About a Vampire (5 page)

He eyed her thoughtfully in the rearview mirror, and then said, “So show me some ID with this address on it and I'll unlock the doors.”

Holly sighed unhappily. “I haven't got any ID, or even my purse. That's why I had to take a taxi.”

“Uh-­huh,” he muttered dubiously. “And you have the house, but were staying at the hotel because . . . ?”

“I wasn't staying at the hotel, I was—­” Holly cut herself off, unsure how to describe what she'd been doing at the hotel. Of course, the driver took it completely the wrong way.

“Right,” he said, looking her over in her borrowed clothes. There was a touch of disgust in his expression. “So maybe your husband won't want to be paying for your return journey from your little tryst.”

“It wasn't a tryst,” she said wearily. “I—­”

“Okay. Go on in and bring me back the money.”

Holly blinked at the driver's about-­face. He was smiling at her now, all signs of the disgust of just moments ago gone. It was as if someone had taken control of him and . . . She glanced to the door as the locks were released with a click, and then quickly opened her door and slid out, eager to escape before he changed his mind. She was almost to the front door before Holly recalled that she didn't have her keys with her. It would mean knocking at her own door.

She started to raise her hand to do so and then suddenly checked the door instead, both relieved and annoyed when it opened easily under her touch. James was forever leaving the door unlocked. Pushing down the irritation that tried to claim her, Holly turned to smile and wave at the taxi driver, then slid inside. She left the door open so he wouldn't get nervous that she was pulling a “runner.”

“James?” she called, heading for the kitchen. She kept small bills and change in a jar there for emergencies, and automatically moved that way as she called his name again. Holly didn't wait for a response, but fetched the money she needed and then hurried back outside to pay the driver. He accepted the bills with a smile, wished her a good day and drove happily away.

Holly stared after him briefly, completely bewildered by his sudden change in attitude, but then hurried back inside, nearly running into James as he came off the stairs.

“Holly,” he said with a smile, catching her arms to steady her. “I didn't think you'd get in before I left.”

Holly blinked at his words, confusion rising within her. “What?”

“I already ate. Spaghetti,” he said. “But I made enough for you too. It's in the fridge. Just nuke and enjoy.” Leaning forward he kissed her forehead, then set her aside and started up the hall, headed for the kitchen.

Holly stared after him for a minute and then followed. “Wait. James?”

“Hmm?” he asked over his shoulder as he stopped in the kitchen to retrieve his lunch pail.

“I wasn't here this morning when you got home from work,” she pointed out.

“Or yesterday morning or night either,” he agreed easily and shrugged as he turned to cross to the door to the garage. “I wasn't surprised. You did say the mortuary's taxes were a mess. I figure you'll be working a lot of overtime and starting early.” He paused with one hand on the door to the garage and glanced to her with concern. “You won't have to work on the weekend though, will you? We have that dinner with Bill and Elaine Saturday night.”

“I . . . no,” she said with a frown.

“Oh, good.” He smiled. “I'll see you in the morning then . . . well, if you haven't left early again,” he added with a chuckle, and then slid out into the garage and pulled the door closed.

Holly just stood there staring at the connecting door to the garage as she listened to the whir of the outer door rolling up and the engine of James's pickup starting.

He'd said she hadn't been home that morning or the one before. That meant she'd been unconscious in that hotel room with Justin for two nights and days . . . and her husband hadn't even noticed she'd been missing other than to assume she was working late and starting early. She'd been concerned that he was sitting here worrying about her, and that was when she'd thought she'd only been unconscious for one night and day. She could have been dead from the fall and he wouldn't have known. Had he even texted her?

If he had, he'd apparently just assumed she was too busy to answer. James hadn't even noticed that she was wearing someone else's clothes, or that her hair was wrapped up in a T-­shirt.

