He preceded me to the door, opening it to find Dan waiting just outside. My rugged Marlboro Man searched my face. His lips thinned, apparently not liking what he saw.
Not yours, I thought at him. I still had a hard time not blushing as he glared.
What the heck was wrong with me?
Chapter Eight
I had never been in the coroner’s office, but both men had. Tristan transported me there. I stayed away from Dan since he looked so grumpy.
We arrived in the autopsy room, where three sheeted corpses lay patiently on their tables. Tristan and Dan had no problems finding the place, and I wondered what had transpired in their afterlives that they would have such familiarity with the cold, steel-accented room. I decided I’d rather not ask.
Four people walked in within moments of our entrance. I only recognized Sheriff Grayson. Flanking him were a woman in a white lab coat and two guys in suits.
Dan provided the one-sided introductions. “That’s Coroner Kris Landry and FBI agents Heany and Neuhaus.”
I almost stuck out a hand to shake with the people who didn’t know I stood there. Silly dead girl.
They gathered around one table holding a covered stiff, and I swallowed. “Is that me?”
Coroner Landry, her dark hair shot with gray and arranged in a practiced topknot, switched on a strong overhead light. She then waited patiently as one of the agents argued passionately with the sheriff.
Agent Heany was in his late thirties, an earnest-faced man whose hair was thinning fast. Some guys look good with no hair, and with Heany’s nicely rounded skull, I figured him to be a perfect candidate for nude flesh. He should just get it over with and shave off what hung on, I thought. It would take years from his looks.
His accent sounded funny to me, a little nasally without the down-home Southern twang I knew so well. Still, his voice produced a pleasant tenor I didn’t mind at all. “I agree on who is going to the World Series, but no way the Braves are going to take the Yankees, Sheriff. Most of your boys are past their prime.”
Grayson glowered at him, his bushy gray eyebrows drawing low over his eyes. “I’m telling you, this is our year. You may have a few hotshots, but experience will win out. Look at our pitching game!”
I rolled my eyes. “Men and baseball. That’s one thing I won’t mind not keeping up with for my clients.”
Landry unknowingly agreed with me. She interrupted so smoothly it seemed she didn’t interrupt at all. I admired that. “Okay gentlemen, let’s talk about your girl.”
A strong hand tugged me around hard, and I found myself suddenly facing Tristan and Dan. Tristan spoke first. “Don’t look, Brandilynn.”
Dan added, “Hearing this will be hard enough.”
Soft rumpling sounds behind me let me know someone pulled back the cover over my evacuated body. Quiet sighs exhaled from the living, and I wondered if they hadn’t
seen many dead bodies. Or had the Ripper done something so violent to me that even hardened law enforcement agents hadn’t faced it before?
The harsh antiseptic scent of the autopsy room couldn’t mask the sweetish-sour odor of rotting flesh. Thank God I didn’t have a real stomach to empty out on the floor. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw tiny dots of color. Maraschino cherry red. Toenails freshly painted for a date with a client. A date with harsh destiny.
Landry’s voice was all business, soothing in its detachment. “Death by vampire draining. See the fang marks?”
“That’s a vicious bite. It looks like he gnawed on her.” Heany’s voice carried no emotion, as if he’d locked his feelings up in a box and thrown it into a river to never be found again. “Three days before the saliva tests come back, right?”
“Maybe two. We put a rush on it.” Landry continued her report. “She was dead a week before she was found. The semen we discovered was found here and here. She may have been violated in any of these other gouges you see, but with the amount of damage she took, it’s hard to tell.”
The room around me lurched, and both Tristan and Dan grabbed me on either side to keep me from falling. Apparently ghosts can faint. I shook off my horrified reaction with tremendous effort.
The other agent, Neuhaus, had a deep voice. The tall, lanky man didn’t bother to disguise his anger. “He’s all about the blood and brutality. Was she alive for any of it?”
“Some.” Emotion crept into Landry’s voice for a moment, and I had a flash of sympathy for her. Her job totally sucked. “Most of the damage occurred post mortem, just like the rest. The mutilations are getting worse though, as you can see.”
Still fighting for control, I asked the men, “What’s this about mutilations? I haven’t heard anything about that before.”
“They’ve kept it quiet,” Dan answered. He kept his eyes on my face, refusing to look at my remains. Tristan looked at his feet, blinking shining eyes hard to keep tears from falling. Good God, how bad was it? My head started to turn.
Dan’s hand gripped my jaw hard, forcing me to look at him. “No Brandilynn, you can’t see what he did to you. I won’t allow it.”
Grayson’s voice behind me sounded more gravelly than ever. Big chunks of concrete gravelly. “So it’s definitely Fulton Falls’ Ripper again.”
