The Vampire and the Virgin las-8

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  “Did he have a fully functional brain?”

  She shot J.L. an annoyed look. “Yes.”

  “I’m just saying it would take a moron to let someone like you get away.”

  “Well, that’s kind of you, but I’m getting worried about all the dead ends I keep running into. It’s not normal.” She frowned at her notes. What if he’d lied about his name? What if he’d lied about everything?

  “Yeah, this is weird.” J.L. drummed his fingers on the partition. “With all the information we have at our disposal, you should be able to trace him. A person would have to purposely work at not showing up anywhere.”

  She swallowed hard. What kind of person had no past? In this day and age, it was virtually impossible to erase every trace of yourself. “Do you think he’s into covert operations?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he gave you a false name.” J.L. held up a hand. “I take that back. You would have caught him if he’d lied.”

  She winced. “That’s the problem. I couldn’t read him. My grandmother couldn’t, either, and that’s never happened before.”

  “Never? Shit. He could have been lying about a lot of things. Maybe he’s had special training in deception.”

  Her chest tightened. “Then you think he’s the one helping Otis to harass me?”

  J.L. regarded her sadly. “I think we need to get to the bottom of this. I can’t sense emotions like you, but even I can tell this is causing you a lot of pain.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath. “I need to know the truth.” She needed to know if Robby had been sincere. He’d said he was falling in love with her. He’d made love to her so sweetly. It had to have been real. It was just too awful to think otherwise.

  “You want him to be innocent, don’t you?” J.L. whispered.

  She nodded. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them away.

  “Okay, let’s assume he is innocent. If he didn’t send the apples—”

  “Then someone else did,” Olivia finished his sentence.

  “Who knew you were going to Patmos?” J.L. asked.

  “My family. You.”

  He affected a shocked look. “I’m innocent, I swear. I’ve been a good boy my entire life.”

  She scoffed. “I’m detecting a little deception.”

  “Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have robbed that bank.”

  She grinned. J.L., bless him, always had a way of cheering her up.

  “And I shouldn’t have kicked Mickey Mouse in the balls at Disney World.”

  She sat back. “You’re telling the truth now.”

  “Damn, you’re good.”

  “Why did you kick Mickey?”

  J.L. shrugged. “I was only three years old. Imagine the horror of meeting a smiling rodent that’s bigger than you. Besides, I think he wanted my ice cream.”

  She laughed.

  “Who else knew where you were going?” J.L. asked.

  “A few people around here.” Her smile faded, and she exchanged a worried look with him.

  J.L. glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice. “What did Barker tell you?”

  “He agreed that Otis could have an accomplice, but he ordered me to stay out of it. He told Harrison to look into it.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll see if he’s done.”

  They walked over to Harrison’s work area. In most ways, Frank Harrison appeared completely normal: average height, average weight, brown hair, hazel eyes. Olivia tended to agree with J.L’s assessment. Harrison acted like a jerk so he would stand out from the crowd.

  “Have you got a moment, Harrison?” she asked.

  He slanted an annoyed look her direction, then went back to studying his monitor. “I’m busy. In case you didn’t know, the Morehouse case is still open.”

  Olivia nodded. Tyson Morehouse was a postal worker suspected of embezzlement. He claimed to know nothing about the missing money, but Olivia had interviewed him the day before and knew better.

  “He was lying,” she said. “It was in my report.”

  Harrison snorted. “Like we needed your input. We already figured the guy’s guilty. Saunders is trailing him while I trace all his bank accounts.” He glanced at Olivia. “Why don’t you save us some time and use your weird-assed powers to locate the missing money?”

  “I’m not a psychic, Harrison.”

  “Oh. Too bad.” He went back to studying the monitor. “I thought all that paranormal crap was the same.”

  Olivia sensed anger about to boil over from J.L., so she gave him a warning look.

  He gritted his teeth. “Look, Harrison, we were wondering if you’d checked on the Otis Crump situation.”

  “Another waste of my time,” Harrison muttered as he scribbled some notes. “I went to Leavenworth last Friday and talked to the warden. He had a guard check the log-in book. The only visitors Crump has had in the last eight months is me and you, Sotiris.”

