shadows of salem 01 - shadow born (2 page)

Maybe if Tom had known what I could do, he would have taken me with him to Salem when he’d gone back to check into that missing person’s case. If he hadn’t left me behind, then maybe, just maybe, he’d still be alive.

“Stop that,” I muttered, placing my breakfast sandwich on the passenger’s seat so I could swipe at the stray tear trailing down my cheek. My fingers left a greasy streak across my skin as I wiped away the drop of moisture, and I blinked back the rest of my tears. It wouldn’t do to arrive at my new precinct looking as if I’d just finished watching
Titanic
or something. If I showed up looking like a pitiful damsel in distress, they’d put me on traffic duty, which was
not
what I wanted.

I wasn’t going to Salem to get away from Chicago or the specter of my dead fiancé. I was going to find out what had happened to him. And
why
. I’d been told the motel room he’d been staying in had caught fire and that no evidence had survived the blaze, but that wasn’t good enough. I was going to hunt down the truth, and when I found out who killed my fiancé, I would make sure they were brought to justice.

I still didn’t understand how Tom could be gone. My fiancé wasn’t a weakling. He’d gone up against his fair share of vampires, just like me. Whoever killed him had to be at least as strong as a vamp, but possibly even stronger…somehow. The best place to start would be with finding Salem’s supernatural pulse.

Sighing, I took in the world outside my window, hoping its beauty would temporarily relieve me from my dark memories. The early fall hillsides were bursting with color from the turning oak and maple leaves that surrounded me from either side of the highway as well as the rolling hills up ahead. The wind caught at my silver curls, tugging them free from their pins so that the strands whipped around my face.

Hmm. How was my new precinct going to react to
that
? My mercury-colored hair always drew strange looks, though no-one really ever said anything about it by the time I’d graduated grade school. As a freshman, they’d teased me for having the hair of an old lady and strange lavender-blue eyes, but I’d shown them I wasn’t afraid to sock them in their teeth, and they’d kept their mouths shut after that.

Adults, on the other hand, knew better than to say anything in the first place—at least most of them. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be subject to their stares, and I would walk around knowing that they were dying to ask me about my unusual coloring.

Strange how, as an adult, I almost missed the forthrightness of the peers from my childhood.

Letting out a contented sigh, I tilted my head, enjoying the nip of winter that kissed my cheeks. I’d been born in Nevada, or so Oscar told me, but after being raised in Chicago, I was a winter girl through and through. I loved the cold weather, and I was looking forward to the snowfall in a more rural area, instead of watching it get stomped to a muddy slush in the big city.

Just as I was passing the sign for Wakefield, I caught sight of a woman kneeling next to a beat-up Crown Victoria, struggling to change a flat tire. It was still daylight, but sunset streaked the sky with brilliant reds and golds, and I didn’t feel right about leaving her alone on the highway when I knew night would fall soon. So I pulled over to the shoulder, parked my car at a respectable distance behind hers, then went over to help.

“Hey there,” I said with a friendly smile. “Need a hand?”

“Oh yes, please!” the woman cried, a southern twang evident in her voice as she flashed me a grateful, if harried, smile. She looked to be in her thirties, wearing a plain white tee shirt and faded jeans, and her dark brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun that was halfway unraveled by the wind. Frustration sparked in her brown eyes as she glared at the wrench, which didn’t seem to be cooperating with her efforts to unscrew the bolts on the tire. “I know I should be able to use a wrench at my age, but I can’t get this to work.”

“No worries,” I said, kneeling beside her. “I’ve changed a few of these in my time.” I took the wrench from her, then set to work on the first rusty bolt. “Oof,” I grunted. “No wonder you’re having trouble. This thing doesn’t want to give.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t hard to remove the bolts, even if they were rusty, but I played it up because I could tell she was embarrassed that another woman, a
younger
woman, was doing this for her. As a cop, I was pretty good at reading emotions, and I could tell by the strain behind her smile and the way she fidgeted that she was a little uncomfortable about the situation. Judging by the lack of a ring on her finger and the fresh-looking Salem High School bumper sticker on the back of her car, I figured she was a single mother, and likely prided herself on being independent.

“So, you’re from Salem, are you?” I asked.

“Not a native, but I’ve lived there a few years now.” The woman relaxed a little, comfortable with the idea of conversing over sitting around and watching me work. “It’s a nice town.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m actually moving there.”

“Are you really?” The woman’s tone became friendlier. “Where from?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but just as I touched the final bolt, a flash came to me. Suddenly, I was crouched in a driveway on a moonlight night, watching the woman fight with a man.

“You’re not leaving me, Shelley!” the man shouted. Both of the woman’s arms were caught up tightly in his meaty fists, and their wedding rings flashed in the moonlight.

“Yes, I am!” The woman struggled against his grip. Her dark hair whipped to the side, revealing a black eye and bruising on her cheekbone. “I’m taking Jason, and we’re leaving! I can’t deal with this anymore!”

“Like hell you are!” The man let go of one of her wrists, and the woman cried out as he punched her in the face. There was a loud crunch as her nose broke.
“The only way you’re leaving me is in a body bag, bitch.”

“Are you okay?”

I blinked as the scene fell away, Shelley’s voice drawing me back to the real world. Turning my head, I looked into dark brown eyes that were round with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” I wiped a hand across my face, then cursed inwardly as black grime from my fingers streaked across my nose. “I’m just really tired from all the driving.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Shelley laughed, perhaps at the scrunched up look on my face, then stood. “Here, let me get you some of Tyler’s baby-wipes from the car.”

While she rummaged in the back seat for baby wipes, I finished changing the tire. Judging by the fussy baby sounds and mommy’s subsequent cooing, Tyler must have been the owner of that car seat. By the time she calmed him down and retrieved the wipes, I was done with the tire.

