"Perfectly,” Rachel replied. What else could she say?
"Assuming all turns out well for you and your son, Detective Flynn, we may have a couple openings available. If you'd be interested, that is."
"Huh. Well, I'll keep that in mind, Ms. Cross."
"Athena, if you please. I thank you for your time. I look forward to meeting you in person, Detective. Until then, goodbye and good luck.” She cut the connection.
A knock on the door jerked her head around toward the sound. Ben nearly leapt to his feet but restrained himself at the last second. Only Amanda didn't seem surprised, walking across the room and opening the front door without a moment's hesitation.
Rachel caught sight of a young man, apparently barely older than Ben or Cory, standing at the door. He had a soft, round face, black hair curling around his neck, and wore what looked to be expensive silk suit. Amanda took a small package from him, thanked him graciously, and shut the door behind her as she turned and tore eagerly into the package.
She produced a small ID card that seemed to glow with its own inner light, a badge to match, a small object like a watch, and a handful of what looked like coins. She turned the card and badge over in her hands for a second, placed the watch around her wrist, and shoved the coins into her jacket pocket.
"That was quick,” Rachel said, staring at the door disbelievingly. What the hell was that? What she'd just seen should have been impossible. Hell, it was impossible. Unless, of course, it was some kind of weird set-up.
Amanda lifted her head with a ghost of a smile playing across her face. “Special messenger.” She took off her glasses and Rachel caught sight of a single tear rolling down her cheek.
"Holy cow!” Ben exclaimed suddenly, with a sidelong look at Rachel. Holy Cow probably wasn't what he'd intended on saying when he opened his mouth, she decided. “I know who she is!"
Rachel furrowed her brow. “She's Jason's sister and Gina's daughter."
"I know that,” Ben said, rolling his eyes. “I mean ... well ... she's Amanda Grey. The World's Richest Teenager. Ms. Flynn, you really need to watch more TV."
"Sorry, Ben, I guess I'm just a little busy chasing criminals—like drug dealers and what not.” She glanced at Amanda. “World's Richest Teenager?"
"A couple of years ago the media called me that,” she admitted with a shrug. “Stupid, really. That was before the old man disowned me. Of course, I kinda told him he could take all his money, fold it ‘til it's all sharp corners, and shove it where the sun don't shine. He didn't take that too well, the stuffy old goat."
Ben let out a loud laugh. “Thomas Gray—CEO, Chairman, and sole shareholder in GreyCorp. Shea Industries’ main competitor. Girl, you've got serious balls, blowing the old man off to go to work with Athena Cross."
Rachel threw him an astounded look. She would have never imagined Ben would even know any of this. “Damn, Ben ... when you're not high, you actually know things."
"I know them when I'm high too,” he retorted. “I just can't always remember them.” He aimed a cockeyed grin in her direction. “To tell you the truth, I remember about ninety percent of everything I hear, see, and read. High or not.” He shrugged. “I just have problems accessing them when I'm stoned."
She shook her head at him. She knew when she was wasting her breath. “He's right about one thing,” she said to Amanda. “That took some serious guts."
Amanda shrugged dismissively. “Not that hard, really. I wasn't cut out to be a debutante, or a Japanese tycoon's wife, for that matter. I'm a federal agent.” She held up the ID card and badge as if offering them up for inspection. “That's what I should be."
"Convenient that you managed it, then,” Rachel said dryly. She still couldn't get over the “special messengers” nearly instantaneous arrival. What kind of technology did Shea Industries have? Matter transmission? “C'mon, you just gotta tell me. How did that stuff get here so fast?"
Amanda's typically somber face broke into a wide grin that seemed to say I know several big and important secrets that I'd just love to share with you. But I can't.
Rachel opened her month to comment when her cell phone trilled at her—chiming in with Chuck Mangione's Pink Panther theme. She glanced at the caller ID display.
UNKNOWN NAME UNKNOWN NUMBER
Huh. “Hello?"
"Rachel?"
Unbelievable. “Dr. Chase. How interesting you should call. My boss and I would dearly love to sit down for a long conversation with you."
"I'm aware of that, Detective Flynn. Unfortunately I'm going to have to pass on your hospitality for the foreseeable future."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. So what are you calling for if not to arrange a meeting?"
"Oh, I want a meeting all right. But I want to have it on neutral territory. There are things I haven't told you that I believe you need to know."
"Sure. I get that. Why didn't you just tell us these things before?"
"I have certain ... obligations ... I must uphold."
"Obligations?” Rachel didn't like the sound of that. Chase had far too many secrets. It sounded like he was working for someone else, and, according to the Feds, it wasn't them. What's your game, Chase?
"Let's leave it at that, why don't we? I want to meet. You can bring anyone you want. Bigby ... or whoever..."
She nearly spoke Amanda's name, but caught herself just in time. If nothing else, the girl's presence would come as a shock. Maybe it would unsettle him enough for him to actually give up something useful. Something real, for a change. “Where did you have in mind?"
"Smith Rock."
"Smith Rock?” she echoed. “Why there?"
"I kinda like the way it looks,” he replied. “I've seen it on the web, but I've never been there. This lets me kill two birds with one stone."
