by S. J. Harper
Thanks to Kallistos.
I feel a hitch in my chest. Alan is alive. I take a breath. “I’m so glad Isabella is home safe and sound. Take care of each other.”
“We will. Thank you. For everything.”
We say good-bye and disconnect. I look up at Zack. His mouth is pressed in a thin, hard line. “What’s wrong? Alan is home and evidently none the worse for wear. Michael doesn’t even remember how sick he was. I’d say that’s some good news at least.”
“Kallistos surprised me.” His tone is grudging. “I’m not easily surprised.”
“Or often wrong?”
“I didn’t say that,” Zack says. “Amy will be home shortly. In fact, she could already be there. Are you sure Dexter’s all right?”
“Better than all right. He’ll get a surprise at his next checkup. Kallistos cured him. I’m certain of it.”
“Be careful.” Zack’s expression hardens. “Don’t make Kallistos out to be a hero. He still blew up a building, almost killed that security guard, and endangered God knows how many others.” He passes a hand over his face, a gesture of resignation and weariness. “Enough about him. We’ve got a shitload of paperwork and Johnson waiting for us at headquarters.”
He reaches into his pocket for his car keys. When he pulls them out, the talisman falls to the floor.
“Still want to get it checked out?”
He sticks it back into his pocket. “With you as my partner, I’d better.”
I smile. “I’ll give you Liz’s number.”
• • •
Johnson is waiting for us when we get back to headquarters. He motions us into his office. He has a grin on his face and a note in his hand. “Message from the DA. Bernadette Haskell called him to say Amy Patterson is home. She’ll hold a press conference tomorrow in New York explaining her absence and apologizing for causing so much worry. Looks like case closed.”
Zack and I exchange looks. Johnson thinks the case is over.
He closes the door, then crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Now, what the hell were you doing in that building downtown?”
Or maybe not.
“We uncovered something unexpected there,” Zack begins. “It’s big.”
Johnson motions for us to take seats. He walks around his desk and does the same. “I’m listening.”
“A direct link between Dr. Barbara Pierce and the murder of several homeless people used as donors in a black market cash-for-organs scheme,” Zack explains, taking the lead. “She confessed it all to us before setting off the blast and committing suicide.”
Johnson holds up a hand. “Stop. You’re telling me this Dr. Pierce died in the lab that blew up today?”
I nod. “Yes. That’s where she’d been doing the transplants.”
“Why confess and then destroy all of the evidence?” he asks.
Zack blows out a breath. “She wasn’t doing the transplants voluntarily. She was being blackmailed. And she wasn’t the only one. These operations were far too complicated for her to do alone. There were other medical personnel, not to mention organ recipients who had no idea they were involved in anything illegal—some of them children. She was trying, in her own way, to minimize the damage.”
“Christ.” Johnson leans back in his chair and waves encouragement. “Let’s hear all of it.”
Zack relays the story—the concocted story. How, while we were following up on a lead for the Patterson case last night, Dr. Pierce approached us. She was nervous, seemed off. She knew we were from the FBI and insisted we come to her office today, that she had something important to tell us, to give to us. How when we tracked her down this morning she was waiting for us. Said she was tired of the deception. Ashamed of what she’d done. Couldn’t live with the guilt. How she took her own life and very nearly took ours.
Finally he pauses.
Johnson shakes his head. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”
“That wasn’t her intention,” I say. “She wanted to give us this.” I hand him the spreadsheet. “She slipped it under the door to the lab after locking herself inside.”
He takes the sheet of paper in hand. “A list of the recipients and donors?”
Zack leans forward. “More than that, sir. She also gave us a name, Davis Mager. The man supplying the organs. My guess is that Mager is just the beginning, a small cog in a very large illegal transplant scheme.”
“A donated organ always reflects the DNA of the donor,” I add. “Pierce said most of Mager’s ‘donors’ were homeless. Forensics should be able to match up the transplanted organs to that string of missing homeless cases Garner’s been working on.”
“Right,” Zack agrees, then connects the last dot. “Garner builds a case against Mager for the string of murders and exposes them as being part of a large operation that stretches who knows how far.”
Johnson jumps up and makes a beeline for the door. “Garner?” he shouts.
“Yes, sir?”
“Get your ass in here. Armstrong and Monroe are about to make your day.”
• • •
It’s three hours before the paperwork is complete and we’ve finished briefing Johnson and Garner, who was more than happy to take over the investigation. A BOLO is issued for Davis Mager. Turns out he has a vast and colorful criminal record. The only thing Zack and I fear is that the weasel might try to cut himself a deal to get out of doing significant time. On the other hand, if he manages to elude the law, he certainly won’t elude Kallistos.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” Zack asks once Johnson’s dismissed us.
I nod, gathering my bag and jacket. “Hell of a first case, huh?”
Zack smiles but doesn’t say anything until we’re outside and approaching his car. Then he reaches out. The back of his hand barely brushes mine, a feather touch. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours. I could use a walk on the beach.” I climb inside and rest my head back on the seat. “But let’s swing by Evan’s first, so I can get my car.”
