Blood of Eden (19 page)

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Authors: Tami Dane

BOOK: Blood of Eden
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We strolled into the bagel shop together. I ordered my usual; Mom ordered hers. I added an extra bagel, in case JT hadn't eaten breakfast. She looked at me with worried-mother eyes as we waited for our orders to be filled.
“Mom, it's going to be okay.”
“I know. I just can't help myself. I'm a mother. Mothers worry.”
A stretch of silence followed as we both stared at the sign overhead.
“There isn't a client, is there?” I asked. “You're following me because you're concerned.”
“Oh, no. There's a client, all right. I already got my first paycheck. Sloan, you know I couldn't afford to do this much driving if there wasn't someone footing the bill. I'm burning through a tank of gas every three days.”
I could believe that. My own gas gauge seemed to be sliding toward empty much too quickly these days as well, and I wasn't doing half the driving JT was. “Will you please tell me who this mystery client is?”
“ No.”
I felt myself gritting my teeth. Sometimes Mom was stubborn. I don't handle stubborn people very well, probably because I could be a smidge stubborn too. “I swear, I won't tell anyone.”
“I know.”
“I could turn you in to the FBI for following me.”
“You wouldn't do that, Sloan.”
She was right. Irritated beyond what was reasonable, I snatched my cup and bag from the girl as she handed it to me, muttered “Thanks,” and stomped toward the door. I didn't wait for Mom.
As I shoved the key into my car's ignition, I told myself that I'd had a rough morning, and that was why I was overreacting. Mom was getting in her car when I sped out of the lot. She caught up to me just as I was turning onto the base, where she couldn't follow. I shoved my arm out the open window and gave her a wave as I drove out of her line of sight.
Maybe I'd make her work for her money a little.
Maybe not.
After all, she was doing something harmless, something that didn't involve illegal drugs or frying her apartment building's electrical system. She could be doing something far more dangerous than following me around town.
I found JT sitting at his desk, staring intensely at his computer screen. I dropped the white bag on his desk.
“What's new? Any word on a new victim?”
“ No.”
That was a surprise. A good one. “No, as in there's no new victim this morning?” My heart lightened.
“Not yet.”
I felt my lungs inflate fully, and I realized I'd been stressing all morning, anticipating the moment when we'd hear about another death.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, shaking the white bag.
“A little.”
“Good.” I set the cup next to the bag. “Sorry, didn't get you a coffee. I've never seen you drink it, so I wasn't sure if it was your thing.”
“Not a fan. Good call. You're getting better at profiling, I see.”
“I hadn't thought of this as profiling, but I get it.” I handed him an everything bagel, wrapped in waxed paper. “My personal favorite. I hope you like it.” I stuffed my hand back in the bag and pulled out a handful of cream cheese packets, dropping them on the desk. While JT loaded his bagel up with the smooth cheese spread, I slurped coffee.
He took a bite and smiled. “Damn, that's good. Thanks.”
“I figured it's the least I could do after you came to my rescue this morning.”
His chuckle did some interesting things to my insides. Unwelcome at the moment, but not necessarily unpleasant things. His wide beaming smile and dimples did even more. I tried very hard to hide how much I liked his dimples as I drank some more coffee.
He pointed at my lip. “You have something, there.”
I grabbed a napkin and dabbed my face. “Thanks.” We stared at each other for a moment, our gazes sort of tangled up.
Someone cleared his throat. It wasn't JT. I jerked back, glancing over my shoulder.
Gabe. He was looking at me funny. “What's going on?” he asked.
“We're grabbing a quick bite before heading out. JT is taking me to the gun range to show me how to shoot. How's your case going?” I asked, shifting a little to put some distance between myself and JT.
“I need to take care of one last thing.” JT stood, excusing himself as he pushed past Gabe. “Be back in a few.”
Gabe leaned against JT's cubicle wall. “Not good. Outside of the one witness, we've had nobody else come forward. Get this, turns out we've met the missing kid.”
“You and me? Really? Who is it?”
