Blood Hunt gmd-1

by Lee Killough

  4

  Unlike San Francisco General, the ER at St. Francis smelled mostly of disinfectant. Garreth breathed that happily while he and Verl sat in the waiting room alone, with Sharon the only patient until Fire Rescue’s ambulance brought Wayne in. The doctor diagnosed Sharon’s injuries as abrasions of the hands and knees, a laceration on her chin needing two stitches, and the worst injury, a bad bruise and cracked rib where the door handle struck her back. Toews recorded the visible injuries on her with Polaroids while Dr. Lawrence moved on to examining Wayne.

  “I think he was going to grab me as I came out!” Sharon said, voice trembling. “But I’d already left to walk home. I looked back and there he was, driving straight at me!” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I thought he was going to kill me!”

  Toews laid the drying Polaroids on a table beside the ER cart. “Well you don’t have to worry about him again. This will put him away for a long time.”

  “Which is too bad for his parents,” Toews added after Verl drove her home. “They’re good people and have tried to bring their kids up right.”

  He used the ER phone to call them while the doctor finished Wayne’s examination and studied his x-rays. On the cart Wayne cursed and writhed in obvious agony, his good wrist handcuffed to the cart’s side rail, his injured one wrapped in ice bags.

  “How’d they take it?” Garreth when Toews hung up.

  Toews sighed. “I woke them up of course. That made it worse for them. Earl sounded like he’d been expecting something like this. Dottie was crying in the background.”

  Garreth sighed in turn. “I always hate family notifications. At least you didn’t have to say we killed him.”

  They stood silent for several minutes, until Toews said, “You know, it seems to me you do want to be a cop. You didn’t have to deal with Wayne in the Main Street. You didn’t have to follow me to the alley. You didn’t have to go after Wayne there. But you did…I’m thinking without ever considering not getting involved. Because it’s what you do…what you are.”

  Garreth grimaced. “Which got my partner shot.”

  Toews shrugged. “I didn’t see any sign of you freezing up tonight. And you weren’t a cowboy. It all looked cooly calculated to me.”

  Dr. Lawrence came over to them.

  “Your man has a moderate concussion. Nothing that ought to cause permanent damage. But…every metacarpal in his hand is fractured, with multiple fractures of the first and fifth metacarpals. It’s like his hand got caught in a vice.”

  Toews glanced at Garreth. “That’s some grip you have.”

  Garreth put on a shrug. “Adrenalin is amazing stuff.”

  Inwardly he winced. He needed to be more careful about how much strength he used. Wayne did not necessarily deserve to be maimed for being a bastard. What was that saw about walking softly and carrying a big stick? In his case, because he had a very big stick he needed to sure he walked softly indeed to avoid tripping himself.

  5

  Once Wayne had been tucked into the surgery ward with pain killers and a guard Toews introduced as Alan Serk, a reserve officer formerly a highway trooper, they finally left. Standing outside breathing in the night air, Toews said, “I can answer your question now.”

  Garreth blinked. “What question?”

  “You asked earlier whether I would trust you to back me up. The answer is yes. Yes, I would trust you.”

  Garreth felt his throat catch.

  Toews raised a brow. “If you’re not bushed from hunting ancestors, bussing dishes, and taking down Wayne, how about riding along with me for a while.”

  He ended up riding along until the end of the tour at four.

  “How do you come to have an eight to four shift?” he asked as they walked Kansas Avenue checking store doors.

  “It’s Chief Danzig’s way of making six sworn officers — five now, not including him — an effective force. We have five shifts, four with one officer each, but overlapping so the periods of greatest activity are covered by at least two and often three officers. I’m alone now until four, and Bill Pfannenstiel is for the first four hours of his shift, but that isn’t usually a problem since it’s almost always dead quiet after midnight, even with the bars being open until one. Except for DUI’s on Friday and Saturday, when the weekend drinkers come out to play.”

