Blood Law

by Jeannie Holmes

  “Hang on a second,” Alex said. They stopped, and she hurried forward. “What about me? What am I supposed to do?”

  Damian pointed to the couch. “Sit. Behave.” He opened the door and stepped into the hallway, calling over his shoulder, “Move it, Baudelaire. I don’t have time for dillydallying.”

  Varik paused with his hand on the open door. He used his other hand to brush Alex’s cheek lightly. “I’ll let you know what we find out.”

  Her lips thinned, but she nodded. She was out of the official loop but would be able to learn everything Varik did through the blood-bond, if she was willing to risk opening it again.

  He turned to leave, and she grabbed his arm.

  “What was that thing you gave Mom?” she asked quietly.

  He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and smiled before jogging down the corridor to catch up with Damian.

  The door closed automatically, and Alex returned to the suite’s sitting area, lost in thought. Had she seen what she thought she saw? Was her mind playing tricks on her?

  Her mother sat on the edge of the coffee table, elbows on her knees, staring at something in her hand. She looked up when she heard Alex settling on the couch and once again shoved whatever it was into her pocket.

  Alex stuck out her hand. “Hand it over.”

  Her mother sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bullshit. I saw Varik give you something.”

  “Alexandra, I will not have you speaking to me in that tone.”

  “Then answer me. What did Varik give you?”

  Her mother produced a wad of paper and dropped it into her hand.

  She stared at the crumpled five-dollar bill. “Money? He gave you money?”

  “Change from breakfast.”

  Alex thought of the coffee and fast-food biscuits she’d eaten that morning. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she handed the bill back to her mother.

  “Honestly, Alexandra, everything Varik does is not a conspiracy against you.” Her mother returned the money to her pocket as she rose and headed for her bedroom. “You may want to take his advice and trust him once in a while.”

  Alex felt the sting of her mother’s words as she listened to the ringing silence around her. Dweezil jumped on the coffee table before her and began licking his paw and swiping it over his face. She watched the cat’s bathing ritual while thoughts of her father, her mother, Varik, Stephen, and a thousand other issues traveled through her mind, gradually growing more organized until she was fidgeting in her seat and staring at the exit.

  Eventually her mother returned from the bedroom and sat in the chair across from Alex. Her blue eyes—so much like Stephen’s—pinned her in place. “You’re up to something.”

  Alex cleared her throat and picked at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. “No, I’m not.”

  “Oh, don’t lie to me, Alexandra. I’m your mother. You’re plotting something. I can see it in your eyes. You’re thinking of going after Stephen.”

  “Mom, you heard Damian. I’m in a shitload of trouble because of what I did today.” The thread she’d plucked began to unravel her shirt’s hem. She dropped it and wiped her palms along her thighs. “Besides, I’m under orders to sit and behave.”

  Emily reached for her hand and pulled Alex to her feet as she herself rose. “I’ll be sure to tell Damian that when he calls to check on you.” She smoothed Alex’s hair behind her ears. “Now go find your brother.”

  ———

  Tasha’s cell phone rang at precisely three o’clock, just as the note had promised. “Lieutenant Lockwood,” she answered after three rings.

  “You’re being screwed by the vamps,” a digitized voice announced.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Alberez and his minions have severed all communication with your department.”

  “He can’t do that. We’re assisting—”

  “The Enforcers have also taken a portly friend of yours into custody.”

  “Tubby.” Tasha gasped.

  “If you want to save him and yourself, Lieutenant, you will do exactly as we say.”

  With the twin snakes of fear and hatred gobbling her spine and sapping her will, Tasha listened as the voice laid out her instructions.

  fifteen

  HARVEY EYED THE PHONE AS IF IT WERE A RABID DOG waiting to pounce on him. A cigarette smoldered in the ashtray in front of him, untouched. Bill had called and told him Tubby and Martin were picked up by the vamps for questioning. Bill was worried that he and Harvey would be next. He’d told Bill to pack his bags and leave town.

