“Now you’re making me curious. Can you tell me where the stew came from?”
“Sure I can tell ya. But then I’d have to—”
“Seriously?”
Innocently, I shrug.
“It’ll take some time,” he warns.
“Of course. Call me as soon as you learn anything.”
He drums his fingers on his desk. “There’s nothing pressing at the moment, so I can start on this now. Hm… Maybe I can…” he mutters to himself eagerly as he stands and walks away.
I grin. He’s as much a problem solver as I am. He’s all about solving riddles. If anyone can figure out if there’s something off about the stew, he can.
My happiness is short-lived, though, because I can’t bear the thought of returning home since Travis is missing.
Is he missing, though? Maybe he did get free himself, and he’s back to normal. Or he’s going after others, just like he did with me.
Cursing myself for not doing this immediately, I call Travis. No answer. Not a surprise. He hates to talk on the phone, preferring to text if possible.
So I call Travis at the station. No answer. Next, I call Marlon.
“This is Mercedes. Can I help you?”
Wow. She can actually sound professional and nice. Who knew? But why is she answering his phone? A flare of discomfort settles in my chest.
“I was wondering if Travis is there yet,” I ask, trying to hide my worry and guilt. “I want to invite him over for dinner, but I can’t get ahold of him.”
“Moved on from Marlon to another man who is unobtainable, huh? I don’t see why. Travis is, well, let’s just say I’m glad that he’s your partner and not mine. Not that he isn’t a good cop, but he can be so dry at times and—”
Some of my frustration and anger over the situation boil over. “And you never know when to shut your mouth, Mercedes,” I snap. “Answer the question.”
“Jeez alou, you’re a crab. What’s the matter? Can’t take it that I’m working with the guy you want on a case you’d kill for?”
“Is Travis there or not? He was here earlier, but then he left… before I could ask him.” I wince at how lame I sound, but I’m too desperate to try and hunt him down to care.
“No—”
Frustrated, I hang up. I’m not about to listen to her for a minute longer than I have to.
I’m not done making phone calls.
“Hi, Ali,” I say. I’m trying to sound normal and happy and not the depressed, frightened version that is becoming my new default. “Is Travis with you?”
“No. He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. I’m not sure where he is. He won’t answer my texts or my calls.” She sounds worried herself.
Uh oh. Something tells me that Travis’s disappearance has everything to do with the vamps.
Which means he could very well be dead.
No. Not Travis. He can’t be.
He’s basically the only family I have left. We met at the academy. My past with my parents had been fresh then. When he learned this was my dream because of them, he made it his personal goal to stick it to me. He pushed me, baiting me against him to see who could do better on different assignments.
He’s the reason why I ended up in the vice unit. It was that with him or Highway Patrol. A complete no-brainer. There was no way I wanted to do traffic control with some guy I never met before.
Travis. My brother from another mother.
I’ll find you. I’ll save you. I’ll bring you back. I don’t know how, but I will.
I swear.
The next morning and all throughout the day, I don’t hear back from Travis or Doug. Or the next. Or the next.
A phone call startles me awake early the fourth day. Groggy, I pick up, praying it’s Travis or the lieutenant wanting to bring me back on board.
It’s neither. It’s Doug.
“Hey, Clarissa, this a good time?” he asks, and I’m so happy to hear from him.
“Sure it is. What did you find?” I ask eagerly.
“A poison all right, but one I’ve never come across before. I’ve run it through all of the databases. As far as I can tell, no one else has ever isolated it before. Where in the world did you get it from?”
“Travis,” I say without thinking. I’m wide awake now.
His news doesn’t shock me. How long have vamps been around? A really long time, I’m willing to bet, and we never discovered them until now.
Although maybe the government knows about them and has kept them off the grid. If that’s the case, we might get a visit soon.
That’s not something I can worry about right now. I have enough to focus on as it is.
“How do you know it’s poison? What does it do to a person?”
He launches into a long discourse with jargon I don’t understand, but he can only conjecture what the side effects are.
“It seems to me that it would affect a person’s central nervous system,” he finally says.
“Paralyze them?” I’m dismayed to hear this.
“Yes. Their heart, especially. Make their blood sit in their veins and arteries, unable to move.”
“Thank you, Doug.”
“Do you want the stew back?” he asks.
“Nah. Actually, you know what? I will take it back. Thanks.”
On the drive over, I call Ali through my Bluetooth headset. We’ve spoken every day since Travis turned into Mr. Jekyll. I’m doing my best to keep her calm and sane.
But the main reason for today’s call is a simple question, one I should’ve asked a long time ago. My only excuse is that I’ve been so stressed lately that I’m not thinking clearly.
As soon as she answers, I ask, “Have you made beef stew recently?”
“No. I hate beef. Why?”
“Oh, thank God.” I sigh with relief.
“Clarissa, what is going on? Where’s Travis? I’m really getting worried. Is he doing some kind of undercover operation? I guess you wouldn’t be able to tell me if he was, but…”
She sounds so frightened and anxious. I hate that she’s going through all of this.
I blow out a breath. “I’m sure he’s fine, Ali.”
