"It'd take too long, and it's only repeating work the cops have already done."
"If the reports didn't give the cops anything, then they're unlikely to give you anything."
He shrugged. "Jack said read them, so read them I am."
Fair enough. "So this vampire hasn't killed yet?"
"No, but he's come close. Last week he attacked a couple of nine year olds who'd just come out of the ghost train ride, and dragged one into the shadows to feed on him. The other kid's screams attracted help, but the vamp had escaped by then."
Which explained why there was a kill order out on a vampire who hadn't actually killed yet. Any vamp stupid enough to attack little kids deserved to die.
"If all the attacks have been at Luna Park, then maybe he's holed up somewhere near there."
"I've done a thorough search of the area, and I can't find anything remotely resembling a vamp den."
"Yeah," I said, pressing the garage button as the door swished closed and zoomed us upwards. "But you're running on regular senses—"
"Well, no," he interrupted. "I'm an empath, remember? I couldn't feel him, though."
"But someone has to actually be emoting for you to sense them, don't they? And if he was asleep and not emoting, you wouldn't sense him."
"True." He glanced at me. "I'm sure you're working up to some point with these questions, but I'm damned if I can figure out what."
I grinned. "It's easy. I'll help you find your attacker, and you help me find the moron hacking heads off vampires."
"Deal—though Jack may not approve."
"Jack wants this case solved fast. I doubt he's going to quibble."
"You haven't seen the backlog of cases we have, obviously."
"I try to avoid backlogs," I said, voice solemn but amusement twitching my lips. "They're bad for the health."
"Your health will be on a downward spiral if Jack hears that."
I patted his hand lightly. "But he won't hear, will he? Because otherwise I'll have to tell Sable you've been flirting with the secretary on the ninth floor again."
"It's a stallion's job to flirt," he said, with a twinkle in his eye as he opened the driver's side door and ushered me in.
"Not when you've agreed to hold herd numbers at fifteen."
"Who said anything about adding to the herd?" His grin was mischievous. "I was merely offering to show her the advantages of being with a stallion."
Having tasted those delights myself, I couldn't help feeling a little envious. I might have Quinn, and I might have my soul mate, but that didn't stop the wolf from occasionally hungering for the pleasures to be found in the arms of others. I could have chosen to follow those desires had I wished, but only because I hadn't yet sworn my love to the moon for either man. Although there was only one man with whom I'd take that step, and it sure as hell wasn't my soul mate.
"You're incorrigable."
"That's why you all love me so much," he agreed, slamming the door shut and walking around to the passenger side. "And any time you want to revisit past pleasures, just say the word."
"Jack would kill us." I started up the car and reversed out. "And no amount of sex—no matter how brilliant—is worth facing his fury."
"He'll be even more furious if you crash the damn car again. I should be driving, you know."
"I haven't had an accident for over a month. You're perfectly safe."
He gave me a look of complete disbelief, then leaned forward and switched the onboard on. After identifying himself, he called up the police reports on Renatta Bailey's. "Okay, she lives at 13 Hope Street. Head onto the freeway, and I'll direct you once we get there."
I nodded. "Nothing illuminating in the report?"
"Nothing much more than what Jack's already told us." He frowned. "They interviewed her workmates, who said she hadn't been sleeping properly for the last week. Apparently she looked tired and run down as a result, but nothing more than that."
"So if she wasn't sick, maybe she was enjoying a little too much sex."
"Totally possible if she'd had a lover. But according to the report, her last relationship ended six months ago and she wasn't seeing anyone."
Which didn't mean she wasn't having sex. Although I guess the report would have mentioned it if she'd tumbled anyone recently. "If she'd run herself to the ground, the autopsy would have picked it up, wouldn't it?"
"I would have thought so." He leaned back in the seat and shrugged. "Sometimes people just die. It happens."
"Yeah, but apparently it shouldn't happen to the niece of the governor."
We drove on in silence, and quickly reached Hope Street. I parked in the driveway and climbed out. The air was fresh and filled with the scent of the nearby wattle trees and the happy buzzing of bees. The house itself was nondescript—just another large, brown-brick, double fronted house in a street filled with them. The only differences seemed to be the color of the roof tiles.
"She died four days ago," Kade said, walking up the steps and opening the screen door. "I can't see how us coming here now is going to help solve the case."
"I think the point is more us being seen. Jack may hate politicians using the Directorate like this, but those men sign the paychecks, so he does what he has to."
I held the screen door open as he got out what looked like a small black box from his pocket and pressed it against the door lock. A second later, there was a beep and the door clicked open.
"Still carrying illegal electronic lock pickers in your pocket, I see," I said, voice deadpan.
"Unlike you, I prefer not to break down doors." He stood to one side and waved me on. "After you, sweet cheeks."
I snorted and stepped past him. The hallway was dark, and the air had that slightly musty odor of rooms locked up for too long. Which was odd considering Renatta had only been dead for four days.
I looked through the first doorway. It was a bedroom, but obviously not the main one, unless Renatta slept in a single bed. Which I doubted, because it didn't smell used. I walked on.
"Her bedroom is the next on the left," Kade said.
I glanced at him over my shoulder. "How can you tell?"
"There's an echo of ecstasy coming from it."
"Ecstasy? So she did have sex before she died?"
"From what I'm sensing, yes."
I walked into the room and stopped near the end of the bed. The pale sheets were rumpled and the lingering scent of humanity and death emanated from them. I couldn't smell anything else—certainly not sex or even ecstasy.
"Renatta was alone in the bed when she died. I'd smell it if it were otherwise." I looked around the room. It wasn't plush or girlie in design, but more what I'd term 'beachy'. Her furniture was simple and classic, in sun-bleached hues paired with natural, neutral textures. On her dresser were several stands that were full of earrings and rings, and a jewelry case was open, revealing a goodly quality of gold chains and pendants. Whatever had happened here, it certainly hadn't involved robbery. White fingerprint dust lay over everything, even the many perfume bottles. The police had given the room a good going over.
"If the sense of ecstasy is still strong enough to linger, why wouldn't the fact that she'd had sex been picked up?" I asked, my gaze moving back to the bed.
"I don't know." He stood beside me, his hands on his hips and his gaze on the bed. "But regardless of the fact that it wasn't, I'm quite sure she was having a damn fine time before she passed away—and it wasn't just for the one night. It's too strong a sensation for that."
"So maybe someone cleaned her up before her death was reported?" I spotted her purse on the bedside table and moved around to take a look. "Or maybe she was a lesbian, which would explain the lack of sperm."