by Judith Post
He smiled. “Me too.”
She turned her back to him, moved close. “You can’t take me for a walk every morning like your pet dog, though. And we can’t screw every time I feel pent up.”
“I might manage.”
She laughed. “I need to get myself together, to quit being a baby."
He ran a hand up and down her spine. Her skin felt like silk. She shivered and swatted his hand away. “Be good.”
“I thought I was.”
“You’re not helping.”
He pulled his mind back to their conversation. “What did you do before you were changed?”
“When I was human?”
“Right.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Do you remember?”
“Erik and I had a small patch of land. We had a stone cottage, a goat and a garden. We worked our asses off to survive.”
He grew silent a minute. “This might not be the right time, and it’s off the subject, but when Vlad took you, did you ever see your family again?" He'd been wondering about that. She'd told him about Vlad's threats. Did that mean she'd stayed close to her parents, brothers, and sisters?
Her body went tense. Her voice was flat and emotionless. “I went home once. I wanted to see them, to tell them I’d make sure they were safe, but when they saw me, they ran in the house and locked the door. They had garlic at every window. There was a cross hanging in every room and around their necks. They wouldn’t let me in. They wouldn’t listen when I tried to talk to them through the wooden door. I was a monster. I was dead to them.”
“And that’s the last time you saw them?”
“What was the point? Vlad took me to them. He knew I might think they were safe with all their precautions, so he took me to another village, to another hut protected with garlic and crosses. He waited until a teenage boy came out to milk the goat, and then he killed him before he could pull out the cross he wore under his shirt.”
Enoch laid his hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry.”
"I used to like to sew," she said abruptly.
"Sew?" He couldn't imagine her with a needle and thread.
"I could give that a try." She nibbled his bottom lip. “You’re rich. I’ll make you a list of things you need to buy for me.”
When she slid on top of him, Enoch groaned. “List anything you want. It’s yours.”
She shook her head, letting her silver hair brush his skin. “Men are so easy.”
Chapter 40
Paige listened to her roommate complain.
"That detective came in here and gave me a good talking to," Salli said. "If you go off on your own and that killer gets you, he's going to give me a hard time."
"I'm only goin' to my mom's. No killer's going to grab me there. Besides, what the detective don't know won't hurt him."
Salli waved a hand and stomped to the kitchen. Paige had brought home leftover pizza last night, and she'd been nibbling on it for breakfast. "I wash my hands of you," she said. "Whatever happens is on your own head."
Paige pulled on her thick, puffy coat, heavy gloves, and a wool headscarf. The car's heater wasn't any too good. It would barely get warmed up by the time she reached her parents' place.
Luckily, it was a short distance down Bluffton Road to Brooklyn and her parents' apartment. They lived in a government subsidized complex, but the subsidies only helped so much. She parked at the door to their unit, next to Becky's beat-up minivan, and noticed the storm door was crooked again. One of Becky's kids must have hung on it like last time.
Paige gave a quick knock and walked inside. Toby turned his head from the TV show he was watching and yelled, "Mom, your sister's here!"
Paige heaved a sigh of relief. Becky's other three kids were in school, or the noise level would be awful.
"How you doin', Toby?" she asked. "Why aren't you at Head Start?"
"Got a cold." He gave a loud sniff to prove he was sick. Snot dripped from his nostrils.
"Get a Kleenex and blow your nose. You look a mess."
He hunkered down in his chair and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. Better than nothing, she guessed.
Becky and her mother came down the stairs from the bedrooms. Her mother used a cane and gripped the railing. Someday soon, she wouldn't be able to go up and down the steps. They'd have to move the bed into the living area. "What brings you here?" her mother asked.
Paige shrugged out of her coat and sat in the one good easy chair. Her mother always took the rocker. Becky perched on the edge of the broken down couch.
"I always come on Monday," Paige said. "How you feelin' today?"
"Can't complain." Paige knew that wasn't true. Her mom's arthritis made everything ache, but she still cooked and took care of the house.
"Where's Dad?"
"Upstairs. He's having one of his spells. Having a hard time breathing."
Her dad smoked three packs of cigarettes a day for as long as Paige could remember. It was catching up with him. "I'm working the weekend," she said, "to make some extra money. How're things going for Christmas?"
Her mom gave a quick glance at Toby. "Not so good. No one picked up Becky and the boys as their Christmas family."
Toby, who'd been glued to his show, heard that. "Does that mean no presents?"
"Not as many," Becky said, "unless Aunt Paige can work a few more hours."
"I'll ask around. People always want time off in December. I'll see if I can trade."
"That'd be good." Becky sagged back against the sofa cushions. "It's all I can do to keep up with the kids."
Paige and her mother exchanged glances. Everyone knew Becky's idea of child rearing revolved around the TV set and frozen dinners, but at least Becky had landed herself some men—for a while anyway. One for each baby. Paige had to give her credit. The guys she met never lasted that long.
There was a pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. "What if I do those up for you, Ma?"
"I was going to get to them later."
"I'm here. It won't take but a minute." When Paige finished the dishes, she wiped down the stove and the kitchen table. After she took the garbage out, she said, "Well, I'd better get going. I have to work tonight. Just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing."
