Blood of Dawn (25 page)

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Authors: Tami Dane

BOOK: Blood of Dawn
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“They weren’t as red as this. I initially thought she had a rash or acne.” I took a closer look. “Don’t they look like they’re actually sets of two marks, scattered randomly over her chest?”
JT took the picture from me and studied it. His mouth twisted into a snarl. “They do.”
We flipped through the photos of the other victims. None of them had marks like Jia had.
“Those look like burns,” JT said.
“I agree.”
“Maybe she was wearing some kind of jewelry when she was electrocuted and it moved?”
“Why didn’t it happen to the others? Why only her?”
“I don’t know.”
I studied Jia’s picture some more. “No fang marks. And where’s the main point of contact? Where’s the telltale lightning-strike mark? Something about her story isn’t adding up.”
“Do you think she lied?”
“About what? Everything?”
He shrugged.
“Why would she make the whole thing up?”
“Hmm.” JT spread all the photos on the desk. Jia was in the center. There was no doubt that her picture stood out from the others. “Good question. I think we should have another chat with her. Coming with me?”
I fiddled with my mouse. “I should stay here and—”
“Skye . . . Sloan, come with me.” His head was tipped. His eyes were pleading. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I have no excuse. It was wrong.”
Yes, it was wrong. Very wrong.
But my refusing to work the case with him—just because I was angry—wouldn’t change anything. “Okay, fine. I’ll go.”
 
 
“I don’t know why you’re making me go through all of this again. I told the police everything.”
JT was standing in the Wu family’s foyer—his little notebook in one hand, a pen in the other. Jia was standing across from him. I was waiting for the right time to ask her why she’d called me.
JT said, “Humor us, please. We’re just doing our job.”
Jia scowled at both of us. Evidently, she didn’t care for our jobs. Or maybe she was still irritated with me for lying about being a student. Now that I’d been the victim of a lie, I could relate, somewhat. Or maybe she was getting scared, realizing we were this close to unraveling her lies.
“Okay. So I had just taken a shower and was getting ready for bed, when this man showed up in my room. Out of nowhere, it seemed. He grabbed my arm with one hand and kissed me. Then he placed his other over my chest, and I felt this horrible sensation, so painful. I couldn’t breathe and I hurt everywhere. One second, I was standing, and the next, I was lying on the floor.”
“Okay, go on.” JT was taking notes. Me, I was watching her every movement: each flick of her eye, each twitch of her fingers. She hadn’t shown any outright signs of deception yet. But I still had the feeling she was hiding something.
What?
“Then he let me go, and all of a sudden, he ran to the window and leapt. I thought I heard someone downstairs, and I tried to call out for help, but I couldn’t talk. I lay there until I could eventually move, crawled to the door, pushed it open, and shouted for help. It wasn’t long after that, when Sloan burst in.”
“How long were you lying there?” JT asked.
“I don’t know. I might have drifted in and out of consciousness for a while.”
Which meant I hadn’t scared off the unsub. Something or someone else had. Who? Or what?
JT glanced at me. “Anything else?”
I shrugged. “I guess we’re finished. Thanks, Jia.”
“Sure.” Moving slowly, she ushered us to the door.
JT headed out onto the porch, but I hesitated, turning. “If there’s anything you’re not telling the police for some reason, say . . . about Mr. Hollerbach . . . I want you to reconsider.”
“What makes you think I’m not telling everything?”
I kept my expression blank. “Nothing in particular . . . except maybe a phone call . . . ?”
“I’ve told you everything I know.” She leaned closer and whispered, “It wasn’t Carl. I’m not trying to cover for him, if that’s what you think.”
“Okay,” I whispered back. “If you say it wasn’t
Carl,
then I guess I have to believe you. Why did you call me?”
“To let you know you got what you wanted. He’s a jerk,” she snapped. “An asshole.” She wasn’t whispering anymore.
“What happened?”
Her lips sealed up, as if she was trying to hold back. But a second later, she blurted out, “He told me he can’t see me anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sorry he’d dumped her. That was for the better, in the long run. But I was sorry for the pain I saw in her eyes.
“No, you’re not sorry. You’re happy we broke up.” She stabbed a finger at my chest. “It’s your fault. You told. You bitch. How could you? He’s being investigated. He might be fired.”
“Wait a minute. I didn’t report him to anyone. But I’m not sorry he’s in trouble. What he did was wrong. You’re a student.”
“I’m legal,” she hissed.
“He’s a teacher.”
“So what?”
“He’s married.”
“Again, so what? It isn’t illegal to have an affair.” Affair?
She’d told me they hadn’t done anything.
