Anita Blake 8 - Blue Moon

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "I'll bet that's not what you said," I said.

  He nodded. "I asked him why, with a nice piece of ass like you for his girlfriend, he had to go out and rape somebody."

  "What'd he say?" I asked, face as blank as I could make it.

  "He said you're not his girlfriend."

  I nodded. "See, I told you so."

  Maiden opened the door wide and motioned us through. "Ring the buzzer when you want out." We stepped through, and he said, "Enjoy," as he locked us in.

  They must have gotten a deal on white paint because the entire room was white, even the floor. It was like standing in the middle of a blizzard. Two bunks, one on top the other, the bars on a small window, even the toilet and sink were white. The only color was the bars that formed a three-sided cage. Richard sat on the other side of the bars looking at us.

  He was sitting on the lower bunk. His hair fell in thick waves, nearly hiding his face. In the stark whiteness of the overhead lights, the hair looked darker than its normal honey brown, almost chestnut. He was wearing a pale green dress shirt untucked, sleeves rolled back over muscular forearms. His dark brown dress slacks were wrinkled from being slept in. He unfolded his six-foot-one-inch body from the bunk. The dress shirt stretched tightly across his shoulders and upper arms. He'd bulked up a little since last I'd seen him, and he'd been pretty muscular to begin with. Once upon a time, it would have been my great pleasure to have peeled that shirt off and seen what was underneath, to have run my hands over that lovely chest and those strong arms. But that was then, and this was a whole new ball game, one that I really couldn't win.

  Richard came to stand at the bars, hands wrapping around them. "What are you doing here, Anita?" His voice wasn't as angry as I feared it would be. He sounded almost ordinary, and some tightness in the center of my body relaxed.

  Belisarius stepped away from us. He sat at the table outside the cell and began spreading papers out of his briefcase. He tried to look very busy and give us as much privacy as he could. It was a nice gesture.

  "I heard you were in trouble."

  "So you came to rescue me?" he made it a question. His solid brown eyes stared at me, searching my face. His hair had fallen into his eyes. He smoothed it back from his face in an achingly familiar gesture.

  "I came to help."

  "I don't need your help. I didn't do it."

  Belisarius interrupted. "You've been charged with rape, Mr. Zeeman."

  I turned and looked at Belisarius. "I thought it was attempted rape."

  "I've been reading the file while I was waiting. Once I had Mr. Zeeman's permission to act as his lawyer, I got access to the records. The rape kit was negative for semen, but there was evidence of penetration. Penetration is enough to constitute rape."

  "I never had intercourse with her," Richard said. "It never got that far."

  "But you did date her," I said.

  He looked at me. "Yes, I did." There was a little anger in his voice now.

  I let it go. I'd probably be grumpy, too, if I were in jail on trumped-up charges. Hell, I'd be grumpy even if I had done it.

  "The problem, Mr. Zeeman, is that without semen samples, you can't really prove conclusively that you didn't violate Ms. Schaffer. If this is a frame, it's a good one. You dated the woman more than once. She went out with you and came home beaten up." He paged through one of the files. "There was vaginal bruising, some tearing. If she wasn't raped, it was still very rough."

  "Becky said she liked it rough," Richard said quietly.

  "When did how rough she liked sex come up in conversation?" I asked.

  He met my eyes, no flinching, ready to be angry if I was angry. "When she was trying to get me to go to bed with her."

  "What exactly did she say?" Belisarius asked.

  Richard shook his head. "I don't remember exactly, but I told her I was afraid I'd hurt her. She said if I liked it rough, she was my girl."

  I walked away from him to stand looking at the closed door. I didn't want to be here for this. I turned around, and he was already staring at me, already meeting my gaze. "Is this why you wanted to see both of us at once? So I'd hear all the details?"

  He gave a harsh sound, almost laughter, but bitter. A strange look passed over his face. Once I could have read his every thought on his face, in his eyes. Now I didn't know him. Sometimes I thought I'd never known him, that we'd both been fooling ourselves. "If you want details, I can give you details. Not about Betty, but there's Lucy and Carrie and Mira. Especially Lucy and Mira. I can give you details on them."

