Tatum nodded in concurrence as I knocked swiftly on the wooden door. We stood in silence for a few moments listening for the shuffle of feet to sound through the entryway. Tatum knocked this time, much more aggressively than I had previously. Finally, the soft shuffle of sock clad feet made its way nearer the two of us. The sound of fumbling locks could be heard clearly through the thick wood. Finally, the door flung open to reveal the hero of our story.
“Hey, sleeping beauty. Nice hair,” I said, as I pushed my way past Mike and his bed head.
Tatum chuckled and followed suit into the house.
“Come on in, girls.” Mike’s groggy voice grumbled from the doorway.
Tatum and I plunked our butts down on his big leather couch and made ourselves at home. Mike’s house was the typical suburban home you would expect from any family man; the funny thing was, Mike didn’t have a family. He lived all alone in this three bedroom, walk-in-closet, white picket fence, dream house. There were a few bachelor amenities: gigantic TV, super stereo system, and only beer in the fridge. It was kind of like my house, only much bigger.
“I haven’t been here in a long time. Hasn’t changed much,” I rambled, gazing around at his photos, some including me.
“Yeah, I like it that way. Here.” Mike handed me an even larger envelope than the first he’d given me.
“Wow, thanks. This is--”
“Bakersfield, Pico photos, no ME report yet.” He finished my sentence.
“So that’s everything but Fresno? What is with those dicks? They don’t know how to do their job?” I was expecting that was the case.
“They don’t care. Don’t you get it? The only reason this has become such media frenzy is because of the cause of death, not who died. Nobody cares about transients and hookers, Dylan, nobody.” Frustration seeped from every pore on Mike’s body. He plopped down between Tatum and me on the couch and let out a big sigh. “What do you want from me? Do you really think you can help anyone? You have zero training and no jurisdiction; you are not a cop.” He stared a hole right through me. I stared back.
“We have something better than that, Mike. Women’s intuition. Not to mention huge knockers. Trust me we can get anything from anyone without the slightest bit of police training. Besides, this is what we do for a living, gather information and report back. Do you lack that much faith in us, Mike?” Tatum spoke with such eloquence, even if she did say the word knockers.
“No, I trust you. However, I know you two; someone’s going to end up hurt.”
“No we…”
Mike cut her off. “Remember that time you ended up in a cast after the dumpster incident, Tatum? Or how about the time I had to pull a lot of strings to get you two out of jail at four a.m. on Christmas morning? I don’t even want to talk about the time Dylan was attacked and nearly raped over some stupid photos! What if…what if something happened to one of you?” He turned quickly from Tatum to me. “What if you ended up like one of these girls?”
“Mike, I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m short, fat, and brunette. Honestly, if anyone is in line to eat it, Tatum is. She does fit the profile.” I smiled at Mike, hoping it would calm him down.
“Hey!” Tatum chimed in from the end of the couch.
“Look, I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt here. I don’t know what I’d do if…just be careful. And check in, a lot.” He had given up. His persuasion would have never swayed me once I began a project and he knew it.
“10-4. We’ll be on our best behavior. I promise. I’ve never seen you so concerned before. Is there something you’re not telling me?” I wasn’t sure why Mike was so upset, he’s been a cop for ten years, it’s not for lack of experience.
“No.” I didn’t believe him.
“So this is only Bakersfield?” I asked, changing the subject.
“And the Pico girl from this morning, the photos anyway.”
“Let me see.” Tatum had a hand stretched out for the envelope.
In an instant, the contents of the envelope were strewn about the coffee table. Naked dead girls filled my vision once again. This time in back and white. Tatum began arranging the photos as I had this morning, chronologically. Bakersfield first, then the blonde from this morning.
“Where is the Hanford girl? And the Bonita Terrace one?” Tatum looked to me for answers.
“I didn’t bring them. It’s all still on my table at home. Sorry.”
“Ugh. These are ours right? We can take them?” Tatum asked Mike.
“Yeah, just don’t let anyone know you have them or it’s my ass.”