  Bearing him out, long minutes of silence on the radio were been broken mostly by time checks and a occasional request for car registration and driver license checks by deputies in sheriff offices for this and surrounding counties. Garreth quickly gathered that all the area law enforcement agencies used the same frequency.

  “Mostly this shift does what we’re doing now, check the businesses here and out along 282 and make sweeps through the residential neighborhoods. We wouldn’t have to rattle doors but it’s kind of tradition and makes us visible. We’ll drive down the alleys and physically check only the doors on the banks, jewelry store, and drug stores…unless something looks hinky.”

  “What if there’s a situation where you need backup?”

  “We have three reserve officers like Serk, one who is a designated responder at night, like a volunteer fireman. Doris calls him. The SO’s hear our traffic, too, and if there’s a deputy anywhere near, he’ll respond if necessary. But yeah…” Toews shrugged. “…it can happen there’s no time for backup and I’m on my own.” He eyed Garreth. “That idea scare you?”

  “I’d be an idiot if it didn’t. It isn’t what I’m used to.”

  Toews nodded. “But somehow we usually manage to handle it. We have to.”

  “What was your plan for handling Wayne?”

  “Wait until he was at the truck door then yell, ‘Make it a head shot, Duncan!’”

  Garreth stared in disbelief. “What kind of plan is that? He’d have — ”

  “Panicked…shoved Sharon away and jumped in the truck to run for it, his sole thought being self-preservation.” Toews headed back for the patrol car. “Like most bullies he’s a coward, and everyone knows Duncan is a crack shot just itching to use his sharpshooter training. I like your plan better, rescuing Sharon and nailing Wayne at the same time. We’d have Sharon safe with mine but have to organize a man hunt for Wayne.” His brows rose. “Why are you smiling?”

  Was he? Garreth felt his ears heat up. “Well…when you came into the Main Street I pictured you on a horse leading a posse.”

  Toews laughed. “I do have a horse, a sweet Skipper W mare quick as a cat, but I only use her for working cattle and cutting. I don’t suppose you ride.”

  “No.”

  They drove down the Kansas Avenue alleys then out to 282. “So what do you do for fun off-duty?”

  The most truthful answer was: hang out with Harry and work cases on his own time. Instead, he said, “Hunting and pool.”

  “You any good?”

  “Hunting depends on the game, but I’m an excellent shot. And…” He might as well admit it. “…better than excellent at pool.”

  Toews’ eyed him. “Meaning?”

  “Don’t bet against me in a game. My grandfather Anton Mikaelian never let anyone forget that the pool halls he ran in Chicago and Sacramento fed and clothed his family through Prohibition and the Depression and all his sons and grandsons better by god show appreciation by learning to play as soon as they could hold a cue and reach the table, even if they had to stand on a stool. Like I did at age five.”

  Toews smiled. “Then I’ll take you to the American Legion some evening. We’ve got some fellows there who are pretty proud of their games. Maybe we can make a little money.”

  They circled behind the Co-op elevator and pulled up behind a parked car with steamed windows. Toews flipped on the light bar, but remained in the car…picking up a clipboard and making notes…letting the other car reflect alternating red and white light.

  “You’re not going to see who it is?”

  Toews shook his head. “I know who it is…him anyway, her probably. They’re legally cons
enting adults, if just barely. Both live at home, which is why they’ve come out here.”

  “Oh…you know the car.”

  He nodded, still writing. “That cop wisdom: learn who the people in your territory are, what they do, where and when they do it? Piece of cake in Baumen. Of course, a lot of these people are either friends or I’m related to them by blood or marriage.”

  Garreth knew his share of street people and felonious types in San Francisco, but what must it be like being familiar with everyone around you, good as well as bad. “So you never check these guys out?” He doubted he could go that far.

  “Rarely, as long as they’re not minors. They’re embarrassed enough right now.” He smiled wryly. “ I’ve been where they are.”

  A sense of deja vu touched Garreth. Seconds later he realized why. This felt almost like his rookie days, absorbing wisdom from his training officer.

