The Vampire Evolution Trilogy (Book 1): Death of an Immortal:

by Duncan McGeary

  When he pulled out again, the car seemed to make its way to the Hardaway house without any conscious thought on his part. He’d spent a lot of time parked out in front of that house, hoping to get a glimpse of Jamie, hoping she would talk to him, let him explain. The restraining order should have kept him away, but who was going to arrest him?

  He’d been patiently waiting for hours every day. Then, one afternoon, Sylvie had come out of the house and marched directly over to his car.

  “She isn’t here,” she said flatly.

  “What?”

  “Jamie isn’t here, so there’s no sense stalking her.”

  “I’m not stalking anyone. I just want to talk to her. After that, I’ll leave her alone.”

  Sylvie didn’t argue with him, just turned around and walked back into the house. It was only weeks later that the arrest in Portland of one Jamie Lee Howe on charges of prostitution had been picked up by his search engine. After weeks of seething resentment and anger, it turned out she hadn’t even been home. He didn’t mind her yelling at him; he didn’t even mind the restraining order. But leaving without telling him?

  He’d headed for Portland the very same day.

  She should have stayed in Bend, let him take care of her. It made no sense for her to go the Valley, and it especially boggled his mind that she had resorted to selling her body. Hell, it had taken him months to get a little, and even then he’d had to be insistent about it.

  If she had stayed with him, she would never have had to worry about anything ever again. All because he’d slapped her, just that once. Hell, Dad had slapped his mom a hundred times, and they had been perfectly happy.

  Carlan got out of the car and adjusted his belt, the gun, as usual, making him feel powerful and secure. He walked up to the door, trying to remember that first date with Jamie, the coy little kiss at the end. But instead, his mind wandered to Sylvie’s form––the way her slender body had sashayed a little when she was walking away from him. Was she trying to give him a message? That he’d chosen the wrong sister?

  The old man answered the door.

  “Hey, Howard,” Carlan said casually. “Just coming by to check and see how you’re doin’.”

  Howard stared at him with blurry eyes, as if trying to remember who he was. Then he broke into a grin. “Officer Carlan, how good to see you!”

  Jamie’s parents had always liked him. Because he was a cop, they had thought he would be a good catch for Jamie. Apparently, Howard either hadn’t known about the restraining order or had forgotten. When Jamie’s mother came out of the kitchen, he could see from her hard eyes that she had known and hadn’t forgotten.

  But Howard had already invited him in, and Carlan quickly sat down on one of the couches. He smiled at Jamie’s mother––Jennifer? Jean? Best not to guess.

  “Please don’t make any special effort on my part,” he said. “I just wanted to come by and express my sorrow at Jamie’s… passing. I wish I could have been there. I would have kept her safe.”

  “Bend is a lot safer,” Howard agreed. “I can’t figure it out. Why she did it. Why go to Portland, with all those lowlifes?”

  Jamie’s mom almost said something, then decided against it.

  “One good thing came out of Jamie’s death,” Howard said. There was a strangled sound from the other couch, and he blanched. “I mean… no, honey… nothing good came out of it. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just talking about the insurance, you know…” His eyes pleaded with his wife, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  “Insurance?” Carlan asked sharply.

  “Turns out, Jamie bought an insurance policy for Sylvie’s education. A big amount, too, unless I’m mistaken.”

  “That was quick,” Carlan said. Better and better. Unlike with Jamie, where he’d had to pay for everything, Sylvie could pay her own way. “I’ve never heard of a policy that only pays for school.”

  “That’s what I said,” Howard exclaimed, looking to his wife for confirmation. “But the guy said that there was some flexibility there: like, if Sylvie was living at home, she could use it for expenses.”

  “He actually came to your door?” Now Carlan had heard everything. Usually you had to track down the insurance companies and hold their feet to the fire to get anything out of them.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s good for it, too. He was driving a big Cadillac Escalade.”

  Carlan froze. The smile fell off his face.

  “What?” Howard said, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing… hey, listen. I forgot an appointment,” Carlan said, getting up. “Again, my condolences to both of you. Be sure to give Sylvie my best.”

  As he made his way to the door, Jamie’s mother spoke for the first time. She had a whiskey-and-cigarette voice, too, deeper and more alarming than her husband’s. “Stay away from Sylvie.”

  “Honey!” Howard exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

  Jean––that was her name, Carlan suddenly remembered––got up and pushed Carlan toward the door and then through it. “What are you talking about?” he protested, echoing Howard. But he didn’t resist.

  “Jeanie! That was really rude!” Howard said.

  As the door began to close behind him, Carlan heard the woman say, “Howard. Sometimes you’re so blind.”

  #

  Carlan sat in the car for ten minutes, trying to wrap his brain around what he’d just learned.

  Why would the killer be offering Sylvie money for school? Guilt? Remorse? Was it a trap to lure another girl to her death? What was his game? Who was this guy, and why was he targeting a single family like this?

  For a moment, he wondered if he should wait for the guy to deliver the “insurance payment” before taking him down. The money would come in handy. But he quickly discarded the idea. It was ridiculous to believe that the guy was going to hand over money to a girl he’d never met.