“The saliva tests will confirm that,” Landry said.
“If it is, we’ll be no closer to catching him.” Neuhaus suddenly sounded ancient. “Unregistered vampires are nearly impossible to track down.”
Heany’s spoke over the sound of my body being covered again. “He’s moving up from prostitutes to escorts.”
Landry snorted. “Is there a difference?”
I suddenly didn’t like her anymore.
Heany answered. “Maybe for the case. Brandilynn Payson didn’t work the streets. She was employed for a company that provides dates for exclusive clientele. They don’t offer sexual services, but they admit the ladies might have understandings with their customers.”
Neuhaus stepped into my field of vision, stretching his long, thin frame and staring into space. “Miss Payson had some very big names on her regular roster. The scandal is going to be huge for your sleepy little town.”
Grayson sounded worried. “Speaking of big names, we still haven’t tracked down Todd Spaulding to find out if she made her date with him. No one knows where he is. His business partner has reported him missing, and we’re trying to reach his next-of-kin so we can search his house.”
That got my undivided attention. I turned to look at the sheriff. Since they’d covered my body again, Tristan and Dan didn’t restrain me this time. “Todd?” I wondered out loud. He was an architect, something of a local celebrity for his innovative home designs. The rich loved his one-of-a-kind structures. He was a neat, dapper man with a fondness for being called ‘Daddy’ during sex.
Tristan grabbed my arm just above the elbow. “What night would you have seen him?”
“I usually saw him Thursdays.” A sudden flash of memory hit. “He couldn’t make our date because he went out of town. We re-scheduled for Sunday, normally a day off for me. My next regular client was scheduled for Wednesday, but I also had a function on Tuesday with an out-of-towner.”
Dan looked at Tristan. “She missed that date.”
Tristan seemed excited. “Our first real lead. Let’s pay Mr. Spaulding a visit.”
* * * *
We arrived in the bedroom of Todd Spaulding’s beachfront home, me gripping tightly on the two men’s hands. When I recognized the room I landed in, I released Tristan and Dan to applaud myself.
“I did it!”
Dan patted my back in congratulations. “I told you that you could. You just have to clear your mind of all distractions.”
Tristan looked around and frowned. “This is Spaulding’s bedroom? The decorating is so … typical for this area. Funny for a man who designs avant-garde homes.”
Todd’s bedroom was unremarkable indeed. The décor was fairly typical of the beach cottage style seen so much on H
amilton Island, one of a string of islands which lay just off the coast of Fulton Falls’ mainland. Pastel blues and greens predominated, with tan wicker furniture scattered like shells about the room.
I told the men, “Todd finds traditional to be soothing. He actually dislikes his own work, but the offbeat brings in the money so that’s what he gives his clients.”
I moved about the familiar room, frowning. The bedside lamp burned despite the strong afternoon sun beaming through the window. Other items on the nightstand made me pause: a bottle of wine in an ice bucket that contained not ice, but water. Two wine glasses. Except for the lack of ice, it was Todd’s typical setup for our dates when we weren’t attending some out of town party. And there was something else too.
The house was suddenly too quiet for my liking, as if the structure itself held its breath in anticipation. Some sounds of traffic outside and the roar of the ocean intruded. But the quiet pervaded. It was then I noticed the sickly sweet scent, so subtle I hadn’t caught it at first.
“We didn’t get to this part of our date,” I said. “The ice in the bucket is melted, the wine not poured. And Todd’s cell is on the nightstand.” I turned to the men who watched me carefully. “Todd doesn’t go anywhere without his phone. He won’t even go into the bathroom to squat without it. So we were in the room when something happened.”
“What, Brandilynn?” Tristan asked. “There’s no sign of a struggle in here. The bed hasn’t even been mussed.”
He was right. The bed still awaited Todd and me, perfectly made without a wrinkle marring the lace-trimmed duvet or pillow cases.
“Something drew us out of the room,” I said. A murky recollection of Todd walking away from me to check a noise we’d heard flitted across my mind. I looked at the open doorway that led out to the rest of the second floor.
Dan walked out, following the direction of my gaze. He paused just outside the doorway. “It stinks out here. There’s something wrapped around the railing.” He stepped farther out, coming to the wrought iron railing that ran the length of the second floor, overlooking the grand entryway of Todd’s home. He grimaced. “Your friend is dead, Brandilynn.”
Dread filled me, and I followed Tristan out to the upper floor’s walkway.