The whir of the garage door closing sounded and she heaved a sigh and leaned against the kitchen counter, wondering when she and James had grown so far apart. He worked nights—­twelve-­hour shifts, 7:30
P.M.
to 7:30
A.M.
—­Monday through Thursday. He left after dinner and arrived home between 8:00 and 8:30 in the morning, usually coming in just as she was leaving either for classes or for work herself. The weekends were the only time they had together, usually going out with friends Friday nights. He slept all day Saturdays and then played hockey with buddies Saturday night. Sundays they spent with their parents, his or hers on alternating weekends, visiting in the afternoons after he got up and then having Sunday dinner with them. Sunday night was the night they usually had sex.

Holly grimaced as she realized how regimented they were. Sex once a week, family once a week, friends once a week, work and school the rest of the time and precious little time alone together without friends or family around. Why was she surprised that he hadn't noticed she was missing?

She should be glad, Holly supposed. At least she didn't have to deal with the police and endless questions. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway drew her from her thoughts and she moved to peer out the window, eyes widening when she saw her own car parked there. No one was inside.

Pushing away from the counter, she hurried out of the kitchen and to the front door. There was no one in the driveway or on the sidewalk nearby when she rushed outside. Holly noted that as she rushed to the car; then her attention was taken up with the fact that the driver's-­side window was missing, with just sharp bits of glass sticking out of the door frame. Groaning at how much it would cost to repair that, she opened the door and peered in, gasping when she saw her purse sitting on the passenger's seat with a folded piece of notepaper on top of it. Reaching in, she grabbed both items and quickly rifled through her purse until she found her wallet. Much to her relief all her credit and debit cards were still there.

Dropping the wallet back in her purse, Holly unfolded the notepaper and read the words scrawled on it.

Holly,

Sorry about the window. Anders didn't have keys and had to break it to get in. I'll call and arrange for the repairs.

When you need me, I'll be here.

Justin

Holly crumpled the note and peered up, then down, the street. There was no sign of Justin. The note said he'd be here, not if she needed him, but
when
she needed him. And he'd be
here
? Here where? And who was Anders?

Swallowing, she backed up a ­couple feet, then turned and hurried back into the house. Slamming the door closed, Holly locked it, then stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Should she call the police?

And tell them what? That after picking her up when she fell and knocked herself out, and after apparently watching over her for two days and nights until she'd regained consciousness, he'd then had the audacity to return her car and purse?

That last thought made her frown, and Holly moved to the round mirror above a small hall table halfway up the pale yellow hall. She quickly unwound the T-­shirt that covered her greasy hair and then leaned in to examine her scalp in search of the head wound that had knocked her out.

There was nothing. Not even a lump let alone a great gaping wound to explain such a long length of unconsciousness. Straightening, she stared at herself for a moment and then turned and walked upstairs. The main overriding emotion she was experiencing was bewilderment and confusion. She was home safe and sound, but had no idea what had happened. How could she have been unconscious for two days and nights and not have any kind of wound to show for it? Had she hit her head at all? And if not, what had happened? Had she been drugged? If so, how? When? For that matter, where?

These questions rolled around and around her mind as she walked into the upstairs bathroom, turned on the shower, stripped and stepped under the stream of steaming water. How and where could she have been drugged? She had been headed back to the office. She hardly would have changed direction and gone elsewhere dressed in her pajamas as she'd been. She would not have gone to a coffee shop or anywhere where she might have had a drink to be drugged. Heck, she wouldn't even have run into the corner store in her pajamas. The only reason she'd felt able to go to the office that way was because she'd known nobody would be there and—­Holly froze in the process of shampooing her hair as it finally occurred to her that she had missed two days of work. Her husband may not have noticed that she was missing, but the office certainly would have.

Cursing under her breath, she quickly rinsed the shampoo out of her hair and turned off the water. In the next moment she'd pulled the shower door open, stepped out and snatched up a towel to wrap around herself as she hurried across the hall to the bedroom. There was a telephone on the nearest bedside table and Holly snatched up the receiver to quickly dial the cemetery office. It wasn't until the answering ser­vice picked up that she recalled that it was past office hours and it would now be closed.