“Thanks so much,” she said as I stood. “I really don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“No problem.” I smiled, reaching for the baby wipes in her hand. The silver ring on her middle finger brushed my skin, and I stiffened as another vision swept over me, this one of a shadowy figure with glowing red eyes standing in a darkened alley. He opened his mouth, and I caught a flash of white fang.

Vampire.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Shelley asked, breaking through the vision. “Maybe you should sleep for a few hours.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” I shook my head to clear it, then took the wipe and cleaned my face and then my hands. “I’ve got coffee in the car.” I hesitated, then decided to go for it. “I should have introduced myself. My name is Brooke Chandler, and I’m the new detective in Salem. If you ever need any help, please don’t hesitate to come to me.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m Shelley Williams, and I appreciate the offer. That’d be great.”

I scribbled my address on a diner-quality napkin she dug from her purse, then pressed it into her hand. She bit her lip, and by the glimmer in her eyes, I could tell she was considering whether to tell me about her troubles. But in the end, she only smiled. “Maybe I’ll come by with cookies some time.”

“You’re more than welcome to. Have a nice day.”

But as I walked back to my car, I wasn’t thinking about cookies. I was thinking about vampires. And about how nice it was that I’d chosen to pack my wooden stake bullets after all.

CHAPTER 2

F
uck going down to the station,
I thought,
collapsing onto my bed with a groan.

By the time I’d finished unpacking, I was so exhausted I barely had the strength to pull my cellphone out of my jean pocket and order pizza. The long drive, plus my lack of sleep, had well and truly tuckered me out.

Thank God I’ve got a place to live,
I told myself as I stared up at the peeling paint on the popcorn ceiling of my new bedroom. The walls weren’t a hell of a lot better, and the linoleum in the kitchen needed redoing, but I couldn’t really complain since this wasn’t my apartment.

Since I wasn’t staying in Salem permanently, I’d chosen to sublet a rental on Airbnb instead of paying through the nose for a motel room for who knew how long. The peeling paint and outdated kitchen was what I got for going cheap, and truthfully, it wasn’t as if I needed fancy digs. I wasn’t planning on spending a lot of time in the apartment, and as soon as I accomplished what I came here for, I was going back home.

I probably would have stared up at the ceiling all night if the pizza delivery guy hadn’t decided to lean on my doorbell. If not for the smell of hot mozzarella and yeast, I might have let him stand out there all evening, but the allure of thin-crust, tomato-basil pizza pulled me from the bed and into the living room.

I paid for the pizza, and my suddenly growling stomach prompted me to grab one of my host’s blue-and-white ceramic plates from the yellowed cupboards and plop down on the faux leather couch with my dinner. A couple of slices later, my back pain had receded and my energy was up. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to pass out on my new mattress now, I sucked the pizza grease off my fingers and grabbed my laptop so I could continue investigating the rash of disappearances that Tom had come out here to investigate.

According to the letter sent to him by Devon Randall, one of the captains at the Salem PD precinct, kids were going missing from the orphanage that Tom had grown up in, which was why he’d come back. His close ties to the place pulled at his heartstring, and he’d wanted to help. The fact that he’d wound up dead just a week after couldn’t be a coincidence, and I was sure whoever was responsible for the kidnappings was also responsible for Tom’s death.

The problem was, the only article I could find about the kidnappings was the one I’d found when hacking into Tom’s email address, and it didn’t say a lot.

Sighing, I pulled up the piece, which had been shoved into a tiny corner on the Boston Herald’s website, and read it again. Featured at the top of the article was a photo of two Asian boys, brothers that had been left at the New Advent Home for Children, Boston’s orphanage, when they were only two years old. A statement from the Haven had said the two boys had been put to bed with the rest of the children, and the next day they were gone. There was absolutely no trace of them, and no clues as where they might have ended up since their parentage was unknown.

Scowling, I chewed my bottom lip and tried for the billionth time to figure out how that made any sense. Children didn’t just up and disappear—either someone had crept into the orphanage and stolen them, or someone from the inside had done it. Tom must have questioned the orphanage staff, because that was the logical place to start. I would have to do the same, once Captain Randall handed over the case file to me.

God, I wished Tom would have given me more details about the kidnappings. But the few times I’d spoken to him on the phone, he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. I’d found that strange—we were partners and discussed cases all the time—but I’d let him have his space. After all, I figured he’d be home soon.

If only I’d pushed harder, demanded some details, I’d have been able to help him somehow. Hell, I should have just hopped on a plane and flown out here the moment I felt something was off.

Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed my own voicemail, then sorted through the messages until I found the one from Tom. Taking a breath, I ordered the voicemail to play, then waited for my heart to break all over again.

“Hey baby.”
His voice was hushed and full of strain, as if he was in dangerous environment and didn’t want to be overheard.
“I know you’re sleeping now, but I just wanted to call you and tell you that I’m sorry. I know I fucked up, but I was just trying to do what I needed to. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I hang up this phone, but I love you. I love you so much, and I know you love me, too. But whatever you do, don’t come looking for me. It’s not safe.”

The clip ended, and tears slipped down my cheeks as a cool female voice asked me if I wanted to replay the message again. I jabbed the END button on my cellphone with an angry finger, then tossed it back onto the bed as rage burned in my chest.

Just what, exactly, had he meant? Whatever was going on here, it was way bigger than a case of a couple missing kids. Especially if Tom was telling
me
it wasn’t safe here. For fuck’s sake, we lived in vampire-infested Chicago. For Tom to tell me a small town like Salem wasn’t safe meant that something big was going on here.

And damned if I wasn’t going to find out what.