Playing With Vampires - An Izzy Cooper Novel (2 page)

Special Agent Fontaine was the supervisor of the unit based in Storm Cove, which also meant he was my boss. Most women in Storm Cove thought he was the best thing to happen since the automatic coffee maker, but this was probably because he had that blond, beach boy look about him.

I didn’t think he was so hot. Not that he wasn’t good looking, and a nice guy, but because he had a tendency to be too stuffy, not to mention a bit ornery.

As soon as I stepped out of the Sandbar, I saw Ayden’s black SUV pull up. The windows were tinted, so it was impossible to see who was inside, but if this were a case, I assumed he’d have Tim Lehman with him.

It was for this reason that I didn’t bother trying the front passenger door. Instead, I opened the back door and slid inside.

Sure enough, Ayden and Tim were in the front. I was beginning to think they did that on purpose, just to pick on the new girl.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Tim twisted around in his seat. “It appears to be another homicide … over on Anchor.”

Tim was the third member of our team, and he was the genius of the three of us. He couldn’t see or talk to the dead, like I could, but he sure could profile a suspect in a hurry, not to mention, tell you how the universe was formed, and how to make a perfect cup of latte.

Until recently, homicides had been rare on Mystique Island, but not long ago we had been involved a messy homicide investigation centered in Storm Cove. Still, it was unusual for local law enforcement to call us in, unless it was one of those strange and unexplainable homicides.

“So why they calling us?” I asked.

With all the murder and chaos I’d had to deal with over the last month, I was beginning to think I should ask for a raise.

Taking down bad guys was my job, and I did it mostly because I didn’t much like bad guys, and also so that I could earn my white wings, but a girl could only be expected to go through so much.

I’d made a deal with the Grim Reaper to come back as a fallen angel and redeem my soul, but I hadn’t agreed to do it without due compensation.

Ayden looked at me through the rearview mirror. “You know Sheriff Bourne gets jittery when it comes to homicide investigations. I think that’s most of it, but from what I understand, there is something a little odd about this one.”

“What’s that?” I asked, hoping the case would turn out to be just a regular old homicide and nothing like that sticky mess we’d just wrapped up a few weeks ago. My head was still spinning over that one.”

“Well for one, it is very similar to a murder that happened a few nights ago in Coos Bay. The MO appears to be the same, and there is a similarity with the victims. Both girls were out late, and in a bad part of town. The Coos Bay victim was intoxicated, and there’s good reason to believe the same of this victim. According to Jeb, the last place she was seen alive, was the Mermaid Inn. The main difference seems to be that this victim is a known witch.”

“It wouldn’t be easy to bring down a witch, unless it was a blitz attack. Jeb must think there’s something up with this case.”

“Not sure yet,” Ayden frowned. “But from what I understand, it was the Portland field office that told him to call us. Apparently, the Assistant Director thinks we could be dealing with a serial killer, and right now we’re the closest agents.”

We arrived at the crime scene, even before Ayden finished explaining. Half the street was blocked off with yellow crime scene tape.

If there were a bad part of town in Storm Cove, it would definitely be Anchor Avenue. Located one block west of Pier Alley, Anchor was where you could find just about any vice imaginable, if you happened to be looking for that kind of thing. There were pubs, drugs, and even a few working girls.

Mostly the problems on Anchor were kept hushed up, so as not to scare away tourists, but no place on earth was absolutely perfect. Even Mystique Island had its problems.

The local police managed to keep Pier Alley clean. That was on account of Pier Alley being the road that ran along side the bay. It was also where the ferry dock was located, and where all the tourists came ashore.

It didn’t really matter all that much. Those looking to take a journey to the dark side still had easy access, by way of the numerous alleys connecting Pier Alley to Anchor Avenue.

It was in one of these alleys that the victim was discovered.

With most of Anchor Avenue lit up with blue and red flashing lights, I figured the Mystique County Sheriff’s Department couldn’t be too worried about keeping this one quiet.

The narrow alley was located between Salty Toad’s Pub, and the Storm Cove Pawn Shop. With all the spotlights that had been erected, the alley was no longer so dark.

As soon as I saw the victim, I felt the bile rise to my throat. Not only was she devoid of clothing, her insides had been taken out.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The victim looked a lot like Polly Neilson from the Quick Stop.

Polly worked the morning shift, which meant I saw her almost daily. The Quick Stop was where I got my coffee fix in the morning.

It was difficult to forget Polly. She was one of those people who could manage to be cheerful, no matter what unholy time of the morning it was.

While Ayden was getting a closer look at the victim, I glanced around to see if I could spot anything out of the ordinary. Sure enough, she was hovering in the shadows, just beyond the reach of the lights.

With her small - dainty frame and short blond hair, she kind of reminded me of a slightly oversized doll, the kind of doll that was always smiling.

But she wasn’t smiling now.

Polly looked scared and confused, which probably explained why she was only able to manage a partial manifestation. This wasn’t unusual. When someone dies violently, their spirit tends to suffer some damage after separating from the body. This is even worse if it happens quickly.

“I’ll be right back. I need to check out something,” I told Tim.

“Okay.” He nodded.

I could feel Tim’s eyes following me as I made my way down the alley. Tim was a great guy, and smart, but he still seemed to have some trouble coming to grips with my way of doing things, namely talking to ghosts. The fact that he couldn’t see who I was talking to, only made it worse.