He pulls out of the office parking lot and heads for the freeway. I close my eyes. I know Barbara Pierce’s death was justified. Thanks to her notes, Davis Mager will be made to answer for his crimes, too. And a dozen cold cases solved. But all the same, I don’t have the feeling of satisfaction I usually have at the end of a case. We’ve saved four kidnap victims whose stories will never be told. We lost two vampires whose names we never knew. Someone may be searching for them, too. And then there are the patients whose lives were saved by Pierce. Others, like Mager’s daughter and Michael Dexter, were likely unsuspecting and as much victims of Mager and Pierce as the homeless who lost their lives.
I glance over at Zack. His expression is once again calm, composed. He’s a good partner. This was a bad case.
“Sorry you transferred?” I ask.
A smile tips the corners of his mouth. “Are you kidding? How could I be sorry? What kind of man would pass up the opportunity to work with a real honest-to-God Siren?”
I turn away from him and stare out the side window. His attempt to bring some levity to the situation just makes my heart heavier. When he reaches over to take my hand, my stomach knots, my heart wrenches.
What the hell am I doing? Why did I suggest going to his house?
Zack and I both know we aren’t going there just to walk on the beach.
Liz’s face is stark and rigid in my head. Disapproving. Her words of warning and wisdom ring in my ear. I know she means well. I know she’s right. I know that if I really, truly care for Zack, I need to protect him.
I need to end things with him.
Soon.
CHAPTER 24
I’d hoped the walk on the beach would clear my head, and for a while it does. Zack and I stroll in silence, watching the water, listening to the pounding of the surf. Our pace is leisurely. Clou
ds are beginning to roll in from the horizon. A stiff breeze batters the waves.
Explains why we have the beach to ourselves.
Still, I don’t complain. The chill in the air is a balm to my troubled spirit.
My head is spinning. There’s what to do about Zack, of course. But Sarah and Kallistos are also weighing on my mind.
Kallistos. I led him to Alan. He read me during that kiss, when I thought I was reading him. I’m sure of it now. It’s the only explanation I can think of. The memory of his kiss lingers in my head. I keep replaying it over and over, trying to pinpoint the moment of my monumental failure. I’ve grown too out of touch with the supernatural community. I’m out of practice. It would be wise to reacquaint myself with those in control as well as their politics. There is a certain amount of safety in anonymity, but knowledge is power, and the lack of it I possessed today about Kallistos Kouros has cost others and me. I can’t let him take me by surprise again. I need to find out all I can about Kallistos, and I know where I’m going to start.
Liz.
Then there’s Sarah. Did she and Zack really sleep together the other night? Does it matter? Either way, I know I should tell him she confronted me. Why am I so hesitant? Because part of me is afraid. Not for myself, for Zack. I know about werewolves and pack dynamics. Politics and power in their community, unlike that of the vampires, is constantly shifting. Some pack leaders rule with an iron fist and they can be brutal in their dealings with those over whom they have authority. I don’t know if Zack’s told me everything about why he left South Carolina. I don’t know if his going back would place him in danger. I do know the way he feels about me would. It could be Sarah isn’t all that bad. Perhaps she’d even be good for Zack, make him happy. Maybe if she was to stick around, and I was out of the picture, whatever they had could be rekindled.
Zack’s arm is suddenly draped over my shoulders. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“I’m thinking maybe it’s time we start back?” Not true, but safe.
His grip tightens. “Are you cold? You can have my jacket.”
I shake my head. “No. Just a little tired. The events of the week are catching up to me.”
“How’s the headache?”
“Better. I think the fresh air did the trick.”
We swing around and retrace our footsteps, still outlined in the damp sand.
“Do you think our version of what happened is going to hold?” I ask after a moment.
“Yes.”
I give his arm a playful swat. “You spin a pretty convincing tale.”
He shrugs. “Well, Amy’s home, so that case is closed. And we just handed Garner the evidence to close the case that everyone will be talking about tomorrow. We stick to the story. Mager will go down and pay for the crimes he’s committed.” He gives me a sideways glance. “How are you at lying?”
I grin. “I’m betting not as good as you!”
“We’ll practice.”
Then another troublesome thought occurs to me. I’ve seen thrall wear off on occasion. “What happens if Alan starts to remember what really happened? It’s going to be a shock when his mother’s body is discovered in that burned-out clinic and the story hits the papers. How do you think Kallistos will react then? I want to believe that Alan’s safe and that no more humans will be hurt. I want to believe it’s over, but maybe it’s not.”
Zack squeezes my shoulders. “You’re worrying too much. Kallistos is ancient. He’s a king. His thrall will hold.”
“Maybe he had one of his henchmen do it.”
Zack shakes his head. “A vampire as old as he is has to be an expert at tying off loose ends. He left the note for you in Alan’s office, so we know he was there. No. He wouldn’t have left the task to anyone else. He knows Alan poses a threat. He would have tied off that loose end himself, too.”
I feel a shudder pass through my body. Zack has nailed it. That’s what Alan would be to Kallistos, nothing but a loose end.
