Embraced by Darkness (15 page)

“No.”

“And you have no idea why Adrienne went to Monitor Island?”

“No.”

“Did it involve the person she ran into at the club?”

“I told you, I don’t
know
. Why do you keep asking me stupid questions when I’ve already told you I can’t help you?”

Because I’m trying to find out what happened to her. Trying to prevent it from happening to anyone else
. But I kept the words inside. It wasn’t hard to guess that Jodie was speaking out of anguish more than any desire to be unhelpful.

“What plane was Adrienne supposed to arrive home on?” I’d need to check if she ever actually boarded it.

“A five
P.M.
Qantas flight.”

“And there’s nothing else you can tell me? Nothing she said or did that seemed odd to you?”

“Nothing at all.” She looked at me then, eyes red rimmed and brimming with tears. “Just go away, and leave me alone.”

I hesitated, wanting to ask more, but also not wanting to alienate her completely. I might need to question her again later. So I simply said, “Thanks for your help, Jodie.”

She didn’t answer, just went back to looking out the window. I headed out of the hospital and into the fresh air as quickly as I could. After sucking in several deep breaths to wash away the lingering aroma of antiseptic, pain, and hopelessness that always seemed to haunt hospitals, I began the long walk back to where I’d parked my car. As I walked, I took my phone out, hit the vid-button, and dialed the cow.

She was as happy as ever to see my smiling face.

“Now what the hell are you after?” she said, voice flat and annoyed.

I restrained my grin. I really
did
like this woman’s flat-out bitchiness. “Want you to check out a club for me. I need background and trouble reports.”

“What club?”

“Mirror Image.”

She raised perfectly plucked eyebrows. “That’s the weird one that allows humans and nonhumans to mix, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Is it connected to the murders?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not going to pull reports on a club just because you’re curious about it,” she said, in that snotty way of hers.

“It may be connected to a missing-persons case I’m investigating. I’m just covering all the bases.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re doing more than that, wolf girl.” She sniffed. “I’ll send whatever I can find.”

“You’re such a darling, Sal.”

She all but snarled at me. I chuckled and hung up. In that instant, I felt it again. The cold chill of evil. An evil that hungered to kill, and rent, and tear, not talk.

I swung around, and saw it. Not the thing I was sensing, but the car. It had veered across several lanes of traffic and was coming straight at me. I had a brief glimpse of dark hair, thin features, and a grin of sheer delight before I was diving out of the way. I hit the concrete hard, rolled to my feet, and ran for the nearest street pole, my heart racing quicker than my feet. The roar of the car engine didn’t get any closer. Instead, the car bounced off another and continued on, scattering pedestrians as it continued down the footpath before swerving back out into the traffic. I didn’t bother chasing it. I might have vampire speed, but that car was moving way faster than I ever could, the driver weaving in and out of traffic like a madman.

I dusted the dirt off my hands and knees, then got out my phone again.

“This really has to stop,” Sal said. “You might enjoy hearing my dulcet tones, but I have better things—”

“Fucking shut up and put me through to Jack,” I said.

“He’s in a meeting—”

“I don’t care. Put me through.”

She muttered something under her breath, then the phone made odd noises as she patched me through.

“This had better be important, Riley,” Jack said. “I was in a meeting with the director—”

“Someone just tried to run me over,” I snapped. “And I think whatever is killing these people might be following me.”

I heard a chair slide back, then footsteps as Jack walked out of whatever room he was in. “Okay, explain.”

“Remember the truck yesterday? Well, today it was a car. I caught a glimpse of the driver and I didn’t recognize him. It wasn’t accidental—he was aiming for me. I got the plate number.”

“Give me it, and I’ll do a check.”

I gave him the number, then said, “It’ll probably be stolen.”

“No doubt. Now tell me about this thing following you.”

I blew out a breath, and leaned against the street pole. “When I went to the first murder yesterday, there was a sense of evil lingering there. A gloating sort of evil, if that makes sense. It faded, so I figured maybe it was either my imagination or some leftover emotion I was sensing. But I felt it today at the second murder, and again now, just before that car tried to mash me between its wheels.”

“Do you think we’re dealing with a vampire?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know. In some ways, it feels like I’m sensing emotions rather than anything real or solid.”

“And you felt it before the car came at you?”

“But not before the truck. I don’t think whatever it is I’m sensing is connected to the run-over attempts, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Can you feel it now?”

I hesitated, and looked around. The air was rich with exhaust fumes, gas, humans, and eucalyptus—not my favorite scents, but better than death any day.

“No.”

“So you can’t positively say it’s not connected, then.”

“Other than the feeling that it’s not, no I can’t.”

He grunted. “I’ll talk to Cole, see if he noticed anything unusual that didn’t make his report. In the meantime, you be careful.”

“Don’t worry,” I said dryly, “I have no intention of damaging the Directorate’s investment.”

“Good,” he said, and hung up.

So much for concern over said investment. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and continued on to my car.

It took me half an hour to drive over to Callie Harris’s parents’ place, only to discover they weren’t actually there. But Callie’s sister, Jenny, was.

“So how can I help you?” she said, tucking a long strand of brown hair behind her ear with fingers that shook.

I sat down on the chair opposite hers and said, as gently as I could, “I need to question you about Liam and Callie’s relationship.”

“There’s nothing to know. They were in love and getting married.”

“So they had no problems? Never fought?”

