Under Wraps (5 page)

I tried to smile. “Well, that’s nice that you were able to do that … for them.”

“Always nice to damn your family.”

“Nina—” I tried to be sympathetic, but she held up a silencing hand.

“So, the favor. He’s going to be here in San Francisco. Can he stay with us for a little while? He’s been having some trouble with the vamp family he’s been living with back East. They move around too much, are always dropping in with a new coven. I just think he needs some stability right now.”

“Yeah, of course he can stay with us.” What’s more stable than a vampire, her breather roommate, and a city with a psycho killer on the loose?

Nina grinned.

“Okay, it’s settled. Louis stays with us. Now I’ve got to meet Parker—” I tried to turn, but Nina put one cold hand on my forearm and batted those lashes again. I sighed. “Okay, Nina. What now?”

“Another eensy weensy—”

“Spit it out.”

“Can you pick him up from the Caltrain station? I would do it, but I’ve got so much work….”

I jutted out one hip. “You mean you have a date?”

Nina smiled sheepishly. “It just came up. I met him at Cala Foods….”

“Why do vampires need groceries? Oh, never mind. What time does his train come in?”

“Six thirty. Oh, Sophie, you’re the best!”

“I know. Wait, how am I going to recognize him?”

“He’s a vampire.”

I put my hands on my hips.

“And a teenager. He’ll be easy to spot, I promise. Besides, I told him what you looked like, so he’ll be keeping an eye out for you, too.” Nina hugged me to her. “Ooh, thanks again!” She turned on her heel and started for the door.

“Wait!” I said. “If this date just came up, why did you already tell Louis what I looked like?”

Nina’s smiling face remained unchanged. “How about I buy you a kitten?” she asked, dodging the issue.

“No,” I said, drawing out the word. “No kittens. Just be glad I like you. I’ll pick up Louis and he can stay with us as long as he likes.” I shrugged. “Besides, it might be fun having a kid around for a bit. Should we get some movies or something? Something for him to do? What do teenage boys like?”

Nina smiled. “Teenage girls. Anyway, Louis can entertain himself. He’s one hundred and twelve years old … and a little troubled.”

I felt my eyes bulge. How much more troubled can a vampire get?

“But he’s super, duper nice,” Nina said. “For a vampire. Thanks again!”

“Nina!”

She hurried for the door, holding up a yellow legal pad and pen. “Can’t talk, going to be late for my meeting. You’re such a doll, Soph, thanks! I totally owe you my afterlife!”

When I stepped out into the hall I was stopped when a fist full of drooping chocolate cosmos was rammed against my thigh. I paused, and Steve stepped out from behind the offending bouquet, a slick grin spread across his graying troll face, his yellowed, snaggle teeth exposed.

“These are for you.” Steve wagged the flowers in front of me, and I stooped down, plastered a smile on my face, and buried my nose in the chocolaty scent of the flowers. Anything to avoid the swamp-mud/aging-gym-sock smell of troll.

“Thanks, Steve,” I said. “But you know UDA clients are not supposed to be back here.” I pointed to the front office. “You’re supposed to stay behind the partition, remember?”

Steve shrugged. “Steve will always be where Sophie needs him to be.”

“That’s the thing, Steve. What I need is for you to be behind the partition.” I tucked the flowers in a clean mug I snatched from Nina’s desk while I held my breath. “I mean, I really appreciate the thought and that you like me and all….”

Steve wagged his head, his milky eyes big. “No, Steve doesn’t like Sophie.” His pointed tongue darted across thin, charcoal-colored lips. “Steve loves Sophie. Steve thinks that Sophie just may be Steve’s soul mate.”

I sighed. “Thank you. But you know you really can’t be popping up everywhere I am, Steve.” I looked both ways, sidestepping Lorraine, the witch/accounts receivable head, as she came barreling down the hall. “UDA has strict policies.”

Steve grinned again, tapping his chest. “That’s why Steve has an exclusive contract with UDA.” He made his hands into fists and rammed them onto his hips proudly.

I swallowed. “A contract? With UDA?”

“We’re furniture movers.”

I looked skeptically at Steve, his half-bald head barely clearing the top of my thigh. “Furniture movers, huh?”

Steve nodded, then inclined his head toward me. “So Steve can be close to Sophie all day long.”

