by Virna DePaul
Kevin was nowhere in sight, although he’d called Nick less than an hour ago, confirming that he and a hastily mustered team had combed the mountain from top to bottom. Although they’d found no evidence of Murphy or any other vampire, turned or born, they had isolated several pairs of footprints next to what remained of Barrett’s rental car and what appeared to be a set of different tire tracks farther down the mountain. As to the latter, the condition of the prints and surrounding area suggested some kind of fight—the only questions were who had won the fight and who had driven the vehicle off the mountain? Based on Murphy’s condition when Nick had seen him, he seriously doubted Murphy could drive—which meant he’d been the one who’d lost the fight and been driven away. But where? And by whom? According to Nick’s contact at the FBI, whom Nick had talked to this morning, he wasn’t to worry himself about that. Their agents would continue tracking the turneds. Nick’s only job was to kill them once their locations had been confirmed.
Nick had barely stopped himself from snorting and telling the guy to fuck himself. But he hadn’t. He also hadn’t revealed anything about Barrett’s presence or what she’d told him. Until he knew more, he was keeping anything having to do with Barrett close to the vest. And playing nice with his handlers would only serve to keep them in the dark while preserving ties Nick might need at some point in the near future.
Nick got out of the heli and ducked under the stillwhirling rotors. He walked around the rough concrete walls of the old bunker to inspect the damage. Not that much. The just-about-bombproof doors hadn’t been forced.
It was the slot windows hanging in jagged shards that puzzled him the most. There was almost no glass on the ground. That meant someone had squeezed through one to get in, then gone outside again the same way and broken all the others for spite or for fun.
But Murphy was big and blocky. Whoever had done this had to have been incredibly thin and flexible. Maybe the molecular disintegration of the turneds was accelerating faster than they’d thought.
“Nick, you in there? Saw the heli come over the ridge.” A dog also barked in greeting.
“Who said you could bring that dog here?” Nick yelled back, obviously joking.
“Aura, sic his ass!”
They both knew the massive dog with the golden eyes would do no such thing. For one, the command was incorrect. Aura was a stickler for procedure.
She found Nick and thrust her nose into his hand. He let her have a good sniff, then petted her rough, three-color fur, noticing that she’d been thoroughly brushed. Kev took very, very good care of her.
He was still outside, probably taking an al fresco piss. Fine with Nick. He was happy to spend a little extra time with the dog.
Aura was a whole new breed, even though she was a mix, rescued from a shelter by Kevin, who’d been looking for a dog with major smarts and a lot of potential. As it turned out, she had both in spades. But she couldn’t be trained to find the missing or the wounded or the dead.
It was the undead she went after. And Nick had been the one to figure it out. Kev, his sometime jogging buddy, had brought her along for a run in the flatlands and she’d singled out an ordinary-looking guy on a park bench that Nick had happened to know was a vampire. Born. Not turned.
Kevin had been ahead by several strides when she stopped and indicated. Nick had almost tripped over her. Her hackles were up and a low growl simmered in her throat. The golden eyes that were now closed had lit up and glowed. It had been the damnedest thing.
He didn’t really believe it had happened. After that, Nick and Kev had tested Aura again and again with amazing success.
“Ninety-five percent recognition,” he murmured into her ear. He did that rumpling thing to her ears that she loved. The big dog grinned foolishly and let her tongue loll out. Her thick tail banged on the floor. Both men were convinced they’d only scratched the surface of her abilities. And Nick had convinced the FBI that despite the termination of its Turning Program, the Bureau could at least use sniffing vampire dogs as a detection tool. He’d also requested Kev head the program.
Across the country, military dog trainers who knew what to look for had found others like her. The mutation was rare but it kept cropping up and seemed to be linked to the golden eyes.
Kevin was training the new arrivals, young and eager to learn, that’d been flown out to Tennessee a few weeks ago. But Aura was the alpha female and let every other dog know it.
