by Sharon Green
"If you don't mind, I'll wait here while you get the car," I said. "Going closer to the scene again is something I really don't want to do."
"Sure, no problem," Allen agreed, and he actually looked satisfied as he walked away instead of put-upon. It was possible he thought I was too squeamish to go closer to the biker's body again, and was enjoying the fact that the female he no longer found interesting wasn't as strong and capable as she pretended to be. Well, if that was the worst he did then I'd end up ahead of the game.
A couple of minutes later Allen was back with the car, and we drove to a nicer neighborhood. Out of habit I'd been expecting a private house or an apartment building, but the place we parked near was garden apartments. The grass looked better-tended in this neighborhood, and the people strolling around with small children or babies looked just a little happier than the ones who'd been behind the yellow crime scene tape. But maybe that was because there were no horribly dead bodies in their neighborhood.
Allen led the way to a ground-floor apartment and knocked on the door, but it took a few minutes before the door was opened. The man in the doorway was the bartender from the night before, and the fact that he wore nothing but a pair of shorts said he'd been asleep. The first thing that opened his eyes wider was Allen's badge being held up in front of him, and then he saw me.
"What's goin' on, Officer?" the man asked Allen. "Is somethin' wrong?"
"Not if you can answer a couple of questions for us," Allen returned. "Do you remember the man who bothered Ms. Bell here in the bar last night? He was dressed as a biker and had a couple of friends with him."
"Yeah, sure I remember," the man responded. "That fool comes into the bar all the time, and a couple of times I've had to throw him and his friends out. But last night they left on their own, so there wasn't any trouble. What'd they do?"
"It wasn't them," I said when Allen hesitated. "Did you happen to see the smaller man the biker pushed aside when he came over to me? Lightish hair and a round face, carrying a little too much weight? He wore a white, short-sleeved dress shirt and black pants."
"Yeah, that was James or John or somethin' like that," the bartender said as if only just remembering. "He comes in a couple or three times a week lookin' for the single ladies, but usually ends up leavin' alone. Did he do somethin'?"
"That's what we're tryin' to find out," Allen said, taking over again. "Do you know the man's last name or where he lives or anythin' that would help us find him? We just want to ask him a few questions."
"Don't recall ever hearin' the man's last name, but I did hear him say once that he didn't live very far away," the bartender told Allen slowly as he rubbed his face. "I wish I could help more, but that's all I know."
"If you think of anythin' else, no matter how small or unimportant it seems, give me a call," Allen told him as he handed the man a card. "And if you happen to see this James or John again, don't tell him we were askin' about him. Just get on the phone and call me."
"I'll sure do that," the bartender agreed, and then he closed his door after nodding to me with a wry smile. He'd obviously seen that I wasn't trying to hide the fact that I was now armed, but as long as I wasn't also asking for a drink the gun didn't matter.
"Findin' a James or a John somewhere in the vicinity of Morgan's won't be easy," Allen muttered as we walked back to his car. "Is there anythin' your other partner can do to help narrow the search area?"
"Probably not until tomorrow morning, but I can ask him," I said. "And tonight I can go back to Morgan's myself to see if the man comes in to try again. If he does, I'll want you and your people there to back me up when I let him take me to wherever he lives. Or, rather, when he tells me where he lives. Nighttime is when that harpy is wide awake, and I really don't think we ought to try taking her then."
"No, I agree, not until mornin'," Allen said, joining me in getting into his car. "If the man shows up we'll take him into custody, then check his place out at sunup. If he has the harpy stashed somewhere else than in his house, we could have a problem."
George had gone with us to question the bartender, but he'd turned himself so faint that the bartender hadn't noticed him. Now he was back in the car and quickly contributed to the discussion.
"Freemont said that the house was lived in, not abandoned," George told us. "If that James or whoever is the one who has the harpy, he didn't stash her in some out-of-the-way place that no one knows about."