“Your friend with the strange taste in clothes and the weird bike.”
“Tutu Girl?”
Gabe nodded. “That's the one.”
My heart lurched. It was a painful sensation. And as I imagined that cute little face. “Wow. I jogged right past her house this morning. I didn't notice a thing. Such a cute little kid ...”
Gabe shook his head. “
Kids.
I didn't expect this.”
“Me either.”
Gabe glanced up, in the general direction of Chief Peyton's office. We watched JT come strolling out, headed toward us. “Gotta motor. We're going to the kid's house to interview her parents.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. You too.”
JT passed Gabe on his way to my cubicle. “Ready?”
“As ready as I'm going to be, I guess.” I crumpled up the empty bag and tossed it and the cup, also empty, into his trash can.
“I hope I don't regret this,” JT said, giving me a warning look.
“I promise, you won't regret it.” I beamed.
“We'll see about that.” He explained the rules of the gun range on the way there. He signed in, picked a spot, and set a weapon on the counter in front of me.
And just like that, I went from completely confident to absolutely petrified. Did I really have to pick that thing up and shoot it?
Was this a good idea?
Two hours later, after many
very
bad shots, it was decided. It hadn't been a good idea. Having me carry a gun was a serious threat to public safety. The chance that I'd hit an innocent bystander was much greater than my hitting the assailant I was aiming for. JT handed me a stun gun and showed me how to use that.
I was now armed and dangerous. God help the fool who messed with me.
God help me.
A great source of calamity lies in regret and anticipation; therefore a person is wise who thinks of the present alone, regardless of the past or future.
—Oliver Goldsmith
16
I wondered what Katie was doing right now. Was she comfy on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table, munching popcorn and watching TiVoed episodes of
Weird Connections
? Or was she lounging in her room, her worn and battered copy of the
CRC Handbook of Chemistry and Physics
on her lap? Whatever she was doing, I longed to be there with her right now.
I was alone. Sort of. In this strange house again. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for something to happen. I didn't even have a decent Internet connection. No Web surfing to distract me.
Talk about torture.
I checked my pocket for the umpteenth time, curled my fingers around the stun gun, tapped the switch. It was there, ready, just in case. Though I left the safety on, so I didn't zap myself. In my other pocket was my cell phone, JT's phone number already dialed. All I had to do was hit the little green button and I'd have him on the line.
Still, I felt alone and vulnerable. I didn't like either feeling. Not at all.
As I was taking my fourth tour of the house, JT's ringtone sounded. I fumbled the phone out of my pocket and hit the button. “What's wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” JT said. “I'm just calling to check on you. I think you've done at least thirty laps around that house.”
“Have I?” Now standing in the kitchen, staring out the patio door, into the inky black night, I checked the lock. “Maybe I'm a little jittery.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot.” I sighed. “I can't help it. I feel like someone's watching me.”
“We are.”
“No, someone else.”
“I guarantee, there's nobody else. We have eyes on every inch of that house. You'll know the minute we see anything.”
I gnawed on my lip. “Okay. Maybe it's the cat. You couldn't find the cat?”
“It was gone by time Animal Control arrived.” After a beat, JT asked, “Do you want me to come in for a little while?”
I wanted him to come in. And I wanted him to stay longer than a little while. But I knew that wasn't a good idea, for several reasons. “No. It's probably better if you don't.”
“Okay.”
Amazing how I could sense his relief in just that single word.
On my way through the kitchen, I checked the clock. It was after eleven. Six-thirty would come early if I didn't get to sleep soon. “I think I'm going to head up to bed.”
“Good idea. Try to get some sleep. I'm going to try to catch a few z's myself. But I promise, I'm right down the road. I can be there in less than two minutes.”
“Okay.”
“You have a whole team outside, watching your back.”
“I'll try to remember that.”
“Sweet dreams, Sloan.”
“You too.”
