The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  Sam hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. As Vincent vanished from sight, she let out the breath with a whoosh. She sighed, then murmured, “Damn.”

  12

  DAMN.

  Sam fiddled with the brim of her hat, turning it slowly in her lap as she listened to the men in the room speaking. Getting called downtown to One Police Plaza first thing in the morning was rarely a good thing, and as soon as Sam walked into the building and found her lieutenant waiting in the lobby, along with her partner Ronne, she knew this was not going to be good.

  Sam was right.

  They’d been there for nearly forty-five minutes already, and the dude from Internal Affairs had yet to ask her an actual question. Not that they needed to. They’d already gone over all of this six months ago, and Sam had answered every question then... twice. This time was different, though. This time they were on the Fourteenth Floor.

  Sam looked up through her eyelashes, carefully studying the faces of the men in the room. Her lieutenant had that familiar look of puzzlement and perturbation, his lips pursed tightly, his eyes almost squinting as he listened to the IA rep speak. Don Martino had been a cop for a long time, and as retirement’s tempting deadline loomed, he’d become almost violently obsessed with finding inner peace any way he could. Right now, he was not feeling the inner peacefulness, and Sam could see the fidgety movements of his fingers becoming more pronounced. He was in control of himself, but she wasn’t sure for how much longer. Her eyes moved to the right, to the chair beside her. Ronne was calm, his brow slightly furrowed as he listened. Then again, it always seemed slightly furrowed, giving him the thoughtful expression of a really hot professor constantly contemplating something deep. He noticed her watching and Sam noticed his eye twitch in a wink, his only outward acknowledgement, a subtle gesture that was a mixture of “hey, what’s up?” and “I got your back, no worries.” Sam moved her head in a barely visible nod, hoping it was enough for Ronne to know she’d received the message. Peripherally she saw his head move in a similar gesture and knew that it had been.

  Now her eyes moved to the other two men in the room. Internal Affairs was often referred to as “the Rat Squad” and the taller man in front of her certainly merited the title. Thin and sharp, his black hair seemed painted on like lacquer, and the lines of pressing in his suit and cuffs were too severe, too precise. Like he was freshly pressed, thought Sam, and she struggled to stifle a chuckle.

  The fourth man turned and glared at her. This was the one that Sam was most worried about, the one that had given her a bad feeling the minute she walked into the room. This guy was definitely behind all of this, and she knew it... because he had been at the Bund Rally the night before. She hadn’t been sure if he’d seen her, recognized her... But when she showed up at work and was promptly whisked away to 1 Police Plaza by the Lieu and Ronne, she knew her presence had most definitely been noted.

  “Officer Karolyi.”

  Sam blinked, focusing back on the leader of the Rats and taking a breath to clear her mind before answering. “Yes, sir?”

  “The incident on Saint Patrick’s Day. What happened to the suspect?”

  Sam glanced at Ronne and the Lieu before responding. “As my official statement said, I lost the suspect in an alley behind Trump Tower.”

  “You lost him?”

  Sam nodded, trying to suppress her anxiety. She hoped the Bund Rat wasn’t able to smell fear, ‘cause she was reeking right now. She parted her lips slightly, carefully inhaled. There were no wolves in the room now... no one but her... There was something else, though... a strange scent, familiar and non-threatening, but still decidedly not a “clean” human.

  “You lost him.”

  Sam sighed, her exasperation beginning to show. “Yes, sir. I pursued the suspect from the scene, up the street past Trump Tower and around the corner. I followed the suspect into an alley, and he disappeared.”

  “How did you know he went into the alley?” It was Bund Rat, his scratchy voice giving Sam the chills. She shivered involuntarily.

  “Instinct... I guess.”

  The two glowered at each other, and Bund Rat showed every sign of pursuing the line of questioning, his posture becoming more aggressive. Then suddenly his demeanor shifted, the atmosphere shifted. Bund Rat leaned in, whispered something in the lead Rat’s ear... His demeanor shifted, too, and Sam felt a subconscious thought jump to the forefront and begin niggling at her... the thought that it was no longer safe for her at 1 Police Plaza... or perhaps even in her own precinct house...

