The Day of First Sun (Annie Loves Cham Book 1)

by Sheryl Steines

  “How in the world did that get inside the bar?” the doctor asked as though it were even plausible. The medical examiner secured the victim inside the body bag.

  “I guess that’s the question.”

  “If there’s nothing else, I have another body to attend to.”

  Annie loitered beside the ambulance, waiting until the medical examiner became entrenched in the crowd and grabbed the notes, which were clearly written in a doctor’s handwriting.

  The observations scrawled haphazardly across the paper illustrated a disconnect between the evidence and a plausible explanation. The doctor’s guesses wound around in circles never becoming clear or correct which Annie didn’t blame on the doctor. She wouldn’t know. The preliminary comments revealed nothing to Annie except the estimated time of death. She expected nothing less. Suddenly, she heard hard-soled shoes clicking against the cement. Great. She was caught in the act.

  “Excuse me. What are you doing?” a man asked. Annie’s adrenaline pumped; her heart beat in her ears. Dropping the folder, she turned to see the interviewer with salt-and-pepper hair and the dark suit.

  “I’m just reviewing the medical examiner’s notes.” The suit looked at her dubiously and eyed her up and down, leaving Annie feeling exposed.

  “Who are you? We didn’t ask for additional backup.”

  Annie’s identification was still warm from her exchange with the medical examiner, but she pulled it out. He doesn’t believe me. She tapped her foot anxiously while the agent examined the picture encased in plastic.

  “Okay, Detective Anne Elizabeth Pearce. Again, what are you doing here?”

  “Annie, please. And now that you know my name, mind telling me yours?” Even though she made her smile warm and welcoming, it did little to unclench his square jaw. Even when speaking, his jaw appeared tight. It must hurt, she thought.

  “Special Agent Jack Ramsey. Now tell me what you’re doing here.”

  I wish I could.

  Instantly, Annie regretted her decision to enter the crime scene; she was no longer inconspicuous, making her vulnerable to her secret getting out.

  “I believe we’re after the same murderer.”

  The agent attempted to hide his surprise. “So who killed them?”

  It’s a vampire, you moron! “It’s not that simple.”

  “Either you know or you don’t. Either way you’re tampering with my evidence. I should arrest you.”

  Annie had worked with the Chicago Police Department in the past and often used the connection to walk in and out of questionable crime scenes without being noticed as anything other than a police officer. Being threatened with arrest was a first.

  “You won’t. Because I know what killed them. You and your team have no idea what you just walked into.”

  “And you do? Why… what do you mean what killed them?”

  His suspicion was growing, drawing his already deep frown deeper. He fondled the handle of his gun.

  Annie tensed. If he pulls it out I’ll summon it from him. If… Annie clamped her fists in resolve as Special Agent Jack Ramsey confidently unlatched his holster. She reevaluated her situation. Getting into the morgue was her most important goal.

  “Let me into the morgue at midnight, alone with the bodies, and I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

  Dropping his hand from his gun, Jack laughed a hardy, almost hysterical laugh at her request. Finally, he controlled his outburst. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because we’re tracking the same killer, but only I can find it.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me who killed them?”

  “Just get me into the morgue at midnight, and I’ll explain everything.”

  *

  Rebekah Stoner, television journalist from Channel 5 news, finished the FBI briefing and returned to her television crew that had set up their workspace in the permitted area across the street. They, like the other crews, were corralled a safe distance away from the crime scene and busied themselves reading email, texting, or checking their equipment.

  With an hour to go, her excitement grew. This time, her story would be the lead and not a crappy one buried between weather and sports. Rebekah reached into a cooler for a can of pop and her morning dose of caffeine.

  The morning events seemed nothing more than normal. That said, the intense exchange between the FBI agent and the police officer appeared odd; Rebekah wondered if anyone else noticed it. It intrigued her so much that she jumped up and followed the officer leaving the crime scene.

  “Excuse me,” Rebekah called out. The officer faced her. Not overly made up, with frizzy hair and wearing T-shirt and jeans, the police woman was still lovely. A gust of wind blew toward them from the lake.

