2 Blood Trail (26 page)

Colin glanced over at Barry and the two Ontario Provincial Police constables standing talking by the nurses’ station. “You said it was a ricochet.”

Vicki rolled her eyes. “Colin. . . .”

“Okay, sorry. It’s just, well, what am I going to tell them?”

“You aren’t going to tell them anything.” She smothered a yawn with her fist. “I am. Trust me. I’ve been at this longer than you have, I know the things a police department wants to hear and the way they want to hear them.”

“Vicki.” Celluci leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder. “I hate to burst your bubble, but you are quite possibly the worst liar I know.”

She turned to face him, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Lie to the police? I wouldn’t think of it. Every word out of my mouth is going to be the truth.”

 

“So there’s been someone taking potshots out of those woods for a while now?”

“Well, I’m not sure three shots counts as
potshots,
Constable.”

“Still should’ve been reported, ma’am. If someone’s firing a hunting rifle out in the conservation area we’d like to know about it.”

“The family figured it was just because Arthur Fortrin was out of town,” Colin put in.

Given a little direction, Colin was remarkably good at half-truths.
But
then, he’d have to be
, Vicki realized.
All things considered.

The OPP constable looked dubious. “I don’t think the absence of one game warden’s going to make much difference. And
you
should’ve known better.” He snapped his occurrence book shut. “Tell your family next time they hear a shot, to call us immediately. Maybe we can spot the guy’s car.”

“I’ll tell them. . . .” Colin shrugged.

“Yeah, I know, but will they listen.” The constable sighed and glanced over at Vicki. He didn’t think much of a Toronto private detective messing around in his neck of the woods, although her police background did lend credibility. His warning to be careful died in his throat when he caught her eye. She looked like a person who could take care of herself—and anything else that crossed her path. “So,” he turned back to Colin, “this have anything to do with your Aunt Sylvia leaving?”

Colin snorted. “Well, she did say it was the last straw.”

“Didn’t she head up to the Yukon?”

“Yeah, her brother, my Uncle Robert, has a place just outside Whitehorse. She said it was getting too crowded around here.”

“Your Uncle Jason just took off too, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, Father accused Aunt Sylvia of starting an exodus and threatened to lock Peter, Rose, and I in the house until things calmed down.”

“Well, frankly I was surprised he stayed around as long as he did. Man needs a place of his own.” The OPP constable poked Colin in the ribs with his pen. “When’ll you be moving out?”

“When I feel suicidal enough to live on my own cooking.”

Both men laughed and the conversation turned to a general discussion of food.

Vicki realized that the wer were perhaps not as isolated as she’d originally thought. Colin leaving the farm and taking a job had brought them to the attention of the police if nothing else. Fortunately, the police tended to take care of their own. As for the shooting; she knew there wasn’t much the OPP could do. She could only hope that a few extra patrols up and around the area would give her time to find this psycho before anyone else got killed. The wer would just have to recognize their higher visibility and be more careful when they changed for a while. It seemed a small price to pay.

 

“. . . anyway, Donald’s fine. The hospital released him into Dr. Dixon’s care—that’s one persuasive old man—and he’ll probably be able to come home tomorrow. Apparently because he was shot in one form and then changed there’s no danger of infection. Colin’s on his way back, but I thought I should call and fill you in. Oh, and Nadine, I’ll be spending the night in town.”

“explanations?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you trust him with this?”

“I trust Mike Celluci with my life.”

“Good. Because you’re trusting him with ours.”

Vicki half turned so she could see Celluci leaning on the hospital wall across from the phones. He looked tired but impassive, with all professional barriers raised. “It’ll be okay. Can I speak to Henry?”

“Hang on.” Nadine held the receiver out to the vampire. “You were right,” she told him as he took it.

He didn’t appear particularly gratified by this information. If Celluci’s face was impassive, Henry’s was stone. “Vicki?”

“Hi. I thought I should tell you, I’m staying in town tonight. I need a little time alone.”

“Alone?”

“Well, away.”

“I can’t say as I’m surprised. You and Mr. Celluci have a great deal to discuss.”

“Tell me about it. Do me a favor?”

“Anything.” Before she could speak, he reconsidered and added. “Almost anything.”

“Stay around the house tonight.”

“who?”

“Because it’s 3:40 in the morning and sunrise is around 6:00.”

“Vicki, I have been avoiding the dawn for a long time. Don’t patronize me.”

Okay. Maybe she deserved that. “Look, Henry, it’s late, you’ve only got one good arm—at best one and a half—I’ve had a very rough day, and it isn’t over yet. Please, give me one less person to worry about over the next few hours. We know this guy is coming right up to the house and we don’t know for sure just where exactly Donald was shot.”

“You didn’t ask him?”

“I didn’t get the chance. Look,” she sagged against the wall, “let’s just assume that the farm is under a state of siege and act accordingly. Okay?”

“You’re asking me to do this for your peace of mind?”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had no right to ask him such a thing for such a reason.

“Yes.”

“All right. I’ll sit quietly in the kitchen and work on an outline for my next book.”

“Thank you. And keep the wer in the house. Even if you have to nail the doors shut.” She slid a finger and thumb up under the edge of her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I mean, how many times do I have to tell them to stay out of those fields?”

“An enemy they can’t see or smell isn’t very real to them.”

She snorted. “Well, death is. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Count on it. Vicki? Is he likely to be difficult?”

She shot another glance at Celluci, who was attempting to cover a massive yawn. “He excels at being difficult, but I can usually make him see reason if I thump him hard enough.”