Turning my back to the group of police officers still processing the scene, I focused on the apparition that seemed to be trying to merge into the side of the dirty brown brick building that housed the Storm Cove Pawn Shop.

If I were a ghost, I could think of tons of places I’d rather hang out than embedded in dirty bricks, but those on the other side of death didn’t seem to have strange quirks like that.

“Polly! Can you hear me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as low as possible, but still be heard.

There were some on the island who were aware of my gifts, but most just thought I was a little off my rocker. It was best to keep it that way. The last thing I needed was to become the local communication device to the other side.

With so many witches on the island, you’d think more people would be able to talk to the dead, but it didn’t work that way. Even for witches, communicating with the dead was a rare talent.

Polly’s ghost didn’t seem to be aware of me. She was just staring ahead, her eyes wide with fright, her mouth open in a silent scream.

It had been my experience that when a ghost was in this condition, they were stuck in that last moment of they were alive. Trying to communicate with Polly while she was in this state would be a waste of time.

But my conscience nagged at me. I hated leaving a spirit in this condition. “Polly … it’s me, Izzy … from the Quick Stop.”

No reaction at all, not even so much as a shifting of her eyes.

“Well I’ll be back,” I promised.

And I would. It was a possibility that after a few days she’d snap out of it and I’d be able to point her to the light.

Sighing, I turned back to the crime scene.

Ayden was still examining the body while Myron hung back, waiting for the police to do their job.

Myron Schaffer was the Mystique County Medical Examiner, and just about the strangest person on the Island. He died his hair black and he was fond of wearing eyeliner.

Aside from his autopsy reports, it was difficult to get two words out of him.

Every time Myron showed up at a crime scene, part of me suspected he was the perpetrator. My thoughts may have involved a bit of stereotyping, but I couldn’t help it. Anyone who looked like a goth reject, and preferred to work with dead bodies, had to have something wrong with them.

It was this line of thinking that pushed me in his direction. I figured maybe it was time I had a few words with Mister Myron Schaffer.

“Hello Myron.”

He acknowledged my greeting with a nod, but said nothing.

“So what’s your preliminary report?” I asked.

I was sure Myron already had some idea how the victim was killed. He was always the first to take a look at the body.

“Her throat was cut twice, nearly to the spinal cord. First the subject cut her throat from left to right, and then to the left again,” he explained, running his index finger across his own throat to demonstrate.

I could have done without the visual, but I kept that part to myself. There was no sense in putting Myron on the defense, especially since he seemed so proficient with throat cutting.

Just maybe I was onto something, and he was the perp.

“Anything else?” I asked, hoping to slip him up.

“There is a strange lack of blood for such a brutal attack, and it appears the mutilation occurred postmortem … and there could have been a sexual assault. I’ll know more after the autopsy,” he added.

Were those sparks of excitement I saw forming in his eyes when he mentioned the word, autopsy?

Shuddering inwardly, I forced a smile. “I look forward to the report.”

Actually, the crime scene and the technicalities of how Polly met her end were probably a little more important to Tim, than me. He was the profiler.

How Tim could come up with so much information on the perpetrator, just by examining the crime scene and manner of death, was a mystery to me.
I preferred to get right at the suspects, which was the reason I jumped on Myron.

True, no one else may think of the ME as a suspect, but I was definitely going to be keeping my eye on him.

As soon as Ayden finished examining the body, Myron motioned for his assistant, a boy who looked like he was probably still in high school. The assistant broke away from a group of girls that had gathered on the sidewalk.

Hiring high school boys to work with the Medical Examiner seemed like a surefire way to a whole lot of town gossip.

Myron and the boy lifted the body onto a stretcher and loaded it into a white van.

“What are you thinking?” I asked Tim. If I knew my partner, he more than likely already had a working theory.

I would have asked Ayden, but he still had that brooding look on his face, which meant he was running through possible scenarios.

Tim looked up from the notepad he was using to jot down details of the scene. “I think we are looking at a disorganized subject. He probably blitz attacked her … maybe when she was taking this alley as a shortcut.”

I’d already come to the same conclusion. Maybe I was getting this profiling thing after all.

Ayden motioned for us to follow him back to the SUV. “Tim … first thing in the morning, see if you can get the Coos Bay case file sent over. Then maybe we can start working a profile.”

Looking to me, he asked, “Did you pick up anything?”

What he meant was, did I question the victim?

“She’s here, but unresponsive.”

I could tell the boss man was beginning to question my talent. More often than not, murder victims weren’t the most cooperative witnesses.

“I’ll try again in a couple days. Maybe she will snap out of it by then,” I added.

Nodding, he got into the SUV. Tim and I followed suit.

“We’ll get a fresh start on this in the morning.” The frown on the boss man’s face didn’t ease up at all.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it was about this case that had him so shook up. Ayden took all his cases seriously, but this one really seemed to be bothering him.

My thoughts were interrupted by a text alert.

Finding my phone was simple. These days I only carried two things in my purse. That was my phone, and a wallet. I’d already learned the hard way that digging in one’s purse for a phone could be deadly, especially when you were crossing a street.

The message was from Julius, the demon that haunted my every waking moment. He was literally a demon, sent from Hell. It was his mission to tempt me to the dark side. Every once in awhile, he almost managed to succeed.