She had recently bred, but only two in the litter were golden eyes. The ones that weren’t were considered nearly as valuable. The unique trait of vampire sensing was in their DNA, as well, but recessive. Every one of the dogs was kept to maintain genetic variation.
Nick liked to think of Aura as the mother of them all, even though she wasn’t. She had been discovered first—that much was true.
He heard Kev come in the door Nick had left unlocked. “Okay if she stays on my bed?” Nick asked. “There’s broken glass on the floor.”
Kevin looked around. He nearly reached the ceiling, tall as he was, what with the bristling shock of blond hair buzzed to the scalp everywhere but the top of his head. His broad shoulders and lanky walk marked him for the easygoing country boy he was. Right now he wore secondhand camos. More often than not, it was ripped jeans and an old chambray shirt. He didn’t give a hoot in hell about clothes.
“Sure.” Kevin gave a signal and Aura leaped high, clearing a military trunk piled high with gear. She made herself comfortable, trampling the comforter into a flat space in the center and settling down in it.
“Good girl,” Nick said, then addressed Kevin. “Do you make her sleep on rocks or something?”
The dog’s eyes were barely open. Narrow slivers of gold observed them both, then her eyes shut tight.
“Of course not. Nothing but the best for Aura. But she sure likes your bed. This is her second long hike in twenty-four hours,” Kev said, then looked at Nick from the corners of his eyes. “So you never told me why you missed Murphy.”
Nick scowled. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that. It happens, that’s all. Even to me.”
Kev eased off the subject. “Never used a crossbow myself.”
“I can teach you.”
“Some other time,” Kevin said. “I’m kinda beat.”
“I don’t doubt it. I followed you and the dogs on the screen, but the readout is ridiculous. Just dots. Looked like a freakin’ Pong game. Sometimes I wonder what they’re thinking with this V-gear.”
Nick’s supply guy at the FBI had loaded him up with great new equipment and some that had been used to hunt vampires since the program’s inception. The latter didn’t need to be tested, in Nick’s opinion. It needed to be junked.
“These new dogs do better than them machines. Aura almost got the fucker, you know. I saw him, then I didn’t. He disappeared, fast. It was like—” Kevin searched for words to describe it. “Like the darkness after blowing out a candle,” he said finally. “When you can still see the flame for a second.”
“You mean he teleported?”
“He was gone. Just gone.”
“Huh.” Tim Murphy was turned. As far as Nick knew, he shouldn’t have been able to teleport. Unless he had help. Could a born vampire have dragged him along during a vanishing act?
“So what’s all this?” Kevin asked.
Nick covered the basics of the gear and gadgets on the trunk. “More stuff. I actually asked for some of it. We need better basic surveillance.”
“Yeah? I’ll stick with the dogs.” At Nick’s quizzical look, Kev added, “Hey, request anything you want. Apparently the brass thinks the world of you.”
“Yeah?”
“You shoulda seen the team they sent in after I radioed them. SEALs, recon specialists, invisible types from the CIA—you’re kind of a big deal, Nicky boy.”
“We all have to answer to the NSA now. We’re supposed to work together.”
“The National Security Agency would like to think so,” Kev
drawled. “Kind of weird to think of the feds and the army and the rest of ’em mixed up together, spying on everyone and each other.”
“I promise not to tell anyone you said that.”
Although it had given him an idea. Nick knew people at the NSA. Every bit and byte of computer intelligence in the U.S. or affecting the U.S. went through their data pipes. If he was going to be able to get any information on the whereabouts of Jane Small, that was his best place to start.
“They need to work on coordination,” Kev added. “Took them an hour to get here, on ATVs and I don’t know what. I kept my head down and Aura close to me until the cavalry came thunderin’ up the mountain.”
“I wouldn’t have ditched you if they hadn’t been so close and you didn’t have the dogs and your arsenal of liquid nitrogen–coated knives,” Nick told him. “But thanks for holding down the fort.”