Yet.
Jia glanced over her shoulder—probably looking for her mother. I doubted Mrs. Wu had any idea her daughter was having a sexual relationship with the teacher. “Besides, he was leaving her. He just had some things to take care of first.”
I shook my head and stepped through the doorway. “I’m sorry you’re hurt. That’s what I’m sorry for. I can see this has torn you up inside. I’m telling you the truth when I say he wasn’t ever going to leave his wife. He was telling you that so you’d keep seeing him.”
“That’s a lie! He loved me.” Tears spilled from the girl’s eyes. “He told me he loved me, that we’d get married. I’d have his children.”
“Jia, did you know Hailey Roberts—”
She slammed the door.
Standing next to the car, JT watched me walk up. “Wow, what was that about?”
“That girl needs help. I hope her parents realize that. I’m not the enemy, here. I genuinely want to help her.”
“I know.” He tipped his head, indicating I should get into the car. I did. I sighed as I snapped myself in. And after he buckled himself up, he spoke. “Skye, you have to keep your emotions out of this. That’s your problem. When you get involved, you start to make bad decisions. You take risks, and that’s dangerous.”
“That’s my problem. And I don’t know how to follow procedure, right? And what else? It’s not so easy, shutting off my feelings.”
“No one will ever tell you it’s easy.” He stuffed the key into the ignition and cranked it. “Why do you think I fucked up with you?”
“Sorry this was such a waste of time.”
“It wasn’t a waste of time.”
“Where to now?”
“We’re done for the day. I need to run home, check on Brittany, and grab some fresh clothes.” He pointed at his gas gauge. “I need to fuel up. We’re on fumes.”
We sputtered up to the BP station. While he was pumping gas, JT’s phone rang. I powered down the window to let him know.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Carl Hollerbach.”
“Go ahead, answer it.”
I hit the button. “Hello?”
“Hello, I’m calling for Agent Jordan Thomas,” Hollerbach said.
“I’m sorry, he’s not available right this minute. Can he call you back in five to ten?”
“Sure. I guess. There’s something he should know. I’d like to meet with him as soon as possible.”
“He can come to your—”
“No, if what I’ve heard is true, it won’t be safe for me to be seen with him. I need to meet him somewhere private, discreet.”
“Very well. It’s late, but he can meet you tomorrow morning. Seven
A.M.
How does Einsteins’ bagel store in Ellicott sound? Safe enough?”
“That’ll work.”
“We’ll see you then.” I handed the phone back to JT. “That was Hollerbach. He’s under investigation for sleeping with at least one of his students. I’m not sure he’s credible. But if he can tell us something, I’m willing to listen.”
“Good.”
“I told him we’d meet him at Einsteins’ in Ellicott. Seven o’clock, tomorrow morning.”
He scowled. “My favorite place.”
I chuckled. “Sorry. It was the first place that came to mind.”
Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.
—Francisco de Goya
25
Damen picked me up at six
P.M.
on the dot. Maybe he wasn’t the best at calling, and this whole courting thing was a little antiquated. But I’d give him credit where credit was due: he was punctual, a trait I admired greatly.
His eyes sparkled as he watched me descend the stairs. I swear, I’ve never felt so admired. When I hit the bottom step, he said, “You look absolutely stunning.”
I felt my face heating. What girl wouldn’t? I had to admit, I looked good. But “absolutely stunning”?
“Thank you,” I answered.
He handed me a box.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“A gift.”
“Another one?”
“It’s sort of an apology.”
“Well, thank you.” I hadn’t anticipated him bringing another gift. That was two for me and none for him. Not exactly even. I felt more than a little guilty. Then again, I hadn’t disappeared for days.
“Please don’t feel you need to return the favor,” he told me.
Is he reading my mind?
I opened the box, finding an e-book reader.
Evidently, he had been reading my mind.
He grinned. He had one heck of a killer smile. “I get the impression you do a lot of reading. I thought you might like one of these.”
“It’s . . . perfect. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. This way, if you ever have another fire, you won’t have to worry about losing all your books.”
“Let’s hope that never happens. I lost a lot more than my books. Just in case, I’ll keep this safe. I definitely won’t leave it in my car. Or in my apartment.” I set the e-book reader on the table; then I checked my purse to make sure I had house keys.
“Give me time, and I’ll have all of your other things replaced too.”
I gave him a pretend glare. “You’d better not.”
“Ready?” he asked, smirking.
“You bet.”
JT was standing in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest. He said nothing. He didn’t have to. The stink eyes said everything.