“That won’t be a problem. What’s with the paper photos?” she asked.
“You think the precinct is gonna fork over the money for a color photo copier? I ran off what I could, as quick as I could. You get what you get.” He rubbed the top of his head tousling his hair into a mess of dirty blonde locks resembling a pile of alfalfa.
Looking at the photos, I noticed the girls were also fair-haired and thin, but that is where the similarities ended. The Bakersfield girl was obviously lower class than the Hanford girl. She had many tattoos, a name on her chest next to a rose was beginning to fade away, probably a homemade job. Her hair was bottle blonde, dark roots gave that one away quickly. She had no cuts though. She wasn’t covered in slashes across her arms or a deep cut to her inner thigh.
“She isn’t like the others. No cuts,” I said never looking away from the photos.
“Yeah, she was almost overlooked until they found this.” Mike held up a close-up photo of a large bruise on her inner thigh. In the center of the bruise was a red dot and a single drip of blood.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“According to the ME, that is a puncture wound from a medical grade hollow point needle. Similar to the type they use at the blood bank. The ME report states that the victim probably struggled a little when the needle was inserted causing the bruising. Otherwise, it was a perfect tap of the vein. This could have drained the body, but it would have taken a while. I figure he must have had her in a secluded area in order to drain her slowly. The drip of blood from the wound is actually not from the bleed-out. The ME found saliva around the wound and has a theory that the perp removed the needle and used his mouth to remove blood from that point; it would have been postmortem, but barely. Good eye noticing this one had nothing in common with the others, aside from being blonde and a prostitute. A local girl actually, Marci Campbell, 23, living in a transient motel off Highway 99.” His face was forlorn and weathered.
“Here’s why. She probably struggled.” Tatum held up a photo of the girl’s upper body. “I’ve been thinking that, maybe, the girls were drugged because I haven’t seen or heard about any defense wounds. If this girl was drugged, it may have taken a bit more to get her down, look.” She then pointed to the rugged bumps that scattered the girls forearm.
“A druggy. Wow. She might have gotten away if they hadn’t been prepared.”
Maybe there is more than one murderer; someone must have held her down.
“Of course, if they laced her drink, or used any drug containing opiates it could have taken more of the drug to affect her in a normal manner because of the tolerance she built up.” Tatum smiled proudly, like when she won the spelling bee in third grade.
“So far, you guys have figured out the girls were drugged, the wounds don’t all match, and the likelihood of multiple suspects is very high. You two have done more police work in twenty minutes than most of them had in the last three months. Good work boys.” It was Mike’s turn to be proud.
“You know, Mike, I was thinking, all of this started in Fresno, and wouldn’t it be really important to get all of the information we can from the Fresno police. I mean, we could go and…”
“No fucking way! There is no way you two are going into the lion’s den to retrieve some bullshit information in order to subdue some crazy fascination you have with this case.” Mike was standing over me at this point. I stood up too.
; “So what? We just sit around here and wait until another girl pops up behind a dumpster? Maybe then you’ll have enough to bring in the bad guy. Or maybe, Tatum will be the blonde girl in the photos next time? Or me. We are safer on the road north to the beginning than we are here nosing around Hollywood vamp clubs where the killers are most likely shacking up! Either way, I’m not giving up. Yes, I know I’m only in it for the book and the fame and all that comes along with it. But, there was a girl dead this morning that I had to get six inches from to make sure she wasn’t my best friend. I was drugged, woke up in some weird guy’s apartment, whose nose was later broken by Tatum. Then I was called at two a.m. to a bar to look at video of said asshole leaving with some fucking blonde, who I then thought was dead behind a dumpster! You want to talk about safe?! I’m scared out of my mind! I pulled a knife on my best friend today because she used the key I keep for her to come into my apartment! I want to know what is going on in my town. Now. Are you in, T?” I glanced back over my shoulder to see Tatum.
“Where you goeth, so goeth I,” she answered regally.