  A bone-chilling sense of dread filled him. He couldn’t leave. His absence would be too noticeable. He wasn’t able to retrieve his handkerchief from the impound yard before it was turned over to the Enforcers. It would be only a matter of time until they traced it back to him, along with the bottle of Midnight he’d planted in Sabian’s Jeep. He had to figure a way out of that mess. Plus, he had unfinished business with Darryl.

  Raised voices outside his office had him envisioning a troop of Enforcers storming the department, and he reached for his sidearm. His door burst open, and Tasha Lockwood entered, followed by a harried-looking Deputy Justin Case.

  “I’m sorry, Sheriff,” Deputy Case said. “I tried to stop her, but—”

  “You can’t barge in here like this, Lockwood. What if I was conducting an interview or something?”

  “Then I’d be the first to alert the media that you were actually doing what the taxpayers pay you to do.” She sat in the chair opposite from him and crossed her legs at the knee.

  “Now wait just a damn minute—”

  Tasha talked over him. “You and I have a mutual problem, Harvey, and I suggest you take this opportunity to consider your options.”

  Harvey’s eyes narrowed. Something had changed in her. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was there nonetheless. He waved away Deputy Case. Once the door was closed and they were alone, he leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. “All right. I’m listening. What’s this mutual problem?”

  “Vampires.”

  He couldn’t suppress his laughter. “You, the fucking liaison officer, have a problem with vamps? What’s the matter? Did they spike your tea with blood or something?”

  “No, they used me and my department to do grunt work and then kicked us to the curb. The FBPI has severed communication with the JPD, as well as your department.”

  “Good riddance, I say.”

  “You don’t get it, do you, Harvey? They severed communication with us—with humans—because they suspect someone with ties to one of our departments is involved in burning down Crimson Swan and Stephen Sabian’s kidnapping.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant, but you can’t waltz in here and accuse me and my men of misconduct.”

  “You’re right.” She produced a folded piece of paper and held it up for him to see. “This is a report I received this morning regarding a Taser that the Enforcers suspect was used to kidnap Stephen.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “The tracking number on the confetti traces back to one purchased by your department a few months ago.”

  Harvey swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “You’re thinking one of my men was involved?”

  “No, I think you were.”

  “Me?” He laughed to cover his rising panic. “Do you honestly think I’d have a hand in arson?”

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you to sell your own mother if you thought it’d be to your advantage.”

  “Now, listen here, Lieutenant. I’ve had enough of your—”

  “Cut the crap, Harvey. Everyone knows you hate the vampires and that you’d love to see them out of Jefferson.”

  He eyed her for a moment as he puffed his cigarette. “I’m not the only one, though. Am I?”

  She wiggled in her seat, running her fingers over the creases in the paper. “No, you’re not.”

&n
bsp; Harvey felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Why are you here and not the Enforcers?”

  She stood and slipped the paper onto his desk. “Let’s just call it a warning, from one human to another.” She opened the door and closed it softly behind her.

  He waited to be certain she was gone and that no one came in after her. He picked up the paper and scanned it. The coldness he’d felt in his bones began to spread outward like a disease. The implication of her words and the evidence in his hands hung in the air like ghosts sent to torment his soul, and Harvey trembled in their wake.

  Varik bounded up the steps of the mobile lab, anxious to learn what Reyes had found.

  The Bureau’s mobile forensics lab was a forty-foot converted recreational vehicle. Overhead storage cabinets and workstations lined both sides of the interior. Separate areas had been designed for maximum efficiency in the analysis of evidence, such as firearms and the chemical analysis of narcotics, latent fingerprints, audio/video analysis, and questionable documents. The lab also featured an on-site command center with satellite links to the Bureau’s central crime lab in Louisville and a small lounge area for the techs to have meals and sleep in shifts.