Zack feels the tremor. “There’s something else on your mind. What is it?”
I hesitate a moment before answering, “I’m thinking about how all this will affect the organ recipients on Pierce’s log. Do you think they’ll escape prosecution?”
“Don’t know,” Zack replies with a shrug. “My guess is they’ll cooperate. Mager will go down. He’s a three-time loser. One more conviction and he’ll be put away for life.”
I let my head rest on Zack’s shoulder as we walk. “I hope so. I’d hate to see someone in Michael’s situation dragged through the media and punished. If we’d arrive just a few hours later, his name would have been on that list.”
I think of all the people—friends—I lost before organ transplants were available. I shake my head. “It’s not so black-and-white to me. If you were dying, or a friend was dying, and someone came to you with the way to save him, wouldn’t you take it? Regardless of whether it was breaking the law?”
Zack’s arm tightens around my shoulder. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling I know what your answer would be.”
To my relief, his tone is neither judgmental nor condescending.
He stops and draws me into his arms. “Let’s stop talking about work and start thinking about something much more pleasant.”
I smile up at him. “And what would that be?”
He’s leaning down, his lips now a whisper away. “This.”
And then we’re kissing and all misgivings about Kallistos and Alan and Sarah and the complications of the case are chased from my mind. Right now there’s only Zack.
Our case is closed. And for the moment, being in his arms feels wonderful. I try to focus on the sensation and block out everything else.
Tomorrow will be a new day. With it will come a new case.
But I don’t want to think about what’s to come tomorrow. I’m tired of sacrificing my present because of my past.
Right now I just want to live. And I can. At least for one night.
Tonight will be about Zack and me.
Tomorrow will come soon enough.
CHAPTER 25
I really need to have a talk with Zack about leaving his door unlocked. Maybe it’s still safe to do on the beach in South Carolina. It most definitely isn’t in San Diego. Especially with Stalker Sarah around. I close and lock the door before setting the brown paper bag filled to the brim with cartons of Thai food on his countertop.
After our short walk on the beach, I was starving. Zack, however, was a ball of pent-up energy. So I suggested he go for a run while I foraged for food. The ease with which the domestic simplicity of our arrangement fell into place is bittersweet. I know our arrangement is neither simple nor secure. While I should be thinking with my head, the heart wants what the heart wants. And I’m tired of being denied. So very tired.
My cell phone chimes. There’s a new text message from an unknown number: Dinner tonight? K.
K? Kallistos? How the hell did he get my number?
Of course, Liz.
The shower is running overhead. My eyes drift to the ceiling.
The phone chimes again. Another message: I’ll make it worth your while.
This has to be Liz’s doing. Probably with the best of intentions. I know what I might be interrupting, but I dial anyway.
“You gave him my number?”
“Who?” Liz’s breathless voice and a groan from Evan in the background confirm my suspicions.
Too bad. “Kallistos! He’s texting me.”
“That’s why you called me?”
“How could you give him my number?” I ask.
“It was for your own good,” Liz replies. “You know my views on rebound sex. Nothing heals a broken heart faster.”
“My heart is not broken.”
“Yet.”
“Call him off, Liz. I mean it.
”
“You’ve met Kallistos. I couldn’t call him off if I wanted to. He gets what he goes after.”
“Not this time.” I disconnect before she has a chance to argue. Immediately my cell phone rings and the call indicator shows it’s Liz. I power off the phone and try to push my anger aside. I understand what Liz is trying to do. But no one ever really knows what the future will hold. This curse may seem eternal, but it’s not. It can’t be. Someday, it will be lifted. Zack and I may not have a promising future. But we are here. This minute. Together.
And right now Zack is still in the shower.
Suddenly I’m no longer feeling hungry. What I’m feeling is very, very dirty.
I pop the cartons of food in a warming oven and race up the stairs to join him.
The bathroom door is cracked open. Steam from the shower billows out into the bedroom, warm, wet, and inviting. The familiar scent of citrus and spice that I’m beginning to associate with Zack hangs in the air. I want to wrap myself in it, drown in it, drown in him. And for the next few hours, I will.
I push the door open with my arm and step inside. He must have heard me coming. He’s waiting for me.
“Took you long enough to get up here.”
He’s inside the shower stall, heat rising around him. His hair is slicked straight back. His hands grip the top of the glass door, making his biceps bulge. He’s hard and ready.
I let my eyes drift over his body, appreciating every spectacular inch. “Been thinking about me?” I ask him.
He glances down at his erection. “Can’t seem to stop.”
“Food’s in the oven,” I tell him, moving closer until only the glass separates us.
“It’s not food I’m hungry for at the moment.”
I see the predator in his eyes. His naked desire sends a chill up my spine.
“I’ve missed you,” he says.
The confession makes me smile. “We practically spent the entire day together.”
“Wearing far too many clothes.”
Before our walk on the beach, I’d stopped by the house to exchange my work clothes for something more comfortable, a white peasant blouse, my most comfortable blue jeans, and a pair of brown leather sandals.