  “And his mail?” she asked.

  “It’s all checked, coming in and going out. Nothing about apples.” Harrison glanced at her, and she could feel his growing irritation. “You’ve got the wrong guy. Someone else is messing with you.”

  She frowned. Apples would have significance only to Otis. Or someone else who knew all the details about his case. Maybe an admirer? Some sick person who had studied Otis and wanted to harass the criminal’s enemies out of a twisted sense of loyalty? “I need a list of everyone who’s communicated with him.”

  A spurt of anger rolled off Harrison, and he glared at her. “Forget it, Sotiris. The case is over.”

  “It’s not over as long as Otis keeps sending me apples.”

  “So you’re getting some fruit,” Harrison growled. “So what? If you can’t take the heat, get out of the fucking kitchen.”

  “Hey,” J.L. protested. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “It’s none of your business, Jail,” Harrison replied, using his nickname for J.L.

  “Hold it, you two.” Olivia raised her hands. She returned Harrison’s glare. “I’m not calling the case closed, because you didn’t do a thorough job. Since you can’t be bothered, I’ll do it myself.”

  Harrison made a sound of disgust. “You’re freaking obsessed with the guy. You two deserve each other.”

  J.L. muttered something rather nasty-sounding in Chinese, but Olivia hushed him with a slight shake of her head. She focused on Harrison. “How many times have you seen Crump?”

  Harrison turned back to his monitor. “Just a few times. I hate seeing that asshole.”

  “When did you see him last?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  She stiffened.

  “Now buzz off and let me get back to work,” Harrison grated through clenched teeth.

  Olivia opened her mouth, but J.L. grabbed her arm and hauled her away.

  “Come on, Sotiris, you heard the man,” J.L. said loudly as he dragged her across the room. “Let him work.”

  “I wasn’t done,” she whispered. “He—”

  “Shh.” J.L. shot her a warning look and whispered back, “We need to activate the cone of silence.”

  “We don’t have a cone of silence.”

  “We’ll improvise.” He glanced around the open work area. “Go to Yasmine’s office. She’s out today. I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

  “Fine.” Olivia headed right, while J.L. veered left toward the hallway.

  She slipped inside Yasmine’s office and turned on the light. The supply closet was attached, so she could always claim she was getting paper clips or staples if anyone asked what she was doing there.

  She paced across the office, her heart racing as the severity of her new suspicions hit home. Why would Harrison lie about meeting Otis? What was he hiding? It seemed too far-fetched, too awful to imagine a special agent helping a criminal to harass her. But there was no mistaking the truth. Harrison had lied. And he’d tried to convince her that Otis wasn’t the one responsible for sending her apples. She knew that wasn’t true.
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  She continued to pace, her thoughts growing increasingly alarmed. She spotted the sweater she’d give Yasmine, neatly folded on a shelf. Thank God Yasmine had never told anyone about her meltdown in the restroom. She wondered where the office manager was, and stopped by her desk to check her calendar. A doctor’s appointment.

  The door opened, and J.L. strode inside with a bag of chips from the hallway vending machine. He locked the door. “Okay, let’s talk.”

  “Harrison was lying,” she whispered.

  “I know. Whenever you hear a lie, you get all stiff and prickly looking.”

  She stiffened. “I do?”

  “Yeah, just like that.” He opened the chips and the smell of nacho cheese filled the room. “So we’re thinking the same thing? Harrison’s the one sending you apples?”

  She winced. “It’s a terrible accusation to make. We can’t assume he’s guilty just because we don’t like him.”

  “Okay, emotions aside, let’s look at the facts.” J.L. removed a chip from the bag. “He lied to you. He knew where you were vacationing. He’s had opportunity—that’s contact with Otis. And he has motivation.” He popped the chip into his mouth.

  “What motivation? I know he doesn’t like me—”

  “It could be more. You’re the one who took Otis’s latest confessions. They might be trying to make you look unstable so no one will believe you.” J.L. offered her a chip.