I stepped back, working to avoid the moldy scent that wafted each time Steve moved. “Wow. Well, Steve. Good luck with that.” I patted my shoulder bag. “I’ve got some important business to take care of, somewhere that’s … not here. But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

He raised one caterpillar eyebrow hopefully. “Perhaps for lunch?”

“No.”

His other eyebrow went up. “Perhaps for a little wink wink, nudge nudge in the supply closet?”

“Good-bye, Steve.”

“Steve will be waiting for you, Sophie! Steve will always be here waiting for Sophie.”

I spun on my heel, trying my best to forget about Steve, standing three feet tall in the UDA hallway behind me, grinning salaciously, gray troll eyes staring me down.

I kept my head down, shrugged my bag over my shoulder, and hopped into the elevator with a hobgoblin and two pixies. We rode up in silence, three sets of eyes all fixed on the digital readout going backward. When the doors opened at the police station we shuffled out, exchanging positions with two female cops on their way to the garage. The dark-haired woman jostled against one of the pixies. I sucked in my breath as the pink-haired pixie flushed angrily and narrowed her eyes, but she stepped out without making a scene. As the doors slid closed, I heard the cop murmur, “I never know what to call them. Midgets? Little people?”

“I don’t know,” said the other. “Anyone under three feet tall gives me the creeps. My kids included. Do you want to get a latte?”

Chapter Four

The San Francisco Police Department was housed in a cavernous room with desks every ten feet and uniformed officers threading their way past the occasional plainclothed employee carrying stacks of manila file folders. There was always a phone ringing or a radio squawking, and whether or not there was an actual crime spree going on, the officers were always ready to move. I sucked my breath in as a uniformed officer shimmied by me, his head cocked as he listened to the radio cradled on his shoulder, the butt of his gun brushing up against my hip.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, jumping out of the way. “Sorry.”

My heart thumped as two officers pushed through the heavy glass doors and led a sullen-looking woman in, her hands in cuffs behind her back, her hair matted, eyes looking caged-animal wild and rimmed with smudged black liner.

“I swear,” she was saying as the officers led her past me, “I’m telling you exactly what I saw. It was flying. It was a person and he just
flew
away.”

“Just like last week,” one of the officers answered back, his boredom obvious. “What was it then? A dog the size of a couch, jumping over a car? You and Superman, lady.”

The woman fought against the officer clutching her arm, and I heard her handcuffs rattle. She stopped in front of me, her eyes wide, intense, and terrified.

“You believe me,” she said, sniffing, moving her flushed face just inches from my own. “I know you do.”

I stepped back, my stomach souring as much from the overpowering smell of alcohol and urine wafting from the woman as the intensity of her eyes, the biting truth in her words:
You believe me…. I know you do.

The officers ushered the woman out of the way, and I beelined toward what seemed to be the front desk. I cleared my throat at the top of the officer’s bent head.

“Good afternoon. I’m here to see Detective Hayes,” I said.

The officer didn’t look up.

“Excuse me,” I said again, a little louder. “I need to see Detective Hayes.”

The cop looked up at me, and I blinked twice.

He was twelve.

Maybe not twelve, but certainly not old enough to be strapped into an officer’s uniform and running the front desk—even if he was just doing a Sudoku in yesterday’s
Chronicle.
His small hazel eyes were red-rimmed and set too far apart. His nose was thin and freckled and a few stray whiskers—a petty attempt at a beard?—grew in odd angles above his upper lip. With his close-cut cropped strawberry-blond hair and big ears, he looked like an odd cross between Opie and Butthead. Or maybe it was Beavis; I could never remember which one was which.

“I’m sorry, miss, what was that?” Opie asked me.

“Um, Detective Hayes,” I said for the third time, then patted my shoulder bag affectionately. “We’re working on something.” I straightened my shoulders and stood up taller. “A case. We’re working on a case together.”

Opie raised one red-blond eyebrow, and I forced the polite smile I used for gargoyles—hard-headed, stubborn, immovable gargoyles—and nodded. “Do you know where I can find him?”

Opie jerked a thumb over one shoulder, his hazel eyes never leaving the top of the blouse I forgot to button. I pinched the fabric together over my breast and narrowed my eyes on the officer. “Officer?”

“Down the hall, on the left. You’ll see the sign.”