Sighing, Holly set the phone back in its base without leaving a message and stood to return to the bathroom. She'd have to go into the office in the morning and try to clear everything up, she thought as she brushed her teeth. She was actually surprised that they hadn't called the house to ask why she wasn't showing up for work. Or maybe, like James, they hadn't noticed her absence, she thought, rinsing the foamy toothpaste out of her mouth. That didn't seem likely, but if someone had suggested that James wouldn't notice if she went missing for two days, she would have laughed at the very thought. Of course he would notice. He was her husband. They lived together. How could he not notice?

Very easily, apparently, because it had completely slipped his attention, she thought grimly as she set her toothbrush on the edge of the sink. That's when she spied her engagement and wedding rings. She didn't remember taking them off before showering. She must have taken them off the last time she showered, and forgot to collect them again. She had a habit of doing that. She really needed to get them sized. They were both a bit loose and she worried about losing them down the open tub drain when she showered so took them off before getting in. The problem was she kept forgetting to put them back on afterward, which meant she was ringless almost as often as she wore them.

Ah well, she knew she was married, so supposed it was fine. Holly moved back to the bedroom and dropped to sit on the side of the bed. She just couldn't believe James hadn't even noticed she had been missing. If the situation had been reversed, she certainly would have noticed his absence. Wouldn't she?

Suddenly terribly depressed . . . and exhausted, Holly glanced toward the open bedroom door and the bathroom beyond. She'd left her borrowed clothes on the floor and should really go collect them. She should dress and eat and check her blood too. But all of that seemed like too much effort. She'd just rest first, Holly decided and swung her feet up on the bed as she reclined. A little nap and she'd feel better.

Justin watched until Holly lay down and closed her eyes. He then settled to sit on the roof of the back porch. It was directly outside the bedroom window, resting about three feet below the window ledge. It had given him a perfect view into the room.

Lucian had said he was to watch over her. It would have been easier had Justin been able to read and control her. He could have waited inside then. This way he had to stay outside, on the roof, and hope none of her neighbors noticed. The thought made him glance around at the neighboring houses. Most of the upstairs lights weren't on yet. It was early enough that the inhabitants were relaxing after dinner, settling in front of the television or curled up with a good book. Most wouldn't be heading upstairs until bedtime. That was lucky for him. It was mid-­spring. The days were getting longer and the nights starting later which meant that while the sun was setting, the night sky was still light. He would be noticed here if anyone looked.

Justin scanned the houses again, aware that he'd have to keep a sharp eye out until it grew dark, then he would disappear into the shadows. Until then, he probably stuck out like a sore thumb. Movement drew his gaze to the house directly behind Holly's and he spotted a wide-­eyed teenage girl staring out at him from an upstairs window. He met her gaze, slipping into her thoughts just as she opened her mouth, probably to call out to her parents. A moment later the teenager turned away and went about her business. She wouldn't recall seeing him. Nor would she look out the window again. He'd seen to that.

Sighing, he scanned the other windows in the house and then glanced over the neighboring houses again. The next hour would be taken up with doing that over and over . . . unless Holly woke up and moved downstairs. If that happened, he'd have to move to a window on the lower floor.

Justin knew he didn't really have to watch this closely. There was no one in the house with her so no risk that she'd bite anyone, but he wanted to watch her. He enjoyed watching her. Besides, who knew when her hunger would kick in? They'd been giving her blood right up until about five minutes before she'd woken up. But she was a new turn. Hunger might claim her at any moment, or might not arrive for hours. The amount of blood a new turn needed was always more than a mature immortal, but it could vary widely depending on the physical well-­being of the one turned. Justin had spotted an insulin pen and blood tester in her purse as he'd looked for her keys and knew Holly had been a diabetic before the turn. But he wasn't sure how much damage her body had incurred over the years from the ailment. That would affect her need for blood, though he wasn't sure by how much.