Blood of Dawn (23 page)

Authors: Tami Dane

BOOK: Blood of Dawn

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We headed inside the school—our footsteps echoing on the tile floor. Our first stop was the administration offices to talk to the principal. After about a ten-minute wait, we were greeted and escorted back to Principal Glover’s office. He sat. We sat across from him.

“How can I help you, Agents?” Principal Glover’s gaze slid to me. “Miss Skye?”

I cleared my throat. “As you know, we’ve been working with the Baltimore Police Department, profiling the individuals who are responsible for the deaths of your students.”

Principal Glover’s bushy white eyebrows jumped up a little. “Did you say ‘individuals’? Plural?”

“Yes, the killing is being carried out by one person, a male, who is being controlled by a second.”

“And you need my help with what?” To JT, he said, “You’re not bringing Miss Skye back in, are you?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ve had two parents approach me about it, one threatening to take her complaint to the board. I want to stop this person—these persons—as much as you do, but I can’t have your agents assaulting the students.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I never meant to cause trouble. I only took action when I was physically threatened.” I hated having to address that issue, because it would only distract from what was really important. But I felt I needed to clear the air. “Derik Sutton trapped me, more than once, and sexually harassed me. I have no interest in pursuing any action against him. I merely wanted to explain why I had to do what I did.”

“I see.”

It didn’t sound like he saw anything, but I was more concerned with steering the conversation back to the topic at hand. I said, “At any rate, we’re here to interview some of your staff members. We’d like to present the preliminary profile of the second unsub—unidentified subject—and see if anyone recognizes him or her.”

“Did you want to present your profile to them all at once?” Principal Glover asked.

“If possible,” JT said.

Principal Glover crossed his arms. “That’s easier said than done. I can probably arrange for them all to be here next week sometime.”

Next week? We couldn’t wait that long. I slanted a help-me look at JT.

JT leaned forward. “I realize what we’re asking is difficult. But next week may be too late. The way this unsub is going, there could be another victim by tomorrow.”

Looking regretful, the principal lifted his hands. “It’s summer. Half my staff isn’t here. I’d need to call them in, and there’s no guarantee I’d get them here.”

“I see. Okay.” JT looked at me. “We’ll take whoever we can get. Today.”

“Today?”
the principal echoed.

Really? Did that surprise him? Children were dying. We were trying to stop it.

“Yes,” I said. “We’re prepared to present our profile now.” I glanced at the clock. The second bell of the day was about to ring. Roughly half the students—the ones only attending morning classes during the summer session—would be leaving. And the others would be heading either home or to a fast-food restaurant for lunch.

“Let me see what I can do.” He picked up his phone, dialed, and pointed at the door. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside.”

JT and I headed out to the waiting area and watched as a flood of students filled the hallways. A few minutes later, everything was quiet. Then my economics teacher arrived, looking slightly annoyed. He glanced at me. His brows rose.

“Sloan? Have you returned to school?”

“Not exactly.”

A second teacher arrived. Then a third. Within five minutes, there were twelve teachers gathered in a small room. They sat and—looking annoyed, but slightly curious—waited for JT to speak.

“My name is Agent Jordan Thomas. I’m with the FBI. Sloan and I have been working with the Baltimore Police Department, helping to track down the killers responsible for the deaths of your students, Stephanie Barnett, Emma Walker, and Hailey Roberts. We believe at least one of the killers is a student at this school, and we’d like to share some profile information with you, to see if you can think of anyone who might fit the profile.” He motioned to me.

I cleared my throat. “We are looking for a student who is outwardly friendly, charismatic, intelligent, well spoken. He or she is the last person you would think would be capable of murder.”

“That description fits a large number of our students,” Principal Glover said. “As a matter of fact, I can’t imagine any of them would be capable of killing another human being. Not even our most troubled students. Your profile is too broad.”

“There is one trait we haven’t mentioned yet,” JT added. “It should help you identify students who might fit the profile. This person is hiding a dark side—an impulsive, cruel side, which someone here might have seen, but may not have told anyone else about. Have you seen any students act out of character? Do something that seems so off, you almost didn’t believe they’d done it?”

JT’s question was answered by twelve silent head shakes and bewildered stares.

“Nothing?” I asked.

More head shakes.

“Can you give us anything else?” Principal Glover asked.

JT continued his address. “This person is using someone else to do his or her dirty work. He merely tells the killer which students to go after. The killer does the rest. The killer, the second unsub, will not be as bright or as socially accepted as the first.”

“Unsub,” Principal Glover inserted, “means unknown subject.”