  She shook her head and paced across the room. “Otis was already convicted before he met me. I don’t think making me look crazy will help his appeal.”

  J.L. bit into another chip. “What would help his appeal?”

  “He would have to appear innocent.” She halted in mid-step. “He could swear that an accomplice did the murders.”

  J.L. winced. “And you’ve been insisting that he has an accomplice.”

  “Because of the apples, yes. But if he can convince everyone there was an accomplice during the murders…” Olivia groaned. “He’s playing me. The bastard’s using me.”

  “It looks that way.” J.L. stuffed another chip into this mouth. “We need to be careful about this.”

  “We need proof.” Olivia pressed a hand to her stomach. Just the idea that a federal agent could ally himself with a serial killer—it was a nauseating thought.

  “I’ll check on Harrison,” J.L. offered. “Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet.”

  Olivia nodded. “I’ll step up my investigation on Robby.” She would contact MacKay S&I. If Robby MacKay was secretly sending the apples, she’d uncover it. She’d prove his innocence.

  And then she’d be free to love him.

  CHAPTER 13

  I don’t know why you have to take me,” Constantine grumbled.

  Robby didn’t know, either. Usually, Roman took his son, but for some reason he was unavailable tonight. Connor, too. Shanna had called Robby to the waiting room of her dental office at Romatech and informed him that Tino needed help getting to school. Then she’d hurried off to an examination room, leaving him alone with Tino.

  It had to be a conspiracy of some sort. Robby smiled to himself when he pictured Olivia calling him paranoid.

  Constantine puffed out his wee chest. “I could teleport myself.”

  “’Tis a long way to the school.” Robby wasn’t sure of its exact location since that was a heavily guarded secret, but he knew it had to be several hundred miles from Romatech. “’Twould be verra dangerous if ye got lost on the way.”

  Tino’s bottom lip jutted out. “I wish everyone would stop treating me like a baby. Sofia’s the baby. I’m almost three.”

  “Och. ’Tis a wonder ye havena cut yerself shaving.” Robby opened his cell phone and punched in the number Shanna had given him.

  “Dragon Nest Academy,” a female voice answered.

  She sounded vaguely familiar, but Robby dismissed that thought since he’d never been to the school before. “Just a minute.” He covered the phone with his hand and gave Tino a questioning look. “Dragon Nest? Is that the right place?”

  Tino nodded. “Mom named it that because our last name is Draganesti.” He hung his head and kicked at a chair leg. “But there aren’t any dragons there.”

  “What a shame.” Robby uncovered the phone. “Could ye keep talking a wee bit? I need yer voice to know where to teleport to.”

  “Sure. Are you bringing a student with you?”

  “Aye. Constantine.” Robby scooped the boy up in his arms. “Keep talking.” He would use the woman’s voice as a beacon to ensure he arrived at the right place. After this, the location of the school would be embedded in his psychic memory, and he’d no longer need a beacon.

  “Okay,” the woman said. “I’m Constantine’s teacher. I know he may seem a little young for kindergarten, but he’s doing very well. I only have three students in the class, so they get a lot of individual attention.”

  Robby materialized in a classroom with two short round tables encircled with little chairs. The shelves along the walls were neatly stacked with supplies. A little girl with long black hair sat at one of the tables, coloring a picture of a ball with the word written underneath. With a quick sniff, Robby could tell she was a shifter. Or she would be once puberty set in. He figured she was one of Carlos’s orphans from Brazil. A were-panther.

  Tino squirmed out of his arms and ran to the table to take a seat. “Hi, Coco.”

  The little girl grinned at him. “Hi, Tino.”

  Robby closed his cell phone and dropped it into his sporran.

  “Thank you for bringing Tino.” A pretty young woman with reddish-blond hair approached him with a shy smile.

  Bugger. His conspiracy theory had been correct. Shanna was playing matchmaker. His eyes narrowed. He’d met this woman before. He thought back. “Wolf Ridge?”

  Her smile widened. “You remember! I’m Sarah. Sarah Anderson.” She extended a hand.