  "I heard you'd been a busy boy," I said. My voice was softer than I wanted it to be, but normal. I wasn't going to cry.

  "Who told you to come down here, Anita? Who disobeyed me?" That first prickling roil of energy crept through the room. Sometimes you could forget what Richard really was. He was better at hiding it than any lycanthrope I knew. I glanced at Belisarius. He seemed oblivious. Good, he wasn't sensitive to it. But I was. The power crept over my skin like a warm wind.

  "No one disobeyed you, Richard."

  "Someone told you." His hands flexed on the bars, rubbing over and over. I knew he could have ripped them out of the floor. He could have knocked a hole through the back wall if he wanted to. The fact that he was still in this cage was only because he didn't want out badly enough to blow his cover. A mild-mannered junior high science teacher could not bend steel bars.

  I leaned close to the bars, lowering my voice. His otherworldly energy breathed along my skin. "Do you really want to discuss this now, in front of a stranger?"

  Richard leaned in so close his forehead pressed against the bars. "He's my lawyer. Doesn't he need to know?"

  I leaned in so close I could have touched him through the bars. I wanted to touch him. He didn't seem quite real this way. "You really are a babe in the woods on this one, aren't you?"

  "I've never been arrested before," he said.

  "No, that was always my job."

  He almost smiled. Some of that energy leaked away. His beast sliding away inside that perfect camouflage.

  I touched the cool, metal bars, sliding my hands just below his. "I bet you thought you might be visiting me like this someday, but not the other way around."

  He gave a small smile. "Yeah, and I'd bake you a cake with a file in it."

  I smiled. "You don't need a file, Richard." I slid my hands over his. He squeezed my fingers gently. "You need a good lawyer, and I brought you one."

  He stepped away from the bars. "Why do I need a lawyer when I'm innocent?"

  Belisarius answered, "You've been charged with rape. The judge has refused you bail. Son, if we can't break her story, you're looking at two to five years, if we're lucky. The pictures are in the file. She was beat up pretty bad. She's a pretty little blond thing. She'll come into court dressed like everyone's favorite second grade teacher. The one you had a crush on that smelled like Ivory soap." He stood up and started walking towards us as he talked. "We'll cut your hair—"

  "Cut his hair?" I exclaimed.

  Belasarius frowned at me. "Cut your hair, dress you up nice. It helps that you're handsome and white, but you're still a big, strong-looking man." He shook his head. "It's not you we have to prove innocent, Mr. Zeeman. It's Ms. Schaffer we have to prove guilty."

  Richard frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "We have to make her look like the whore of Babylon. But first, I'll file a motion that no bail is excessive for a first offense. Hell, you don't even have a traffic ticket. I'll get you bail."

  "How long will it take?" I asked.

  Belisarius looked at me a little too hard. "Is there a time limit I'm not aware of?"

  Richard and I looked at each other as if on cue. Then he said, "Yes," and I said, "No."

  "Well, which is it, boys and girls, yes or no? Is there something I need to know here?"

  Richard looked at me, then said, "No, I guess not."

  Belisarius didn't like it, but he let it go. "Okay, kiddies. I'll tak
e your word for it, but if this piece of information that I don't need to know comes up and bites me on the ass, I will not be amused."

  "It won't," I said.

  He shook his head. "If it does, I will leave Mr. Zeeman high and dry. You will be finding yourself a new lawyer faster than you can say penitentiary."

  "I didn't do anything wrong," Richard said. "How can this be happening?"

  "Why would she cry rape on you?" I asked.

  "Somebody did it," Belisarius said. "If not you, then who?"

  Richard shook his head. "Betty dates a lot. I know of at least three other men, myself."

  "We'll need their names."

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Son, if you are going to argue with me every step of the way, this won't work."

  "I just don't want to drag anyone else into this."

  "Richard," I said, "you are in trouble here. Let Carl do his job, please."

  Richard looked at me. "You dropped everything to ride to my rescue, huh?"

  I smiled. "Pretty much."

  He shook his head. "How'd Jean-Claude feel about that?"