“Gotta roll with things, now more than ever. Hey, almost forgot,” Kevin said. “I saw a torched car down by the gate. Who owns that?”
“Some rental company. A friend stopped by before we were so rudely interrupted,” Nick said. “She hiked up. The security setup is busted.”
“She?” Kevin snapped his fingers. “Aura. Find panties.”
The drowsy animal yawned and rolled over, her back to the men.
“Shut the fuck up, Kev. Even the dog thinks you’re immature.”
“Sorry. It was a lame joke.”
“Yeah, you could say that. We were dealing with the nastiest vamp I ever saw in my life, not fooling around.”
Nick thought about Murphy or something else like him or worse sneaking up on them. But the dog was relaxed. He told himself to act the same way. She shifted. Dreaming? He hoped so.
“Funny, you didn’t mention having company when you called in.”
When Nick remained silent, Kev grinned. “So you got her to safety?”
Nick nodded, still not wanting to explain about Barrett. The other man didn’t need to know and Nick had never once mentioned her in the whole time he’d known Kevin. He went for a broom and a dustpan and swept up the shattered glass. They dropped the subject by silent mutual agreement and went through the gear piece by piece, dividing it into piles and making a list of what else they might need to stay safe on the isolated mountain.
Refreshed after her nap, Aura jumped off the bed and went into the kitchen.
“She wants water,” Kevin said.
“Okay. I’ll take care of it.” Nick rose and flung an ammo belt in Kev’s direction, nodding with approval when the other man caught it single-handedly.
Aura was sitting on the floor, looking fixedly at a shelf above her. Nick realized belatedly that she was indicating something. He looked around, not getting it. But then he didn’t quite speak her language.
Every dog of her type, from search-and-rescue to cadaver dogs, was an individual. There were slight variations in terms of how they communicated, their signals interpreted by their own trainers after long months of practice. Dog and handler worked so closely together it was as if they became one being, developing their own signals over time.
Kev was her handler, always would be. Nick wasn’t up to speed, although he understood the basics. But not her specific way of communicating her finds. The process was nothing like the sniff-sniff-bingo! people saw on TV. It took time. The best animal wasn’t always sure and didn’t always get it right. But Aura’s outstanding record spoke for itself.
What the hell had she smelled and where was it? The kitchen didn’t look any different to him. Nick rinsed out a bowl and filled it with fresh water.
She stayed where she was when he put the bowl in front of her, not lowering her head to take a drink, not moving a muscle, 100 percent focused.
“Kev,” he called. “Aura won’t move. She’s signaling something I can’t find.”
“Be right there.”
Kevin came in and let his gaze follow the straight line of the dog’s gaze. Then he frowned. “I think Murphy left you a little present. It’s up there.”
“Hey, if you’re so goddamn tall you can see that high up, you get to bring it down. What is it, anyway?”
“Not sure. Get a ladder. I’m not touching it.”
Nick looked around for a plastic bag to cover his hand. He used two, slipping them on after he unfolded a stepladder and climbed high enough to see the shelf.
Murphy had been here. And he’d been well enough and mindful enough not to leave any other evidence of his visit. A portion of the curved outer edge of the vampire’s ear remained intact. The rest was ragged flesh crusted with blood. Aura continued to signal, motionless and intent. Nick handled the disgusting thing gingerly, putting it into a glass jar and screwing the lid on tight. Then he looked at Kev. “As soon as it’s light, the three of us are going to do another sweep. We’re tracking this bastard down.”
Chapter 9
Crystal City looked pretty good in the moonlight. Barrett was glad to be coming home after the odd meeting with the Prescotts, and relieved that she didn’t have to report to Carly until late tomorrow afternoon.
The airport was less than a mile from her building, one of many tall, anonymous structures that towered over the flat land on the west side of the Potomac River and south of D.C. But the area was sought after for its proximity to the Mall, the Capitol, and other important government buildings on both sides of the river. It was where you rented if you wanted a nice place and some degree of solitude. The tenants were a varied lot. Military and ex-military. The single and divorced. Nobodies who weren’t broke and weren’t rich.