  “Hi. Did you need something?”

  “I’m Rebekah Stoner with Channel 5 News. I saw you working in the crime scene. Is there any new information we should know about?”

  “Sorry. There’s nothing new.”

  As the cop turned away, Rebekah grabbed her wrist. The officer glared at the journalist before pulling her arm away.

  “Listen. I’m a detective. I make observations. There’s nothing new. Besides, it’s only been a few hours.”

  “I saw you with the special agent. What did you argue about?”

  “Ms. Stoner, you know I can’t answer that. It’s not my case. I’m sorry.” The cop walked confidently down the street and turned the corner.

  Rebekah returned to her seat twenty minutes before her report. Adrenaline pumped as her team prepped her for the air, fixing her hair and lipstick, wiping the moisture from her eyes.

  The final ambulance pulled away from the scene, and the traffic barricades were removed just in time for the start of rush hour traffic. “Ten minutes, Rebekah.”

  Chapter 2

  Annie plopped herself on the chair. Not an office chair; rather, the kind with large, thick cushions you’d find in a home den. With so much time spent at work, it might as well be comfortable, so she had stuffed two chairs into the tiny cubicle.

  A headache formed at her temples, no doubt caused by both a lack of sleep and food. Too tired to forage in the cafeteria and too exhausted to summon something, Annie curled into a ball and closed her eyes. Restless still, she shifted uncomfortably as images from the crime scene assaulted her, flashing from one to another in quick succession as if she were switching the television channel with a remote control.

  Since it was still early, only a handful of employees sat in their cubicles, starting their workday. Somewhere near, a printer whirled.

  Finally, ignoring the fatigue and hunger, Annie grabbed a pad of paper to take down notes fresh in her memory, but she only got as far as staring at the blank page and fiddling with a pen. It twirled through her fingers as the smells of death wafted to her memory, the sight of dark maroon blood, and the sound of footsteps as they clacked against the cement became clearer to her. She scribbled down some notes.

  Why was the FBI there? Investigating one of the victims? How do we get rid of them?

  Agents Interview – Crime Scene Investigators Collect Evidence – Jack Ramsey, Special Agent.

  Vampire tracks

  Two victims

  One Vampire?

  Medical examiner believes it was a BBQ fork (LOL)

  Believes it was sex gone wrong

  “Well?”

  Annie glanced up as Milo shuffled to her desk and sat his thick, short frame in the desk chair. Her boss fiddled with the height of the chair; the seat squeaked as it rose until he looked down on her.

  “Vampire attack,” Annie replied, dejected.

  Milo shifted uncomfortably in the seat, which was made to fit Annie’s petite frame. It creaked under his weight. “I knew that. What are the guys in suits doing there?” Although Milo was normally short tempered and sarcastic, there was something different in his tone. Not just patronizing, but something else.

  He’s worried.

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t just ask
them.”

  Milo’s pudgy face and neck grew red. “What did you do, sit on your ass all morning?”

  The chaotic crime scene flashed in Annie’s memory. The lack of options weighed heavily on her. Too many people worked that crime scene. The FBI agent, the medical examiner, the journalist all saw her there and all questioned her reason for being there. Annie sat on her hands to prevent herself from casting a spell in Milo’s direction. If anything, it would release the stress or get her fired. Milo glared while waiting for her answer.

  “I’m going to the morgue tonight. If the guy in the suit lets me in, I’ll ask him.”

  Milo’s short, stubby fingers drummed on her desk blotter, leaving prints. They picked up speed, probably while Milo thought of a new insult to hurl at her.

  “You were supposed to stop the risk of exposure!” Milo’s anger was palpable, and his voice reverberated through her. Annie’s own rage rose like bile, catching in her throat.

  “What did you want us to do? Test the bodies in front of the FBI and CPD? Steal them from the crime scene? Maybe shrink them and stuff them in my field pack?”