"Then we'll have to hope the man comes back to Morgan's tonight," Allen said. He paid more attention to starting the car than to George and me, obviously busy making plans. "I'll arrange for one of our female officers to be at the bar, because I can't use a civilian in a police matter. If the civilian shows up anyway that's her business, but I can't know about it beforehand. My chief would have my head."
"That's very true," I agreed as he pulled away from the curb. "It's a good thing I didn't mention my own plans out loud, otherwise you'd have to report my intentions and maybe get me barred from being part of the arrangement. If I meant to be part of it, which I certainly don't."
Allen smiled very faintly without adding anything, and we left it like that. The man was trying to play fair, otherwise he'd have taken official notice of what I'd said earlier about being in Morgan's again tonight. Considering the fact that I'd given him the lead that just might get us that harpy, someone else in his place would have tried to cut me out to keep me from collecting the reward without any argument.
But Granger Allen wasn't letting hurt feelings turn him into a louse. As we headed for the highway I decided that it was really too bad Detective Allen wasn't my type.
Twenty minutes or so later we were back at the Jordan Suites parking lot. Allen thanked me politely for my help and then drove off, making no effort to park and invite himself in to "discuss the case." That left George and me free to go inside and up to our rooms, where Freemont stood holding the door open without waiting for a knock.
"I know there's been more trouble, I just don't have the details," Freemont said as soon as he saw us. "I got your reactions like a kick in the teeth, Taz, but it looks like you've got it under control again."
George began to explain the newest developments to our other partner while he closed the door, but I headed straight for the covered dish on the table we'd had breakfast at. The plate contained three hamburgers, so bloody they were almost raw, and as soon as I put down the cover I grabbed one of the burgers and stuffed it into my mouth. No bun, no knife and fork, not even a spoon, just my hands shoving the meat into my mouth.
The nearly raw meat and dripping blood finally allowed me to let go of the control I'd been hanging onto with claws and teeth. The outer face of the control was me with an untroubled expression, body relaxed, mind producing comments when called for or just an easy silence. On the inside, though, was me wishing I could cry or scream while I repeated the mantra, Don't let go, don't let go, don't -
Small tremors ran across my skin as I fed the raging need, my heart thudding in my chest and every sense I had knife-edge sharp. All that blood and shredded flesh at the murder scene had set me off, throwing me into a need almost as bad as what the full moon brought. But the full moon couldn't be fought even for as short a time as I'd fought this need. The only thing that had saved me was my absolute refusal to become an animal when I still had the choice.
"Good, Taz, good," George said from my left, his voice soothing and gentle. "You've almost got it under control again. We both should have known better than to let you go to that crime scene. Detective Allen could have shown you the photos, and you still would have been able to make the identification."
Two of the three hamburgers were already down my throat, the third half-eaten and crumbled into my hand. I thought about putting what was left back on the plate, to show that I didn't really need to finish it all. But I did need to finish it, so I said a silent to hell with it and stuffed the rest in my mouth.
"I'm the idiot here, George," I said once I'd swallowed the last of th
e meat. "I had some stupid idea about picking up a scent, as if I would have been able to pick up anything beyond the scent of blood and vomit and fear. If I ever try something like that again, I'll appreciate it if you cover me with ectoplasm or something until I come to my senses."
"You know, that's a good idea," George said solemnly with a gleam in his eyes while Freemont chuckled. "I'll have to look into that ectoplasm matter, but the minute I get it figured out I'll be sure to let you know."
"While you're at it you might also ask for some kind of operator's manual," I suggested. The urge to lick my hand and fingers clean was faint enough to let me pick up a paper napkin instead, and that made me feel a whole lot better. "You know, something like 'Being a ghost for dummies.'"
"Dare I suggest that your idea is the pot calling the kettle black?" George countered dryly. "How much do you know about being a shapeshifter?"
"It looks like we both need to do some research," I said, granting him the point. "If not for Freemont, our team would be green instead of black, but we still wouldn't be kettles or pots. I don't know where you get these things, George."