“It’s been too long. No one has seen or heard from him. He hasn’t even called his mom, and it was her birthday two days ago! He never misses a birthday. He’s great like that. I mean, seriously, how many guys remember birthdays?”
“He is great,” I agree, “which is why I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for his disappearance.”
“Disappearance?” she repeats, panic and dismay seeping into her voice.
I wince. “I meant he has a good explanation for not being around. He’s fine.”
“Do you know that, or are you just saying that?” she asks quietly, despairingly.
“He’s fine,” I reiterate.
She hangs up on me.
Whoa. That’s not like Ali. Now I’m even more determined to find Travis before the day is over.
I pull into the lab’s parking lot and rush inside. I’m just collecting the container from Doug when Felix Kerns approaches.
I wince. “Sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean to give you the slip.”
It’s not my fault that I have off-street parking behind my house instead of in front of it. It’s not like I was purposely trying to avoid my tail this time.
He’s not smiling. “When’s the last time you saw Travis?” he asks critically.
I gape at him, shocked. Has Ali filed a missing person’s report?
“You said you saw him the day you gave me that sample,” Doug says.
Is that an undercurrent of suspicion in his voice? Nah. I’m worrying over nothing.
“Friday, right?” he continues.
I grind my teeth in frustration and do my best not to glower at him. He and Travis have both overshared and gotten me into trouble. I can’t feel justified being upset with Travis right now.
“Yes, I last saw him on Friday. Why? What’s
going on?” I ask, my worry morphing into terror. My stomach churns repulsively.
“What time?” Felix crosses his arms, his face a mask.
What in the world?
“Are you trying to say that—”
“I’m not saying anything. Please, answer the question.”
“I demand to know what’s going on.” Normally, when I’m pissed, I get loud and aggressive. Right now, though, I’m quiet, almost too quiet.
An arm drapes across my shoulders. Diego.
“Come with me,” he says easily.
I can’t tell if he’s being his normal flirty self or if he’s trying to diffuse the situation. Maybe I’m in serious trouble and he’s taking me away.
Regardless of his intention, I go with him, my hands gripping the stew container so tightly my knuckles turn white.
“What’s going on?” I whisper to him, ignoring the glances and whispers from Doug’s coworkers. Are they thinking we’re together? Or that I’m in trouble… again?
“Travis is missing. We’re trying to help determine the last person to see him.”
“It was around… two or three in the afternoon on Friday.”
“So you were the last,” he muses aloud.
He opens the front door for me, and I hesitate before walking outside. The sun is blinding, but the air burns against my cheeks. It’s unseasonably cold for early November.
“Mercedes said you called asking about him,” he mentions casually.
“Yes.”
“She said you sounded weird.”
I roll my eyes. “You know we don’t get along.”
“Yeah, but she won’t make stuff up.”
I exhale noisily, but he’s right. Mercedes might be a diva and a witch, but she is a good cop.
“Where did you see him? He was seen leaving the station around noon.”
“He came over to my place.”
Diego waits expectantly.
Someone leaves the building, so I walk over to the parking lot. Diego falls into step beside me. I hate that I’m being questioned, but at least he’s not being an ass about it. Felix, what’s his deal? Maybe it’s getting to his head, all of it, between the kid and the bodies… All right, so if I were in their shoes, yeah, I would think I’m suspicious, but I’ve done nothing wrong!
The worst part about it is that no one will believe me if I tell the truth.
Not that lying will help me any.
Then again, they’ll think that my truth is just an elaborate story.
But Diego isn’t a bad guy. Maybe he’ll listen to me.
I walk out of the parking lot. He doesn’t say a word, trailing beside me as if we’re just going for a stroll.
“Travis came over. We talked some. Actually, he hardly said anything now that I think about it. He brought over this.” I hold up the container.
“Stew? Travis can’t cook worth a damn.”
“You got that right.” I halt.
The gears are visibly churning in his head. “Why did you bring the stew he gave you to Doug?”
“So he could run analysis on it. Diego, when I refused to eat the stew, Travis got pissed at me. He…”
Can I trust him with the truth?
“He attacked me, so I knocked him out. I left the room, and when I went back, he was gone. I haven’t seen him since. And the stew? It’s poisoned. With a poison Doug can’t identify.”
Diego says nothing. For him to be quiet is really saying something. He always has a joke or a witty remark. He’s not smiling either.
I stop walking and face him. “You want to know my theory?”
“Sure.” He crosses his arms. Man, he’s looking more and more like a powerlifter every day. Never realized that before.
“It’s gonna sound crazy,” I warn him, “and maybe this has nothing to do with it. Maybe he’s just gotten cold feet with the wedding. Maybe it’s something to do with a case in vice, but… I think it’s connected to the Jennifer Hamilton and Gizmo murders.”
“How so?”
“I’ve pissed them off,” I whisper. “One broke into my house, and then I was attacked. They don’t like that I’m investigating them, so they went after Travis. They did something to his mind to make him try and kill me. Maybe they gave him the poison—”
“Do you know how convoluted that is? If the goal is to get to you, why not just kill you?” he asks bluntly. “Not that I want you dead, but even I have to admit that your neck is long and graceful, and I’m not a vampire.”