I turned to leave, but Opie stopped me. “Ma’am?”

I bristled, and then reminded myself that to the police force under fifteen, I
would
be a ma’am.

“You’ll need to fill this out first, please.” Opie slid a clipboard toward me, and I sighed, filling in the obligatory information, then clipped the little plastic badge he gave me to my jacket.

After two wrong turns and several glares from angry-looking hooker types being led around by their cuffed arms, I found the correct hallway and Hayes’s office. There was a folded piece of paper Scotch-taped to the frosted-glass door, the name DETECTIVE HAYES scrawled on it in black Sharpie.

“How very Barney Miller,” I muttered before knocking quickly.

“‘S’open!” I heard Hayes bellow from inside.

Okay, here’s the thing. Like I said before, I’m not man crazy. But the sound of Detective Hayes’s rich voice floating out did something to me, and every hair on the back of my neck stood up, every nerve ending pricked—especially the ones in the nether regions I cared not to mention. I wondered what that voice would sound like first thing in the morning, gruff with sleep, whispered in my ear.

“Come in,” I heard again.

I shook myself from my fantasy and pushed through the frosted-glass door.

Hayes was leaning back in his ancient leather office chair, his feet resting on the corner of his desk, ankles crossed. His dark eyebrows were knitted and intense as he scanned the papers stacked in his lap, his perfect teeth chewing on his full bottom lip as he read.

I steadied myself against the little flutter I felt when his crystal blue eyes glanced up from his work and settled on me; I gripped the strap of my shoulder bag even more tightly when his face broke out in a warm, genuine grin that made my knees go medically oozy.

“You made it!”

I slung my bag onto one visitor’s chair and slunk into the other.

“How do you manage around here? The environment is so hostile!” I shuddered and pulled my jacket tighter across my chest, and edged my chair a little farther back when I noticed the outline of an ankle holster against Detective Hayes’s left pant leg.

A half smile cracked across the detective’s face. “This from the woman whose coworkers are blood suckers.”

I rolled my eyes.

“And clients are monsters.”

“Demons,” I corrected, “and you shouldn’t judge until you know one.”

Hayes crossed his arms. “I could tell you the same thing.”

“I’m sure you have a very friendly bunch up here,” I said, doing a quick mental scan of the office: Cardboard file boxes. Super Big Gulp cup. Deeply stained coffee mug. Obligatory framed motivational poster propped on the floor behind the desk. No grinning, happily-ever-after wedding picture. No glossy black-and-white of a supermodel girlfriend. No “Proud Parent Of” bumper stickers, no five-by-sevens of a fat Michelin baby with cute brown curls and Detective Hayes’s bright blue eyes.
Not
that I was interested. I let out the tiny breath I didn’t know I was holding, and Detective Hayes raised one concerned eyebrow.

“Everything okay?”

I licked my dry lips and avoided his ice-blue stare. “Of course. Just checking out your office.”

Hayes grinned again, leaning back in his chair and opening his arms. “Well, it’s not exactly as posh as the UDA offices. I don’t know if you know this, but us humans aren’t always great decorators. I hear vampires really have a knack for that. Am I right?”

I rolled my eyes and Hayes chuckled, settling a coffee mug on a stack of boxes. “Besides, I just moved into this office not too long ago. They had me in a utility closet before this.”

I was at a loss for witty banter, so I began rifling through my bag and stacking the file folders I had brought onto his desk. I decided it was best to go all business, especially since every flash of Parker Hayes’s blue eyes or sexy smile seemed to make my heart thump painfully while putting my female parts on high alert.

“Okay, so I went through our files and I figured we’d start with the most likely candidates—or—suspects. So, I brought you—”

“No, not yet.” Hayes was holding his hand up, palm forward. His sat up straighter, pulling his legs from the desk and planting them firmly on the ground. “Lunch first, work later.”

I didn’t move, and he chucked me softly on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll even buy.”

“Such a gentleman,” I said, sliding the files back into my shoulder bag and standing up. “Shouldn’t we get to work right away? Isn’t this kind of pressing though? The case, I mean?”

Hayes headed out the door, and I nearly had to run to keep up with his long, purposeful strides.

“The case is definitely pressing. And lunch is more pressing. Besides”—he patted his trim stomach—“I work best on a full stomach.”