Redeeming the Night (16 page)

Memories of his attack began to surface. The dim warehouse. Moving through the pallets of newspaper stacked ten feet high. His gun was at the ready, but his quarry moved more silently than a movie ninja. There was a tap on his shoulder. He spun.

“Eric?” It was Aaron. “Are you all right? Do you need some air?”

“No, I’m fine.” He waved away the concern. To Ashley, he whispered, “Later.”

Aaron glanced at the empty doorway and then stepped closer to Eric. “What’s going on here? Rose? I’ve seen pictures of your old partner. Who is this girl? Do you want to clue me in?”

“This isn’t the time.” Another look at Aaron’s face and Eric cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t believe most of it. Let’s just say she’s got some talent when it comes to detective work. If anyone asks, she is a consultant from my end.”

• • •

Aaron’s suspicions put Ashley on edge. What could he be thinking? He was a decent enough man. He’d killed before, but she could also see he took no pleasure in it. His virtues overshadowed his sins. She wouldn’t have looked at him twice when she was hunting for the sisterhood. Still, if he threatened Eric, she’d drain the cop without a second thought.

Aaron’s stony gaze swept over both of them. “Fine, for now.” He pointed at Eric. “We’re going to have a long talk.”

“Okay.” She allowed Eric to make his promise. She didn’t know Aaron, but she trusted Eric to make the best call for them.

“Soon.”

“Count on it.”

The three of them turned to face the scene. Eric muttered, “He didn’t bother with a note this time.”

Aaron crossed his arms. “No, if she caught him off guard maybe he didn’t feel he had the time.”

“Excuse me.” A man in a dark blue uniform and bright blue booties covering his shoes tapped a knuckle on the door jam. “We need to sweep the room.”

“Again?”

“Mr. Gunderson insisted.”

Nodding, Aaron led them from the room.

Once they were in the hall, a crew of crime scene techs filed into the bedroom, each holding another piece of equipment. Ashley said, “Mr. Gunderson must have considerable influence.”

Aaron grunted. “You could say that.”

Eric led the way down the hall. “Let’s see if we can ask the parents a couple of questions.”

The first floor of the house was still swarming with federal agents. Taking pictures. Talking to servants. Talking to each other. Many of them stopped their conversations to watch the trio descend the stairs. When they reached the bottom, the conversations resumed, more quietly.

“They are interviewing the family in the father’s home office.”

Even as they approached the room Ashley’s mouth began to water. Someone in that room was depraved. The stench of it billowed through the door. Her ring burned. Her eyes fogged.

Eric gripped her arm. “Are you all right?”

“Someone in that room is corrupt.” Her voice was hoarse with the need to feed. “I don’t know … if I can control myself.” She looked into his eyes and saw his confusion. “You know I feed on sin … ” She gasped. “It’s unbearable.”

He nodded and handed her the keys. “Wait in the car.”

• • •

When he caught up with Aaron, Eric nodded in the direction Ashley went. “She felt sick.”

Aaron nodded. “It’s a difficult case.”

They moved quietly to the corner of the room. They stood behind two overstuffed easy chairs separated by a small table and lamp. Eric’s first thought as he saw the study was that his grandmother would love to have a room like this.

The walls were lined with bookcases and filled with books. Reference books behind the heavy wooden desk, classics and varieties of fiction along the other three walls. Judging by the colors of the spines and the size, many were romance paperbacks. Stained-glass transoms, dark because of the hour, topped several of the bookcases.

The girl’s mother and another man who patted her hand sat on a small spindly couch in front of the bookcases.

Behind the desk sat, Eric presumed, the father of the girl. A fed and Aaron’s boss occupied the visitors’ chairs, while what appeared to be another fed stood off to the side. Every so often, he would narrow his eyes and write something. He emitted an air of suspicion. It was a tactic. Someone for the father to focus on aside from the questions.
The better to trip you up, my dear,
Eric thought.

The girl’s father didn’t squirm. He was poised, yes, but behind the air of control, something that must’ve been a habit for the powerful man, was the panic of a distressed father—a crease between his eyes that never smoothed, hands that maintained a death pinch on either end of a gold pen.

After ten minutes or so the pacing agent received a nod from the female doing the questioning and left the room. As he passed, the air currents wafted in Eric’s direction. A familiar scent caught his attention. The killer had either been in the room recently, or he was still here.