George almost started to huff at me before he remembered I like to tease him about all those old sayings he threw around. Freemont was laughing without sound while he stood where George couldn't see him, but I couldn't keep going with the banter.
"I need to take a nap now," I announced, fighting off waves of sleepiness. "Freemont, I love you with all my heart and never want to do without your help. If you ever decide to leave the team I'll probably have to kill you."
"Kill me later, Taz," Freemont told me with a grin. "Now go and take your nap, and George and I will keep each other company."
Talking was too hard so I just nodded, stopped in the bathroom to wash my face and hands and take a drink of water, then went into my bedroom. On the way across the room I took off the weapons belt, so when I reached the bed I just fell onto it and dropped the gun and knife beside me. The vague thought floated across my mind that the sleepiness was being caused by the way I'd eaten, but then darkness sucked me down completely.
"Taz."
I'd been surrounded by vague shapes both living and dead, but hearing my name brought me out of the dream and back to the real world. It wasn't quite possible to open my eyes, but I did stir just a little.
"Taz, are you awake?" Freemont's voice came. It had been his voice saying my name a minute before, so I forced my eyes open to look at him.
"Detective Webster is on the phone for you, Taz," Freemont said, speaking slowly enough for me to actually understand what was being said. "Can you take the call, or do you want me to ask her to call back later?"
Blinking a few times and taking a deep breath helped more than I expected it to, so I sat up and used both hands to rub my eyes. I was definitely coming out of the heavy sleep now, and the urge to turn over and ignore the world again had faded almost to nothing.
"Detective Webster," I repeated, discovering that speaking wasn't beyond me. "She must have seen that drawing of the attacker from last night. No, it's okay, Freemont. I'll come out and talk to her."
"You don't have to go anywhere, Taz," Freemont said as I started to get off the bed. "You have a phone right here on that nightstand. I'll hang up the extension in the sitting room as soon as you're on the line."
He'd pointed to the phone less than two feet away from me before heading out of the room, and I just stared at it for a couple of seconds. I was pretty sure I hadn't heard it ring, but still reached for it.
"Taz Bell," I said once the receiver was at my ear. "What can I do for you, Detective Webster?"
"I'm sorry if I woke you, Ms. Bell," Webster's voice came in my ear, along with a click that strengthened the sound of that voice. "I'm calling to ask you to make a quick visit with me tonight. I reported last night's attack against you and Mr. Wellman to the head of the local vampire community, and she would like to see the sketch and ask you a few questions. If she concludes that the attack wasn't provoked in any way, she'll get the rest of the vampire community to help us find the perp."
"But first she needs to be convinced," I said, having no trouble understanding that point. "Why can't you take Eric with you instead of me? He was the object of the attack, after all."
"But he also wasn't able to identify his attacker," Webster pointed out, thick patience in her tone. "You're the eyewitness, so it's you she wants to talk to. And it really shouldn't take long. I can pick you up right after sundown."
I really didn't want to go, and needing to go back to Morgan's was only a part of it. The less I had to do with vampires the happier I'd be, but the vamp from last night hadn't been in the mug book. The police would have trouble finding him without help, and the next time his chosen victim might not be as lucky as Eric and I had been.
"All right, I'll go with you," I finally forced myself to say. "But I have other plans for tonight, so it really can't end up taking hours."
"I'm sure it won't, Ms. Bell, and thank you," Webster said, her tone still exactly the way it had been all along. "I'll see you outside your motel about half an hour after sunset. Goodbye."
She hung up then without waiting for me to say anything else, so I recradled the phone slowly. I now had two dates for tonight, and it wasn't the possibility of getting together with someone who had a harpy that caused my insides to start twisting slowly.
Chapter Eleven
It didn't take long to realize that I needed a shower, so I got a change of clothes and went into the bathroom. By the time I was dressed and ready to join my partners in the living room area, the bits of fog still clinging to my mind had finally faded away. I felt well rested, alert, and more than a little pissed.