"Word of advice? Try not to use the word ‘kill’ in this sort of negotiation."
"Oh. Makes sense. Didn't think about that. Sorry."
"Yeah. Well, if you have these ... obligations ... how is it you're willing to share this info with us now?"
"New circumstances require a new approach,” he replied casually.
"Okay. Fine.” She glanced at her watch. Noon. “Say ... two hours?"
"Works for me. See you then, Detective."
She nearly growled at him for not calling her “Rachel.” Dammit. What is it about him that's gotten so far under my skin? He's playing some kind of game on us, plus he's married. Rachel, you have the worst taste in men.
"Later.” She stabbed the End button on her phone and slid it back into her pocket.
"That sounded interesting,” Amanda remarked, perching on the arm of the sofa. Ben, sitting only a few feet away, looked up at her and flushed a little. Rachel smothered a smile. Looks like a bit of infatuation brewing there.
Unfortunately, judging by the fact Amanda hadn't seemed to notice, it was all one way. Now that sucks. She felt a twinge of sympathy for the kid and smacked it down. He's not one of your favorite people, remember? “Doctor Chase wants a meeting. I figured I'd bring you along, if you'd like."
"Oh, I'd like.” She frowned prettily. “Is he wanted?"
"We've got an APB out on him. Why?"
"Thinking he'd be one heck of a first collar,” she said with a sly grin.
"I'll tell you what,” Rachel said. “If I don't like what he as to say, you can have him."
Eight
Sunday morning—later.
Smith Rock State Park. One of Deschutes County's most unique landmarks, a monolith of pale stone reaching from the earth several hundred feet into the cool azure sky, the Crooked River winding lazily around it as it cut its way through the otherwise dusty land spotted occasionally with juniper, sage, and—later in the season—wind-blown tumbleweeds.
Rachel stood on the edge of the canyon edge, staring at the massive escarpment for a long moment before flicking her eyes about the river's edge below her. She spotted a few day hikers and other ordinary folks about their busin
ess, but no sign of Gavin Chase.
She'd wanted to get here early to stake out the area. It was just good procedure when you were meeting with an unknown. The early bird gets the worm and all that.
More like the early bird doesn't get pounced by the late-sleeping cat.
The crunching of gravel underfoot signaled Amanda's approach. “No sign of him?"
"Uh-uh.” And she didn't like it. From what little she'd learned about the man, it seemed unlikely he'd not known the advantage he was giving up. Amanda, despite the fact that he'd been her teacher for two whole semesters at the Academy, didn't know a hell of a lot more about him. God save me from mysterious men, she thought irritably.
More gravel grinding and Ben appeared to her other side, nose wrinkled in distaste. “There's a dead deer down there somewhere,” he remarked casually. “Been dead for a while, too."
Rachel idly wished she'd had something of Chase's to present to Ben. If he had the talents of a bloodhound, the least she could do would be to get some use out of them. Like finding out if Chase had already been here and was just hiding now.
Her cell phone rang again, the musical chime sounding phenomenally loud in this natural setting. “Flynn."
"Well, Rachel. I'm in the cave at the base of the rock. If you want to come talk, come now."
"Be there in a few,” she said curtly before hanging up. “He's down in that cave,” she said, pointing to a black blotch at the base of the great rock at the center of a sprawl of trails leading around the park.
"I've got a bad feeling about this,” Ben remarked grudgingly. “Maybe you two should go ahead and I can slip up behind you a ways ... kinda like a reserve force?"
"Not a bad idea,” she said, after thinking about it for a second. “Tell me, Ben, can you turn into a werewolf whenever you want—well, you don't need a full moon, do you? It wasn't full last night."
"No, but Cory did something that made it happen,” he admitted. “So I'm not sure I can do it on my own."
"If something goes wrong, we're going to have to hope you can. C'mon, Amanda. Let's not keep the nice man waiting."
Amanda snickered as they headed down the trail into the canyon.
* * * *
They strode confidently up to the mouth of the cave to find Chase lounging just inside, an old army duffel bag tucked underneath him, his back pressed against the wall. He had a book in his hands, which he closed and set down beside him.
"Rachel.” His gaze skipped to Amanda and he looked a little startled. “Miss Keening. I certainly didn't expect to see you here."
"So I assumed,” she replied frostily. “I'm here to investigate the disappearance of my mother and brother."
His eyebrows skimmed up his forehead. “I hadn't realized they were missing."
She cocked her head and gave him a strange look. “So you knew they lived here, then?"
His smile was small and meaningless. “I try to keep abreast of things."
"I'm not here for small talk,” Rachel interrupted. “You said you had some real information to share. Start sharing."
He actually winced at that, his eyes clouding over with something that looked startlingly like regret. “You're in danger."
"That's your news? You could've saved us the bother of coming here and just told me over the phone,” she growled. “It's hard for me to imagine anything less surprising at this point. I'm investigating a vampire killer who seems to have developed a grudge against my son and you tell me that I'm in danger?"
"That's not all."
"Well, hell, I'm sure glad to hear it. As much as I enjoy showing off our landmarks, I'd hate to think this trip out here was a complete waste."