He looked to me, then to Tatum. His eyes moved back to mine and lingered, studying my face. After a long cluster of moments, his eyes closed. He shook his head slowly side to side and let out a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll make a call. But call me before you leave and once you get there.”
I smiled and nodded over and over again.
“You’d better clear some shit up before you walk out that door. Who drugged you? And why did you wake up in a stranger’s house?” The beginnings of an interrogation were looming in the air. His issue with grilling me like a suspect was one of the downfalls to our relationship.
“It’s a long story. It’s over and handled now, so don’t worry about that. I’m going home to get my shit, then we’re heading out. Make whatever calls you need.” I turned to make my way to the door when Mike grabbed my shoulder.
“Be careful,” he said solemnly.
“You know me.” I smiled
“Exactly.” His eyes dropped to look at his feet. “I miss you.”
“Ugh, Mike not now. We can talk all you want when I get back.”
“No, we won’t.” He knew me very well. “Call when you leave.” I nodded.
“Hey, thanks.” I held up the envelope.
“Yeah.” Mike put his large arms around my shoulders and squeezed. I didn’t squeeze back.
“See ya.” I pulled away from his embrace, then turned and walked to the door.
“Thanks, Mike. I’ll get her back safely. Promise.” I heard Tatum say from the entryway.
“Bye,” Mike said now from the front porch.
I was in the car moments before Tatum walked down the driveway. I hated when he did that to me. It makes it so much harder to be friends. Tatum opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. I was in reverse and down the driveway before she had a chance to shut the door.
“I hate it when he does that to you. You’re such a bitch afterward,” Tatum said putting on her seatbelt as I hit the freeway heading back home.
“Tell me about it.”
“He still loves you, you know. It’s been almost a year since the big blowout and he still has your pictures in his house. ‘Let’s be friends’ just isn’t working out for you two is it?” Tatum will always tell it like it is.
“I don’t know. He fucked up, not me. Why should I have to be all nicey-nice with him? The fucked-up thing is that I miss him too, and every time he does shit like this it makes it harder and harder to stand my ground.”
Tatum stayed quiet the rest of the drive home; I was glad. I didn’t want to talk about Mike anymore. More than anything I just wanted sleep. It became very clear to me then that I would not sleep for quite a while. I was hoping we could take Tatum’s car to Fresno so I could nap awhile. And we’d need her GPS. I had no clue where we were headed.
I started wondering if I was on a wild goose chase. It did seem a little ridiculous that two female reporters were headed off to solve a crime that no detective could. The entire thing began to sound like a cheesy made-for-TV movie. Good defeats evil and all is well. I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what the evil was in this story. And if I was the good, how the fuck was I supposed to defeat it.
A stake and hammer might do the trick.
CHAPTER 14
Tatum and I scurried up the dilapidated steps that lead to my apartment. Successfully avoiding the low tree branch, Tatum made it to the front door before I could. She worked the lock with the spare key and opened the door with little effort.
“How do you always do that?” I asked out of breath.
“Do what?” Tatum responded as she made her way into the apartment.
“It’s like a magic show every time you open my front door. Even my Super can’t get the door open that easily.” Tatum shrugged as she walked directly to the bathroom.
I started gathering up the documents that were scattered about my coffee table. I knew at some point I would have to settle my brain down for a few minutes and really narrow down what knowledge I had locked away in my head. There had been so much information crammed into my overworked brain over the last few days, that I wasn’t even positive I knew anything important.
Why am I driving to the sticks to accomplish nothing?
“Are you going to pack a bag? We should at least take a change just in case.” Tatum startled me when she spoke; her voice echoing from the bathroom doorway.
“Um…yeah, I guess.” I must have seemed a little out of it.
“What’s your trip, you seem really out of it?”
“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. Ugh! What are we doing?” I said voice filled with dread.
“I’m going to Fresno, and apparently you’re going crazy.” Tatum took the papers from my hand and began finishing the task I had begun moments earlier.
