The cop comes back to the car and opens the door, an invitation to step out. He dutifully notes that it's my name, address, phone and license numbers on the gun permit. I'm just about to ask him for a ride into town when another car pulls into the lot.
It's not a police car, but a dark, late-model Chevy with tinted windows. The cop starts toward it, undoubtedly ready to order it out of the park, but the driver's door opens and a familiar figure steps out.
"It's all right," I tell the cop. "I think it's my ride."
A uniformed Ortiz approaches. "SDPD," he says, holding out a hand. "If it's okay, I'll take Ms. Strong home."
The cop looks puzzled but shakes Ortiz' outstretched hand and doesn't object. As we walk toward the car, I open my mouth to ask Ortiz how he knew to come after me.
I never get the chance. He opens the back door and motions me inside.
"Get in, Anna."
The voice comes from the backseat. A familiar voice. I lean down to look in.
It's Williams.
And he's pissed.
CHAPTER 20
WILLIAMS' EYES FLASH RED IN THE DIM INTERIOR of the car. His anger is palpable, radiating outward in a burst that I feel like heat on my skin.
"Get in."
For just an instant, I consider turning around and beating it back into the canyon. But Williams would probably send Ortiz after me and what would that accomplish but to delay the inevitable? I toss my purse inside before folding myself into the backseat.
Williams doesn't wait for me to get settled or for Ortiz to get the car back on the road before he starts in.
"Tell me something, Anna, do you have a death wish? Could you have called any more attention to yourself? How the hell did you get involved in a kidnapping in El Centro?"
He's speaking quietly but with great agitation. The softness of his voice makes his anger more intimidating than if he'd been yelling. He stops abruptly and waits. I swear he's growling, he's so furious.
"Well," he snaps when I don't reply quickly enough. "Are you going to answer me?"
I feel like a kid who's a hairbreadth away from being smacked if she gives the wrong answer. The fact that he's completely shut me out of his head confirms how close I am to unleashing the beast. I let a few seconds go by to give Williams a chance to cool off.
When his shoulders become less rigid and the frown lines around his mouth retreat from exasperation to mere annoyance, I ask, "What would you like to know first?"
"How did this happen?"
The version I offer Williams is sanitized. No mention of a drunken tryst. I compose my words as carefully as my thoughts to give nothing else away.
When I'm done, he says, "You want me to believe you ran into this 'old friend' by chance in a bar last night and he told you his daughter was in trouble and you rushed to her aid."
"That's my story and I'm sticking to it."
He doesn't appreciate my attempt at humor. Watching his face is like watching an approaching storm. There may be blue skies overhead now, but you know trouble is coming.
Since he's not asked another question, I venture a few of my own. "How did you find out about it? How did you get here? Why didn't you let the local cops know who you were?"
He passes a hand over his face. I suspect the gesture is a delaying tactic. I sense his anger boiling again to the surface. I don't push.
Finally, he says, "The report of a suspected kidnapping is broadcast statewide. An alert was issued as soon as that girl's uncle spoke to the police. He said you and her father were going after her. He named you, Anna. It is all over the news. The press will be waiting for you at the cottage, at the office. David has called me a dozen times already."
He says all this in a clipped tone, as if I've done something wrong. It's beginning to tick me off but it does clarify one thing. How Foley knew where I was. "I was trying to save a woman's life. What's wrong with that?"
Williams turns in the seat. "What's wrong?" he snaps. "How were you going to do that, Anna?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean did you bring your gun? Were you planning to use human self-defense techniques? If you'd gotten shot, what would you have said to avoid being brought to a hospital? How would you have explained a wound that heals almost instantly? The anomalies that would have appeared in your blood had samples been taken? Or would you have simply told the doctors not to worry, that you're a vampire and have no need for human medical assistance?"
His sarcasm is as heavy-handed as his anger. And he doesn't wait for me to answer. He points to the blood on my clothes, his eyes so intense, I feel the pressure of his gaze. "Blood. Yours or his? Did you control the bloodlust and hide your true face?"
Again, he gives me no opportunity to confirm or deny. "You didn't, did you? You took the easy way, unleashing the animal. You exposed your nature yet again to mortals. It's in your head. I see it."
Then there's no point in denying it. And yet, if I hadn't used my powers, I never would have reached Sylvie in time to prevent Alan from plunging a knife in her back. I want to remind Williams of that, but he's not in a receptive mood.
He continues to stare at me in stern disapproval. "You are so ignorant, so impatient. I protected you when your niece was in trouble because I could. But now you have exposed yourself again. This time to strangers over whom I have no control."
I know it's not smart to argue, but smart is hardly what I've been lately. "I think you're overreacting." I say it in a very small voice. "I didn't kill this guy."
"Oh? What did you do, Anna?"
The image is sharp in my mind. Lunging at Alan, growling, snapping at his throat.
"It will be clear in the minds of this woman and her father, too." Williams says it softly. "Anna, did you not learn anything from what happened with Trish? The mortal world has its own rules. We have to abide by them if we are to coexist. As much as we may want to, we cannot use our powers impulsively. We cannot call attention to ourselves."
"That's a funny statement coming from a chief of police."
As usual, the mouth engages before the brain is in gear. Williams is holding himself in check, I can tell by the way his hands curl into fists and his lips form one thin line of irritation.
I hold up a hand. "Okay, that was stupid. You have never shown anything but your human face in public. I think I understand why you chose to be a policeman. It puts you in the position to use your powers to protect those who are most vulnerable. But you do it discreetly. I get that. I respect what you do."
The frown softens.
I take that and the fact that he hasn't tried to rip my head off as a signal to press on. "I think you and I have the same instincts. So how could I have ignored a father's plea for his daughter's safety?"
Williams drops his head a little and looks at me with brows drawn in pained tolerance. "You could have called the police—called me—when you first heard the story."
"There wasn't time. I swear I thought I was just going to serve the guy with a restraining order. Things got out of control."
He nods. "And why was that? How did you find yourself in such a situation to begin with?"
His tone is deceptively neutral. He is looking at me with an expression that says more clearly than words that he already knows the answer. I cross my arms over my chest and nod for him to continue.
"You got into a fight with David and crawled away to nurse your wounds in a bar. You got drunk, Anna, and ended up with a stranger in a motel room. Do you have any idea how irresponsible that was?"
"Irresponsible?" It comes out whiney and childish but I don't like being put on the defensive for trying to help, even though I called myself worse this morning. "Funny word to use considering how it turned out."