Tears glittered briefly in her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. “Everyone argues. Even people in love.”

“Do you know if they argued over anything recently?”

She looked away. “No.”

“If you know anything,” I said quietly, “even something small, it may just help track down their killers.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, looking down at her clenched hands. “How could something they fought about help track down her killer? It didn’t mean anything. They’d worked through it, and the wedding was going ahead.”

I raised my eyebrows. “It didn’t mean anything” was usually a metaphor for “I made a mistake of the sexual kind.” “So Callie had a one-night stand?”

“At her bachelorette party.” She hesitated, then said in a rush, “She was drunk, it really didn’t mean anything, and she was so ashamed of herself afterward.”

“When was the party?”

“Two days before…before—” She stopped, gulping down air.

I waited a moment, then asked, “And she told Liam about it?”

“She had to. I mean, how could she not? There were ten of us there. Someone would have told him eventually, and that would have been even worse.”

Worse than being torn apart by a cuckolded fiancé? I didn’t think so. “You didn’t try to stop her straying?”

She blushed and looked away. “I didn’t know. Not until later.”

Because she was too busy getting laid herself, I bet. “Where did this all happen?”

For some odd reason, I was expecting her to say Mirror Image, but she didn’t. “At a friend’s. She owns a house down Fairhaven way, right near the beach.”

Then the friend had some money. Fairhaven had a million-dollar-plus price tag. “Who was the man she slept with?”

She shrugged. “One of the strippers.”

“There was more than one?”

She looked away again. “There were ten.”

One for each of them, then. Which meant it was not your typical bachelorette party—not if they catered to everyone’s sexual needs. “Do you know the name of the company?”

“Nonpareil.”

Not one I’d heard of, but then, I really didn’t have a whole lot to do with humans and their sexuality. “Did you arrange it?”

“No, Cheryl, the other bridesmaid, did.” She hesitated. “You don’t think the strippers had anything to do with her murder, do you?”

“Probably not.” If only because I doubted strippers would have been a link to the Essendon case. But then, who knew? Maybe the wife had needed to recharge her sexual batteries, or had been to a party that had employed a stripper recently.

“And there’s nothing else you can tell me? About the strippers, that night, or their relationship? Nothing that you think might help, however inconsequential?”

She shook her head. “Liam wouldn’t do this to her. It wasn’t him. He worshipped her.”

Maybe, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone who worshipped their partner went off the deep end and killed them, for whatever reason. I’d watched enough of the news over my short life to realize that.

I pushed to my feet. “If you do think of anything—however small—give me a call.” I gave her a card with my Directorate number on it.

She took it without comment. I headed out, and left her to her tears. But I hoped like hell I never had to confront that sort of pain again, either through work or in my private life.

Once back in the car, I typed “Nonpareil” into the onboard computer and did a search. The stripper business was located in the old section of North Melbourne, and there were no reports or complaints about it.

I started the car and headed over. To be honest, it probably would have been easier to ring, because I really didn’t think these men were connected to the murders, but it was too easy to avoid truths on the phone. And if the strippers
had
seen anything out of place that night, I wanted to know about it.

Nonpareil was situated on the first floor of a nondescript brick building. It was surrounded by factories that looked to be carrying the grime of centuries on their facades, and the air was thick with the scent of oil, metal, and humans.

Not the prettiest of places to visit, that was for sure.

I pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. There was no sign of the grime here, just plush red carpets, gold handrails, and rich-looking paintings filled with apple-cheeked men and women cavorting around naked. Not what I’d call sexy, but then, I’d never been a fan of Old World style.

I took the stairs two at a time and found myself in a lobby that was all gold drapery and overstuffed, lush-looking furniture. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon teased the air, but entwined in that was the heady scent of man. Or rather, wolf.

This wasn’t a human stripper business, as I’d presumed.

He was sitting behind a large mahogany desk down the far end of the room. In the half-light of the lamp-lit room, his golden skin seemed to glow a dark amber, and his brown eyes gleamed with interest.

“Well, hello there,” he rumbled, voice deep and sexy. “What can we do for you on this fine afternoon?”

Why couldn’t the Directorate find secretaries—or liaisons—who looked like this? Damn, he was fine. It was just unfortunate that I wasn’t here for fun. I got out my badge and showed it to him. “I need to speak to someone about a booking.”

“Past booking, I’m gathering?”

“Yes.” I stopped near the desk, my nostrils flaring as his scent teased them. Orange and musk. Nice.

“Then you’ll need to speak to the manager, Shadow.”

Amusement ran through me. “Shadow? Is that his stage name or his real name?”

“Stage. We don’t do real names when we’re at work. A job like this tends to attract the loons.”

He pressed a button and a door to his right opened. “Just wait in there. Shadow won’t be long.”

“In there” turned out to a small waiting room equipped with several well-padded leather lounges and a coffee machine that had more choices than I’d seen at many cafés. I helped myself to a peppermint mocha and drew the sweet, rich scent into my lungs. Not hazelnut, but almost as good.

Five minutes later, the door at the other end of the room opened and another wolf stepped in. He was tall and powerfully built, with chiseled features and skin so black it seemed to swallow the warm light whole. And the sheer sexual energy radiating off him had my hormones skipping along in dizzy pleasure.

“Guardian Jenson, I presume,” he said, his voice a low vibration that rumbled pleasantly across my senses.