  No, this was a cold-blooded murderer, and he was trying to entice Sylvie into his trap.

  Carlan decided he couldn’t wait until tomorrow to take this “Jonathan Evers” down. He’d track down Captain Anderson on his day off, call in his favor. He had been to his superior’s house once for a Halloween party; it was somewhere in the lower West Hills, on a steep road––Roanoke Avenue, that was the name of the street. He’d get an arrest warrant for the man in Room 23 of the Badlands Motel and search the room for evidence.

  Even if he couldn’t make the charges stick, he could at least warn the guy away from Sylvie. The Hardaways didn’t know what a good friend they had in him.

  He’d lost Jamie, but he wasn’t going to lose Sylvie.

  Chapter 12

  Terrill arrived at the Black Bear restaurant a few minutes late. The skies had cleared in the late afternoon and he’d had to wait for the sun to sink behind the Cascade Mountains before venturing out.

  He’d thought all day about how much to give to Sylvie. Too much money and she might wonder: too little, and she might just spend it all on other things. He decided on an amount and wrote out a check with the Prestigious Insurance heading. If it turned out not to be enough, he could always send more later.

  Chainsaw carvings of black bears surrounded the restaurant, and paw prints were stenciled onto the sidewalk. The entrance was enclosed within a gift shop selling kitschy plates and statues. It was dinnertime, and the place was packed.

  Sylvie was talking to some friends near the front counter, still wearing her waitress smock. She saw Terrill and waved. She finished her conversation and went into the back, emerging seconds later as a civilian.

  She nodded toward the inside of the restaurant and led him to a small table in the corner, near the swinging doors to the kitchen.

  “You hungry?” she asked. “We make some pretty good hamburgers here.”

  “No,” he said. He wanted to hand the check over as soon as possible. He wanted to get out of this High Desert land, with its bright sun and scant shade. He needed to get back to a city
, where he could blend in, where his behavior wouldn’t be observed by the same people every day. The local butcher was already looking at him askance, and if he stayed much longer, he’d have to track down another source for raw meat.

  Terrill handed over the check.

  Sylvie didn’t look at it. She put it face down on the table and stared at him. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what? I’m just delivering an insurance settlement.”

  “Why are you delivering it? I wouldn’t have even known about it until you wrote me a letter. If you’d put up enough roadblocks, I probably wouldn’t have even fought it. You could have sent it looking like junk mail and I would’ve thrown it away. Why didn’t you?”

  “At Prestigious Insurance, we don’t do things that way.”

  “That’s another thing. I spent half an hour on Google looking for a Prestigious Insurance and couldn’t find it.”

  “We fly under the radar,” he said.

  “No kidding. But why? Why would an insurance company not want to be known?”

  Terrill took a drink of water, trying to cover up his consternation. Why the hell was she questioning her windfall?

  The swinging doors opened and a waitress came out, trying to balance an overloaded tray. She didn’t quite make it out the door; one of the plates landed upside down, mashed potatoes squirting out onto Terrill’s shoes.

  There was some sarcastic clapping, but Terrill rose and reassured the young waitress that it was all right, waving her away from wiping off his shoes.

  “That was nice of you,” Sylvie said after the flustered waitress had left. “She’s new. You could’ve really wrecked her confidence if you’d made a scene.” She was looking at him with raw appraisal, and for the first time, she didn’t seem suspicious of him.

  “Pick up the check,” he urged.

  She put her hand on the check where it lay on the table. She hesitated, then flipped it over and looked down. “Holy shit!”

  “Yes, your sister was quite generous.”

  “I could live on this for ten years. Hell, I don’t need to go to school.”

  “Yes, and then what? Besides, as I’ve said, the insurance is predicated on your continuing your education.”

  “Well, Central Oregon Community College doesn’t cost all that much,” she said. “I’m not leaving Bend. I can’t leave my mom and dad right now. They need my help.”

  “I understand they have a new four-year program here,” Terrill said.

  “Yeah, if you want to be in the hospitality industry, or a chef, or something like that. Hard sciences are still over in the Valley.”

  The restaurant was getting more crowded with the dinner rush, the swinging doors were opening more and more often, and the clanking of dishes and the shouts of cooks washing over their conversation was making it more and more difficult for them to hear each other.

  Four guys wearing soiled baseball uniforms came in and sat at the next table over. They weren’t lowering their voices from the playing field level.

  “There’s a nightclub next door,” Sylvie said. “It should be quieter over there this early in the evening.”

  The other waitresses waved to her on her way out, and the desk clerk smiled brightly. It was obvious Sylvie was popular around here. They checked him out, too. A well-dressed guy in his thirties––an obvious catch. Then again, a girl like Sylvie probably had plenty of guys sniffing around.

  #

  The nightclub was mostly empty, it being too early for the nighttime crowd. They found a quiet table near the bar and ordered a couple of Deschutes Ales to pay for their table.

  “You old enough?” Terrill asked belatedly.

  Sylvie smiled brightly. “Turned twenty-one a month ago.”

  After they had both taken a deep swig of their beers, Terrill cleared his throat. “You were saying that there weren’t any hard science programs here, but with enough money, the programs will come to you. Believe me, with your grades, no school will turn you down, especially if you pay full tuition.”