How could Eric scan the room? The pacing tactic had been done and discarded. The father had officially moved to the category of victim’s father. Eric glanced at Aaron and motioned for the two of them to leave the room.

Aaron’s eyes widened as they rounded the corner. “Seriously, what’s going on? He was making an enemies list. There are probably dozens of leads in those names.”

“The feds will make you a copy.”

Aaron continued to stare.

“Or at least they will be tracking down the leads themselves. Look, I need you to trust me one more time. I think our guy is in that room.” At Aaron’s sharp intake of breath Eric held up a hand. “I know I’m on thin ice with you as it is, and if I could explain everything now I would.”

Aaron’s face didn’t twitch.

Eric chuckled softly. “I forgot what a good poker face you have.” He considered a short version and dismissed it. This wasn’t the place to debate the paranormal. “I’ll tell you everything over coffee as soon as we’re done here.”

No reaction.

“Dude.” Eric glanced over Aaron’s shoulder to the three agents still outside the office. “We
really
can’t talk about it here. It’s the best I got.”

Aaron ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. How do we find out if you’re right?”

“I need a plausible reason to circle the room.”

Aaron nodded. “How many times?”

“Just once. I need to get close to everyone for a second.”

Eric’s oldest friend stared at him, seeming to search his eyes for the reason behind his words. “Fine,” he said again, “but when we’re done I want a big-ass coffee and not some pussy espresso.”

Eric clapped Aaron’s shoulder. “Deal. Now how do I get around the room?”

“That’s easy enough.”

When they reentered the office, the man who had sat beside the wife had stepped to the right-hand corner of the desk. Mr. Gunderson had begun to ask questions of his own. Although he wouldn’t appreciate it, an interruption would keep him from working himself up.

Aaron walked up beside the agent who sat in a visitors’ chair. “Excuse me. I’m Lieutenant Aaron Decker and this is my associate, Detective Eric Adams.”

Hellos were exchanged, and Eric moved to shake everyone’s hand.

The FBI agent was clean. So were the father and mother. Though, from the wobble and the faint botanical smell on the mother’s breath, she’d washed down an anxiety pill with gin.

The man who stood at the right-hand corner of Mr. Gunderson’s desk stepped up and extended a hand.

HIM.

This man, with his expensive Italian suit, smooth face, and neatly trimmed dark, wavy hair, was the man who’d kidnapped the girls. This businessman had killed Suzie Hogan and who knew who else. “Hello, I’m Irving Pilcher, Mr. Gunderson’s Chief Operations Officer.”

Eric forced himself not to growl as he gripped Pilcher’s cool, dry hand. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”

The man nodded. “Are you the team who’ve been trying to find the other missing girls on this case?”

“Yes.”

Pilcher nodded again and stepped to stand beside Mr. Gunderson and put a hand on the father’s shoulder. “Russell, these men have been trying to track this guy down and are stymied.” To the FBI agent, he said, “I trust the FBI is in control of the investigation.” Then he locked eyes with Eric.

Mr. Gunderson said, “Of course, we will appreciate any help you can offer.”

Aaron passed a card to the FBI agent and laid one on the desk. “We will help in any way we can.”

As they left the room Pilcher’s voice could be heard, followed closely by the FBI agent assuring that while they wouldn’t alienate any possible recourse they were in charge of the investigation now.

Aaron and Eric exited the front of the home. Aaron hissed, “Thanks a lot.”

Eric glanced around and caught sight of Ashley standing next to the car. “Look. Do what you’ve got to do, then lead the way to breakfast. We’ll give you that explanation.”

“It’s Saturday.” Aaron glanced toward the sky brightening in the east. “Viv is always up with the sun. Come to my house for breakfast. She’ll never let me hear the end of it if you don’t stop by while you’re in town.”

Eric checked the sky as well. The setting moon was almost full. He had about four days to bring this guy in before Lydia went into labor. He could see Ashley patiently sitting in the car.

Aaron shifted his stance and caught Eric’s attention. Eric said, “I think I can speak for both of us; after a night like tonight your wife’s cooking sounds like heaven.”