  He pounded a fist against the desk. The picture of Annie with Cham and their best friends, Janie and Dave, bounced and fell over. “Don’t be a smartass. I told you to take care of it!” His fat finger pointed at her with each word. Annie leaned against the desk.

  “It’s a federal crime scene. Tell me how I should have handled it.”

  His brow crinkled in anger, creating one long hairy eyebrow—as if that glare intimidated her. But his lip trembled. Without a retort, Milo hauled himself up from the chair and left.

  “What was that about?” Cham walked into the room and took the seat next to her.

  “We didn’t take care of it.”

  “It was a…”

  Annie held up her hand, stopping him. “I said that. It’ll be over tonight with minimal exposure—well, except for the FBI guy.”

  Annie paced her cubicle in two long strides, turned, and cleared the space again while thinking of Milo, his anger, their mistakes.

  “No one will believe him. That usually keeps nonmagicals quiet,” Cham reassured her. “By the way, I saw Bucky Hart and got this.” He handed her a brand new manila folder, crisp and clean with the words “FBI Crime Scene” scrawled on the tab.

  Annie smiled. “Fabulous! Did it cause him any trouble?”

  “I think Bucky’s got the hacking thing down. I didn’t see much in there, though.”

  The nearly empty file confirmed what Annie expected. The investigation was only in its beginnings. “No. Not yet,” Annie reiterated. “They haven’t taken blood yet. That’ll blow them away.”

  “In a “we’ve been exposed” kinda way.” Cham responded.

  “Thanks. I didn’t really need to have that in my head.”

  “I can go with you.”

  “As much as I want you there, I don’t want to overwhelm the poor man. If they turn, it might give his neatly suited world a jolt—or, worse, a heart attack.” Annie was joking, but on the inside, her stomach churned at the thought of vampires in the Chicago city morgue.

  *

  A police scanner blared in the basement of Wizard Hall, where the communication center was housed. Garbled voices exchanged reports about crimes ranging from burglary to murder, yet Max White ignored the scanner and played games on his cell phone.

  Occasionally phone calls came in from wizards and witches reporting runaway magic, cursed objects or vampire attacks, the latter happening at an alarming rate this summer. But in the last hour, the phone didn’t ring, and Max scored high on his game.

  At two in the morning, a vampire report came into the communication center from a frantic club attendee. Music blared, the base pounding so strongly that Max could almost feel it through the phone. Just below that, people screamed in confusion. “Repeat that please,” Max asked as he took the message. As always, he notified Graham Lightner, the manager of the VAU.

  As typically happened with any vampire attack, the unit left to clean the scene, and the intake officer returned to his game. Within ten minutes, the police scanner lit up with a 110, code for a double murder.

  After defeating the game, Max adjusted the scanner, turning the volume up and strengthening the signal. In rapid succession, the 911 call center maneuvered police and ambulance units to various crime scenes and emergency situations: Clark Street, Division Street, Rush Street, Ogden Avenue…

  “Oh shit!” Max cried. He dialed Milo Rawley immediately.

  Max’s call set in motion a chain reaction that Milo couldn’t ignore. His wrath began with Max and extended to Graham Lightner; both were equally assigned the blame.

  Over in Annie’s office, Graham sat down in a club chair across from her, feeling shaky and nauseous. Worry ate away at the pit of his stomach. He hated when things went wrong.

  “Can I get you something for that headache?” Annie asked.

  Graham’s lips pursed together as if holding in vomit. “I’m sorry, Annie. We screwed up.” He stroked his black-and-white stubble with a calloused hand. It sounded like sandpaper across wood. Acutely aware that the wizard guard was watching him, Graham closed his eyes, blocking Annie’s stare and the fluorescent lights, both of which only worsened his growing headache.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I mean, we didn’t exactly fix it either.”

  Milo must be mad at her too. “So we’ll both be in Tartarus together.”

  Annie laughed at the joke, easing the tension for the time being. Graham joined in. The laugh lasted longer than he felt appropriate, but now he could look at her without feeling nauseated.

