No one had any one area of expertise, they all excelled at everything.
Maggie gave me a smile when I sat down next to her. We sat and listened to the band. I couldn’t talk to her there, not over the music. Not about anything so private. The song ended, and Cian suggested a break. Perfect.
“Can I talk to you outside?” I asked Maggie.
She glanced at Cian then smiled at me. “Of course.”
We both stood to leave.
“Where’re you going?” Cian asked.
“Be right back, babe.” She blew him a kiss and he feigned a catch, pulling the imaginary kiss to his lips.
“You two are too cute. Sickening, but adorable,” I said as I closed the door and started walking down the hallway toward a sitting room now known as the garden room with a fake sky that changed with the time of day. The fake sky was new. Cian had had it constructed shortly after Maggie was turned so that she wouldn’t have to miss out on the sun so much, and he’d planted an array of roses around the perimeter to remind her how much he loved her. Not that he could or would ever let her forget. You could al
most see the love they had for each other. It virtually oozed from their pores it was so intense.
Maggie followed me and frowned when I held the door open for her to walk through. The garden room not only provided the illusion of sunshine and great sunsets, but it was also soundproof with locking doors and no windows. I knew Cian and Maggie spent a lot of alone time in that room. And who could blame them? It was awesome.
The upper half of the walls in the room were also part of the sky. It really was amazing. Right now, it looked as if there were a beautiful sunset over the horizon, complete with clouds and bright red-orange and purple colors that made so many sunsets awe-inspiring. It was a way to enjoy the sun without the harmful rays that weakened vampires to the point of total incapacitation. The sun to us was sort of like kryptonite to Superman.
I headed to one of the queen-sized lounge chairs in the middle of the room and sat on the edge. Maggie sat beside me, her long, dark hair flowing over her shoulders like a cascading waterfall. Sometimes I was jealous of her long tresses, but then I remembered why I kept mine short. I’d fallen in love with the style after I’d given the hairstylist carte blanch to give me a makeover during my second semester at SFU. She’d said it brought out the beautiful shape of my eyes. Her words, not mine, but I had to agree after viewing myself in the mirror when she finished. I sighed. What I wouldn’t give to see myself in the mirror now.
“This must be top-secret,” Maggie said, bringing me back to the present and my current situation. She smiled and her eyes brightened with interest.
I nodded. This dilemma had kept me restless all day, and I couldn’t wait to talk to her. I knew I could trust Maggie. We’d spent many afternoons and evenings together after her transition. We had something in common, we were both new, female vampires, and we’d bonded instantly. Though, because Cian loved her, she’d been treated differently after her transformation than I had. But I had to admit, in the beginning, the fetters Lane had used to restrain me from harming someone, had been used for pleasure on occasion when he’d been in the mood. So it wasn’t all bad.
Captivated by a Vampire: Billionaire, Rock Stars, Vampires in San Francisco (Immortal Hearts of San Francisco Book 2) Page 8