  “Well, pending further investigation of these strange occurrences, you will need to be placed on supervised duty. Lieutenant Martino?” Sam noticed the Lieu’s fingers stop fidgeting as attention shifted to him. “Officer Karolyi may remain on the duty roster, but she will need to be directly supervised by a senior officer or detective.”

  Lieutenant Martino glanced at Ronne, who’s brow had furrowed more deeply as the Rat Leader had started speaking. “Um, well, she already has Ronne—”

  Bund Rat cut him off. “No. Someone who isn’t so... close.”

  Sam could see the Lieu’s jaw tighten, his lips pressed together firmly. He nodded curtly. “I’ll take care of it. Myself, if necessary.”

  Rat Leader smiled, and Sam thought he looked more like a snake than a rat. “I’m sure it won’t take long to get to the truth and conclude this whole matter. Thank you for coming in.”

  “SONSOFBITCHES... LIKE I don’t have enough to worry about.” Martino muttered as he chewed a bite of his hotdog. They’d stopped outside at a cart, since half the morning had been spent in 1PP. Sam swallowed a sip of her hot coffee, the searing heat bringing tears to her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Lieu.”

  Martino grumbled for a moment, then shook his vehemently, looking straight at Sam as he spoke. “No! No, you do not be sorry for anything. Shit happens, Karolyi. Shit. Happens. It’s been a rough year for you... Your grandfather, God rest him... the accident... You do not have to be sorry for one damn thing.” As if to further punctuate his statement, Martino took a large bite from the mustard-and-sauerkraut covered hot dog in his hand.

  Sam smiled. “Thank you.”

  Martino wiped his mouth as he nodded. “However,” he added, pausing for a moment to finish chewing and swallowed what was in his mouth. “However, we can’t have anything else happen.” He lowered his voice and glanced over at Ronne, who had stepped away a few minutes ago for a phone call. “You need to keep things in check, Sammy... You... and your man in black...” He nodded at Sam’s shocked look, putting his hand up as she opened her mouth to speak. “Lenny... told me only what I needed to know. When he was in the hospital, when you were... unavailable.”

  “Right. I understand.”

  Martino sniffed. “Good. Now, let’s get back to the Nine.”

  “Not so fast.” Ronne walked up, his phone in hand. “Sidarski. They need us on the Upper East Side.”

  Martino started fidgeting. “Then he should have called Narcotics, he doesn’t need us.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Ronne looked at Sam. “He needs Sam.”

  Martino heaved a loud ragged sigh. “Dammit. Alright, let’s go.”

  Martino’s car wasn’t far from 1PP, but the shortest distance to it brought them in close to the front doors again. As they passed them, Sam caught a glimpse of figures in the entry... the short blonde crop of Councilwoman Donna Strong and the slick hair of Rat Leader... Bund Rat was nearby, listening eagerly to their conversation... but it was the fourth figure that drew Sam’s full attention... mostly because that figure’s attention was firmly fixed on Sam herself.

  She looked the same in the daylight as she had in the dark of that cavern beneath the reservoir... her long dark blonde hair pulled up in a loose bun, her soft brown eyes staring at Sam... Something about her eyes seemed so familiar, but she couldn’t place it... A uniformed officer cut in front of her, causing Sam to pull up short. As he pushed through the doors, she coul
d have sworn the blonde with the soulful eyes... scented her... She watched as the young woman’s lips parted slightly and her nostrils obviously flared as she inhaled... The woman’s smile broadened, and the look in her eyes hardened a bit.

  Sam felt her hair stand on end, and she hurried to catch up to Ronne and Martino as they reached the car.

  “Hey, Lieu? I can’t explain... but... I’m never coming back here again.” Sam watched as her lieutenant processed that information. She expected an argument, a scolding, a question. She never expected what she got...

  “You don’t have to explain, Sammy. I felt it, too. Some deep shit is going on in this town. Deep. Shit.”