  Bags and boxes secured with red tape marked EVIDENCE in large block letters had overtaken most of the storage areas and spilled over into the lounge. Reyes and Freddy appeared more haggard than they had when he last saw them, but both were excited by his and Damian’s arrival.

  Freddy reached them first. “I’ve been working on the Crimson Swan fire,” he said, and gestured for them to accompany him to a workstation equipped with a laptop computer, several video monitors, and other assorted technical devices Varik couldn’t identify. “We learned from our friends in Jefferson metro that Stephen Sabian had some kind of video surveillance system on the bar’s exterior, as well as within the private donor rooms. A prudent measure, all things considered.”

  “Your point?” Damian asked, an edge of irritation in his voice.

  “This is my point, sir.” Freddy lifted what appeared to be a large chunk of black-and-gray lava rock.

  Varik frowned. “What is it?”

  “The protective layers surrounding a solid-state hard disk used by Crimson Swan to store video surveillance footage. Top-of-the-line stuff. You see, when this bad boy is exposed to more than a few hundred degrees of heat, the case starts to melt, which seals all the vents and stuff for the disk inside. It basically turns into a rock, encasing the disk and protecting the data.”

  “Is the footage usable?”

  “Oh, yeah. Once I chiseled through about seven or eight layers of melted plastic and steel, I managed to extract the disk. I’ve already transferred some of the data to here.” He patted the laptop.

  “Please tell me you have video of the kidnapping and arson on there,” Varik said.

  Freddy grinned and set the melted casing aside and tapped a series of keys on the laptop. A menu popped up on the screen. He highlighted and clicked on one of the items and stepped back.

  A new window opened, and a silent black-and-white video began rolling. As Varik and Damian watched, Stephen Sabian’s truck pulled into a parking space. He got out of the truck and walked toward Crimson Swan.

  Suddenly a gang of hooded shadows descended on him. They watched the screen as he fought back, was overwhelmed, nearly escaped, and finally was felled by a Taser-wielding member of the gang. A van appeared. Stephen was hurriedly stowed inside, and the van disappeared.

  Some of the gang’s hoods had been lost during the scuffle, and their faces were visible on the video. Varik recognized Martin Evans as he lit a rag stuffed in the neck of a bottle and hurled it at a window. One of the members who retained his hood appeared with more bottles, and Varik guessed the man to be Tubby Jordan from his size and rolling gait.

  Flames began to leap from broken windows. More bottles shattered against the walls, the accelerants within coating the bar’s exterior and burning.

  The video froze, and the screen turned black. Freddy pressed a button and shrugged. “That’s all I have so far. I should have more in a few hours.”

  “That’s enough to play for our guests and get a confession.” Damian clapped the tech on the shoulder. “Good work.”

  Freddy beamed. “Thank you, sir.”

  Varik and Damian moved farther into the lab, and Reyes greeted them both before plunging into his findings. “I couldn’t believe it, but once I discovered the trick, I was able to piece everything together.”

  Varik watched with mounting curiosity as Reyes laid the three cross-stakes from their murder victims on one of the workstations. Beautifully carved with climbing vines and blooms and stained a rich cherry color, the metal-tipped stakes gleamed under the lab’s fluorescent lighting.

  Reyes lined up each stake arm-to-arm and stepped back, smiling. “What do you see in the arms?”

  Damian and Varik leaned in, searching. After a moment, Damian shook his head. “I don’t see anything but a bunch of damn flowers and vines.”

  Varik stepped closer. His finger hovered over the right arm of the first cross and traced over both arms of the second and third. “There’s a message hidden in the carvings.”

  “Yes!” Reyes exclaimed. “I didn’t see it at first, but I noticed subtle differences in the carvings on each one. It wasn’t until I lined them up that I was able to read it.”

  The vines and blossoms covering the crosses stood in relief against the background. He followed the letters formed by the negative spaces between the raised flora with his finger for Damian’s benefit. “For Claire Elizabeth B—The final word isn’t complete.”

