High Stakes (17 page)

‘When?’

‘She went missing a month before Ms Matheson.’

‘Human?’

He nods as Peter grabs a blue pen and adds her name to our timeline.

I frown. ‘That messes up the pattern. Two humans in a row.’

‘We didn’t have any of the vampires,’ Foxworthy continues. I’m surprised at his honesty. ‘And we only knew of Rebecca Small as far as the daemons are involved. Thanks to you.’ His lip curls. ‘The Agathos court is not responding to our inquiry for information with much haste.’

‘Bureaucracy,’ I say. We share a look of understanding.

Arzo nods. ‘It’s a matter of who you know with the daemons.’ He looks at the board. ‘Maybe we’ve missed some victims.’

‘Or maybe the pattern was just too pat to be real. It could just be a coincidence.’

My grandfather shakes his head. ‘No,’ he says. ‘There’s no such thing as coincidence, not where this kind of crime is concerned.’ He points at Lacey’s name then at Corinne’s. ‘There’s only a month between these two. Our rapist broke his own rules either for Lacey or for Corinne. He made his first mistake with one of them.’

‘He’s not a rapist,’ I correct. ‘He’s a murderer. A fucking serial killer.’ I chew my lip. ‘Look, Corinne is older than the others. And here. We’ve got a student, a teacher, and a nurse amongst the humans. The witches and the daemons are similar. Why break the mould and suddenly go for an older prostitute? She’s the one. Something happened that caused him to go after Corinne instead of a witch. We need to talk to her again.’

‘And his first victim too,’ Arzo adds. ‘She was probably close to him. He’d start with someone familiar.’

A shadow crosses Foxworthy’s face. ‘That’s a no-go, I’m afraid. She died in a hit and run three years ago.’

Bloody hell. She escaped being brutally raped and battered to death because the perp hadn’t worked himself up to that point yet. In a sense she’d been lucky but fate apparently had other plans for her. Poor girl. ‘She’s still worth looking into. She may have left diaries or there could be friends around who she talked to.’

‘I’ll send Nicholls tomorrow.’

‘And Arzo.’ I point at him. He’s not really an investigator these days but I want to make sure we get the same leads the police. Just because Foxworthy is suddenly being helpful doesn’t mean rest of them will be.

Foxworthy looks at me, obviously mulling it over. ‘Okay,’ he agrees finally. ‘But we’re going to need more information about the bloodguzzlers. Which Families they’re from and what their roles were before they vanished.’

I look at my grandfather. ‘They’re all from one Family,’ he says. My heart sinks. He nods at me. ‘Medici.’

Nobody speaks. Foxworthy seems baffled as he glances from one tense face to another.

‘There’s no such thing as a coincidence,’ I mutter.

Chapter Thirteen: A High Price

The walls of Marsh Prison loom high. In case anyone is in any doubt about the purpose of the vast complex, they are the dull colour of cement and ringed at the top with lethal-looking barbed wire. The sharp spikes gleam as they catch the light from the lampposts on the pavement. The wire seems pointless to me; Marsh Prison is used to punish tribers, not humans, and the security system focuses more on magic than the mundane. I suppose that the walls’ real purpose is to make it appear secure to worried humans. And maybe knowing the walls are there makes the experience of being in prison more real for the inmates – although the tiny cells, plastic spoons and frowning guards probably have that covered in spades.

Foxworthy has called ahead. It’s handy having him around; there’s no way I’d get inside the prison as a vampire. In fact, even if I were still human, I’d never gain access at this time of night. I imagine the inspector had to call in numerous favours, despite the fact that we’re trying to hunt down a serial killer. Prison rules and regulations tend to run independently of the world outside.

Despite being forewarned of our arrival, we’re still forced to cool our heels in the visitors’ ante-room. Nondescript chairs are laid out in depressing rows, as if to force outsiders into becoming part of the institution. Scratched graffiti is visible on several of the breeze-block walls. I guess a lot of people have spent a lot of time waiting around here. Just as I’m tempted to take out my keys and add my name to the rest, the door opens and a well-dressed woman with a dark tattoo signifying black witch strolls in. She has patent-leather high heels, a knee-length skirt and hair pulled back in a tight bun. I recognise that we’re in the presence of someone who is more than a guard; she gives off the air of dominatrix. Maybe that’s inevitable in her line of work.