  “We’re a friendly department. Small but effective.” Toews burped the siren. “Come on, Kevin; move out.”

  “Friendly. Like the friendly sharpshooter Duncan?” Garreth said.

  The lights of the other car came on. It gunned away, the wheels spitting gravel back at them.

  “Ed, yeah.” Toews sighed. “Every department has one, don’t they. You just have to make allowances for Ed’s birth defect.”

  Garreth frowned. “Birth defect?”

  Toews killed the light bar. “Being born with an asshole where his brain should be.”

  Somewhere in laughing, Garreth found Toews became Nat in his head. And he pulled a mental double-take. Had he heard what he thought he heard? This was like his rookie days. “Are you giving me a sales pitch…trying to recruit me? You’re crazy.”

  “We need another officer.” Nat put the car in gear. “It’s a great American tradition, coming west and starting over with a clean slate.”

  “I’m from the West.”

  Nat snorted. “California isn’t the West, just far out. Think about it. Ride along with me again tomorrow night. There should be a little more action, though hopefully not the Wayne Hepner kind. Come by the station early enough to meet some of the other officers.”

  The offer pulled at Garreth. He knew he would enjoy another ride-along, but since joining was out of the question, no longer than he would be around — even if they would have him here — and he remained officially an SFPD officer, he was better off keeping away from temptation. “Verl’s offered me a temp job. I have an obligation to show up.”

  Nat nodded. “Of course. However…I’m betting Verl will apologetically retract the offer. Irene will have come begging to keep her job, with some plausible excuse for the other night — she had to take her mother to Hadley, the regional medical center in Hays, or something — and forgot to tell Verl ahead of time. It might even be the truth. Verl will forgive her yet again because she’s got no husband and two kids and her mother to support.”

  “This is more knowing who, what, where, and when?” Garreth said.

  “Sadly. See you at the station I hope.”

  6

  Nat knew his people. When Garreth walked into the Main Street, a big-haired blonde reminiscent of the 1940's Claudia Darling offered to seat him. The AWOL Irene, her name tag told him. Verl hurried out of the kitchen to apologize profusely for no longer having a job available. All as predicted.

  If he had listened to Nat, Garreth thought irritably, he could have slept the whole day in the earthy darkness of the barn instead of just most of it on his pallet on the floor of his room’s windowless bathroom.

  A piercing whistle caught him by surprise…and the whistler. Sharon, in uniform, wearing the stitches and butterfly bandage on her chin like a badge of honor.

  “Everyone,” she called to the handful of diners, “this is the man who saved my life last night! Garreth Mikaelian!” She ran over to throw her arms around him and kiss him.

  Maybe he should have anticipated this, he thought in dismay, after Violet had gave him that huge smile and: “I hear you’re a hero.” when he came downstairs. He needed to fade into Baumen, not become a headline Lane was certain to hear about.

  He tried shrugging off heroism. “It was no big deal.”

  “It was big deal to me!” Sharon said.

  Of course…and of course she was going to tell everyone about her rescue. Some hunter he was. Forget stealth, camouflage, or using a blind. Stand in the open like an idiot, shouting his presence. On the other hand…could he not have involved himself last night? No. It was who he was, as Nat said. He could not regret it despite the probable consequences for hunting Lane.

  So with the damage done, he might as well have a little fun riding with Nat.

  First, however, as long as he had no further need to tolerate daylight, his pallet in the hotel called him.

  As he passed the desk, Violet hurried out to it. “You have a phone message, Garreth.”

  His pulse stuttered in automatic anxiety. Who would call him, or even know he was here?

  “Mary Catherine Haas asks please come see her. She’s Sharon’s grandmother. Here’s the address.”

  She probably wanted to thank him for saving Sharon. Garreth sighed. A phone call would take care of that. “Would you look up her phone number for me?”

  “No, no.” Violet put a hand over his. “She was very firm. She wants to see you.”

