Bite of Envy (Just One Bite #4) (3 page)

He nodded his head in Adrian's direction, saying, "Hold
onto your seat, Dia- witch boy had a theory I believe we should explore."
As the Wiccan in question rolled his eyes at the insult, Eamon chuckled.
"He had a decent idea about the dynamics of our little group here, and
what Lizbeth's issues might be."

Diandra sat up straighter, gesturing for Adrian to sit next
to her on the loveseat. She turned sideways as he did so, putting her back
against one of the arms so she could give him her full attention. "Do
tell," she invited, so he did.

When Eamon shifted back to his feline form and went out to
his bush to guard the house, Adrian went to his room, knelt before his alter,
and began to pray. Diandra retired to her bed, wanting to lay in the darkness
and solitude of her empty room to think. She mulled the theory over and over in
her mind, and knew, deep in her heart, that Adrian was probably right. When the
sun rose and RaeLynn let out her first cry of the day from the next room she
still hadn't decided what to do with the information. Either way, she was helpless
until Lizbeth returned home. As she changed RaeLynn's diaper, she prayed
silently that Lizzie would come home that night, and she feared her prayer
would go unanswered.

Lizbeth went into the precinct's locker room and tried to
shower off her anger and grief. She knew she'd been an ass, and she felt
horrible knowing she'd hurt RaeLynn's feelings. She hadn't meant to, but
damnit, she was entitled to her own emotions, wasn't she? She winced as she
remembered yelling at the baby, depositing her on the floor as though she were something
to be disgusted by instead of treasured. She sobbed as she remembered the tears
she'd caused. What kind of monster was she? She showered the dirt and grime
from her body, but the guilt was there to stay.

Oh, she could alleviate some of it by going home and
apologizing, but she wasn't ready to face them yet- any of them. She had two
changes of clothes, so she could hang out here for a bit without having to go
home. Hang out, she reminded herself, not hide out. She wasn't hiding- they
knew where to find her if they needed her. And her job was important. People
relied on her to keep the streets of Bethany Beach as safe as she could, and
she tried her best.

And Carson was still out there, she reasoned as she got
dressed. That alone was a good enough reason for her to spend as much time as
possible at work. Disgusted with herself, she heaved a sigh and went to her
desk. Plopping down, she checked to see what had come in while she slept. So
far there were no more narcotics cases of interest, but her heart sank as she
realized there had been another lesbian murdered while she slept like a baby.
She searched her desk for the morning paper and cursed lightly as she realized
someone must have beaten her to it again.

She went out to the squad room, snatching a copy of the
local paper up from the desk of a cop who wasn't in yet. She was unsurprised to
see the headline: ANOTHER BAR MURDER IN DEWEY. What surprised her was the
reporter's byline. "Sandra Willis," she murmured, the vision of a
statuesque blond, with large, perky breasts, an upturned nose, and beguiling
green eyes flashing through her mind. Lizbeth had fallen for the woman- hook,
line and sinker. She'd thought those eyes meant she was sweet and innocent. She
should have known better, she told herself now. The woman was a reporter- you
couldn't be sweet and innocent in that profession.

Still, although she was ruthless when she was pursuing a
story, she'd obey the words "off the record" and she always
researched her leads thoroughly before writing them up. Maybe a conversation
with Sandra was overdue where Giles Carson was concerned. Obviously the fact
that he was a vampire could never come to light, but his illegal activities
could, if the right reporter was looking in the right direction. Lizbeth made a
mental note to contact her later- after business hours, so there'd be no record
of their conversation.

Returning to the article, her blood boiled as she realized
that he was sticking true to form and moving ever closer from Rehoboth Beach,
where the murders originated, to his home base here in Bethany. If he wasn't
stopped soon he'd be murdering people here- again. She couldn't allow the son
of a bitch to continue to get away with it, she thought as she dropped the
paper back onto the desk and stalked into her office. He'd ruined so many
lives- her own included- that she knew the time had come for the hunter to
become the hunted.