‘Inspector Foxworthy.’ Her voice is cool and she reaches out to shake his hand briskly. She doesn’t look at me.

He inclines his head. ‘Ma’am.’

‘You realise how unorthodox this is.’

He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘The crimes we’re investigating are equally unorthodox.’

‘Permitting entry to a bloodguzzler does not sit well with me.’ She still refuses to flick so much as a disdainful glance in my direction. I’m obviously not worthy enough to be addressed directly.

‘Ms Blackman has a previous relationship with the inmate. We believe he will be more amenable to answering our questions if she is present.’

‘Is that the royal we?’

‘No.’

‘Tell me,’ she asks, ‘how does the law deal with bloodguzzlers who don’t claim allegiance to a Family?’

‘It’s not for me to say, ma’am.’

I curl my fingers into my palms but otherwise try not to tense up visibly.

‘I met her grandfather once. You know he’s not as posh as he likes to make out.’

Foxworthy’s expression remains bland. ‘I am sure you are correct.’

I decide to stop feeling annoyed at being ignored and focus instead on what I can learn from the policeman’s attitude. If ever there was an opportunity to learn how to deal with self-important bureaucrats, this is it. Foxworthy panders to her comments without making any of his own, seeming to agree without being overly sycophantic. I take careful note. I used to pride myself on being able to deal with people from different walks of life but it’s more difficult now I’m a vampire and I face so much open hostility and wilful ignorance. I’ll take all the tips I can get.

‘I’ll have someone escort you to the visiting room,’ the woman says. ‘Just keep that damn guzzler on a leash.’

Foxworthy shoots me a nervous look but I bow my head obediently. ‘You can put the cuffs on if it makes you feel better.’ I hold out my wrists. I hate the damn things but if this is what it takes then I’ll do it. Though I dread to think what the expression on O’Connell’s face will be when he sees me wearing his damned creation.

‘I didn’t bring them with me,’ the inspector says smoothly. I know he’s lying although I can’t fathom out why. I spotted the tell-tale bulge in his pocket when we got out of his car.

She sniffs and spins on her heel, leaving us alone. I raise my eyebrows questioningly but Foxworthy shakes his head, jerking his thumb up to the ceiling where the security camera stares down. I doubt he’s suddenly decided to trust me; it must be something about the warden that has him acting like my best friend.

It’s another twenty minutes before the door opens again. Foxworthy and I spend the time in silence. I try to appear calm, sitting down and crossing my legs to appear as benign as possible. The effect is somewhat ruined when there’s a distant, bloodcurdling scream that makes me leap to my feet just as a fresh-faced prison officer appears. He looks at me nervously.

‘Sorry,’ I mumble. ‘I heard a scream.’

‘It’s a triber prison,’ Foxworthy reminds me. ‘There are always screams.’

It’s hard not to dwell on that comment. I lapse into silence as we trail after the officer. Posters line the walls, detailing the many contraband items that cannot be brought inside and the severe penalties for anyone who attempts a spell. I can’t imagine that any of the prisoners is stupid enough to try.

We stop in front of a large steel door. ‘I have to pat you down,’ the officer says, not looking me in the eye.

I step forward and hold up my arms. Thankfully his movements are swift and perfunctory – but I’m still annoyed when he doesn’t search Foxworthy, even though the burly policeman assumes the required position.

Satisfied, the prison officer unlocks the door. He fumbles with the keys, revealing his fear at having me at his back. Considering he spends his days overseeing all manner of triber criminals, his worry about one tiny vampire seems misplaced. Even with our name cleared in relation to the Jubilee rape, the fingers of terror regarding the Families are stretching further and further across society.

The prison officer directs us inside and quickly departs. The walls of the room are beige breeze-block and the floor is scuffed lino. It is almost bare: the only furniture is a table and three chairs. At least this room is camera-free so our conversation will be private.

I sit down at the table, with Foxworthy by my side. There’s barely enough time to get comfortable when the door opposite opens and O’Connell shuffles in with two prison guards. They’re patently not taking any chances; his hands and his feet are shackled together with rings of steel. The ex-CEO, however, appears none the worse for wear, despite being forced to lose the magical gloss he had during his tenure at Magix. He gives me a bright smile as if we’re meeting in a bar for drinks.

‘Ms Blackman!’ he says, as he sits opposite us. ‘What a delightful surprise. I hoped you’d visit.’

‘Why is that?’

