“Nice shot.”
“Couldn’t miss. We were nose to nose.”
“Heard that, too. How’d you pul that off?” He stands again and aims his squint-eyed Dirty Harry cop stare right at me.
“A guy with an AK-47 and you manage to close the distance between a counter fifty feet away and the shooter without drawing fire. What are you, faster than a speeding bul et?”
It’s grown quiet around us. The two women who were hiding behind the counter look away when they see me turning in their direction. What did they tel the police?
The truth, most likely. I am faster than a speeding bul et.
What can I tel the police? The same thing I’ve said three times before.
I raise my shoulders. “You know how it is when the adrenaline is pumping. People do things they couldn’t do in normal circumstances.”
Harris lets a beat go by. “You give a statement?”
“To every fucking cop you see. I’m stil invited to headquarters. Anything you can do about that?”
Harris motions to one of the other detectives. “You need anything else from Ms. Strong?”
The detective looks at his notes. “Nah. Nothing now. She can go.”
Harris turns back to me; a half smile touches his mouth.
“And I know where to find you if we need anything else, don’t I?”
I’m tempted to crack wise and suggest that he remember the donuts the next time he drops by. But he’s helping me get out of here. Best not to press my luck. I nod my thanks and turn to go.
He stops me with a hand on my arm. “Are you al right? Do you need a ride home?”
Those are the questions he’s asking. He wants to know something else. A normal human being who just kil ed someone would be showing some emotion. He wants to know why I’m not.
I could fake it. Probably should. Instead, I tel him the truth.
“He kil ed an innocent man. He would have kil ed Tracey’s sister. What would you have done in my place?”
Harris al ows a rare, real, honest-to-God smile. His only answer. Then, “I’l see you get your gun back as soon as forensics is finished with it.”
“I appreciate it.” I start for the door. Harris stops me again and jerks a thumb toward the back.
“Better go out that way. There’s a shitload of reporters waiting out front.”
He saved me again. That’s three times now. If this keeps out, I might start to like the man.
Suddenly I’m glad Stephen is out of town. He’s one reporter I would have a hard time shaking.
CHAPTER 7
THIS IS NOT THE WAY I INTENDED TO SPEND THE day. I keep seeing Harris’ expression when he asked me if I was al right. It haunts me al the way back to the cottage. He’s forming an opinion about me I neither welcome nor like. It’s as if he’s trying to get into my head. Trying to work a puzzle with missing pieces.
I recognize the look. I’l bet right now he’s going over every detail of every time our paths have crossed. Maybe it’s because of Wt>
Maybe it’s because of the body count.
For the first time, I miss Wiliams. At least when he was chief, I had a buffer shielding me from the prying eyes of a human police force.
I have messages waiting for me on both my landline and cel phone. The local press picked up the story of the
“Supermarket Shoot-out” and want interviews. I delete al ten of them. Curse the fact that they were able to get my unlisted numbers, then smile at the irony in that. I wonder how many people I’ve tracked down who’ve cursed me the same way?
An eleventh message is from Stephen. He caught the story as it came over the wire. When I cal him back, his phone goes right to voice mail. I assure him that I’m al right, promise that we’l talk soon.
The last message is from Max. He heard what happened, too. He asks if I’m okay and if I stil plan to meet him tonight. I return that cal. Get his voice mail, tel him yes, I’m okay and yes, I’l see him as planned. I also ask him to bring an extra weapon. I’m sure I won’t have my gun back for a few days. If we’re dealing with a vampire, I won’t real y need a gun. But though a bul et won’t stop a vampire, it can slow one down.
IT’S A CLEAR, QUIET, MOONLESS NIGHT. MAX AND I have tramped across two miles of barren desert. We’re both dressed in dark camo, ski masks covering our faces. He dons night vision goggles. I don’t need them. The creatures of the desert are as clear to me in the inky blackness as they would be in the brightest sunlight. I see more than Max ever can, down to the tiniest scurrying insects he crushes underfoot as we trudge onward.
I hear more, too. The faraway cry of a bird of prey. The squeal of a rabbit as the jaws of a coyote snap closed around its neck. The pebbles pushed aside in the wake of a slithering snake.
Then something else.
I touch Max’s arm. Signal him to stop. Point off to the north.
Too far away for him to see, there’s a dim shadow against the inky darkness. Moving toward us.
Max doesn’t question me. We seek cover behind the sloping bank of an arroyo, dry as dust in the summer heat.
And hunker down to wait.
The shadow draws closer, divides into three. I probe, careful to keep my own presence hidden. The unmistakable psychic pattern of a vampire comes back like the blip on radar. At least one of them is vampire.
Then a feeling I’ve come to recognize swamps my senses.
Revulsion. Rage. Bloodlust so powerful the vampire within bursts from its human cocoon with the gnashing of teeth.
Evil approaches.
Max seems to detect the change. He leans away from me, an involuntary, instinctive reaction to danger. “What’s wrong?”
I strip the ski mask from my face, let it fal to the ground. It takes effort to speak, to form words and force them through a throat that wants to howl. “Stay away from me. No matter what happens.”
I don’t wait for his reply. I leap over the embankment and head out to meet the monster.
CHAPTER 8
SHE SENSES MY APPROACH.
She.
Max’s coyote.
We’re stil a mile away from each other, but she picks up the rage. I close the distance in seconds.
Then we’re face-to-face.
The vampire and the man and woman at her side. They are stunned by my sudden appearance, by my vampire face.
They are young, maybe twenty, dressed in dark jeans and hoodies that are tattered and stained. They each carry a smal satchel. They cringe away, look to their guide.
I look at her, too. She has the smooth, unlined face of a very young woman. Dark skinned, dark hair and eyes that tilt up at the corners. Exotic. Latino or Middle Eastern?
I point to the humans. Let them go.
The vampire tilts her head to one side, studying me.
Physical y, we are evenly matched. She is weighing her options.
You have no options.
She is cloaking her thoughts. Then, abruptly, she says, Perhaps you are right. These two are of no consequence.
Do they speak English?
A nod.
I drag my eyes away from her, motion to the couple. “The border is three miles straight ahead. There is a tear in the fence. You can make it on your own.”
I am trying very hard to sound human. Even to my own ears, my voice is rough. It comes from my gut, not my vocal cords. A growl.
The humans are mesmerized. They can’t look away from my eyes.
The vampire raises a hand, strokes the hair of the woman.
They want to stay with me.
She has not shown her true nature. The woman steps behind her for protection. The vampire laughs.