• • •

Aaron lived in a smallish house on a street filled with others just like it. The yard was trimmed, and a variety of flowering cacti filled the beds. With the low humidity and the nearly constant breeze it was easy to forget they were in a desert.

As they followed Aaron into the house, Ashley whispered, “Good people live here.”

From the entryway, the scent of baking cinnamon and fresh coffee greeted them. “Vivian is the best cook,” Eric said.

“Does your nana know that’s what you think?” Vivian’s lime-green apron would have seemed out of place on most people, however, on the radiant woman, it worked.

“Best after her, of course.” Eric pretended to stammer as he returned her embrace.

She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Who’s this?” she asked as she offered a hand to Ashley.

“Um,” Ashley said.

“Yes.” Aaron set a briefcase on the sofa just inside the living room and turned to Eric. “Would you like to introduce us to your companion?”

“My name is Ashley Paulo.” She shared a glance with Eric, who nodded. “I’m a member of a sisterhood of succubae.”

“And I’ve been a werewolf for the past year.”

“Oh.” Vivian smiled. “Well, I hope you’re okay with apple cinnamon pancakes for breakfast, or maybe you’d like bacon and eggs, or better yet”—she patted Eric’s chest—“I could defrost a chicken.” Still giggling, she left the room.

Vivian had reacted as most people would. Aaron, on the other hand, stood as if flash-frozen, his eyes wide, his hands still holding the newspaper he’d brought into the house.

“You’re not serious.” He crossed the room and placed the paper on the coffee table. Still facing the paper, he spoke, “There’s no such thing—well, Viv watches these shows—reads some books. It’s not real.” He turned to face them. “It’s not real.”

“Okay, it’s not.” Eric clapped his friend on the shoulder and squeezed. “You wanted to know, and I told you. I can’t force you to believe me.” He squeezed again before turning away. “Let’s go get some of that breakfast.” He tried to step past his friend to the door Vivian had used.

Aaron didn’t move. “But—”

“I can convince him,” Ashley said, stepping between them.

“Are you sure?” Eric asked.

“There’s no way he’ll really believe us otherwise. We know who the killer is. And there’s no catching this guy alive without backup.” She didn’t need to go into the way they would have to stop him without Aaron’s help. Ever the cop, Eric could bring people to justice, but extracting it on his own took a coldness he didn’t have.

“What do you mean by that?” Aaron asked.

“You want him to face justice. If we go it alone, that won’t happen.” Her voice was hard as stone.

“You’ll kill him,” Aaron said.

“Worse. And even with you ready to scoop him up I can’t say I won’t do irreparable damage.” She shook out her shoulders.

There was a long lull broken only by Viv’s humming and the occasional clatter in the kitchen.

“I’m a sister succubus,” Ashley continued. “I can change my form in order to attract prey.”

Eric circled her to stand at Aaron’s side. If he was startled, he might draw the weapon holstered at his side. Even Eric’s quick reflexes might not be able to stop the reaction.

She made the change slowly. Eric recognized the woman as the one they’d raced through the night to save. Nichole.

“Wa—” Aaron started, his voice about two octaves too high.

“Steady,” Eric muttered.

Even as a tear rolled down her cheek, she darkened her skin to that of a perfect chocolate chip cookie and shifted her features to simulate Vivian.

“Viv?” Aaron stammered.

“Yes, dear?” came the response from the kitchen.

“Uh … Is breakfast almost ready?”

“A few more minutes, but you can come pour some coffee if you want.”

Even as the real Vivian responded to her husband, Ashley was already changing into a replica of Eric. The real Eric winked.

When she’d shifted back into her version of Lydia she stopped and leaned against the arm of the couch for a second. Both men stepped toward her. She released a weak laugh. “It’s harder than it used to be.”

Eric’s smile faded, and he stepped even closer.

Ashley raised a hand. “I’m fine.”

• • •

His eyes held only concern. He was too close. Hunger built within her—not for food, and not for his soul. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this kind of hunger.

Had his shoulders always been so broad? Had his eyes always seen into her heart? She reached a hand to touch Eric’s face. A night’s growth of beard prickled her fingertips. Had his lips always looked so inviting?

As he leaned closer, Eric whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

She’d been told that by countless men over the years. Mostly prey. And none of them had been talking about anything other than her looks. Eric’s words meant something. A flush filled her cheeks.