“Nothing really to report,” Agent Wolfe answers. “We found traces of powder, which seems to be very dead skin on some of his clothes. Besides that … ” He shrugs.
“I did, however,” Irie says, “confirm that Walter Wayland was on a flight to Sacramento last week and checked into a hotel there, which he has not checked out of. He doesn’t have a cell phone with GPS-tracking capabilities, but I’ve left a message. His credit card was last used there yesterday at a neighboring gas station. Nothing since.”
“Excellent. Finish up in here. Conference in five minutes.” He’s out the door before he even finishes the sentence. When I step out, he’s across the hall, already on the keypad.
“Do I get the code for these?” I ask.
The door opens. “Of course. 93010 for medical, 93011 for conference, and 93012 for the lab.”
“Got it, thanks.” We step into medical.
Okay, he probably should have shown me this room before I ate lunch. The first thing I see is a person in full blue medical scrubs complete with face mask and goggles carrying a gray human brain across the room and placing it into a very bloody scale. Up comes lunch. My gagging makes everyone turn to me.
“Are you all right?” the brain carrier, Dr. Neill, asks.
“I’m fine,” I say swallowing down my French fries. Again.
“Okay. Brain, five point eight pounds,” she tells her assistant, Carl, who jots it down. The brain comes out of the scale and back over to its body, which is thankfully covered.
“You’re almost done?” Will asks. His nose is twitching like mad. Samantha from Bewitched would be put to shame. I smell faint blood but heavy antiseptic more, thankfully.
“Almost,” Dr. Neill answers. “I wasn’t left very much to work with. Lungs, stomach, intestines all partially missing, as are a few limbs. You only found the left arm?”
“Yes, in a cemetery.”
“Then I agree with your preliminary assessment of zombies. I found human bite marks from at least three different people, but no saliva.”
“Good job. Finish up, conference in five minutes. I’m going to show Agent Alexander around, if you don’t mind.”
“Be my guest. I can finish after the meeting. Carl?” Carl and the doc take off their coveralls and bloody gloves, Carl replacing his with his black ones before walking out of the room.
The medical room is about three times bigger than the lab and a whole lot chillier. Probably to keep the bodies from decomposing. Davis Wynn’s corpse lies on a folding metal table attached to the wall. Next to him is a tray full of scary looking instruments like bone saws and scalpels, all covered in blood. Along the walls are glass cabinets filled with gauze, ointments, and bottles of pills. One of those machines that shock people with paddles sits in the corner next to a refrigerator. The only wall not covered with anything features another metal door, from which the chill originates.
“It’s like a traveling doctor’s office,” I say.
“Exactly. Since some of us can’t go to the hospital without being exposed, we bring the hospital with us. We have blood, plasma, antibiotics, splints, everything.”
“What’s in there?” I ask, pointing to the metal door.
“That’s the freezer where we keep the body until the autopsy. It also doubles as a holding cell. Two inches of reinforced steel all around.”
“Cool.”
“I suppose so. We better get to the conference room. They’re waiting for us.”
I am more than happy to get out of the deep freeze. Will makes me enter the code for the conference room, which I screw up twice before the door opens. They’re waiting for us. Everyone is gathered around a circular table covered in papers. Besides the table, there is a small desk with a computer and fax machine. One entire wall is covered with old books, making the room more than a little cramped. At least there is a huge window looking out onto the field so it isn’t totally claustrophobic.
All the seats are taken, so I lean against the bookcase with arms folded. Will moves to the window and starts talking. I don’t open my mouth once in the whole fifteen minutes. My only contribution is a few stifled yawns. The Sandman has caught up with me. Nothing I didn’t already know is brought up. Affair, zombies, the sheriff and Carrie—all are revealed and discussed ad nauseam.
“I want a detail on Ellison,” Will says. “Two one-man teams alternating round the clock.”
“Why?” I ask. “Think she’ll raise the dead again with the FBI in town?”
“If she does, I want to know. Carl, what’d you get when you touched the items?”