My cheeks flush. “I know it’s a stretch, but it’s all I’ve got. I don’t know why they don’t just kill me. I would rather that than… if they’ve done anything to Travis, if they’ve hurt him…”
Diego maintains his silence.
“Say something.” I try to crack a smile, but I more or less just bare my teeth.
“I think… Well, Travis is head over heels for Ali. Everyone can see that. It’s not cold feet. Ever since the incident with your gun and that kid, things have taken a step back in vice. It’s doubtful that one of the big kahunas would come forward now to knock him off.”
My jaw drops. “You think he’s dead?”
“I don’t know what to think. About any of it. It’s not my call, Clarissa, but…”
“I’m going to have to go to the station and be formally questioned.”
“I’m sorry.” He smiles, clearly embarrassed and guilty. “I don’t believe for a second that you’ve done anything wrong.”
“You know, I’ve hardly seen the detective sergeant at all lately, and he’s my direct boss. It’s been the lieutenant all the way. I’m definitely not making a good impression on him.”
“Maybe you should listen to him and take that vacation.”
“Et tu, Brute?” I mumble, depressed.
“If you are right with your wild idea, then it might be the only way to save Travis. Show them you’re dropping the investigation. Stop trying to prove they exist. Isn’t that what they want?”
“I’ve never been good with following orders,” I confess.
He shakes his head, a smirk twisting his lips playfully. “Right. You’ve only listened to how many orders as a cop?”
“It’s easy to obey when you agree with the command, but lately… No one else believes me, so when they want me to back off, it makes me want to dig my heels in and dig deeper.”
“I hate to do this, but I’m gonna be the one to dig my… boots in…” His grin falters. “…and bring you in.”
I go willingly, but I’m seething, infuriated. The vamps are behind this. I know they are.
It doesn’t look good for me, with work or with the vamps.
Chapter 17
The questions keep coming, and I answer them all to the best of my ability. That they wonder if I gave some of the stew to Travis kills me. They confiscate the container as evidence. It’s almost impossible to be neutral and indifferent, to not take offense, to not become defensive and hostile. I’m frustrated and enraged, but I bury all of my anger within me.
Of course, they can’t hold me. There isn’t proof of a crime, even though I did confess to knocking Travis out.
By the time I leave the station, the moon stares down at me in disapproval. The night is the vamps’ time to shine.
Felix is waiting in the car, and Diego directs me toward it.
“I’m gonna walk home,” I announce. “You’re welcome to tail me.”
“You mean I get to ogle your ass and get paid for it?” Diego grins, his swagger returning full force. “I’m in Heaven.”
My laugh is only a little strained. “Stare all you want but don’t touch.”
“One day,” he calls out as he climbs in.
“Keep dreaming,” I retort.
He rolls down the window. “I do dream about you.”
I cover my ears. “More than I needed to know.”
Diego rolls his window back up, and the sound of his laughter fades. I appreciate his efforts to make me smile, but I’m not hap
py. I won’t be until Travis is back and himself again, not that shell or monster he had been. They need to fix him before they return him.
It’s not as if I have a destination in mind, but it feels good to wander the streets. It also makes me feel better knowing that Diego and Felix are with me. Maybe I shouldn’t have ducked them so many times before.
Maybe if I hadn’t, they would’ve been targeted instead. Who knows? The thought refuels my anger and my sense of being insignificant. How can I protect those I care about when I’m not even sure what I’m up against?
Down the block, one alley looks rather foggy, eerily so since the others aren’t. With purpose, I hurry over.
There’s no one there.
Still, I call out, “Just give Travis back. He’s done nothing wrong.”
No answer. The fog remains, though.
“Give him back. Take me instead. Kill me even. Just let Travis go. In his right mind,” I clarify. “But let him go. Let him go!”
Nothing.
Maybe the lieutenant and Diego have the right of it.
I’m desperate and disillusioned. I’m also unwilling to be the victim any longer.
Their lack of a response, their indifference and apathy force me into action. I whip out my cell phone.
“Fine. I’ll go. I’ll leave. You see this? I’m purchasing a plane ticket. Going to… Ah. I’ll go to Savannah. All right? I leave in a week. I’ll be gone. That work for you?”
Still nothing.
But then the fog just disappears.
I shove my cell into my coat pocket. Yes, I finally got my coat back. While I’m sure forensics would still be able to locate blood on it, it’s clean and wearable by my standards.
I’m unlocking my front door, dreaming of a hot bath and a long sleep, when the Phantom of the Opera blares. I’m not much into musicals, but something about the phantom just captures my soul.
It’s Ali, not that I can make out a single word she’s saying.
“Whoa. Calm down. I can’t understand you.”
Her words are a jumbled, garbled mess, but I do pick out one word.
“Travis? Have you found him?” I’m in awe. Already?
“Yes! He’s here!”
“So, what’s wrong? Is something wrong? Or are you just—”
When Vamps Bite: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 1) Page 12