  13

  EAST 92ND STREET

  A crowd had already gathered in the street behind the perimeter of police vehicles. As Sam got out of the car, she could see at least five of them parked in a half-circle closing off the street and forming a barrier that curved in front of one of the old brownstone apartment buildings. The residence in question appeared to be in the throes of renovation, with plastic covering many of the windows and a long tube strung along the front of the building beginning on the roof and ending just above a large dumpster beside the front stoop.

  Sam briefly felt a warm pressure on her back and realized Ronne had put his hand there to guide her toward the building. That’s when she noticed the stares. Officers and detectives throughout the scene were all staring... at her. Some looked wary, some looked angry, and some looked downright frightened, maybe not of her but for her. Sam felt a wave of anxiety wash through her, her stomach clenching up into a knot of dancing butterflies, and she wondered why they so desperately needed her to be here... what she was going to face inside that building.

  “Sid? What do you have?” Martino frowned slightly at the portly detective approaching them. Sam remembered Sergeant James Sidarski, known to most as “Sid.” He’d been very generous with his paperwork involving the incident with “Sick Boy” six months before... Sam had been amazed at the time that she hadn’t been called in by IAB, even though many bystanders had claimed she had chased the young thief into the path of the bus that killed him. Well, sort of killed him, she thought, if you don’t count Vincent melting him at the City Mortuary later on. Vincent... Sam instinctively parted her lips and sniffed at the thought of him, scenting the area to see if he was near. Nothing... but still that strange smell she’d noticed when they were at 1PP. She’d thought it was one of the Rat Squad guys, but now... Her fluttering thoughts were interrupted by the pressure on her back again. Ronne was pushing her forward toward the stairs, where Sid and Martino were already mounting the steps to the building’s ornate entry door.

  Sam exhaled with a whoosh. “I’m okay, Frank.”

  Ronne patted her back gently but left his hand in place as they followed up the stairs. “Let me know if you’re not. I’ll get you out of here.” He chuckled, and Sam turned her head quickly.

  “What?”

  Ronne smiled, and looked down at her, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think you ever called me Frank before.”

  Sam grinned. “I guess that officially makes you my partner, then. Congratulations.”

  Ronne chuckled again as he reached for the inner door, holding it open. “I’m honored.”

  “You should be,” Sam replied, nudging him playfully with her elbow as she passed under his outstretched arm and entered the foyer of the apartment. Yes, renovations were clearly in progress on a massive scale. Sam noted the imperfect plastering, the wallpaper glue still left on the walls, and the enormous hole in the floor about ten feet in front of them.

  A rebreather mask appeared before her, and Sam glanced at the uniformed cop manning the door.

  “You’re gonna need this.” Sam nodded, taking the mask. She slipped it on easily, catching a brief smell of the air before the mask was in place. The smell was as bad as she had expected. Sam’s time in Narcotics had been relatively brief, but she’d learned the characteristic odor, somewhere between ammonia and acetone, that was always present when a meth lab was on site. Meth labs were dangerous, too. Not only were the chemicals often stored haphazard and unstable, with even the slightest spark able to set them off, but even the residue left behind was toxic and dangerous to inhale. Sam exchanged a brief look with Ronne, who had clearly noticed the smell as well judging from the wrinkling of his aquiline nose. He slipped on his rebreather mask, taking a moment to lighten the mood with a few Darth Vader-style breaths. Sam chuckled, which sounded a lot like clucking through the filtration of the mask.

  Sid and Martino were already on the landing above, their voices echoing down to them, so Sam and Ronne hurriedly climbed the stairs to the second floor to join them.

  “Call came in around eleven this morning, report of some suspicious equipment in here. Apparently, the local neighborhood spy was watching the building and caught a glimpse inside when one of the papers fell off the front windows.”

  Martino nodded, then leaned over the railing. “Third floor, you two! Hurry up!”