After she hung up, she rested her head for a few seconds on the cool plastic top of the phone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted to sleep this badly.

“Come on.” Celluci pulled her arm through his and steered her out into the parking lot where the heat hit them like a moist and semi-solid wall. “I know a cheap, clean motel out by the airport where they don’t care what time you show up as long as you pay cash.”

“How the hell did you find a place like that?” The yawn threatened to split her head in two and the pain came down on her bruised temple with hobnailed boots. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She slid into the car and let her head fall back against the seat. “I know you’re dying to begin the interrogation—why don’t I just start at the beginning and tell it in my own words?” If she had a nickel for every time she’d said that to a witness, she’d be a rich woman.

Eyes closed, she started with Rose and Peter in Henry’s condo. She finished, with Donald being shot, as they pulled in at the motel. The only thing she left out was Henry’s actual nature. That wasn’t her story to tell.

To her surprise, Celluci’s only response was, “Wait in the car. I’ll go get us a room.”

As she had no intention of moving farther or more often than she had to, she ignored his tone and waited. Fortunately, the keys he returned with were to a room on the ground floor. At this point, she doubted her ability to climb stairs.

“Why so quiet?” she asked at last, easing herself gently down on one of the double beds. “I was expecting another fine set of Italian hysterics at the very least.”

“I’m thinking.” He sat on the other bed, unbuckled his holster, and laid it carefully on the bedside table. “A concept I know you’re unfamiliar with.”

Except he didn’t know
what
he was thinking. There were a number of things Vicki wasn’t telling him and exhaustion had distanced the events of the night so they felt as though they’d happened to someone else. He couldn’t believe he’d actually pulled his gun. It was easier to believe in werewolves.

“Werewolves,” he muttered. “What next?”

“Sleep?” Vicki suggested hopefully, her voice slurred.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened last spring?”

“Sleeping?” Something about that didn’t make sense but she couldn’t quite get her brain around it.

“Never mind.” He pulled her glasses off her face and set them down beside his gun, then quickly undressed her. She let him. She hated sleeping in her clothes and didn’t have the energy to get rid of them herself.

“Good night, Vicki.”

“Night, Mike. Don’t worry.” She fought with her mouth to get the last words out. “It’ll all make sense in the morning.”

He leaned over and pulled the sheet up around her shoulders. “Somehow, I doubt it,” he told her softly, although he suspected she could no longer hear him.

 

Henry stood and stared up at the night, trying to decide how he felt. Jealousy was an emotion his kind learned to deal with early on or they didn’t survive long.
You are mine!
sounded very dramatic, especially when accompanied by a swirling cape and ominous music, but real life just didn’t work that way.

The trouble, therefore, had to be Celluci. “The man throws his life out like a challenge,” Henry muttered. He wasn’t at all surprised Stuart had attacked the detective—dominant males usually came to blows. His continuing presence probably hadn’t helped. Although he had a special status within the family, while he was around Stuart remained on edge, instincts demanding that one of them submit. It was the alpha male’s responsibility to protect the pack and his frustration at having to call in outside help had no doubt destabilized Stuart further.

Given Celluci’s attitude and Stuart’s state of mind, a fight had been inevitable. Storm’s intervention, on the other hand, had been a complete surprise to everyone involved, including Storm. Cloud must be getting very close for her twin to be behaving so irrationally.

Which brought them back around, more or less, to Vicki.

Henry grinned. If Celluci was a wer, he’d piss a circle around her, telling the world,
This is mine
! And then Vicki would get up and walk out of it.

“I’m not jealous of him,” he told the night, aware as he spoke that it was almost a lie.

 

 

He had loved half a dozen times in the centuries since and each time it had shone like a beacon in the long darkness of his life.

Was it happening again? He wasn’t sure. He only knew he wanted to tell Mike Celluci, “The day is yours, but the night is
mine.
”

Celluci would be as unlikely to agree to such a division as Vicki would.

 

 

Perhaps, when the wer were safe, he would ask her, “Will you give me your nights?”

Perhaps.

 

He wanted to touch her, hold her . . . no . . . he wanted to catch her up and throw her down and reestablish his claim on her. The intensity of his desire frightened him, stopped him. Confused, he sat on the edge of his bed, watching her sleep, listening to the soft sound of her breathing play a counterpoint to the helicopter roar of cheap air-conditioning.

They’d never had an exclusive relationship. They’d both had other lovers.
She’d
had other lovers.

Mike Celluci forced his hands to relax against his bare thighs and took a deep breath of the chilled air. Nothing had changed between him and Vicki since Henry Fitzroy came on the scene.

Suddenly, he couldn’t stop thinking about the first eight months after she’d left the force. They’d had one last bitter fight and then no contact at all as the days dragged into weeks and the world had become more and more impossible to deal with. Until she was gone, he hadn’t realized how important a part of his life she’d been. And it wasn’t the sex he’d missed. He’d missed conversations and arguments—even considering that most of their conversations became arguments—and just having someone around who’d get the joke. He’d lost his best friend and had barely learned to live with the loss when fate had thrown them together again.

No one should have to go through that twice.

But Fitzroy wasn’t taking her anywhere.

Was he?

 

“Look, if you think that after last night I’m going meekly back to Toronto, think again. I’m driving you back to the farm. Get in the car.”

Vicki sighed and surrendered. She recognized Celluci’s
“There’s more going on here than meets the eye and I’m going to get to the bottom of it regardless of how you feel”
tone, and it was just too hot to keep arguing. Besides, if he didn’t drive her, someone would have to come out from the farm to get her and that didn’t seem entirely fair.