She qualified for all three categories.
The taxi driver pulled up in front of her building and she paid him, getting out quickly and going into the lobby to pick up her mail. Barrett pulled out several envelopes that looked like bills and stuck them into her shoulder bag, on top of the papers she’d swiped from Malcolm Prescott’s car.
Wondering if there was white wine in the refrigerator and if so, what frozen food product could be nuked to accompany it, she waited for an elevator.
Considering she’d bounced around to three different states—Tennessee, Georgia, and Maryland—she didn’t feel particularly tired. She was a little worried though. She wondered why she hadn’t heard from Nick. She’d called a couple of times and texted once. No answer. Did it mean anything other than he was busy? With his own work or with helping her find Jane?
True, she didn’t have anything extraordinary to tell him, but every little detail could count. She knew more about Jane Small than she ever had, despite Malcolm Prescott’s self-serving bullshit. The girl was no angel. But Barrett liked her even more for it.
Jane’s bad behavior wasn’t all that bad. If she wasn’t properly grateful to her guardians, it was because she was smart. Ginny seemed like kind of a doormat, but otherwise all right. Malcolm was a lecher and a phony. Still, Barrett had the feeling that Jane had been able to handle him. And she just didn’t think he’d put a seventeen-year-old girl in harm’s way.
Someone else had done that. But Jane had to be out there somewhere. Barrett would find her. She adjusted the bag over her shoulder, making the papers crammed inside rustle a bit.
Could be a clue or two in all that. Trash told the truth more often than not. She was looking forward to going through it, piece by piece, down to the gum wrappers.
A box of crackers was nearly empty by the time Barrett got everything sorted. There were no gum wrappers, though. Just a gray lump of chewed gum that looked like a miniature brain, wrapped up in a scrap of school-ruled paper. She put it into a small plastic bag for possible DNA collection.
Missing persons cases required every possible means of identification. With no living relatives, Jane could go unidentified if the worst happened and the months dragged on.
There was no telling if Jane or Malcolm had done the chewing, though Barrett’s money was on Jane. Into the fridge it went.
There were scribbles about mean teachers, snobbish girls, dumb b
oys. Even veiled insults about Malcolm’s lack of intelligence; it had probably given Jane a kick to leave that type of thing in plain view of the guy. So far, normal enough. But almost too normal. If Jane was missing her mother—a given, since she and Sarah had been very close—she was keeping it well hidden. Maybe Prescott was editing the clutter. Maybe he’d deliberately left her alone to go into the convenience store.
There were school assignments. English, math—Jane got mostly A’s. And other miscellaneous stuff. The girl seemed to be in the habit of cleaning out her backpack in the car. Malcolm Prescott’s four-wheeled garbage can didn’t get emptied out much. Some of the dated items were months old.
He must have done most of the chauffeuring. Unless Jane had her license and was allowed to use his car.
Barrett started a separate pile for Malcolm. There wasn’t much. His business cards, a couple of reprints of his articles, and—why was she not surprised—several flyers for gentlemen’s clubs.
One offered a discount strip package for groups, Tuesdays only. A white box had been filled in pen:
Prescott, party of four, table 9. She looked more closely, recognizing the sign in the photo. She’d driven past it. It was a local joint, really sleazy, that had closed last year. He must have come in from Maryland with pals. Lecherous and cheap. She felt even more sorry for his wife.
Barrett sat back. Kind of a bust but not a total waste of time. She’d learned a few more things about Jane and Malcolm, but found nothing that might lead her to the girl or cast suspicion on her uncle. She polished off the last of the crackers while looking absently at the piles.
Whoa. She sat up straight and put the empty box aside. There was something. She’d missed it the first time around.
She picked up the flyer on top of the nearest pile, for a luxury club opening in New City. It touted the coming attractions in great big letters. Hot girls. Strip shows. Top-notch bands. She looked more closely at the overall design.