"You're a good girl." Her mother started to push herself to her feet to see her out, but Paige raised a hand.
"I can see myself to the door. Take care." She was grateful to escape the blare of the TV set. On the drive home, she tried to figure out how many hours she'd need to work to buy each of Becky's kids a decent Christmas present. One more weekend, she decided. It wouldn't be that bad.
Chapter 41
Enoch waited for Voronika to fall into a peaceful sleep before he got out of bed. Closing the door quietly behind him, he headed to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter on his way to the computer. Once he started to write, time slipped away. He wandered to the kitchen off and on for snacks and refills. When the clock hands neared three, he was satisfied with the rough draft of his article. He pulled on his coat and reached for his keys. Paige left her house at three thirty every afternoon to start her shift at four.
He was almost out of the apartment when Voronika's voice stopped him. He hurried to her room. "Are you all right?"
"Don't come home to hold my hand tonight. Stay and watch over the new girl. Don't let anything happen to her."
"She's safe while she's working. She's never alone."
"Stay and keep watch. Maybe you'll see someone."
"What will you do?" He remembered how she was when he came home last time. If he hadn't gotten there, she'd have left the apartment by herself.
"I don't know, but it's time I figure something out. Now go. Guard the girl and don't come home until tomorrow morning."
"If you change your mind, you have my cell phone number."
She shot him a look. "If I need you, I'll call. But I won't."
He didn't like the idea, but she was serious, he could tell. He hurried to the Land Rover and drove to Paige’s house. When she started up her Ford Tempo, he followed her to the pizza parlor.
There was already a spattering of cars in the lot. He watched her walk into the building before he drove to the mall. By five thirty, he was on his way back to the restaurant, stacks of books and magazines on his back seat and a sewing machine, fabrics and threads in his trunk. He'd come at rush hour with people coming for take-out and others staying to eat in the small upstairs dining room. Enoch parked in the last row of the lot and watched cars come and go—a green Saturn, blue Camry, gray Lincoln. The list went on and on. He doubted he'd spot one he recognized. Still, he might as well try. He didn’t have anything else to do. The hours dragged on. He paid extra attention whenever he saw a man come or go with the build that Maggie described, but there were a lot of them, too many.
His stomach rumbled at seven and Enoch went inside to grab some food. He sat at a small table by himself and watched Paige wait tables. An old man winked at her when she gave him his bill, and she smiled. She had a beautiful smile. It rarely happened, but when it did, it changed her entire face. Her plain features became attractive. When Enoch finished eating, he paid his bill, left another generous tip, and went back to his Land Rover.
The sleet had turned to a slushy snow that clung to his car windows. He had to turn on his wipers repeatedly to be able to see. People came and went—a red Jeep, a white Impala, but an older model, black pickup stayed longer than usual. Enoch was about to go in and order bread sticks just to check out who drove it when a man with shaggy, dark hair pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and dashed out the door to the truck. He turned left onto State Street and disappeared into traffic.
The manager walked Paige to her Ford a few minutes after midnight and Enoch followed her home. Lights were on in the house and her roommate greeted her when she went inside. Enoch parked in a fast food lot on the corner, both doors of the house in view, and waited out the rest of the night. The hours between 1:00 a.m. and nine thirty crept by. What was Voronika doing?
To keep himself distracted, Enoch listened to Chopin and Mozart on his iPod, timed how many minutes he could wait before turning on his windshield wipers so that he could see, started to daydream and then pulled himself back to the task at hand. He had to concentrate, to stay alert. He thought of all of the close calls he’d had when he was watching every movement, every shadow outside the women’s houses he guarded. The killer had gotten past Danny at Katy’s apartment, past both of them at the Senior Center with Marie, and was waiting inside the garage for Maggie. Even a minute of drifting, of not watching, could cost Paige her life. And he'd be responsible. It would be his fault.
When morning came and lights blinked on in the house, he heaved a sigh of relief. One more night safely passed. His job was done for the moment. He could head home.
Snow plows had worked through the night to clear the streets, but his tires spun at busy corners, the pavement still treacherous and messy. A Hummer whizzed past him on Main Street and threw salty slush in its wake. Idiot! Enoch cursed and pushed the button to spray his windows to clean them. He circled his apartment complex, looking for vampires on rooftops or hidden in shadows. It was another gray day, and they could be out and about. He didn’t see any when he pulled into his parking space, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Balancing Voronika's presents in both arms, he took the elevator to his apartment. It chugged upward sluggishly. Everything was slow this morning. Either that, or he was tired, bordering on grumpy. He wondered how Voronika had done last night, penned inside. Then he opened the penthouse door and the aroma of burnt offerings greeted him.
He rushed into the kitchen. "What the hell?" Baked goods, most of them black or crisp, covered every kitchen counter. Pots of soup simmered on all six burners of his stove.
Voronika looked up from dicing celery and slammed a butcher knife on the countertop. “I don't like your ovens, and I'm not too crazy about your stupid stove.”
Enoch stared. “Who are you cooking for, an army?”