  “How the hell do you know about my grades?”

  “Well, I assumed. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Sylvie looked away. She had stuffed the check in her pocket, and it seemed to him that she didn’t even want to think about it.

  “Why are you fighting this?” he asked softly.

  Tears came to her eyes and she looked down. “Jamie died. It seems all wrong that I should benefit from that.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Terrill said reassuringly. “You had nothing to do with it.”

  “But I still feel guilty. Like I caused it, or something.”

  “What you said last night at your house––she got unlucky, that’s all. She met the wrong guy. It could have happened here, or anywhere, believe me.”

  “But she might not have been over there in Portland at all if it wasn’t for me.” Sylvie put her face into her hands and sobbed. “She wouldn’t have been doing… what she was doing.”

  “Sylvie. Listen to me.” Terrill stared at her until she looked up and met his eyes. “Your sister was thinking of you, and you will honor her memory by taking this money and making something of your life.”

  “I will?” She smiled sadly.

  “Yes. You will. It’s what Jamie wanted.”

  #

  They drank their beers and ordered another round, and settled into a companionable conversation about schools. Sylvie seemed to know a lot about which colleges had the best programs, and Terrill encouraged her to look into them. She was easy to talk to, just as Jamie had been. But whereas Jamie had had a slightly defeated manner, Sylvie was still optimistic, still hopeful the world would come through for her.

  They didn’t notice when the four baseball players from the restaurant came in, or when two of them walked over to their table.

  “Sylvie? Is that you?” one of them said.

  The two men stood over them with big grins.

  “Yeah?” she said in a neutral voice.

  “It’s Peter Saunders. I dated your sister in high school.”

  “I remember you,” she said. She obviously didn’t like the guy, but was trying to be polite.

  “Hey, I heard about what happened to Jamie. I’m sorry.”

  Sylvie softened a little and her eyes grew moist. “Thank you, Peter.”

  He sat down in the booth next to her, and she had to scrunch closer to the window to make room.

  The other man loomed over Terrill. “Scoot over, man,” he said, and pushed his way onto the seat. Terrill gave way reluctantly. They both smelled of sweat, of healthy young male. Once, Terrill would have torn them to pieces for their rudeness, but now he stayed silent.

  “Yeah, I was sorry she moved to Portland,” Peter said. “She was the best piece of ass in Bend.”

  Sylvie stiffened. Peter looked over at Terrill challengingly, as if to ask, “What are you going to do about it?” Terrill stared back, but still didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the reaction Peter was looking for. He seemed a little disconcerted.

  The guy next to Terrill spoke up. “She never would put out for me.”

  “No?” Peter said. “Well, you are one ugly son of a bitch.”

  “Not even on the second date.”

  “Well, I heard she was selling herself over in Portland. Once those bastards over there hollowed her out, maybe you could’ve afforded her.”

  “Come on, you guys,” Sylvie said. “Get out of here.” She didn’t sound as much angry as sad.

  “Why? Jim here was wondering if you put out for free. Or do you cost money too?”

  “That’s enough,” Terrill said. The tone in his voice froze both men. They stared at each other, as if challenging each other to say something. Peter looked Terrill up and down and seemed to decide he wasn’t much of a threat. Both men were huge, steroid-inflated jocks. Terrill was as tall as they were, but nowhere near as muscled.

  “I like your duds, man,” Peter said. “Obviously, you can afford her. Ja
mie always was a skank, ever since middle school. Sylvie probably costs more, being that she’s so much fresher.”

  “Stand up,” Terrill said.

  The two jocks looked at each other, grinning. They were about to get what they came for. No doubt they didn’t expect Terrill to put up much of fight. They stood up and waited for him.

  He took his time, wondering what he was going to do. If he fought these two men, he doubted he would be able to control himself. Any other time, any other place, he would have taken the chance. But not here, not in front of Jamie’s little sister.

  He tried to stare them down, and they backed away a step in response. If there had just been one of them, it probably would’ve been over. But each of them was egging the other one on.

  Peter took a swing at him, which he easily evaded. But Jim came in low, from the other side, and Terrill was slammed against the edge of the table. The air went out of his lungs and he collapsed to the floor.

  Both men started kicking him, and he put his hands over his head to protect it. He wasn’t afraid. Under the cover of his hands, he was trying to minimize the damage, taking notice of what part of his body was being struck. He hoped that was enough to satisfy the young men’s bloodlust.

  He fought the urge to tear them apart. His fangs started to extend, but he kept his face down. He thought he heard a gasp from Sylvie but didn’t dare look at her. A kick to his neck left him gasping for breath, and his fangs and claws retracted. That had never happened before in the face of danger. He wondered about it as he continued to take the blows without resistance.

  It’s the girl, he thought. He didn’t want to turn into a monster in front of her. He didn’t want her to know that he was her sister’s murderer. He wanted desperately to look like a good man to her.

  The guys were beginning to tire. It wasn’t any fun if their prey wasn’t going to fight back.

  But Peter wasn’t satisfied. He picked Terrill up and slammed his head down on his knee.