Surrendering: A Regent Vampire Lords Novel, Book #1 (3 page)

No. She’d done that once before. Kate couldn’t live with herself if this girl suffered the same fate as the last one. She could barely live with herself now. If Sarah Hill ended up murdered, it would break her.

Sarah Hill could end up like Jamie Hallow.

God, it made her physically sick to think about Jamie. How Kate had done did nothing to help her.

Jamie had been twenty-one. Coincidently, she was also a student at Northwestern. Kate had dreamed of the missing girl held captive in a dark, dank basement, hands and feet tied with rope to a dirty, bare mattress. Eyes covered with a filthy white cloth. Naked. Crying. Bruised. Pleading to go home to her parents and to her little sister.

Kate’s parents had dismissed her once again when she tried to talk to them about it. After that, she never mentioned another dream again.

She’d dreamed of Jamie for three weeks straight and then…nothing. When the dreams stopped, she didn’t think twice about it. She was sixteen at the time. At sixteen, she wanted to dream about boys, dances, boys, football games. Boys.

A week after the dreams stopped, while doing an assignment on current events for school, she ran across a picture of a fresh-faced, platinum blond beauty in the newspaper, which gave her pause.

It was a picture of the girl from her dream. Jamie Hallow. She was real. And she was missing, presumed a runaway. But Kate knew better.

There were no leads, and to this day, her body hadn’t been found.

Kate tried to assuage her guilt by convincing herself she was just a teenager at the time. What could she possibly have done? How could she have known this was real instead of a horrible, wretched dream? Who would have believed her?

But nothing worked. The guilt she felt was immense, both then and now.

She would not stand by this time and do nothing. There had to be something in her dreams to help the investigation. She would just conveniently leave out the part about fangs…and vampires. She had no desire to be labeled as mentally unstable, although she often felt that way.

She knew the missing young women were running out of time. Each dream was progressively more violent. More disturbing. So she had to take the chance in telling her story and hope they believed her.

This morning she stood resolutely at the front desk of the police station and spoke to the officer behind it. “I think I may have information on a missing girl, Sarah Hill.”

“Okay. Your name?”

“Kate Martin.”

“Just a minute please,” said the officer as he picked up the phone, presumably to call a detective. “Please have a seat and someone will be with you in a few minutes.” He nodded to a block of chairs to the left.

Yes, she’d already wasted too much time coming forward. Time she hoped didn’t cost Sarah Hill her life.

___________

Mike

Detective Mike Thatcher ate up the distance between his desk and the front office as quickly as possible. He’d been assigned as the lead detective to the Sarah Hill missing person case and was banging his head against a brick wall with one dead end after another. It seemed like the girl had just disappeared into fucking thin air.

A loner. No boyfriend. No friends to speak of. Her roommate didn’t know a damn thing about her, apparently shacking up with a guy instead. Professors said she dutifully came to class, was an excellent student. They knew of her, of course, but none claimed to know her well. Professor Duncan Bailey was the last person to see Sarah alive, and Mike couldn’t find any evidence indicating he should be a suspect. Yet. But something just felt
off
about the guy, so he continued to dig a bit deeper into the professor’s background.

Sarah did have a close relationship with Henry and Linda, her parents. Talked with them every Sunday evening without fail. Henry was an old college buddy of Mike’s, and while they hadn’t kept in touch much over the years, he’d known Sarah as a little girl. She was sweet, funny, smart. On a full-ride academic scholarship to Northwestern. Wanted to be a counselor, specializing in youth and child development.

He’d failed one too many times at finding the lost. One case in particular he couldn’t forget. Wouldn’t forget. To this day, she haunted his dreams. It was long ago, but it fueled the relentless fire inside him to find as many others as he could.

He desperately needed a new lead, so when he heard there was a woman here with possible new information on the case, he was more than eager to speak with her.

Entering the holding area, Mike zeroed in on a young, dark-haired beauty sitting in one of the weathered and torn yellow vinyl chairs that had seen better days.

He slowed his gait. My God…she was
stunning
. Raven black hair with coppery undertones was piled atop her head. Emerald eyes sparkled like perfectly cut gems. Pouty, full lips, and a perfectly shaped button nose rounded out her stunning face. Wow.

Hal confirmed with a nod that this was the woman who had information on Sarah, so Mike approached the black-haired beauty as she caught his gaze and began to stand. He’d put her at about five foot seven, with what appeared to be curves in all the right places, although it was hard to tell with her bulky winter coat on.

“Ms. Martin?” reaching his hand out in greeting. She offered her slim hand in return.

“Yes. Please call me Kate, though.”

“Kate, I’m Detective Mike Thatcher. You told Sergeant Howard that you have information regarding Sarah Hill?”

“Y-Yes. I believe I do,” she stammered. Her gorgeous eyes, framed by long, thick, black lashes looked downward. She seemed nervous. Scared, even.

“Why don’t we take this conversation somewhere more private?” he said, gesturing down the hallway.

She followed him to one of the interrogation rooms and he indicated she should take a seat.

“Can I offer you something to drink? Water? Soda?” He smiled. “Bad coffee, perhaps?”

She looked up. That garnered him a slight smile in return. “No thank you. I gave up bad coffee for Lent.”

He laughed and her smile grew wide. Beautiful
and
witty. He instantly liked this woman.

He settled down into the chair across from her. “So, how do you know Sarah Hill?”

She sat rigid. Spine straight, shoulders set. Her hands, which were in her lap, immediately began to twist, and while she looked him straight in the eye, there was no mistaking how nervous she was. That fact alone piqued his interest. Yeah, his interest was piqued on more than one level if he was being honest with himself.

Down boy, down
. She’s a potential witness, for Christ’s sake.