‘You outplayed me. That doesn’t happen very often. You have a lot of potential, you know.’ He glances at Foxworthy. ‘You should stop hanging around with humans though. You’ll appear meaner if you avoid them altogether.’

I eye him warily. ‘I’m not really going for mean.’

He smiles. ‘You set me up for a crime I didn’t commit. I’d say that was pretty mean.’

Foxworthy throws me a sidelong glance. ‘I have no idea what you’re referring to,’ I say.

‘Of course not. You’re the picture of innocence.’ He says this entirely without malice. ‘You’re just working to make the world a better place.’

I stiffen; that was the motive he gave for the actions that brought him here. Foxworthy, thankfully, fills the sudden, tense silence. ‘The handcuffs,’ he says, ‘the ones you created for the bloodguzzlers. Tell me about them.’

‘Who are you?’ O’Connell asks. ‘Ms Blackman’s new sidekick?’

‘Answer the question,’ I tell him.

He leans back. ‘No,’ he says airily. ‘I don’t think I will.’

‘Come on, O’Connell. You’re one of the good guys, remember?’

His eyes gleam. ‘Just like you.’

I dislike the suggestion that he and I are similar but I cling to what he’s given me. His comments and his reactions provide just the leverage I need. O’Connell still refuses to believe that he did anything wrong. I can use that. ‘We’re hunting a rapist,’ I say softly. ‘Someone who maims and kills humans, daemons, vampires. This man is the scum of the earth. With your help, we can catch him.’

There’s a flicker of interest in his eyes and I know I have him but he’s still determined to dance around a bit first. ‘Why should I care? I’m sure you and your,’ he glances at Foxworthy, ‘crack team will track him down sooner or later.’

‘He’s attacking witches too. If he sticks to his pattern, then his next victim will be a witch. Probably someone young and defenceless.’

The tattoos on both O’Connell’s cheeks flare. ‘He’s a bad man, then.’

‘He is.’

‘Not like me.’

‘Of course not.’ I try not to choke on the words.

O’Connell leans back, his chains clinking. ‘Go on. What exactly do you want to know?’

‘He’s human. He could never overpower a vampire without some help.’

‘So you think he used my handcuffs?’

‘We do.’

‘They’ve only just come onto the market. Either your killer has done a lot of work in the last few weeks or he’s used something else to subdue his victims.’

I keep my gaze steady. ‘When did you have a working prototype?’

‘Three and a half years ago.’

I think about it: that fits with the time frame we’ve established. Even if the first version of the handcuffs wasn’t perfect, it could still have been enough. ‘Who developed it?’

‘If you think there’s a single, mad scientist behind our products, you are sadly mistaken, Ms Blackman. There are large teams of people who work in development at Magix. No one person is responsible.’

‘Do you have a list of who was on the team?’

He shrugs. ‘I’m sure you’ll get it if you subpoena the records. We’re talking about dozens of people, though.’

‘A male,’ Foxworthy interjects. ‘Probably in his twenties. Someone with a chip on his shoulder and a grudge against the world. No romantic relationship to speak of, despite him having an attractive physical appearance. In fact, he would be shy around women, possibly unable to look them in the eye. He might even stammer. He likes order and routine.’

I raise my eyebrows at the inspector and he catches my glance. ‘I did a profiling course recently,’ he explains. ‘Some people think it’s pseudo-science but you’d be surprised how accurate it can be.’

O’Connell clears his throat, demanding our attention. ‘To be honest, that could be any one of our production specialists. They’re single geeks by nature.’

‘He might have a gold tooth,’ I add.

He looks thoughtful. ‘There is someone who might fit that description. He left the company a couple of years ago.’

Foxworthy and I sit up. O’Connell smirks. ‘Well, that caught your interest, didn’t it?’

‘Who is he?’ I keep my voice low. It’s becoming harder and harder to avoid showing how much I despise him.

He throws back his head and laughs. ‘If I tell you, then where’s the fun? You know, I used to say the same thing to my employees: you have to work for what you want. Nothing is ever handed to you. Money doesn’t just fall into your lap.’ His eyes glitter. ‘Suspects don’t just spring out of nowhere.’

‘What do you want?’ Foxworthy growls.

‘Please,’ O’Connell scoffs. ‘You think I merely want something to make my own life easier? A television set in my cell? A reduced sentence? My case has yet to go to trial. I’m not ready to bargain away my future just yet.’