  “That makes me think there’s another body we haven’t found yet,” Reyes said.

  “Ah, shit,” Damian muttered. “So, who—”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Reyes interrupted, “but there’s more, and honestly, this is the part that creeps me out.”

  Varik folded his arms over his chest and watched as Reyes picked up each cross-stake in turn and removed the metal tip.

  “The legs of the crosses are hollow,” Reyes said, holding the third aloft for Varik and Damian to see the small cavity drilled within the wood. “That’s why they have these metal tips, to protect the wood from splintering in the wound track and contaminating the messages inside the stakes.”

  “What messages?” Damian asked.

  Reyes produced three newspaper articles that had been encased with some form of clear laminate. “These were rolled up inside the stakes, one in each. The protective film is standard clear Con-Tact paper like you’d use for lining shelves in your kitchen. It’s cheap, readily available, and the paper remains flexible enough to be rolled up.”

  Varik moved closer to Damian in order to see the articles. He read the first headline, dated March 17, 1968, in Louisville, and felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. Beloved University Professor Found Slain. The second article, from the same newspaper, was dated a few days after the first. Gruesome Murder Leaves City Stunned. The date of the final article was more recent, October 7, 2005, and from the local paper, The Jefferson Daily Journal. Local Woman Brutally Murdered, Left on Roadside.

  “Third one is about a local woman, Claire Black, who was killed by vampires and dumped on the side of a highway,” Reyes said. “The case was given to Enforcer Sabian, but it never developed, due to a lack of evidence and suspects, although one vampire was named, Trent Thibodaux, as a ‘person of interest.’” He bunny-eared quotation marks in the air. “Thibodaux was never listed as an official suspect, and as far as I can gather from searching the Bureau’s records, it’s a cold case.”

  “Claire Black,” Varik repeated, and pointed to the crosses. “For Claire Elizabeth B, with the last word unfinished. That can’t be coincidence. Did this woman have any family here in town?”

  “A husband, Darryl. He was a patrolman with the JPD but was laid off because of budget cuts. He works for the sheriff’s department now.”

  “We need to talk to him,”
Varik said. “Having your wife’s murder go unsolved for years must be hell.”

  “There’s one other thing,” Reyes said, and held up a pack of gum coated in black fingerprint dust. “This was found on the body of that security guard at the high school. I found a partial print and ran it. Care to guess whose name popped?”

  “Darryl Black,” Varik responded.

  “Bingo. On a hunch, I ran the prints from John Doe Vampire through VIPER again, this time with Thibodaux’s name.”

  “Did they match?”

  Reyes grinned. “Perfectly. Turns out Enforcer Sabian picked him up a few years ago as part of that Midnight bust.”

  “Why didn’t the previous search turn up Thibodaux’s name?”

  “According to the case log, Thibodaux rolled on his buddies and was given immunity as part of a plea deal so long as he agreed to work for the Bureau as a confidential informant. His record was removed from the general search pools. The only way to compare his prints to John Doe Vampire was by accessing Thibodaux’s file directly, and I had to have a name in order to do that.”

  “Surely Alex would’ve recognized his name as being connected to the Claire Black case.”

  “The record shows that she did, but Thibodaux maintained his innocence on the murder. Without physical evidence tying him to the body, she had no choice but to let it go and run with the drug charges only.”

  Varik ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The murders aren’t about running the vampires out of Jefferson like the kidnappers’ note claims. This is personal. Darryl Black is targeting the vampires who he thinks killed his wife.”

  “Not so fast,” Damian said, tapping two of the newspaper articles against his open palm. “If this is about revenge for his wife’s murder, why would these be here? They’re about Bernard Sabian’s murder.”

  Reyes pointed to the two 1968 articles. “Read the back.”

  Damian flipped them over, and Varik’s blood turned to an icy sludge.

  The same handwritten note had been printed in fine block letters in red ink. An eye for an eye. Suffer and die, bitch.