  Sam and Ronne picked up the pace. Ronne had long since removed his hand from her back, and Sam missed its warmth and steadiness as a chill settled into her bones. She had a really bad feeling about this. They reached the third floor, which was darker than the floors below had been. Sam quickly saw why as they turned and walked toward the front room, a long slender space that included all the windows visible from the street. Those windows were now covered with a dark heavy paper, like brown packaging paper, with only slivers of light peeking through. Sam focused on adjusting her eyes to the dimness, hoping to see what she could as quickly as she could. At the same time, she scented in the room, searching for any potential threat. It was difficult with the acrid smell already in the air, but Sam knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Sid pulled carefully at the paper on one of the windows, letting the light into the room bit by bit. Sam strained to adjust her eyes as quickly as possible, but as the light filled the space, Sam clearly saw that the four of them were alone. Sam’s brow furrowed as she took in the equipment in the room and realized what they had walked into.

  “What the fuck?” Ronne’s muttered question seemed to sum up the thoughts of everyone in the room because the three of them all nodded in an agreeable unison.

  The room had clearly been a meth lab at one time, though most of the materials had been cleared out. The tables were cleared of debris and incredibly clean, the sinks that connected by long lengths of piping, all clean as well. A few empty boxes of cold medicine were tossed into the sooty fireplace, as were some cloths that must have been what was used to clean up the space when they vacated.

  Martino looked around the room, his arms folded across his chest. “Okay, so, it was clearly a meth lab, but it’s not anymore. What does this have to with Karolyi?”

  Sid cleared his throat and motioned for the three to follow him. They crossed the room, following Sid through a door at the far end that lead to another staircase. This one led up to the attic, and Sid motioned for Sam to lead the way through into the space. Sam ducked to walk in but Ronne and Martino both reached out to stop her.

  “It’s safe. I secured it myself.” Sid looked between the two men, and then to Sam. Sam studied his face... he’d saved her ass once, so what reason would he have to harm her now?

  “It’s okay, Lieu.” Sam held Martino’s gaze until she saw him accept her answer and back off. Ronne held on a moment, long enough to tell her he’d be right behind her and to be careful. Sam nodded her assent and stepped into the attic.

  Boxes. Boxes everywhere. All filled to brimming with pills. Little white pills with a letter ‘P’ on them. PERV-E. Sam felt the others stepping in behind her.

  “You know what this is, Officer Karolyi?” Sid asked, gesturing to the boxes.

  “I’ve heard of it, yes. What does this have to do with me?”

  “The drugs? Not a thing.” Sid held a hand up to stop Martino before he launched into a tirade. �
�You’re here because of what we found... in the basement.”

  The first thing Sam saw when she entered the basement were the bloody block letters on the far wall... WOLFMORDOR. Blood stains and claw marks streaked across the words, nail marks carving through the walls. Beneath it hung several torn images, barely discernable, of Vincent Kremer.

  Blood was pooled on the floor, smeared up onto the wall. The whole space smelled of old blood and sweet death.

  Then she smelled him... over all the scents filling the room, his pheromones still lingered. Sam felt her breath catch as she scanned the room closely, trying to see. Vincent... he’d been here, and not that long ago based on the strength of his scent. He might even still be here...

  “Dog fighting, Sidarski?” Martino glared at the sergeant. “What does that have to do with Karolyi?”

  “Uh, Lieu? You might want to take a look at this.” Ronne’s statement drew all their attention, and everyone turned toward the wall behind them. With her partner’s flashlight illuminating the surface, Sam could see exactly why Sidarski had insisted she be brought up here.

  The wall was covered with pictures of her... at work, outside her home, around the city... and in the center of it all were two photographs of her from the other night... beside the Ramble Arch... up against the wall... in the embrace of Vincent.

  14

  BEN LEWIS JOGGED UP out of the subway station, hefting his worn black messenger bag up on his shoulder before turning and heading up the street. Though it was decidedly chilly, it was nice to be able to enjoy the short walk to work again. Winter had been harsh, bitterly cold with bouts of snow that would have been nothing for a Midwestern town, but were crippling for a city like New York. Several mornings, Ben had to battle through the crowds of people exiting the subway, many of them forced to ride in the already-overcrowded cars because the buses and taxis were snowed in. He’d missed getting his train twice and was late to his night shift at work at least half a dozen times. He was ordinarily a stickler for being early, though, so his supervisors had been more than forgiving of lateness.