“Thank you,” JT nodded. “The second unsub has a hard time relating to his peers. Maybe you’ve seen a pair of students fitting these descriptions?”

More head shakes.

This was getting us nowhere.

JT pulled some cards out of his pocket and doled them out. “We won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you. If you do come up with a name or any information, please call me. We’d like to get this pair off the streets before another student is hurt.”

The teachers filed out.

JT stuffed his hands in his pants pocket. “So much for my idea.”

“It was a good one. We haven’t talked to all the teachers yet. Could be we haven’t found the right one yet.”

“I just hope we find him or her before it’s too late.” Principal Glover motioned to us. “I can give you some names, if it’ll help. But these students don’t exactly fit your profile. They’ve all had some trouble with the law. Are you sure you’re looking for the right person?”

“I’m sure,” I said.

JT nodded. “But we’ll take that list of names, anyway. Who knows, maybe it’ll lead us somewhere useful.”

A half hour later, we were back out in the parking lot. JT had filled at least twenty pages of his pocket-sized notebook, but I knew in my gut we still didn’t have our killer. Every student mentioned by the principal failed to fit our profile for one reason or another—either they weren’t getting decent grades or were struggling socially or had rap sheets.

“Damn it,” I grumbled as I slumped into JT’s car. “This kid is good. Everyone is fooled.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“But how much longer is this going to take?”

“I have news for you, Skye,” JT said as he started his car.

“These cases aren’t usually wrapped up in less than a week, like our first two.”

“Yeah, I’ve always known that. But it still doesn’t make this any less frustrating. My best friend was nearly killed. So was Jia. He’s hitting too close to home for my comfort.”

“Interesting, though, that the last two survived.”

“Katie wouldn’t have, if Sergio hadn’t been there.”

“And Jia probably wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t been there either.”

“I like to tell myself that, so I don’t feel so damn guilty for barging into her house.” I glanced at JT’s profile. He was looking straight ahead as he drove us toward the street. “What would you have done?”

“The same thing you did.” He yawned and turned onto North Adams Avenue.

“Tired?”

“Yeah. A friend of mine called in the middle of the night. She had a little misunderstanding with the police.”

“Did she?” I chuckled. “That must’ve been irritating, having to go pick up her sorry ass at some ungodly hour.”

“Nah, I didn’t mind. Not a bit.” He yawned again. “But I think I’m going to head home. I can do what I need to from there.”

“And what about your friend?”

“She’s in protective custody. She’ll be staying at my house until we stop this goddamn
impundulu.
”

I felt myself grimacing. “That’s gotta put a crimp in your personal life.”

“This has nothing to do with duty. She’s my friend. I wouldn’t have her stay anywhere else.”

I set my hand on his, which was resting on the gearshift. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He yawned yet again. “Besides, if she’s at my house, and doesn’t have access to a car, she can’t sneak out and get herself arrested again. I need some sleep.”

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

My phone rang before I had a chance to say something witty and humorous. Katie. I answered, heard the great news, and then clicked off. “JT, if you do one teeny-weeny favor for me, I promise I won’t break any laws until at least nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

He gave me a very exaggerated, exasperated look.

“Katie’s being released. How about we pick her up and stay the night at Mom and Dad’s place? It’s plenty big. We can each have our own room and our own bed. You won’t have to inconvenience Brittany, or potentially put her in harm’s way by leading the unsub to your doorstep. And I think you’ll agree, with our unsub being able to travel at the speed of light, your place isn’t going to be any safer than anywhere else.”

“No broken laws until at least nine
A.M.
?”

I raised my right hand. “I promise.”

“Okay, Sloan.” Smiling, he shook his head. “You drive a hard bargain.”

It seems to me that any full grown, mature adult would have a desire to be responsible, to help where he can in a world that needs so very much, that threatens us so very much.

—Norman Lear

It is in the room with her. The air is cold and dead, and that soul-stealing emptiness seems to be seeping through her pores, invading her body like a disease. She squeezes her closed eyes harder and silently prays for it to leave.

A frigid gust drifts over her, and the hairs at her nape stand on end. Goose bumps prickle the skin of her arms, back, and shoulders. It is coming closer. Oh, God, it is coming for her. The scent of rotting flesh fills her nostrils and her eyes tear.

Please leave me alone. Please.

Something hard, sharp, scrapes down her arm, and she shivers.

Please go away. Not again. Oh, God, not again.

Someone screamed.

“Sloan? Sloan. Wake up!”

I jerked upright, gasped. I was covered with a cold sweat, trembling. I blinked in the darkness, finding those creepy, glowing eyes staring at me.