“Terror from the shirt Valerie Wayland was wearing when she was killed,” Carl says. “The image of her daughter and husband too. They were fuzzy, but it was them and I think they were in an enclosed space. Oh, and the smell of pine was strong. I have no idea what it means. I mainly felt the terror.”
“And from Davis Wynn?” Will asks.
“I touched the coat he left in his car. On the drive he was confused. Apprehensive. He didn’t want to be driving there. The only image I got was of him kissing Valerie in the car. He must have been thinking about her a lot.”
“Agent Chandler, what’d you find on Walter Wayland?” Will asks.
“He left for Sacramento six days ago, and no one in town has seen or heard from him since. He’s supposed to return late next week. I also interviewed the next-door neighbor, and she confirms that he hasn’t been home for six days.”
“Did she tell you anything interesting?” I ask.
“Good neighbors,” Agent Chandler says. “Quiet. Kept to themselves. She said they doted on that little girl. People at the grocery store said the same. Wayland wasn’t loved, wasn’t hated. He was a fair boss who didn’t let the death of his daughter or wife affect his work or attitude.”
“Sounds like a real warm guy,” Irie says.
“The neighbor also said Valerie hadn’t been home as much lately. She figured Valerie was working, but Walter barely left. Besides that, everything was normal, even after the death of the kid.”
“Have the phone records come in?” Will asks.
“Yes,” Agent Rushmore says. “The day of their murders, the same number called both Wayland and Wynn at their place of business. It’s a public pay phone on Main Street. Could have been made by anyone. And there are no cameras in the vicinity.”
“Of course,” Will says, dejected. “Agent Rushmore, I want you to canvas the area. Ask people in the store if they remember who used the phone then. Irie, I want you and Agent Chandler to sift through the papers we retrieved from Wynn’s house. If you need more help, drag Nancy away from her television. Agent Konrad, check the sheriff’s schedule and see if he was on shift the nights of the murders. Hopefully, we can break Miss Ellison’s alibi. Agent Wolfe, you’re on Ellison watch. She’s probably still at work, go from there. Carl, when you’re done with the autopsy, take over evidence analysis. Thank you. That’s all.”
Everyone grabs their papers and gets up, muttering to each other as they file out. I catch up with Will just as he walks outside into the field with Agent Konrad. I feel like I’m having a hot flash, the temperature outside mobile command is so different. Agent Konrad nods and begins toward one of the Suburbans, off to bug Sheriff Graham.
“So what about me?” I ask as another yawn hits me.
“Back to the hotel,” Will says. “You’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine. We still have time to re-canvas the murder scenes.”
“Later. They’ll still be there in a couple of hours. Come on.” He walks toward the cars but stops, probably realizing I’m not following. With a sigh, he turns around. “What now?”
“Is this one of those protecting me things again?”
“No,” he says, rolling his eyes, “it is an ‘I’m exhausted and I’m sure you are too’ thing. I’m going back to the hotel to take a nap, and I suggest you come with me. Unless of course you want to go though the victim’s financials in all those boxes.”
&
nbsp; Heck no. “You promise you’ll wake me up if anything happens?”
“You will be the second to know.”
“And you promise no snooping without me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says with an amused smile. “You seem to be better at this than I am.”
“Don’t you forget it.”
Man, is he gorgeous when he smiles. It’s amazing how something as simple as a smile can totally change a person. And make my stomach flutter. As my grin grows, so does his, until we’re just grinning like idiots at each other. That chemistry I thought was all in my head returns. Fertile imagination, my Aunt Fanny. He looks away first, blushing almost as much as me. We walk to the car and he opens the door for me. I know what I’ll be dreaming about today, and it won’t be dead bodies. Lust is a wonderful thing.
EIGHT
ATTACK!