  I looked away, not meeting his eyes. "He wasn't thrilled, but he wants you out of jail."

  "I'll just bet he does."

  "Look, kiddies, we don't have a lot of time here. If you two can't curb the personal stuff, maybe Anita here should leave."

  I nodded. "I agree. You're going to have to tell him details about Ms. Schaffer that I don't want to hear. And you need to be able to talk freely about her."

  "Are you jealous?" Richard asked.

  I took in a deep breath and let it out. I would have liked to have said no, but he could smell a lie. I'd been doing okay until he'd made that crack about Betty being his girl for the rough stuff. That had bugged me. "I have no right to be jealous of you, Richard."

  "But you are, aren't you?" he asked. He watched my face while he asked it.

  I had to force myself to meet his eyes while I answered. I wanted to dunk my head, and I couldn't stop the rush of color up my face. "Yeah, I'm jealous. Happy?"

  He nodded. "Yes."

  "I'm out of here." I wrote the phone number of the cabin on Belisarius's notebook and pressed the buzzer to be let out.

  "I'm glad you came, Anita," Richard said.

  I kept my back turned to the door, hoping Maiden would hurry. "I wish I could say the same, Richard."

  The door opened. I escaped.

  Chapter 7

  "Have fun visiting your boyfriend?" Maiden asked as he followed me down the hall.

  I waited at the second locked door. "He's not my boyfriend."

  "Everyone keeps saying that." Maiden unlocked the door and held it open. "Maybe it's a case of the lady protesting too much."

  "Take your library card and shove it, Maiden."

  "Ooh," he said, "that was nasty. Wonder if I can think of a comeback half that good."

  "Let me have my gun, Maiden."

  He locked the door behind us. Jason was sitting in the little row of chairs across from the desk. He looked up. "Can we go home now?"

  "Wasn't Officer Maiden entertaining?" I asked.

  "He wouldn't let me play with his handcuffs," Jason said.

  Maiden went behind the desk and unlocked the drawer. He brought out the Browning, slipped the clip back in it, and pulled the slide back, which jacked a shell into the chamber. He checked the safety and handed it to me, butt first.

  "You think Myerton's dangerous enough to need to carry one in the chamber?" I asked.

  Maiden looked at me. It was a long look as if he were trying to tell me something. "You never know," he said finally.

  We stood staring at each other for a few frozen moments, then I put the Browning in the holster with the bullet ready to go, though I checked the safety twice. Didn't usually go around with a live round in the chamber. Made me nervous. Made me more nervous that Maiden might be trying to warn me. Of course, he might just be yanking my chain. Some cops, especially small town ones, tended to give me grief. Being a vampire executioner made some of them want to trade macho shit with me, like getting me to carry a live round in the chamber.

  "Have a nice day, Blake."

  "You, too, Maiden," I said.

  I had the door open, Jason at my back, when Maiden said, "Be careful out there."

  His eyes were guarded. There was nothing to read on his face. I am not a subtle person, big surprise. "You got something to say, Maiden?" I asked.

  "I'm going to be taking my lunch break after you leave."

  I looked at him. "It's ten o'clock in the morning. Little early for lunch, don't you think?"

  "Just thought you'd like to know I won't be here."

  "I'll try and squelch my disappointment," I said.

  He flashed a quick grin, then stood. "I gotta lock the door behind you, since I'm leaving the desk unattended."

  "Locking Belasarius in with Richard?"

  "I won't be gone that long," he said. He opened the door for us, waiting for us to go outside.

  "I don't like games, Maiden. What the fuck is going on?"

  He wasn't smiling when he said, "If the fancy lawyer gets bail for your boyfriend, I'd leave town."

  "You're not suggesting he jump bail, are you, Officer?"

  "His family has been here almost from the first night he was taken into custody. Before that, it was the scientists that he's been working with. A lot of nice, upstanding citizens standing around for witnesses. But the nice upstanding citizens won't be here forever."

  Maiden and I looked at each other. I stood there for a minute, wondering if he'd stop hinting and just tell me what the hell was going on. He didn't.

  I nodded at him. "Thanks, Maiden."