Lizbeth approached the restaurant like she was told and
planned out exactly what she'd say in her meeting. She'd asked a cop she
trusted for the contact information of a good hacker. It was immoral to say the
least, and illegal as well, but she needed the best, and she needed it now. She
couldn't afford to go through legal channels on this one, and it burned her ass
that she had to keep crossing her own boundaries because of Giles Carson. She
justified it to herself that he was breaking the law at every available
opportunity, and legal measures weren't working. She told herself that she had
to fight him on his own turf now, because she was out of ideas. She said so
many different things as she waited for her hacker to show up, but it didn't
take away the queasy sensation in the pit of her stomach, or the acid burning
the back of her throat.

She was startled out of her thoughts when someone slid into
the bench seat across from her. A teenage boy sat there smirking at her,
looking like a teenage girl's skater boy fantasy. He had piercing blue eyes and
shaggy brown hair, and a dimple at the corner of the right side of his mouth.
He wore a dark blue tee-shirt under an untucked, unbuttoned flannel shirt and
baggy jeans. The cop in her processed this in a matter of moments, and she
knew, if asked, she could describe him in full detail to a sketch artist.

"Beat, it," Lizbeth sighed at him, her eyes on the
front door as she waited for some geeky looking man with nervous eyes to walk
in.

The kid chuckled, and it was a very dark adult sound.
"If you're Liz then you're waiting for me," he said, his eyes
mocking.

Lizbeth looked him over again, making no effort to hide her
disbelief. "I'll let you call me Lizbeth, just to keep work out of this,
kid, but don't ever call me 'Liz'- no one does," she replied. "You're
the… computer expert?" she said, doubt heavily lacing her words.

"A computer expert- I like that. Yeah, I'm your
computer expert. What's the job?" he said, his face never losing the look
of disdain as he gestured for the waitress. She nodded and went to the soda
machine without coming to take his order, leading Lizbeth to believe he must be
a regular here.

"How old are you, and where's your skateboard?"
Lizbeth blurted out, avoiding answering his question. God, she was about to ask
him to do something dangerous and illegal, and he looked like he should be
preparing his acceptance speech for Homecoming King, or maybe riling up the
football team in the locker room before a big game. This kid shouldn't be
involved in anything she had planned. She set a ten dollar bill on the table
and stood up. "Never mind, kid- I won't need your services after
all," she said as she prepared to leave.

"Look, Lizbeth, I'll be eighteen in two months. I got
my first computer so long ago that I don't really remember how old I was. I
took it apart and put it back together when it quit working- I was ten. I was
thirteen when I first hacked into the FBI's database. I'm pretty sure I can do
whatever it is you need done, but hey, I can always use repeat customers."
He grinned at the waitress when she set his soda in front of him, and laughed a
little when she ruffled his hair. Suddenly he looked younger than his years and
Lizbeth found she liked him better for that. He turned his attention back to
her. "Anyway, I'll make you a deal. I'll do whatever your job is now for
the price of this soda, and if the work pleases you, I just ask that you call
me for future work."

Lizbeth sat back in the booth, her mind whirling a hundred
miles an hour. She knew it was wrong. He was too young, too innocent, too…
everything, she thought. He didn't deserve to get between her and Carson. She
needed to keep him out of it. He sat there drinking his soda as he waited patiently
for her to come to some decision. She liked him for that, too, damnit, she
thought bitterly. And as she realized how much she liked this spunky kid, she
knew he had the job.

"All right," she said quietly. "All right- if
you can get me District Attorney Giles Carson's number then I'll probably have
some more work for you." It burned her to sink to this level, but this kid
was too incredible to pass on. He seemed like a real prick, she thought with a
smile, but she saw the way he treated the waitress. Most people would have
ignored her, but his look was full of respect, no matter what façade he chose
to wear for the public.