She dipped a spoon into one of the pots. A runny, mysterious liquid sloshed inside it. "I've forgotten how to cook." She pushed a stack of cookbooks toward him, making them topple. "And I don't know half the ingredients in these."
Enoch still couldn’t assimilate the volume of food. "Have you been doing this all night?"
"I'm doing it until I get it right."
Oh, Lord. Enoch put the sewing machine on a stool—there was no room on the bar—and looked inside the refrigerator. Empty. "When was the last time you made a meal?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She arched an eyebrow. “When I was with Erik."
"Over a fire?"
"What do you think that is?" She nodded toward a gas burner.
Enoch glanced at the books that had spilled onto the floor. "Did you find a favorite?"
"They're all too complicated."
Enoch nodded outside at the gray, dreary day. “We can go to a book store and buy you a new one, then we'll stop at a grocery store to restock the refrigerator."
She raised a pale eyebrow. “Are you mocking me?”
"No." Her tone was dangerous. He fought for the right words, but was spared when the timer went off on the stove. She opened the oven door and smoke rolled out. He couldn't help it. He laughed.
She whirled on him, hands on hips. Her eyes blazed. "You think that's funny?" She started to cough. The smoke alarm went off, and he had to take out the battery. Her shoulders stiffened with anger and then sagged. She kicked the oven door shut. "Screw it!"
He flipped off every burner and slid his arm through hers. "Have you had anything to eat?"
"Would you eat any of this?"
"Put your contacts in and we'll go to the diner. Is breakfast okay?"
She headed for the hallway and her coat. "I don't care what we get, as long as I don't cook it."
Chapter 42
Danny hurried into the station near the end of his shift. He'd called to check on Enoch and was relieved to hear that his stake out was going all right. Then he'd gone to the hardware store Enoch had seen when he touched the owner of the car lot. Finally, he'd come here.
Derek glanced over at him as he shuffled through the papers on his desk. No cop fairies had come while he was gone to clear them. Derek hadn't scribbled any hidden clues on the top page to help them find a new lead. "Did you look through them?" Danny asked. He was hoping a fresh set of eyes might notice something he'd missed.
"The robberies are dead ends," Derek told him.
Danny shoved them out of his way. "I swear if we solve those, we’ll find a link to Gail Lahmeyer’s murder.”
“You're ruling out your clown killer?” Derek glanced at his watch, a clear signal he had better things to do, with only minutes to spare. He was dressed in jeans and gym shoes. Something was up.
“Are you going with our guy to look for the dealer who supplied Chad with his fixes?" The kid looked like an undercover cop today.
"No, that’s a long shot. He probably left the neighborhood until things settle down.”
“And the stolen cars haven’t shown up anywhere?”
Derek shook his head. "So what's next? What do we do now?"
“I went to the hardware store Enoch saw. I installed a small inside camera. I’m hoping our crooks will cut the security wires like they always do and miss my small, plug-in. I found a good spot for it near the cash register, hidden in a big display. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Derek looked impressed. “Smart idea. Didn't think you had it in you.”
“Listen and learn, kid. Mark it on your calendar so you’ll remember.”
"The only thing I'm putting on my calendar are X's, counting off the days to my vacation." Another glance at his watch. "Which reminds me. How did the great Christmas tree search go with Maggie?”
Danny gave him a look. Derek was stalling. Hell, why not? A little smal
l talk never hurt anyone. "I liked her first idea better," Danny said, "waiting until it was closer to the holiday, but she couldn't take it anymore. She wanted the house decorated from top to bottom. We froze our asses off walking up and down the aisles of a tree farm. Once Maggie found the one she wanted, I had to saw it. The damn thing was frozen hard as a rock. Then we had to drag it back to the car and tie it on top. Fun stuff.”
“Guess I'd better enjoy my single days before a woman snags me and I end up like you, dragged around by the nose.” Derek looked at the clock on the wall and finally pushed himself to his feet. "Show time. Gotta go. Another guy got knifed behind Moore's Men's Club. Rob wants me to hang out there and keep my ears open."
Rob had worked the last stabbing, and Danny had to admit, choosing Derek to help was a wise choice. The kid was good-looking. "A tough assignment, poor you."
Derek grinned, preening himself. "Rob needs a chick magnet, knows the girls will hang all over my bod and chat me up."
Derek was reaching for his coat when Danny's phone rang. Danny listened a second, then held up a finger for him to wait. Derek shook his head in denial. "Come on, buddy, don't ruin my fun."
Danny filled Derek in as they left the station. "Someone found Silky's body behind Tits And Ass." All of the cops knew Silky. She was one of their favorite strippers. When they had a long night or a bad case, she'd put a little extra oomph in her routine to take their minds off things. She never pried, but was always willing to listen.
"I'll tell Rob I'll hit the men's club later. What happened to her?"
"Not sure. The uniform just said it was bad, that we might need a barf bag."
Derek's face went pale. "She never did any action on the side. She earned her money and went home to her kids."
Danny had seen pictures of her boys, three and one. Silky had them taped to her mirror in the girls' dressing room. She'd had them young. No one would ever know by her body that she was a mother.