I ended the call and tiptoed upstairs. After taking care of a few essentials in the bathroom, I headed for the master bedroom, put the cell phone and stun gun on the nightstand, and made myself comfy in the bed that the bureau had made up with brand-new pillows, sheets, and blankets. The bedding was nothing fancy, but it was cozy. I was exhausted. Must have worn myself out, walking all those laps around the house. Being horizontal felt good. But after almost an hour of trying to fall asleep, I was still awake. I resorted to reading
The Viking King and the Maiden.
I read a sexy scene between the Viking king and the maiden, where he insisted she join him in a swim, and they did things I had previously thought were impossible underwater. Needless to say, after that scene, I was ready to close my eyes and let my imagination run wild.
And wild it did run.
 
 
“Little Mouse, why do you think you can hide from me? When will you realize I know your every move? I've enjoyed playing your game. But it's growing tedious.”
Trembling under her covers, she fought to breathe. It felt as if an enormous weight was sitting on her chest. Her lungs couldn't inflate. The air was stale and thick, too thick to pull into her throat.
“Little mouse.”
What did he want? She was certain it wasn't something pleasant. Her skin burned. Goose bumps prickled her arms and shoulders.
Go away.
“It's time to end our game.”
The familiar stink of rotted flesh filled her nose. He was close. Too close. Right above her. Her entire body tensed, even her scalp.
“I won,” he whispered. “I have come for my prize.”
The blanket slowly dragged down her body. Her eyes snapped open. First she saw a shadow. And then those strange glowing eyes.
And then the fangs.
 
 
I jerked upright, arms swinging. I struck nothing but air. My eyes blinked, trying to make out shapes in the heavy shadows. Where was he? Why hadn't anyone come to my rescue? I was drenched in sweat. Breathless. Shaking.
“Little mouse.”
This wasn't a dream. It was real. Someone was here, in the house. He'd found me. Who was it? I had to know. Petrified, I clawed at the nightstand. The lamp was the first to fall. The clock next.
Thump, thump.
No stun gun. No phone. I slid to the floor and searched frantically in the dark. Where'd they go?
“There's nothing to fear,” the voice said. It was a low, scratchy voice. Although I sensed it belonged to a man, I couldn't tell for sure. It didn't matter. Either way, it made my skin crawl. “I want my prize.”
Prize?
He was coming closer. He couldn't be more than a few feet from me.
I looked up. Was that big shadow over there the man—the thing—from my nightmare? Or was it just a shadow? “I don't know what you're talking about.” I needed to buy time. Where was my backup?
“What are you looking for?”
“I ... I knocked the lamp down. Trying to pick it up.”
“You don't need it.”
JT's ringtone sounded. I patted the floor, letting the sound guide my hand. I found it, scooped it up, and hit the button.
“JT. I—I h-have a v-visitor,” I stuttered.
“The team's at both doors.”
“W-what're they waiting f-for?”
The sound of a dozen or more footsteps pounded through the house. I didn't move. Sat frozen in place, arms wrapped around my legs. The thing-person-whatever that had been in the bedroom with me must have fled the instant I answered the call. I didn't hear him leave. Next thing I knew, the room was flooded with brilliant light, and I was being gently lifted to my feet by a couple of enormous men dressed in black. JT was at the door, rushing into the room, his face almost ghostly white. He scooped me into his arms and set me on the bed. I wouldn't let go of his neck, couldn't let go. So he sat and held me, while the men in black searched the house. It was so good, having him near me—his strong, thick arms wrapped around my body. His heat warming my chilled skin.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It was the same person who'd broken into my apartment last night.”
“Someone broke into your apartment? You didn't tell me. Why didn't you say something?”
“I ... I didn't think it was a big deal.”
Correction, I wasn't sure if it was real or a dream.
“What else haven't you told me?”
“Nothing.”
“Huh.” He smoothed my tangled hair back from my face and I looked up into eyes dark with worry. “I wish you would trust me.”
“I do.”
He tapped his earpiece, letting me know he was answering a call. I nodded. A second later, he told me, “The house is clear.”