"You're not happy about whatever Detective Webster called you for," Freemont said as soon as he saw me, the words a statement rather than a question. "If you didn't like what you heard, didn't you say so?"
"No, and I had no real choice about agreeing," I grumped, going over to the coffee pitcher sitting on the table in front of the couch. "The leader of the local vamps is willing to help find that attacker from last night, but only if she's convinced that Eric and I weren't indulging in a little vampire-baiting. She's willing to be convinced by the 'eyewitness,' and that's me. Webster is coming after dark to pick me up."
"The local shouldn't be all that hard to convince, so the chore won't take long," George consoled me from what was becoming his usual place on the couch. "And I'll be going along, of course, so there isn't likely to be any trouble. Webster won't want to jeopardize her place on the force."
Meaning George would be there as a witness who couldn't be ignored or put out of the way if they decided to do something to me. I understood the point perfectly, along with the fact that my dislike of vampires was almost pure prejudice, but none of that made me feel any better about the meeting. I don't trust vampires, and all the calm reasoning in the world wasn't likely to change that.
"You had a visitor while you were sleeping," Freemont said as I sat in a chair with my coffee. He'd obviously decided to change the subject, which wasn't a bad idea. "I told him I had no idea when you would wake up, but would certainly deliver his message when you did."
"'His' message," I repeated, immediately getting the feeling that this new subject would be even worse than the last. "I think I'm afraid to ask."
"It was Eric Wellman," Freemont admitted, his smile on the wry side. "You're starting to have quite a collection of gorgeous men you want nothing to do with, Taz. Maybe if you decided you did want them after all they'd all turn and walk away."
"Not with my luck," I countered. "I think if I crooked a finger they'd all come running, but why they'd do that I have no idea. What did Eric want?"
"He wants to take you to dinner," Freemont answered, and he seemed to be trying to swallow a smile. "I told him if you were free to accept his invitation you'd call his suite to make the arrangements. If you go to dinner with him, you might be able to find out why he lied about not knowing the
reason behind that attack."
"I'm happy to say that finding out why he lied isn't my job," I stated after swallowing down some of the coffee I'd just been holding. "Dealing with Eric is Webster's job, and she can grill Eric after she has the backing of local vamps to find the attacker. After that meeting tonight I'm out of it, and on top of that my calendar is too full. Did George tell you I intend to go back to Morgan's tonight?"
"Yes, he did, and I wanted to say I don't think that's a very good idea." Freemont had lost his amusement, a worried frown now creasing his forehead. "I have the definite feeling that that man you told Detective Allen about is involved with the harpy, but you official types are missing an important point. If the harpy is killing for the man, and the claim is hard to argue, the two of them have to have some kind of connection. If the man is arrested, the harpy will know about it."
"Shit," I said, feeling like an idiot. "How could we have missed that? Allen agreed to wait until morning before checking out the man's house, so if he makes the arrest he won't have his S.W.A.T. team with him. What did I do with that card he gave me?"
I put my cup down on the table near the pitcher, then hurried to my room. It took a bit of rummaging to locate the card Allen had given me, but once I had it I took it back out to the sitting room and over to the phone. If for some reason Allen had turned off his cell I'd have to call the station directly, but after the second ring I heard his voice.
"Allen, it's Taz Bell," I said at once. "You have to make some changes in your plans for tonight, and here's why."
I told him what Freemont had told me, going into the point with more detail to make sure I convinced him, and when I was through I heard muttering that sounded like cursing.
"I don't believe I never thought of that," Allen said after the muttering cut off. "If the harpy tends to hang around wherever James is, James would have had no trouble sendin' her after anyone he didn't like. She wouldn't have attacked the biker at Morgan's, not when James was there himself and might have become a suspect, so she just followed the biker and killed him when he got home. I wasn't plannin' on havin' more than a few uniforms around to arrest James, which probably would have gotten us all killed."