“Elmer!”

“Yeah, it’s me. Who did you think it was?”

“You scared me.”

“Thank you. Glad to hear I still have the mojo.”

A light flipped on, blinding me. I blinked a lot, squinted. Was I seeing things? Or was someone standing next to Elmer?

“What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I wanted to come over and share the good news in person.”

“What good news?” I squinted harder. Yes, that was someone standing next to Elmer. And that someone looked like a female.

Elmer stepped forward, pulling his guest with him. “I’d like you to meet the future Mrs. Elmer Schmickle, Olivia. Olivia, this is Sloan.”

My jaw went slack. “What?”

The woman—the beautiful woman, who could pass for a model—extended a hand to me.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you at last,” she said.

Mute, I shook her hand.

“Elmer has told me a lot about you,” she added.

This woman had agreed to marry Elmer? Why? She was absolutely gorgeous. I had no doubt she had men lined up outside her door, waiting for her just to give them a glance.

Was she blind? Insane? Desperate?

“Whatever he’s told you, I’m sure it’s all lies,” I answered.

What the heck are you thinking?
I silently chastised myself.
Elmer found a wife! I am off the hook.

I pasted on a grin the size and brilliance of a supernova. “I’m sorry. I was still half asleep. Nice to meet you, Olivia.”

The future Mrs. Elmer Schmickle scrunched her perfectly plucked eyebrows together. “Elmer lied? You aren’t working for a top secret unit in the FBI?”

“Well, I guess you could say I am. Technically, I’m—”

“Then he hasn’t lied. You’re embarrassed? Don’t care to boast? I get that. But don’t worry, I find it refreshing that a woman should go into a field of work that is primarily inhabited by men. I’m an electrical engineer myself. You don’t see a lot of women in my line of work either.”

An electrical engineer? Intelligent? Beautiful? Where did Elmer find this woman?

“I would imagine.” I motioned toward the hallway. “Um, can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Holding Elmer’s hand, Olivia tailed behind me. “I owe you thanks for another reason as well.”

“Really?” I whispered, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t wake up JT as we stepped out into the hallway. He was sawing logs in the next room. Even with the door closed, I could hear him. Downstairs in the kitchen, I flipped on a light and I opened the refrigerator, taking inventory. “What would you owe me thanks for?”

She slid her arm through Elmer’s, giving his shoulder a pat with her left hand. A huge, sparkly rock glittered on her ring finger. It was no wonder she was looking so happy. “For setting my sweet Elmer free, so he and I could be together.”

She certainly didn’t need to thank me for that. I pulled out a couple of vitamin waters; then I went to the cupboard for some glasses. “I’m very glad to see him happy. And you too.”

She batted her eyelashes at her fiancé. “I’ll be even happier once we’re married.”

“When’s the wedding?” I asked, cracking one of the waters open. I was about to pour it into a glass, when she suddenly snatched it out of my hand and chugged half of it.

She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “We’ll be married on the next full moon. My ring. Isn’t it absolutely gorgeous?” Olivia’s eyes were all twinkly as she showed off her ring. She sighed, misty-eyed. “This is the first time I’ve been able to wear this outside of my house. The engagement is very secret. You’re the first person we’ve told. You can’t tell anyone. Elmer said you’re trustworthy. We signed an agreement with the production company to keep it quiet until after the show’s full season has aired. That’s not for another two months. It’s going to be so hard to hide for so long the fact that we’re married.”

“I can imagine.” I watched as she polished off her bottle of water.

“But a contract is a contract,” Elmer said.

Evidently, Elmer only respected contracts when they worked in his favor.

“What would you like to drink?” I asked him, giving him some mean eyes.

“Do you have any champagne? I’m in the mood to celebrate.”

“I don’t know. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not at my place. But the folks have a wine cellar in the—”

“Who needs champagne? I know how we can celebrate.” Olivia turned to Elmer and flung herself into his arms—and that was something to see, since he was a good twelve inches shorter than her. She planted a huge kiss on his mouth.

“I’ll just go down and take a look.” I tried to hide my grimace as I headed for the basement.

As I hit the bottom step, I realized someone was down in the media room, watching a movie.
Titanic.

I heard heavy breathing.

What the heck?

I hurried up to the row of reclining chairs.

Katie.

And Sergio.

They were draped across a couple of chairs, making out, hands everywhere, clothes askew, hair mussed. And totally oblivious to the fact that I was standing there, gawking. Evidently, both of them liked that whole mouth-to-mouth thing, and had decided to do more of it—particularly now that a life wasn’t hanging in the balance.