I felt my whole body relax. “Thank God. I hope he's been scared off for good.” JT held me tighter, cupped a hand over my head, pressing it into his chest. I closed my eyes and listened to the steady
thump-whump
of his heartbeat. Sometime later, I asked, “What are we going to do now?”
“I don't know yet. Your cover's probably blown. We should leave—”
I snuggled in deeper. “No, please. We've got an army surrounding this house. We'll be okay.”
Stroking my back, JT sighed. “Okay.”
 
 
I woke up, drooling on JT's chest, a rather humbling way to start the day. After glancing up to see if he was sleeping, I checked the clock. Six o'clock. I could get in a quick shower before I had to hit the road. Moving slowly, carefully, I extracted my body from JT's clutches and padded barefoot to the bathroom. I shaved, scrubbed, lathered, and loofahed myself until I was squeaky-clean. Next I blow-dried my hair and, after pulling it into a high ponytail that made me look cute, donned a little bronzer, lip gloss, and mascara. If I was going to die running six miles, I was going to look cute doing it. My only problem—lacking caffeine when I'd headed into the bathroom, I hadn't thought ahead. My clean clothes were in the bedroom.
Dressed in a towel, I tiptoed back down the hall. I met JT just outside my bedroom.
He gave me one long up-and-down look before flashing me a killer smile. He whispered, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”
Clutching the towel, even though I was slightly tempted to let it fall, I gave him some faux squinty eyes. “Out of my way. I've got some jogging to do.”
He stepped aside but poked his head into the door before I shut it. He whispered, “If you need some help toweling off your back, let me know.”
He did
not
just say
that.
I shoved his head out of the way and slammed the door. Then I locked it and quickly wired myself up before donning some shorts, a sports bra, a T-shirt, and running shoes. Feeling more energetic than I should, considering how little sleep I'd had, I bounced downstairs, tracking the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
JT was dumping some bottled vitamin water down his throat when I strolled into the kitchen. I found a clean mug in the cabinet and filled it. He beamed at me as I poured, handing me a carton of vanilla-flavored creamer.
“Thank you,” I said. “You seem to be in a mighty chipper mood this morning.”
“So do you.”
I couldn't argue with that. Since my first day with the PBAU, I'd been dragging around, exhausted, feeling like I was PMSing all the time, achy and foggy-headed. But not today, nope. I felt like I could run those six miles. And maybe six miles more. I couldn't imagine why that might be. I hadn't slept that long, and what little sleep I'd gotten had been interrupted.
The last time I'd felt this way was when Gabe and I ... I didn't want to think about that now.
I slurped down about half my cup of coffee and headed toward the door. “It's seven. I'd better get out there.”
JT's expression changed in a blink, from happy-go-lucky to life-or-death serious. “Sloan, after last night, I think you—”
I grabbed JT's hands and gave them a squeeze. “JT, I want to do this. I need to do this.” When he didn't cut me off, I added, “Please. I'll be careful.”
“I don't like this.”
“You'll be right behind me. You and a SWAT team.”
“Yes, but—”
I switched on the transmitter and zigzagged around him. “I trust you, JT.” Throwing a wave over my shoulder, I racewalked out the door, squinting at the brilliant sunshiny morning. The sky was the clearest, deepest blue I'd ever seen. The trees lining both sides of the street were clothed in emerald leaves, which flashed when a breeze ruffled them; droplets of dew glittered like diamonds. The air smelled fresh and clean, like grass and flowers and nature. I pulled in a deep breath, exhaled, and jogged down the sidewalk. My heart rate kicked up a little, my breathing too; but unlike yesterday, I didn't feel like I was dying. Quite the opposite. I felt like I could run for miles.
I turned at an intersection, following the route JT had mapped out for me, which would eventually take me past Debbie Richardson's house. I was only vaguely aware of the agents tailing me, watching through binoculars from parked cars. My focus was on looking for anything out of the ordinary as I passed one vinyl-clad Colonial after another. I glanced between the houses lining the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of the unsub hurdling a fence, or a pair of lesbians sneaking a good-morning kiss before heading to work.

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