For the second time in two days, I wake up in a fog with no idea where I am. I look around the dim, stuffy room and within seconds it comes back to me. Colorado, dead bodies, zombies. I pull the covers back over my head with a groan. Would they think less of me if I just spent the rest of the case under here? Yeah, probably. The covers flip off and I get out of bed. On my way to the bathroom, I check the clock. Four hours of sleep. Not great, but it should keep me on my feet until tonight.
After using the bathroom, I throw on my black slacks and royal blue V-neck and run a brush through my frizzy hair. I didn’t mean to sleep so long. Who knows what I’ve missed. Dinner at least. Nancy and Andrew are walking up to his door when I come out of mine. She was nice enough to go torment Andrew with her soap opera when I shuffled into the room and fell face first on the bed. She did it without a word, the angel. I smile, but neither smile back.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hello,” Nancy says, her back ramrod straight. Still scared I guess.
“You guys just getting in?”
“Yes, we just had dinner,” Andrew says.
“Oh. Is everyone back yet?”
“No.” This syllable is followed by several seconds of uncomfortable silence.
“Okay, well, I’m gonna … ,” I point down the hall. “Have a nice night.”
“Whatever,” Nancy mumbles as I pass.
I roll my eyes when the door shuts. The cold shoulder thing is beginning to get on my nerves. Bigger fish to fry right now, Bea. I knock on Will’s door. Hope he isn’t still asleep. The last thing I need is a cranky werewolf on my hands. Now a naked werewolf …
Will doesn’t answer. Instead, a half-naked vampire sipping blood out of a black coffee mug saunters out of the room next to his. As if things couldn’t get any more uncomfortable. I was right about him being a satin man. The only thing adorning his perfectly toned body is pair of black satin PJ bottoms and a bloody smile. A literally bloody smile, showing once-white teeth now covered with blood. Mondo grossness.
“Well, hello,” Oliver coos.
“Yeah, um, hi,” I mutter, unable to take my eyes off the coffee mug.
He must notice because he lifts up the cup to me. “May I offer you a cocktail?”
“I had blood for lunch, thanks. Is Will awake?”
“Why yes, he is. I heard him and Agent Konrad leave half an hour ago.”
“What? Where did they go?”
“I asked that very question. He mentioned something about cemeteries.”
My jaw drops. “What? That weasel!” I practically shout, going into full temper tantrum mode. “I can’t believe he didn’t wait for me. He purposely did this, you know. Made me come back here just so he could ditch me. Of all the … he is not getting away with this.”
I stomp back to my room, the anger rolling off me like smoke. How dare he? I’ll bet this is one of those protection deals. It is getting so old. I don’t need some flea-ridden beast who’s stuck in the fifties to keep me safe. I’ve done just fine on my own so far. No way is he getting away with this. I grab my cell, gun, walkie-talkie, and purse and am out the door in thirty seconds.
Waiting in the hall for me is a now-dressed vampire. The pajamas are gone, replaced by blue jeans and what look like cowboy boots. He’s putting on a tight black shirt just as I step out. How he got dressed so fast is anyone’s guess. Maybe another vampire perk.
“Where the heck do you think you’re going?” I ask.
He slips on a black leather jacket. “Do you even have to ask, my dear?”
Ugh. “I do not need a chaperone. Why don’t you go look in a mirror for a couple of hours, ‘kay?” I walk down the hall toward the stairs, which thankfully are in the other direction. I get a few feet, but out of thin air, Oliver appears in front of me, which of course makes me nearly jump out of my skin. “Jeez! God! Will you please stop doing that!”
“I apologize,” he says, none too sincerely. In my experience, someone apologizing shouldn’t have a huge grin on his face. “But I feel it is my duty to deliver you to William. If something should happen to you en route, neither I nor William would ever forgive ourselves or each other.”
“Oh baloney. You just can’t stand to pass up an opportunity to bug me.”
“Regardless,” he says with that freaking smirk, “I am coming.” He pulls something out of his pocket. Keys. “And I am driving.” He disappears again.
Great, just what I don’t need. I mutter to myself the whole way downstairs. What a jerk. It’s an epidemic. Oliver waits in the driver’s seat with the engine running. I slide into the passenger seat and he speeds off, tires screeching.