  “You can go first. I’m cleaning up your mess.”

  “Fair enough. Ask your questions.”

  “Really, I just need to know the timeline so when I deal with the guys in the suits I know what I’m talking about. Or at least I can fake it.”

  “Well Max called me at 2 a.m. I had just finished another vampire attack. The call seemed nothing out of the ordinary. We got there and found the FBI combing the scene.”

  Annie twirled the pen through her fingers in between taking notes. Graham shifted forward trying to read them.

  “The medical examiner noted that the estimated time of death was between 12 and 2 a.m.,” Annie shifted the folder towards him.

  Graham pulled out a well-worn notebook and perused his most recent notes. “That makes sense. We were called at two; I figure the death occurred at 1:45 a.m.–ish.” He tossed his notebook across the desk, granting Annie permission to read his diary. She stared at the small pad cautiously before thumbing through his notes.

  “So what happened when you got there?” she asked. “I see it was about 2:10 a.m.”

  “We teleported about a block away and scrambled to figure out what the hell was going on, who ran the scene and how many bodies. Max called us to warn us, but… you know. We called Milo after that.” Graham crossed his arms against his chest defensively.

  “Why do you think they got there so fast?”

  The VAU had asked that question all morning, but Graham still had no answers. “I don’t know. You have any thoughts?”

  Annie explained their coincidence theory, the thought that perhaps the FBI just happened to be at the crime scene on another case. Graham’s arms dropped to his lap, and his face relaxed.

  “So if they were already there, it’s not our fault. I knew it. We never screw up!” Relief sprang across his face with a wide grin.

  “I never thought you did.”

  “Well, others did.”

  “Well, others are pissed about a lot of things. I’ll be fixing my mistake tonight at the morgue.”

  “You’re taking care of the bodies?”

  “Yeah. I think I can handle two vampires—that is, if they turned. Can you and the team meet me there at midnight?”

  “Yeah. If they’ve turned, the bodies will be missing. Maybe I’ll bring some extras we just collected today and glamour them
.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, that’s our problem. We’ll take care of it.”

  “You always do.”

  Satisfied, Graham Lightner jumped out of his chair, saluted her, and strolled from the cubicle with a bounce in his step.

  *

  Following the advice of Bucky Hart, the resident computer guru for the Wizard Guard, Annie slid her car into the parking garage attached to the Cook County Morgue. The only other car, a black, four-door sedan, sat a few rows down.

  That better be Special Agent Jack Ramsey.

  Annie slammed the door to her 1966 Mustang, the last gift her father ever gave her before he died, and followed the path Bucky drew out for her, leading her into a large elevator. Pushing the “B” button, she stood back as the clunky contraption slowly pulled her underground, squeaking, clanking, and shaking until it actually threw her forward. After regaining balance, Annie held the handrail until the elevator came to a screeching stop. The doors sputtered open, and she stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

  The heavy elevator doors shut with a loud bang. Annie jumped. Taking one last look at her only exit, she turned left and headed to the morgue. Her boots clicked against the cement floors, echoing loudly in the silence. In that moment, it occurred to her just how serious getting caught breaking into a government building would be.

  Jack better be here.

  Gray light cast oddly shaped shadows on the wall. Even her own shadow unnerved Annie as it tailed her down the unfamiliar hallway.

  Annie stopped at an intersecting hallway, listening for other people. Water pinged against metal pipes, an air conditioner motor clanked and sparked to life, and the squeak of tiny nails against the linoleum pattered down the hallway. Annie squirmed at the thought of mice roaming the hallways. When she was sure that no one inhabited the basement, she continued down the hall and turned right at the end, finally stopping in the waiting area.

  The dim light revealed a waiting area or sorts with three chairs on each wall. To her left was a pair of double doors leading to the morgue. And next to the doors a large window; the morgue dark and empty.

  Agent Ramsey blew me off!

  Whether he came tonight or not, the bodies needed to be dealt with. Annie took out her phone and began to dial Graham, but stopped and pocketed it instead.