The timing suggested that Lee Rawlings was a vampire—the same one that had pursued me, perhaps?
“When and where?”
“Under the bridge near the red zipper sculpture in the Flemington Canal. Eight p.m.”
“And is Rawlings the one who hired you to watch the professor?”
He shook his head. “Radcliffe did.”
“Why was he interested in the professor?”
“I don’t know. I was just asked to see who he interacted with on a daily basis.”
Did that mean we had two different parties interested in Mark’s work? “What about Professor James Wilson—was anyone following him?”
“How the fuck do I know? I was just employed to follow Baltimore. When he was murdered, I made scarce.”
I guess that was no surprise. “What does Rawlings look like?”
Sherman shrugged, so I let the flames leap a little higher and singe his whiskers. He yelped and said, “Christ! He’s tall and thin, like most fucking vampires. Dark hair, brown eyes.”
“And what was the delivery deal?”
“Half before, half later.”
“Half being . . . ?”
He licked his lips. “A thousand.”
I was worth only a paltry thousand dollars? That sucked—or Sherman was simply cheap. “And what about the waitress?”
He frowned. “What about her?”
“Why were you employed to kill her?”
“I don’t ask why,” he all but whined. “I just take the job and do it.”
“So you were told to beat her up and then rape her before you killed her?”
Sweat beaded his upper lip. He quickly licked it, his gaze darting away from mine. “Not exactly.”
Disgust stirred, and it took every ounce of effort not to burn the bastard to a cinder right there and then. He might have been employed to the kill the waitress for whatever reason, but he’d been the one who decided on the more savage method. Because he enjoyed doing it.
“What’s the security code for your phone?” I asked brusquely.
Confusion flitted through his eyes, but he rapidly spat out a number.
“Thank you,” I said, then regained flesh and hit him as hard as I could. He went down like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground with a sharp crack that suggested something had broken.
For several minutes I did nothing more than wince and curse as the pins and needles in my arms and feet made the mere act of holding human flesh sheer agony. As the pain began to subside, I checked that Jones was unconscious, then rifled through his pockets, discovering in the process he’d landed awkwardly on his left arm and had indeed broken it. Feeling little in the way of sympathy—especially given what he’d intended to do to both me and the waitress—I plucked his phone free. Mine was with my purse back at the waitress’s house, and I wouldn’t have used it anyway. Not when Sam had it bugged. I flipped the case open, typed in the security code, and saw the time. I’d been missing for more than an hour, which no doubt meant that not only would the cops be at the waitress’s house but Sam and his people would be as well. Jackson would have been interrogated, but had enough time passed for him to have been released? Or was Sam holding him somewhere?
I guess there was only one way to find out.
I hit the text button and typed, Hey, babe. I left in such a hurry that I forgot to arrange another date. Ring me when you’re free.
Once it was sent, I walked around gingerly until the pain in my feet eased, then rang Rory at the fire station and updated him on events.
“Do you need help?” he said once I’d finished.
I hesitated. Rory and I had long ago made a pact not to pull each other into dangerous situations, simply because if both of us happened to be killed at the same time, it would be the end of us. While the spirit of a phoenix always rose from the ashes of its death, it was only with the assistance of a ritual performed by their life mate that we were able to regain adult flesh and become whole. Otherwise, our spirits moved on, uniting once more with the great mother, never to know life and love and feeling ever again.
We’d come close to that once. I had no intention of risking it in either this lifetime or any other future lifetime. And I had a suspicion that this case would get a whole lot deeper and darker before we got any real answers.
“No,” I said eventually. “I don’t think we can chance it.”
He swore softly. “Damn it, Em. Be careful. You know I’ll be there if the worst happens, but I’d really rather just get through more than one life span without one or the other of us dying before our time.”
I smiled. “Says the man who is currently a fireman.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who has chucked in the staid life to go chasing after bad guys.” He paused. “And that’s two lifetimes in a row for you.”
“Yeah, but last time I was official. This time I’m just pissed off.”
He snorted. “I still want you to be careful.”
“I will. I promise.”
He grunted. He’d heard that statement from me almost as many times as I’d heard it from him. “Keep me updated, Em.”
“I will,” I repeated, then hung up.
It took several hours for Jackson to get back to me. Sherman rose to consciousness several times while I waited, and each time I knocked him back out—although I didn’t hit him again, just used pressure points instead. If there was one good thing about living through so many centuries, it was an accumulation of knowledge. Rory had taught me the points after he’d learned the art during his time with an old Chinese kung fu master.
The phone rang about four o’clock, but the number that showed up on the screen wasn’t Jackson’s. I hesitated, then hit the answer button and cautiously said, “Hello?”
“Emberly? Is that you? Are you okay?”
Jackson’s voice. Relief slithered through me. “Yes to all three questions.” I hesitated. “I’m gathering you can talk freely?”
“Yeah. I’ve borrowed a friend’s phone. Thought it would be safer.”
I winced at the undercurrent of anger in his voice, even though I suspected it wasn’t aimed at me. “How bad was the interrogation?”
He snorted. “Let’s just say I’m surprised that detective friend of yours actually released me. I was sure the bastard was going to lock me up and throw away the key.”
“I’m sure he would have, too, except he no doubt wants to follow you.”
“Well, I wish him luck with that. He’s not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve.”
“He doesn’t need tricks. He has vampires and psychics, and he apparently has the right to use and abuse the law as he desires.”
“Which is why I won’t stay on the phone for long. If they did manage to follow me here, they’re no doubt scrambling to find and lock onto this number.”
Which was my cue to get on with it. “Are you able to track my location via the GPS on this phone?”
“I can’t personally, but I know someone who could.”
I smiled. “You must have some very interesting friends.”
“And if you play your cards right, I might just introduce you.”
I snorted softly. “Except when they’re a source you don’t want exposed.”
“Exactly,” he said cheerfully. “I’m gathering you don’t know where you are?”
“Well, yes and no. I’m in a sewer somewhere, and I have Sherman Jones lying unconscious at my feet. He’s arranged to hand me over to a vampire going by the name of Lee Rawlings this evening. I want to go to that meet and talk to him.”
“That might not be a great idea.” There was doubt in his voice. “Vamps can be tricky to deal with at night.”
“They can’t shadow when there’s light,” I commented. “Remember what I am, Jackson.”
“Can one phoenix raise enough light to stop a vampire shadowing? A Fae sure as hell can’t.”