“Maybe. I freaked out and almost stabbed you with a knife. I woke up in some guy’s apartment with no recollection of the night’s events. Hell, I even sweet talked my ex-boyfriend into giving me pictures of naked dead girls! Oh, I’m crazy alright! I’m a fuckin’ loony! What more can I say? There are vampires in L.A. They’re killing strippers, and leaving their exposed bodies behind dumpsters in alleyways. Vampires, Tatum. Vampires! And you know what else? I think Malcolm and Cyrus, and that crazy Russian bitch, are the shittiest ones of them all!” That was it, I had officially snapped.
Tatum stood in front of me, hands full of papers, eyes wide, mouth open. I took a few steps closer to Tatum; she was very nervous by this time. I can only imagine how I must have looked to her. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what I was thinking myself. Only a foot or so from Tatum now, I spoke in a low tone.
“Vampires. We are chasing Vampires.” With that I walked slowly into my bedroom and began robotically packing a small overnight bag.
Tatum never came into the bedroom with me. I could hear her shuffling papers nervously. She opened the hall closet door for a few moments, then closed it again. I assumed she was packing her bag as well. She kept spare clothes in that closet. I packed slowly, running the images over and over in my head. Naked girls missing blood, dead and decaying behind random dumpsters. Mike and his sweet sensibility, always so protective. Embrace and all that that entails: Cyrus, Malcolm. Malcolm was a constant in my mind recently. His fiery red mane was so intriguing and chilling in the same breath. There was something in my gut that screamed foreboding in his presence, be that only once. Never in my life had I ever honestly questioned my own sanity. For a moment, standing in my living room, wild-eyed and blaring at Tatum, I believed in vampires.
“Do I need to call in the Thorazine?” Tatum’s sudden voice pierced the silence I had crawled into. I suddenly realized I hadn’t packed anything in quite some time. I stood, eyes lax, not focused on anything in particular. Only interested in the events playing within my mind.
“D?” She touched my elbow, and I jarred to life.
“Yeah?” I looked at her as if nothing
had ever happened.
“You okay?” Her tone held concern and fear.
I looked down at my half-packed bag then back up to meet her eyes. “No. Vampires? Have I cracked? I feel weird. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster that’s running with no controls. One minute I’m focused, the next I’m questioning my own thoughts.” I had lost a lot of energy during my freak-out and felt very lethargic.
“No. You just care, is all. That happens sometimes, caring. It’s hard when one is as supremely ruthless as you are, but it does happen. You spent too much time working and not enough sleeping. You just need sleep. I’ll drive, you get some rest. Get yourself some undies. I’ll finish the rest.” She grabbed my bag and made her way to my bathroom.
Without another word, Tatum and I moved about the apartment grabbing clothes and toothbrushes, deodorant and a hairbrush. Together we cleaned up the photos and packed them all back together as they had been. Tatum rinsed the dishes in the sink so they wouldn’t mold over. I fed the goldfish and turned off all the lights. At the end of our dance, we met in the middle.
“Okay, let’s go.” With a nod, Tatum opened the door.
I followed mindlessly behind her carrying my duffle bag and one of the large yellow envelopes. We both entered the little black sports car. Following the usual mundane procedures, we were buckled safely and ready to hit the open road. Tatum punched the destination into her GPS and we were off. We didn’t speak another word to each other.
I was with Tatum until we were safe and moving freely on the freeway. Then I was gone.
My eyes began to flutter open. I could see…nothing. I blinked my sleepy eyes and looked again. I understood then why I hadn’t seen anything; there wasn’t anything to see. We were surrounded by plowed fields. The sun was still out but it was preparing its daily descent into the horizon.
“Where are we?” I asked, voice very scratchy.
“Delano, north of Bakersfield.” She never took her eyes off the road.
It was almost six o’clock by this time; the sun still had a good two hour fight left in it. I felt like an idiot for wigging at Tatum. She wouldn’t even look at me. I sat quietly in the passenger seat and watched fields of crops whiz by. Eventually, there were grape vineyards, cotton fields, and bright lights ahead.
The Scene (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult Series) Page 12