Donaldson. He would bring up that creep. I flounder a bit for the proper retort. All I can manage is a weak, “Donaldson was a rogue."
" Was a rogue?"
He picked up on that fast enough.
I nod. “He won't cause any more trouble."
He sits back in the seat with a satisfied smile. “Son of a bitch. They got him."
"Who's they? "
He directs that satisfied smile to me. “You'll find out soon enough."
But I want to find out now. We've arrived at our destination, and I reach into my pocket for my passenger's wallet. It's about time I found out this guy's name. I flip it open while he looks on, a puzzled frown on his face.
"What are you going to do with that?"
I smile. “Well, Trooper Lawson, we're going to take a walk. If we meet anyone, I'm an investigator bringing a suspect to the scene of his crime. If you try to get away, I'll simply flash this badge and shoot you. By the time it gets sorted out, I'll be gone. Are we clear?"
Lawson looks around. “We're at the Cove. What are we doing here?"
I've reached across him to pull my holster out of the glove box. When I'm properly attired, I hang his badge from my belt. “Looks good, doesn't it? Official."
He doesn't agree with me, not that I expect him to. I climb out of the Explorer and come around to his side. The good thing about dealing with someone who knows about vampires is that they understand the superhuman strength thing. He doesn't try to pull away when I uncuff him from the armrest and torque his arms around his back. When he's out of the car, I shove him against the door and do a thorough pat down. I know he isn't wearing an ankle holster for a gun, but that doesn't mean he can't have a knife tucked away in those boots. No sense taking chances.
I pull a thin, steel blade from a pocket in the lining of the boot. I hold it up. “Very nice. Wouldn't slow me down very much, but effective against humans, I suppose."
"I didn't know I'd be running into a vampire today."
I toss it into the car and nudge him forward. “I suppose not. If you had, you'd have shoved a stake down your pants, right? Let's go."
We're in the parking lot of an abandoned seashell shop right at the busy La Jolla Cove. There's yellow tape all around because of construction work. The old-fashioned shell shop is being remodeled into a new-fashioned gift shop. But anyone seeing a police officer escorting a handcuffed man through the back, would probably assume it was crime scene tape. And since the crew seems to have left for lunch, it's easy for us to slip inside.
Lawson starts looking a little nervous when he realizes where we're going. “You're taking me into the cave?"
"Not as picturesque as where you took me,” I reply. “But just as private."
The cave is a well-known feature of the cove. To get to it, you have to take a flight of sheer, slick, stone steps straight down to the water. It's reputed to be an old pirate's hideout, and it's a good one. From land, you can't tell it's there. And from the sea, if you don't know what to look for, you'd never guess it was anything but sea-battered coastline. When the shell shop was open, it was a big attraction for tourists. Risk your life to see where a pirate stashed his booty. Deserted now, it's perfect for us.
Lawson stumbles on the wet steps. I don't help him. I let him fall to his knees, actually hoping he'll tumble all the way down to the water.
Soften him up a little.
He looks back at me as he struggles to his feet. “You could help me, you know. Take the cuffs off so I can use the rail."
"And miss the show? I don't think so. Keep going."
He mumbles something that sounds like “miserable vamp bitch” but I don't ask him to repeat it.
It takes a good ten minutes to get down to the water's edge. At the bottom, there's a little beach protected by a natural sea wall.
The waves crash and boom around us, perfect insulation in case Lawson needs to yell or scream—or something.
He stops at the water's edge and turns toward me. “Well, we made it. What happens now?"
I look around for a place to stow the gun. Wouldn't want it to get wet. I find a little shelf in the rock and place it and Lawson's badge out of reach of the breaking waves.
Then I turn, too, and we're face to face. The cave throws jagged shadows, alternating light and dark, making him look like the jester on a pack of playing cards. He's scowling, holding himself upright, full of stubborn resolve.
But there's another vampire trait I'm starting to develop.
It's an ability to smell fear.
And right now, he reeks of it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"Okay, Lawson,” I say. “Let's make this easy. You know what I want from you. You may as well give it up now and you'll live to fight vampires another day. If you don't, I may just rethink that feeding off innocent victims thing and give it a try."
He's still pulling a “you don't scare me” thing, still scowling, still stiff. “I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
"Okay. Then I'll give you a hint. He's about six-foot-six, weighs 250 pounds, broad shoulders, built like a tight end, which, oh yeah, he was. It's not going to go over very well when it comes out a well-known football jock was kidnapped by a bunch of state troopers hunting vampires. Might even be the end of your career and the beginning an all expense paid vacation to one of our more secure state institutions."
His face says I'm not going to tell you a thing, but his shoulders are starting to slump a little. He puts steel in his voice when he says,
“If you're talking about that partner of yours, what makes you think we had anything to do with his disappearance?"
I let a little smile touch my mouth. “Well, for one thing, you know he's my partner. And for another, you know he's disappeared, a thing I've only told two people, both of whom I trust a hell of a lot more than I trust you. So, I'll ask you once more in a nice way.
Where is he?"
Lawson may be softening a little, but not enough to be convinced that I'm a real threat. I see it in his eyes. Maybe I need to be a little more forceful.
I've never done this before, but I decide it's time to see how my vampire face might effect him. I'm not even sure how it's done, since with Donaldson it was more of an instinctive self-preservation thing. So I think about all that's been done to me in the last few days, the fire and the attacks on my life, and how David has been drawn into this through no fault of his own and how this asshole has the answers I need and I feel the change begin.
I watch it through Lawson's eyes. He shrinks back as if it's no longer a human he's confronting, but an animal. I hear a snarl, and realize it's from me. I feel my hands ball into fists and my lips curl back. My blood sings in my veins and a hunger for his becomes an overwhelming force that swallows what little humanity is left. Suddenly I'm not sure I can control what's happening. I'm drawn to him, my eyes on his throat because the pulse beating there becomes the center of my universe. Nothing matters but that I drink.
"Stop, please."
It's too late. I'm on him, ripping at the neck of his tee shirt, all that stands between me and the source of life.
He struggles back, falls. I'm on top. Teeth snap at the air, come closer.
"Please. I'll tell you. I know where he is."
Anna, stop.
My little voice is back.
I shake my head. No.
Lawson is screaming now, trying to twist away. I have his shoulders locked in my grip.
You have to. He knows.
I can't.
Yes. You can. Think. It's David's life.