"It wasn't. I have more specific information. You're in danger from someone in your department. Specifically. I have reason to believe that that someone there is working for Veronica."
"What?” Stunned, Rachel shook her head in denial. “Who? Why?"
"If I knew that I wouldn't be so worried about it,” he snapped. “It's already pretty clear that she's gotten to the media."
"We've already figured that angle out,” Rachel told him. “But it's a long way from that to thinking we've got a traitor in the department."
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?” He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “I'm really starting to get the impression we've missed something important—I think she's currying influence far beyond anything we suspected. She's more or less hiding in plain sight, and that bothers me."
"Well, our investigation of the various campsites didn't turn up anything,” Rachel admitted. “She has to be somewhere."
"In town. Someplace we'd never guess. The Mayor's office, perhaps? Shit. I just don't know. I'm not exactly an expert on these creatures. Just a lot closer than anyone you had."
"No one's really an expert on them,” Amanda cut in. “So far there's been so few of them it wasn't an issue."
"I think that's about to change,” he replied, grinding his teeth. “We know for a fact that she's drained three people already. Drained them and left them intact. I guarantee that all three of them are now undead and floating around Redburn. Possibly turning more people, just not leaving the evidence just lying around like Veronica did."
"That's one of the things I'm having the most trouble with,” Amanda told them, glancing between them. “She didn't have to leave staged crime scenes like she did. Better to just vanish your victims for a few days."
"Hell if I know,” Chase muttered darkly. “There had to be a reason behind it, but I'll be damned if I know what it is. To send a message to someone, maybe? But then the question is—who?
"We've broken the media silence,” Rachel informed him. “It went out last night and this morning. Hopefully they'll get us some new leads.” She squatted down and met Chase's gaze squarely. “I need to know why you think there's a traitor in our department."
"I intercepted some e-mails,” he told her. “Someone has been feeding information on your investigation to an outside party. I also think this person has deliberately misrepresented possible leads—maybe buried them deliberately. The e-mails I saw alluded to that, even if it didn't come right and say it."
"Huh. That's not good. What's the e-mail address?"
He shook his head. “Nope. No more freebies. I need something from you."
She frowned suspiciously. “What?"
"Get that damn APB lifted."
She snorted. “That's not going to happen, Chase."
"A few days ago you were calling me Gavin. Now we're reduced to last names?"
"Yeah. For the same reason I can't get—won't—get rid of that APB for you. You lied to us. Lied to me. You're not working for DHS or the PAC. You've gone renegade. That isn't exactly something that makes us feel comfortable dealing with you running around our city."
"If I could explain—"
The sudden appearance of Ben, moving at a rapid clip, skidded to a halt in their midst. “Detective! Trouble.” He turned and pointed at the canyon wall. “Guys with guns!"
Rachel snatched her sidearm from inside her jacket and slipped up against the cave wall as Amanda and Chase followed suit. Neither of them were armed, she realized. She resolved to do something about that—at least where Amanda was concerned—if they managed to get through this.
"Get out of the open!” she snapped at Ben, who was standing right in front of the cave, back hunched, fists clenched by his side. He turned her head toward her and shook his head. There was something odd—something feral—passing across his features. He turned back and she heard something like a low growl rising from his throat.
She cut a glance around the corner, spotted three guys with rifles coming down the trail. An upward flick of her eyes revealed a fourth man squatting on the bluff with a pair of binoculars.
She scooped her cell out of her pocket and dialed headquarters. She passed along their situation and location, then cut contact. They were in a particularly bad spot. They could retreat deeper into the cave,
but it only went back another thirty feet or so. They could stand back and simply fire in at them and count on ricochets to do the job. Hardly efficient, but if they were willing to take the time it would probably do the job.
They pulled up about seventy feet away—well within the range of their rifles, but at the edge of her pistol's effective distance. A bullet whined past, spanging off a wall and plunging deeper into the cave. She snapped off a quick shot and ducked back as another round whistled past her head.
Ben still hadn't moved. “Goddamit, Ben, get in here!"
He threw his head back and screamed. Mid-screech it changed, transforming into a howl. She watched as his shoulders hunched and his jacket split. Fabric tore and fell away. Fur replaced skin in a shuddering ripple that passed over him like an errant shadow.
A bullet slammed into him and spun him around. She saw rage flicker in his eyes as he whirled back around, lunging toward the shooter at a ground-eating clip. Seeing one of the other gunmen readying a shot, Rachel stepped into the open, took her time, and placed a bullet square in his chest. He went over backward as she shifted her aim to the last gunman. Her first shot went wide.
The werewolf tore into his quarry, slamming him to the ground with a single swipe of his massive arm. His head snapped down and the man shrieked. Ben raised his head, muzzle dripping blood.
"I'll take care of him,” Amanda told her with a look at her expression of horror. “Get that shooter."
She dashed past and flung out her right hand. A scintillating ball of silver-white light blasted from her fingertips, hurtling between her and the werewolf. It struck and covered him in some kind of sticky webbing. The werewolf toppled, crashing to the ground with a solid thump halfway across his victim's body.
Of Man and Monster Page 10