The kid laughed. "Wow, that's too easy!" He pulled
what appeared to be a regular touchscreen phone out of the pocket of his jeans,
tapped a few keys, and then grabbed a pen out of a different pocket. He jotted
down several numbers on a napkin before passing it over. "Top number is
work, second number is his home number, and the third… I'm betting that's the
one you were hoping for. That's a cell phone registered in the name Carson
Guild- a name I've come up against before." Sitting back, he finally lost
the smirk and a touch of worry came into his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Lizbeth asked him, already
regretting her decision to ask for his help. He'd come through with flying
colors, giving her more than she'd dreamed of in nearly no time at all. She'd
take the whole meeting back if she could, but knew it was too late. Whether
she'd intended to or not, she'd trusted him, and now he was involved in it up
to the top of his shaggy head.

When the kid looked up at her again his eyes were haunted.
"Carson Guild was the name of the man who sold my dad some heroin. My dad
was a dealer, but he had a problem. He liked his own product." His eyes
were lowered as he finished his soda, and his voice had dropped to a whisper.
"He died last year- the heroin overdoses. You were the cop, huh?"

Lizbeth nodded, putting her hand sympathetically over his.
"Yeah, and my boss was, too. Carson killed him, just as surely as he
killed your dad, and I'll make him pay for that." When the boy looked up,
his eyes were young and full of a fragile hope. "Yeah, he's going to pay
for it all, and you just took the first step in helping with that."

The two prepared to leave. Remembering the kindness of the
waitress, Lizbeth left a hefty tip on the table and she saw the boy's sharp
eyes notice it. When they were outside, the kid approached a small bike chained
to a lamppost. "By the way," he called to her as he put a helmet on
and unchained the bike. "I ride a bike, not a skateboard, and my name's
Andrew Wilcox- you call me if you need anything else." He didn't wait for
an answer- he just rode off like the hounds of Hell were chasing his tires. She
watched until he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. Sighing
heavily, she climbed into her car and headed back to the precinct. She had work
to do before she could use the number Andrew provided her with.

Two hours later Lizbeth was finally close to the end of her
shift and definitely past the end of her rope. She'd gone back over her notes
from the heroin cases and was surprised that she didn't see Andrew's dad
anywhere among those listed. How did she miss him? Oh, sure, she had him down
as one of the dealers, but she was surprised that she didn't know he'd died,
let alone that heroin was the cause. The tainted heroin was being screened for
regularly during that time frame, and the local medical examiner still ran a
check for it when someone came in showing signs of drug overdose as cause of
death in case any of the supply was still on the streets. It should have been
in her case files at the least- she should have been in charge of his case if
the cause of death had anything to do with drugs.

Furthermore, where had his dad gotten the heroin? Dr.
Allsgood had said he'd spoken with one of the dealers and told him that he was
getting out of the business. He'd lied and called himself a dealer, although he
wasn't. Perhaps he'd been the man to supply Andrew's dad with the drugs, she
considered. Slouching in her chair, she propped her feet up on her desk as she
thought it over. Carson, to date, had not done the slightest thing that might
directly lead back to him. It stood to reason that someone else had pretended
to be him. It was the only thing that made sense, as she couldn't picture
Carson dropping drugs to one dealer but letting Allsgood drop the rest of it
off to the others.

She had no actual physical proof that Carson had even been
in on this to begin with, but she knew he had. He'd admitted it to her, and a
couple of weeks after Allsgood had gone to court, the man had been found dead
in his cell. The guards didn't hear a thing; no one saw anything and his death
went down as natural causes on the death certificate. Perfect for a vampire
with shifting skills good enough to get himself into places he couldn't
possibly go. Lizbeth was certain that after the former doctor had taken the
fall for Carson, his services were no longer needed. And after all, a witness
couldn't be left alive, right?

She pulled her case files closer, searching for the name of
the man Allsgood had actually spoken to and smiled as the connection was made.
"Lester Wilcox," she whispered, her feet hitting the carpeted floor
with a muffled thud as she scooted closer to her computer and searched for a
death certificate. There, two days before she and Alexar had arrested Allsgood,
Wilcox had been murdered. As she read over the medical examiner's report, she
understood why the death wasn't investigated by her department.