  "Don't thank me," he said. He locked the door behind us.

  My hand wasn't on the butt of the Browning, but it was sort of close to it. It'd be silly to draw the gun on a nice August morning in a town with a population lower than most college dorms.

  "What was that all about?" Jason asked.

  "If we don't get Richard out, he's going to get hurt. The only reason he hasn't been yet is that there have been too many witnesses. Too many people to ask questions."

  "If the cops are in on it," Jason said, "why would Maiden warn us?"

  "He's not happy about being in on it, maybe. Oh, hell, I don't know. But it means that someone wanted Richard in jail for a reason."

  A pickup truck pulled across the street in front of the little grey house that Shang-Da was camped out in. Four men jumped out of the back. There was at least one more in the cab. He slid out of sight, and they formed a semicircle at the base of the porch. One of them had a baseball bat.

  "Well, well," Jason said. "You think if we bang on the doors and yell for police help, we'll get it?"

  I shook my head. "Maiden did help us. He warned us."

  "I'm all warm and cozy with the effort," Jason said.

  "Yeah," I said. I started walking across the street. Jason followed a couple of steps behind. I was thinking as hard as I could. I had a gun and they might not.

  But if I killed somebody, I'd be bunking with Richard. Myerton's legal system didn't seem to take to well to strangers.

  Shang-Da stood on the porch, looking down at the men. He'd taken off the billed cap. His black hair was cut very short on the sides and longer on top. The hair was shiny with gel but squashed flat from the cap. He stood balanced on his bare feet, long arms loose at his sides. He wasn't in a fighting stance yet, but I knew the signs.

  His eyes flicked to us, and I knew he'd seen us. The thugs hadn't yet. Amateur thugs. Didn't mean they weren't dangerous, but it meant you might be able to bluff them. Professional muscle tended to call a bluff.

  A small, elderly woman came through the screen door to stand next to Shang-Da. She leaned heavily on a cane, her back bowed. Her grey and white hair was cut very short and permed in one of those tight hairdos that elderly women seem so fond of. She wore an apron over a pink housedress. Her knee-high hose were ro
lled down over fuzzy slippers. Glasses perched on a small nose.

  She shook a bony fist at the men. "You boys get off my property."

  The man with the baseball bat said, "Now, Millie, this has got nothing to do with you."

  "This is my grandson you're threatening," she said.

  "He ain't her grandson," another man said. He was wearing a faded flannel shirt open like a jacket.

  "Are you calling me a liar, Mel Cooper?" the woman asked.

  "I didn't say that," Mel said.

  If we'd been someplace more private, I'd have just wounded one of them. It would have gotten their attention and called the fight off. But I'd have bet almost any amount of money that if I shot one of them, the mysterious sheriff would ride to their rescue. Maybe the plan was to get more of us in jail. I was too new on the scene to even make an educated guess.

  Jason and I walked up onto the grass. Mel was the closest to us. He turned, showing a stained undershirt and a beer gut beneath the flannel shirt. Ooh, charming.

  "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

  "Well, aren't you just Mr. Smooth."

  He took a menacing step towards me. I smiled at him. He frowned at me. "Answer the fucking question, girlie. Who are you?"

  "Doesn't matter who she is," the one with the baseball bat said. "This isn't any of her business. Leave it alone, or you'll get what he's going to get." He motioned with his head at Shang-Da.

  "I get to the beat the crap out of you, too?" I said. "Oh, goody."

  Baseball Bat frowned at me, too. I had two of them puzzled. Confusion to my enemies.

  The woman shook a bony fist at them again. "You get off my property, or I will call Sheriff Wilkes."

  One of the men laughed, and another said, "Wilkes will be along. When we're finished."

  Baseball Bat said, "Come down off that porch, boy, or we're coming up after you."

  He was ignoring me. He was ignoring Jason. They weren't just amateur muscle. They were stupid amateur muscle.

  Shang-Da's voice was surprisingly deep, very calm. There was no fear in it—big surprise—but there was an undercurrent of eagerness, as if under that calmness he was itching to hurt them. "If I come down off this porch, you will not enjoy it."