“It’s difficult to explain, Detective. I don’t really…
know
Sarah Hill, per se.” She quickly glanced down at the table and back up to him. Pausing for a moment, she continued. “I’ve been…well, seeing her…um…in my dreams.”

He just stared at her for long moments, replaying over and over what she just said.

Shit
. She was a nut case. And here he thought he might have a solid lead. Or a possible lay. Wrong on both counts.

“In your dreams.” Not a question, a statement. “Exactly what does that mean?”

She fidgeted in her chair but held his gaze. “I know it sounds far-fetched. Crazy even. But please hear me out. I can assure you, Detective, I’m not crazy.”

That was questionable. However, he nodded for her to continue. Again, she quickly flicked her eyes to the table and back up at him before she spoke again.

“This particular set of dreams began about three weeks ago or so. I…I didn’t see Sarah in them until just a little over a week ago. I didn’t even know it was Sarah until just the other night when I saw a missing person’s story on the local evening news. I knew then that I had to come in and talk to the police.”

He didn’t believe a word she said, of course, but he’d pretend to listen to her story and then send her on her way so he could get back to the real job of finding his friend’s missing daughter. That was his only priority. Not any other case and certainly not his dick.

“Go on,” his deep voice encouraged her.

She took a breath and continued. “Well, as I said, it’s difficult to explain, but I see her. I can see that she’s being held in a dark, plain room with a cement floor. Cement walls. There’s a door, but no handle on the inside and a faded blue-and-white striped thin mattress, no sheets. She’s not tied down, but she’s asleep a lot. A couple of times she’s been awake in my dreams and…she calls out like she thinks someone is there. It’s like she senses me, but I don’t know how she possibly can.”

She paused again, biting her full, pink lower lip. Breaking eye contact and looking down at the table, her voice softened and he had to strain to hear her.

“I thought it was just a dream. A horrifying, inconceivable nightmare. Huge men, that I can only describe as predatory, preternatural even, visit her cell. They draw her blood; they give her shots of something. I think they drug her to keep her sleeping most of the time. They’ve performed exams—
female exams
—on her while she’s unconscious.”

She swallowed, visibly shaken, and her fair skin seemed to pale even more.

Oooookay
. Enough of this shit. “Okay. So where exactly is she being held?”

Kate looked into his eyes and shook her head, like she expected this doubt. “It doesn’t work that way, Detective. I only see what the dream lets me see. I’m sorry, but all I can describe to you is the cell where she’s being held. I can try to describe the men that I’ve seen with her as well.”

“Can you describe Sarah? Anything unique about her?” He needed to end this. Right now.

“Well, it’s very dark. And of course I’ve seen her picture on the news as well, but she has reddish blond hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail. She’s only in white panties and a white cami.”

A witness identified her as wearing a turquoise sweater and dark skinny jeans. Shit, she was really whacked. Just his luck. He was just scooting his chair back to escort Ms. Martin out, when the next thing out of her mouth stopped him cold. It felt like ice water was just shot into his veins.

“I can also see she’s wearing a silver horseshoe necklace and she has a cross tattoo on her right shoulder blade.”

Goosebumps broke out all over his body. Sarah had a silver horseshoe necklace. She loved horses. It was a high school graduation gift from her parents and they said she never took off. And she
did
have a tattoo of a cross, in memory of her younger brother who died of leukemia at the tender age of eight. But none of those details had been released to the public.

As their eyes locked, she whispered, “Sarah’s not the only one missing. I’ve seen others. Held at the same place.”

C
hapter 4

Mike

Immediately upon closing the door to the interrogation room where the lovely, but possibly loony, Ms. Martin waited, Mike whipped out his cell phone and dialed Renaldo Hargrave,
Lord
-fucking-Devon’s half-wit side-kick.

He
hated
dealing with bloodsuckers. Loathed them. In the last ten years since he’d discovered their existence, he’d learned many things. About them. About himself. About the lengths he was willing to go for revenge.

Vampires were the devil incarnate. Devon and Renaldo tried convincing him that most vampires were not evil. Most wanted a peaceful existence alongside humans, albeit their existence unknown to most humans. To live, thrive, find their mates, have a family. They tried convincing him that they would be foolish to kill their life sustaining food source. But he’d witnessed differently. He
knew
differently. Vampires were indiscriminate killers who could turn on you on a dime. Take your life at will, with no remorse. He knew firsthand. He knew in his gut they were responsible for taking someone very precious to him almost eleven years ago.

He had failed her. He could barely live with himself most days. But he would avenge her. That was his life’s mission now. After he succeeded, he didn’t care what happened to him. Death was constantly on his doorstep, and after his revenge, he would let that bitch cross.

Mike didn’t stay alive these past eleven years by not trusting his gut, and based on what Ms. Martin had just told him, his gut was screaming this was the work of vamps. Would this be the one? Could he finally get his revenge? He hoped so, because he was so very weary. Then he would gladly let death take him and spend eternity burning in the pits of hell, where he deserved to be for failing her.

And it couldn’t be a coincidence that Renaldo had called him on this very case yesterday. A call that he had yet to return. So like it or not, which he most definitely did
not
, he needed them.

What Kate Martin told him sat like acid in the pit of his stomach. The police had intentionally kept the necklace and tattoo out of the media. The fact that she knew about them meant she knew more about this case than she was letting on. He wasn’t convinced about the dreams, but she definitely knew something more than what she was saying. That much he could tell.

When she mentioned that there were others…his blood ran cold. A low curse fell from him lips as a sickening feeling of deja vu swept over him.

Yes, his gut was wailing loudly now. Something wasn’t right here and he was damned well gonna get to the bottom of it. And hopefully—
finally
—get his bittersweet revenge.