I just hoped this man wouldn’t dump Katie like the last few had. Lately she’d been changing male companions more often than I changed my computer log-in password.

Trying to ignore the moans and sighs, I headed back to the wine cellar, found a whole section of champagne, grabbed the first bottle I touched, and headed back upstairs . . . to discover Elmer and his soon-to-be bride doing the exact same thing as Katie and Sergio.

Feeling a little left out, I took the bottle to the kitchen, popped the cork, and poured myself a nice, big glass. I tasted. I gulped.
Wow, is that champagne smooth!
It went down easier than water. I guzzled half the glass before I’d realized it. Then I downed the rest.

Now, pour some more? Or put it away, and go do something else, something productive?

Fuck that.

I poured myself another glass. These last few days had been pure hell. I deserved an indulgence. The second glass went down easier than the first. And the third, even easier.

Do I feel good!
Warm and a little tingly all over. Smiling, but a little wobbly, I went upstairs to my room and shut the door. I sat on the bed, used the remote on the flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, and clicked through the whole channel lineup. Somehow I ended up stopping on a porn channel, where a girl was lounging on her couch in a negligee, batting her eyelashes at the refrigerator repairman, who’d come to take a look at her compressor.

Really, the writers could do better.

For some reason, I watched her carry on with the man for a while. The whole time, I was wondering why she’d do that, since he was kinda creepy-looking and she was so beautiful. It was a complete mismatch, not unlike Olivia and Elmer. Evidently, Miss Porn Star was simply too horny to care.

I wasn’t sure yet what Olivia’s motivation was.

When the plumber showed up, to join in the fun, I clicked to the next channel, an infomercial for some overpriced skin care regimen. Then I tossed the remote on the bed and went in search of my phone.

I was lonely. Everyone had someone to swap DNA with—except for me. And I wished there were something I could do to change that.

Where is my . . . whatever he’s called? Boyfriend? If we’re officially courting, is that what I should call him?

I decided I needed to ask him that. So I dialed his number, and he answered.

“Hello, Sloan. I’ve missed you.”

Wowzers, does he have a nice voice! Sexy, sultry.

“Where have you been?” I blurted out. Evidently, the champagne was making me be a little more direct than I normally would’ve been.

“Handling something for my mother. But I’m on my way home. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait to see you too. Katie and Elmer both have friends over to play, so I’m all alone.”

“That’s completely unacceptable.” I heard the laughter in his voice.

“I concur.” I hiccupped. “’Scuse me.” I giggled.

“Have you been . . . drinking?”

“Yes. I had some champagne. It’s been a rough week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“But the champagne was good.” I licked my lips, tasting it. I briefly considered having another glass, but I vetoed that notion. I needed to function tomorrow, to think clearly. Another glass of champagne would no doubt make my head more than a little foggy.

“Um-hm.”

“Really good.”

He chuckled. Even though he was God-only-knows-how-many miles away, the sound seemed to vibrate through my whole body.

“I think you should probably put it away for now, if you haven’t already.”

I fanned my face. “Are you trying to tell me what to do?” “No, of course not.”

“Darn, I might be in the mood for that right now.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“You, me, playing a sexy game of Simon Says,” I said in my best sex-kitten voice.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m sitting here, in the airport in Dallas.”

“Good thing for you. Not for me.” I heaved a sigh he could probably hear all the way in Dallas, without the phone.

His chuckle told me he had heard it. “How about dinner tomorrow night? With my mother?”

“Already?” I squeaked.
Poof,
all those warm tingles were gone. Now I was covered with goose bumps as a cold chill swept up my spine. We were at the dinner-with-parents stage already? Really?

“There’s no need to panic.” He must’ve heard the anxiety in my voice. I did. “My mother may be a queen, but behind closed doors, she’s just a woman. And she has a great sense of humor. I expect the two of you will get along just fine.”

So glad he thought so. Me, I wasn’t sure. I’d met “Mom, the queen” only once, at my parents’ wedding. Because there were so many other royal subjects waiting in line to pay their respects, I didn’t have much of a chance to talk to her. My first impression hadn’t been all that great. She’d acted pretty stiff, like I would expect a queen to act. Reserved.

“Sloan?”

“I’m still here.” My phone clicked. “I think I have another call.”

“I’ll say good night, then.”

“Okay.”

“Sweet dreams. I’ll see you tomorrow, at six.”

“Yes, sweet dreams to you too.” I clicked over to the other line.

The caller said, “I need to talk to you. Now.”