I felt a little bad, leaving when JT was camping out at Mom and Dad’s house, playing bodyguard, per the chief’s orders. But I was leaving with a man who was fully capable of providing for my safety. That fact, he couldn’t argue with. And I would only be gone for a couple of hours.
Damen held the door for me—so gentlemanly. I thanked him as I stepped outside.
We strolled down the front walkway toward the waiting limousine. “I hope you don’t mind. My mother prefers to dine outside.” He stepped aside, motioning for me to take a seat first.
I climbed aboard and sat down. There was a man sitting near the front, staring out the window. Our chaperone, I presumed. He said nothing. “It’s a gorgeous evening. I don’t mind at all.”
“Good.” Damen made himself comfy next to me and slid his hand under mine. Our fingers wove together, and a wave of heat seemed to ripple through my body. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so excited and anxious on a date. Not ever. Then again, I hadn’t gone on many dates, and never with a prince.
His hand squeezed mine. The door slammed shut; and within seconds, we were zooming down Mom and Dad’s winding street. “You’re nervous.”
“I am,” I admitted.
“Don’t be.”
“Ha! Easy for you to say.” I gave him a little playful smirk. “You’re not about to have dinner with a queen you’ve barely met.”
“That’s true.” He set his other hand on top of mine, so that one was under mine and the other on top. “But I assure you, my mother is not what you’re expecting.” That hand started slowly smoothing its way up my arm.
“Not formal and stiff and regal?” I asked, checking to see if Mr. Chaperone was watching us.
He was.
I glanced back at Damen. His eyes were twinkling. “Stiff? Formal? Not at all. You’ll see.” A mischievous slant curled his mouth. He was so sexy when he was looking at me like that.
“What do you mean, I’ll see?” I fanned my face. Did the driver have the heat on or what?
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try me.” I powered down the window a little, letting a light gust of fresh air blow into the vehicle.
“It’s better if you see with your own eyes.”
The car stopped, and I glanced outside. “We’re here? Already? What street is this?” I powered the window down all the way and took a look around. We were parked in front of what could only be described as a castle. The stone building was situated in a clearing, surrounded by a thick forest. It was so gorgeous—it almost seemed surreal. “We’re less than five minutes from my parents’ place, and yet this doesn’t look familiar at all.”
“It’s farther than you think.”
A tall wood-and-metal gate swung open and the car rolled inside, through thick stone walls. The driveway curled around the front garden in a wide U shape. We finally stopped in front of a set of double doors, manned by a uniformed guard, who reminded me a little of the English guards at Buckingham Palace.
“This place is unbelievable.” I sounded as breathless as I felt. “Is this where you live?”
“No, it’s where my mother lives.” Damen leaned in and brushed a kiss on my cheek; then he pulled back. “You’re in for a treat.” With that, he took my hand in his, preceding me out of the car. As I stepped out onto the brick walk, I stared in awe at the carved woodworking around the windows and the glorious doors. The guard, dressed in a crisp black-and-white uniform, acknowledged Damen with a slight tip of the head, and the doors next to him swung open.
We stepped inside.
My gaze swept the wide-open space: ornate trim everywhere, artwork, beautiful furnishings. My shoes
tap, tap, tapped
on the stone floor as I followed Damen’s lead.
“This place is unreal,” I remarked in awe.
“Have you looked up yet?” He pointed at the ceiling.
“No . . .
ohhh.
” There was an amazing mural painted over the entire surface: a sky scene with clouds and creatures and beautiful winged men and women and children.
“Wow.”
“It’s a Michelangelo original,” he informed me.
“
The
Michelangelo?”
“
The
Michelangelo. It’s called
The Choir of Mythics.
”
“I’ve never heard of it. His works were primarily religious, Catholic.”
“Not many people have heard of it.”
Looking at the figures, I could believe it had been painted by Michelangelo. But there was one problem with Damen’s claim: Michelangelo lived in Italy, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. There was no way he could have painted this ceiling. “It’s beyond words.”
“Come, this way.” He gave my hand a little tug as he continued through the huge room. “Mom will give you the grand tour later, after we’ve eaten. It’s one of her guilty pleasures. She’s so proud of this crusty, old place.”
I could think of at least a dozen adjectives to describe this place. “Crusty” wasn’t one of them. “And you’re not proud of it?”
“It’s a little antiquated for my taste. I prefer something more modern. Sleek. Contemporary.”
“I understand. Living in a place like this would feel like living in a museum.” I hesitated next to a chair that had to be at least two hundred years old. I hesitantly traced the curved wood-carved top with the tip of my index finger. “I’d be afraid to touch anything.”