“They issue vampires driver’s licenses?” I ask as he does an illegal U-turn at forty miles an hour. I grip the armrest for dear life.
“Not that I am aware of.” I clutch even tighter. We drive down the interstate like a rocket.
“Okay, some of us actually have a pulse and would like to keep it,” I scream as he narrowly misses a silver Camry when passing.
“You are so tense, Trixie. Something should be done about that.” He gets into the other lane with maybe an inch to spare between two cars. My fingernails ache from the armrest.
“Okay, that’s it! Pull over now!”
“I cannot, dear. We are being followed.”
“What?” I spin around and sure enough, a tan police cruiser pulls a daredevil move into our lane. “Oh, fudge. I think it’s the sheriff.”
“I believe you are right,” he says, glancing out the mirror. “He has been following us since we left the hotel. I noticed him waiting in the parking lot. Do you perchance know why?” While we dodge and weave with the sheriff hot on our tail—I always wanted to say that—I fill him in on everything.
“So, the sheriff wishes to save his mistress. How noble of him. But why follow us?”
“No idea.”
“Then we shall ask him.” Oliver swerves down a small side road with a dirt ditch on either side and sure enough, the cruiser follows us. We park to the side and cut the engine. Sheriff Graham does the same. Nobody moves from their respective cars, and it’s too dark to see inside the cruiser.
“Should we … ”
“He will come to us,” Oliver says, not taking his eyes off the rearview mirror. Five seconds later, Graham steps out of the cruiser. As the man walks toward us, Oliver rolls down his window. “May we help you, Sheriff Graham?”
“Where are you two going?”
“That is official FBI business and none of yours.”
“If you all are official, then I’m Elvis.”
“Costello or Presley?”
Graham’s anger hits me like an ice pick. He looks Oliver square in the eyes. “There is something not right about you people, and I will find out what it is, even if I have to follow you all around the state of Colorado.”
“I cannot allow that to happen,” Oliver says. Graham’s mouth snaps shut like a bear trap, and his eyes glaze over just like last night. “You will return to your car and call off all of your men who are watching us. You will leave us alone and let us investigate, giving us your full cooperation when asked
. You will not follow us but will go home to your wife and beg her forgiveness for your adultery. Now go.” Still unblinking, Graham walks slowly back to his car. Oliver watches him in the mirror. “Good boy. He will not be bothering us any longer.” I stare at him with a mix of awe and fear. Oliver smiles. “Only one of my many talents, my dear. Perhaps someday I can show you my greatest one.”
The awe and fear are instantly replaced by annoyance. “Can we go now, Romeo?”
“As you wish,” he says, starting the engine. After another U-turn, we’re back on the interstate, leaving the sheriff behind. No more death-defying car moves, thank you very much. We cruise in silence for a whole minute before either of us talks. “May I please have your cellular phone?”
I dig it out of my purse. “Why?”
“To locate William. I personally have no desire to traipse around a cemetery at night if I do not have to, do you?” Good point. I hand him the phone. “Hello, William,” Oliver says after a few seconds, “I am here with a livid Agent Alexander riding shotgun. What is your location? … And you are alone? … Good. We will arrive in five minutes. No, they will not be a problem anymore. … Tut, tut, you know me better than that. Five minutes.” He snaps the phone shut. “William and Konrad had a few problems with the police but are no longer being followed. We are to meet them at the scene of Mrs. Wayland’s untimely demise.”
“A dark cemetery. Lovely.”
“We will gather more information at night, it is a better environment.”
“How?”
“A) Nobody will be able to see us should we have to use our talents, and B) the cemetery will be buzzing with leftover energy brought by the moon. Werewolves and vampires are extremely sensitive to every type of energy, especially the preternatural kind. We might be able to match that energy with the necromancer when we meet him.” He pauses. “But most important, C) It makes us look tough in front of the ladies.”
Mind Over Monsters Page 13