  Well shit. He eyed the address, trying to remember the streets he rode down with Nat last night. “Where’s Poplar?”

  “Just after the Pizza Hut.”

  Farther than he wanted to walk in daylight.

  “When you come back, park behind the hotel at the Methodist Church. The parking places out front will be filling with people coming to the five-thirty showing at the theater.”

  Mrs. Haas’ house had a wheelchair ramp up to the porch. And fire at the door as usual. When he rang the bell, the woman answering startled him. Anna Bieber!

  No, he realized a moment later. This woman’s hair had been shorn boy short and she used a walker. But the face and clear eyes were Anna’s, and they searched his face intently. “You’re Garreth? I’m Mary Catherine. Please come in.”

  She led him to a livingroom furnished with the same kind of deep-cushioned chairs and couch Anna’s house had.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said as they sat down. “Violet will have told you I’m Sharon’s grandmother, so first I have to thank you for her life. The Lord is mysterious and wonderful, bringing her cousin here from so far away in time to save her.”

  Garreth started. “Excuse me? Cousin?”

  “Yes. You see, I’m also Anna Bieber’s twin sister…”

  That explained the likeness!

  “…and I really asked to see you because I think my niece Mada is the grandmother you’ve been looking for.”

  That caught him by surprise, too. “You do? Why?”

  She sighed. “History repeating itself. Although we were more practical when Anna got pregnant. We got her a shotgun wedding to Ben Bieber. Even at fifteen and eager to drop our drawers for our Irish stallion every chance we got — Danny Shannon, a hired hand at our farm…” She smiled at the memory. “…we knew he wasn’t husband material.”

  Garreth jacked his jaw back in place. His mind boggled at these two sweet elderly ladies as hormonal teenagers humping the hired hand then scheming to arrange marriage. “You made Ben think the baby was his?”

  She shook her head. “He knew what he was getting. He and Anna had been wanting to marry, so she told Ben that Danny caught her in the barn one night, thinking she was me, and it being dark, she gave herself thinking, until too late, he was Ben, come for more than cuddling that time, and now she was in the family way. She knew Ben would insist on making an honest woman of her and he agreed with her suggestion they sleep together at least once so they could truthfully confess to fornication.” She smiled again. “Anna told me Ben marked his territory good and proper by rising to the occasion three or four times before morning.”

  More inf
ormation than Garreth needed. “So you think Mada got pregnant, too.”

  She nodded. “In California, not Europe, and since the professor couldn’t marry her, she ended up at your grandmother’s boarding house using that false name.”

  “What about the visitor calling herself Maggie Bieber?”

  “I wasn’t here — my husband was in the Army and stationed at Fort Leavenworth for the early thirties — but I’m thinking ‘Maggie’ was Ben’s sister Adele. She always accused Anna of tricking Ben into marriage, and was outraged at Ben scraping together that tuition money in such hard times for another man’s bastard. Danny was long gone when Mada was born — we made sure he skedaddled before Anna went to Ben, for fear Ben would kill him — but everyone remembered him and that red hair marked her as his. Ben sent Mada to college to let her get away where no one knew or cared about her paternity. He hoped college worked better than sending her into town for high school did.”

  With that family history and what the librarian said about Lane’s behavior and treatment in high school, no wonder she embraced being a vampire. It gave her the power to take revenge on the world.

  He pulled his attention back to Mary Catherine. “How would Adele have known where Mada was?”

  “She’d been widowed and was living with Ben. Except for several years after running away with the professor, Mada always keeps in touch with Anna…letters, phone calls. I think she did write in that time…from your grandmother’s about her situation…but Anna never got the letter because Adele intercepted it and got so mad she decided to go tell Mada just what she thought of her. Giving her name as Maggie Bieber let Mada know someone knew who she really was.”

  The plausibility of the story and its smooth dove-tailing with his cover story left Garreth suddenly feeling as if he were wading and lost contact with the bottom…that reality was blurring, and with it his ability to distinguish between the true Mikaelian and role he played here.