“I can’t tell you how many priceless antiques my brothers and I broke. We used to skateboard through the hall. Right through here.” His arm swept across the front of his body. “We drove our nurse crazy. Poor woman had to retire last year.”
“I bet. I’ve met a few of them. They were . . . all very different. Do you have any sisters?”
“Only one.”
“Poor girl. I can imagine what kind of hell you all gave her.”
“Actually, we treated her pretty well.” Reaching a set of tall French doors, he pushed one open, revealing a lush courtyard beyond.
Out we stepped, onto a covered stone patio. “Mum will be out back, in the gazebo. That’s where she spends most of her time these days.”
“With property this gorgeous, I could see why.” I followed him down a stone path, cutting across the world’s most pristine lawn, toward the white building set in front of a thick wall of trees. We found the queen standing at the rear of the building, facing the woods.
“Mother.”
The queen turned around, and I sucked in a breath. She looked different—younger than she had at the wedding. She was extremely beautiful, with long, shimmering blond hair, which tumbled down her back in heavy waves; her skin was as smooth as an infant’s and ivory white; her eyes so blue, their color was almost too brilliant to look at. She smiled. “I’m glad you’re joining me tonight. I’ve grown weary of dining alone.”
“You look beautiful, Mum.” Damen kissed each of his mother’s cheeks.
“Thank you.” She reached for me. “And so does our guest. Sloan, it’s good to see you again.”
“Thank you for having me.” I started to do that bow-curtsey maneuver I’d done at the wedding, but she gently pulled on my hand, stopping me.
“No, no. Please, no formalities. We’re here, in my home. And I insist you call me Hildur.”
“Okay, Hildur.”
“Come, let’s walk.” Leaving me no option but to follow, the queen pulled me toward the exit at the back of the gazebo. We stepped onto a narrow path, which curled through the woods. The air smelled sweet and earthy; and the only sounds I heard were the scuffle of unseen animals skittering around us and the crunching of our feet on the wood chips. The queen inhaled deeply and smiled. “This is where I feel most at peace.”
I was feeling a lot calmer too. “It’s lovely.”
“I don’t know how much you have learned about our people, but we have thick ties to the natural world.”
I surmised that by “our people,” she meant elves. “I don’t know much at all.”
“Interesting. You’ll visit me often, then. I’ll teach you. Have you discovered your power yet?”
My power?
No one had ever told me I would have a power. If Mom had anticipated that, she would have told me. “Um, no.”
“Even those who are half-elf would have a great power. It’s in our blood. It’s in your blood. Skuld, half-sister of Hrolf Kraki, who was half-elf, could raise her slain soldiers from the dead.”
Raise people from the dead? I’d love to have that power, considering my current job.
“I don’t believe I’m capable of that.”
“Have you tried?”
“I admit, I haven’t.”
“Then perhaps you should.”
“Perhaps.” Was this conversation for real? I flicked a glance at Damen. He was looking quite amused, which made me wonder if it was a joke.
The path took a sharp turn to the left, then curled around to a clearing, which led out to a sparkling lake.
The queen smiled.
“Wow,” I said on an exhalation. The lake was gorgeous, just like everything else on this property. It wasn’t the largest lake—thus from my vantage point, I could see the opposite shore. What I didn’t see was one single house. No boats. No people. It looked untouched and private, completely undisturbed. The glorious sky was reflected upon its smooth surface. A few swans swooped down in front of us, splashed some water on their feathers, and waddled up onto the beach, where two white towels were laid out. In the next blink, their bodies changed. Their wings shortened; their legs lengthened. They grew taller. Their feathers morphed into ivory skin. And within two heartbeats, I was staring at two men, with striking blue eyes and platinum hair. They each wrapped a towel around their hips, hiding everything between their belly buttons and their knees—a good thing.
“My youngest sons,” the queen said proudly. “They weren’t in attendance at your parents’ wedding. Fridrik and Dagur.” They acknowledged me with a nod, then ran off, down the path. “You’ll excuse them. They’re young and foolish.”
“It’s all right.” Once again, I flicked a glance at Damen, wondering if he did that shape-shifting thing too. And if so, what bird or animal might he turn into? He was darker than his brothers. I could imagine him shifting into something strong and dangerous and sexy, like a panther.
Something tinkled, like a little chime. The queen said, “Ah, dinner is ready.” Back down the path we went, winding among old oaks and maples and pines. When we arrived back at the gazebo, a table had been set up; it was loaded with covered metal dishes. The queen motioned for me to sit next to her, leaving Damen to take the chair opposite us. She uncovered the plate in front of her, a salad. I did the same, but I didn’t lift a fork until she had.

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