  “Robby MacKay.” He shook her hand. “How are you?” The last time he’d met this woman, he’d used vampire mind control to help her regain some painful memories. She’d been one of the imprisoned girls at Apollo’s compound, and he’d helped Jack and Lara rescue them.

  “I’m okay.” She nodded her head slowly. “I love my job here. And I love the children.”

  “That’s good.” Robby shifted his weight. Apparently, Shanna thought he’d hit it off with this mortal lass.

  “I’ll be so happy when you guys finally defeat Casimir,” Sarah added.

  “Aye, ’twill be a good day.” Robby knew this lass had good reason to hate Casimir. The bastard had used vampire mind control to subdue her and rape her.

  Sarah stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Shanna told me what he did to you. I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded. Shanna must have figured he’d be attracted to Sarah since they’d both suffered under the hands of Casimir. They did have that in common, but it seemed like a miserably sad basis for a relationship. And the torture wasn’t something he wanted to be reminded of anymore. Olivia had shown him there was more. She’d brought joy and laughter back into his life.

  “Hey, Sarah! Everything okay?” A young man rushed into the classroom. From the alarmed look on his face, Robby guessed the young woman already had a serious admirer.

  “Oh, hi, Teddy.” Sarah gave him a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine. This is Robby MacKay. He brought Tino to school.”

  “I could have brought myself,” Tino grumbled.

  “I’m Teddy Brockman.” The young man shook hands with Robby. “The headmaster of Dragon Nest Academy.”

  “Teddy’s very supportive,” Sarah explained. “He comes by every night to make sure I have everything I need.”

  Robby nodded. “I’m sure he does.” He gave the young male mortal a pointed look. “Good luck to you.”

  Teddy’s eyes shifted to Sarah, then back to Robby. “Thanks.”

  A form wavered, then materialized. It was Jean-Luc Echarpe, holding his stepdaughter Bethany in his arms. He set her d
own, and she skipped over to the table to greet her classmates.

  “I need to get started now,” Sarah announced. She glanced at Robby with a smile. “It was nice to see you again.”

  “I’ll see you guys later.” Teddy waved at Robby and Jean-Luc and rushed out the door.

  Jean-Luc greeted Robby with a slap on the shoulder. “Mon ami, stay for a while. I’m teaching a fencing class in thirty minutes. You can help me warm up.”

  “Verra well.” Robby accompanied the Frenchman into the hallway. “I could use some practice.”

  Robby had been Jean-Luc’s bodyguard for years, first in Paris, and then in Texas. A few years ago he’d helped Jean-Luc defeat his archenemy, Lui. Since then, the job had become too routine and boring for Robby’s taste, so he’d requested a transfer.

  Jean-Luc was a master swordsman, and he could usually take care of himself, so Dougal Kincaid had been given the job as his new bodyguard. Dougal had lost his right hand in a battle in New Orleans.

  “How is Dougal?” Robby asked.

  “He’s doing well. He’s learning to fence left-handed.” Jean-Luc led Robby to a wide staircase with ornately carved wooden balusters.

  As far as Robby could tell, the school was housed in an old mansion. The wooden steps creaked under their feet. “I heard ye and Heather are having twins.”

  Jean-Luc laughed. “C’est incroyable, non? Me, a father?”

  Robby shrugged one shoulder. “I think ye’ll be a great father. Ye’re certainly verra good with Bethany.”

  “Merci, mon ami.” Jean-Luc paused when they reached the landing. “So when is Jack’s wedding?”

  “April.” Robby grimaced. “I’m the best man.”

  Jean-Luc’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You don’t look very happy about it.”

  Robby stifled a groan. “It just seems like everyone is getting married.” Everyone but me.

  Jean-Luc nodded and headed down the stairs. “There’s a rumor going about that you’re lovesick.”

  “Bugger. People should mind their own business.”

  Jean-Luc smiled. “We’re not people, mon ami. We’re family.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs. The ground floor, Robby guessed. The foyer was grand, with a black and white marble floor laid out in checkerboard fashion. A huge wrought-iron chandelier hung from the ceiling three stories up. The front entrance consisted of two heavily carved wooden doors with a Gothic arch.