The sickly, overripe smell I’d detected in the bedroom increased a thousandfold on the balcony overlooking the home’s entryway. My hand covered my lower face in an effort to ward off the stench as my eyes spied the bedsheet tied to the balcony railing. The wrought iron had bent from the weight hanging from the straining sheet. One step closer to the balcony edge, and I saw the top of a dark head.
Dan peered over the side and grimaced. “You might not want to look, Brandilynn.”
I didn’t need to. I knew that dark brown, almost black head of hair. Todd had been a nice man who always treated me like a real girlfriend during our sessions, not a convenience. I swallowed a lump in my throat. I’d never hear his self-deprecating jokes again or be surprised by a single long stemmed rose given at the end of some of our trysts.
He’d been a good person who’d died badly. Because of me.
“He didn’t commit suicide. Not willingly, anyway.” I walked back to the bedroom door. When I reached the opening, I turned back around and surveyed the scene.
Tristan followed me. “Are you remembering something?”
“Todd went out of the room. I was standing next to the bed, and I saw him sort of freeze after a couple of steps. He said nothing, just stood absolutely still.
Tristan mused, “The vampire must have captured him with glamour right away. What happened next, Brandilynn?”
“It was strange the way Todd froze and didn’t say a word. I thought he’d discovered a burglar, and I came to the doorway to see, to help him if he needed me. I reached this point and … and … it was cold, empty, like a void.”
“Definitely vampire glamour,” Dan muttered. “He immobilized your friend, and then he snared you.”
“I heard a whispering, like far away. Not really a voice, more like intent.” A trembling had seized me, remembering that cold nothingness I’d been imprisoned in.
“Your friend Spaulding might have done this deed himself, but he was ordered to.” Dan glared at Tristan. “We’re talking an older vampire with the kind of mind control that can hold two people at once, Tristan. Not only that, but he stalked Brandilynn and followed her here. This was planned, not opportunistic.”
Tristan looked scared and angry all at once. He asked me, “You’ve never dated vampires in your work, never been around them?”
I fought the curl of disdain that wanted to come out. I hated that I remained so bigoted despite having finally banged a vampire. Nevermind he wasn’t a vampire when I did him, but Tristan was still one of them. Time to stop being so darn high and mighty. “The company I work for doesn’t serve paras, but I go to parties with clients, parties with vampires and weres in attendance.”
“Did you recognize any of my people when you came to the hotel last night?”
“No, though I believe your sister and a couple of your staff have been present at some of the functions I’ve been to. I knew about the glamour thing, so I kept my eyes down when I was around your people.”
Dan paced back and forth, his brow heavy with concentration. “Then there were men who didn’t mind being seen with you publicly, who might not have minded others knowing they hired escorts. Can you think of anyone who fits that description, who might have been friendly on a personal basis with paras?”
“Snoot Lassington.” I felt a rush of excitement. Snoot had been mean enough to introduce me to the paras he knew, even though he was aware I felt uncomfortable around them.
“The personal trainer?” Tristan sounded excited too. “Several of my shifter staff go to him.
Dan stopped pacing, coming to rest in front of me. “Can you take us to his house?”
Uncertainly, I answered, “Yeah, I guess.”
“What’s wrong?” The weight of his hand on my shoulder comforted me a little.
I looked at the two men. “Snoot’s into BDSM. He’s geared more to sadism and likes to give more pain than I like to receive. I stopped seeing him after he ignored my safeword and got way too rough. Quite honestly, he freaked me out.”
Tristan stroked my hair. “He can’t hurt you now Brandilynn. He won’t see you if he’s home.”
It wasn’t the prospect of seeing Snoot that bothered me. I worried more about Dan, so new to my particular brand of sexual expression. I couldn’t imagine what he’d think after getting a look at the paraphernalia I’d enjoyed with Snoot before he got abusive.
Chapter Nine
I wasn’t surprised when, despite my best efforts to the contrary, I materialized us in Snoot’s playroom. After all, this room had made the biggest impression on me.
A padded sawhorse-type bench with restraints sat in the middle of the room. Shackles hung from chains attached to a wall. Whips, floggers and leather straps hung in the open closet, waiting to be wielded. Painted black walls sported rows of built-in shelves that held other implements of pain and bondage.
Dan’s face was comical in its shocked expression. “Holy shit. Sorry Brandilynn, I know you don’t care for the cursing but … wow.” Wide-eyed, he wandered the room.
“Yeah, Snoot’s into his toys. He wishes he had a big basement so he could have a whole dungeon setting.”
Tristan grinned like a kid in a candy store. “No chances of a basement with the low water table here. Nice setup though. Did you spend a lot of time in here?”
“While I was seeing him. It was fun until he used a taser on me.”
Dan looked horrified. “No kidding.”
I swallowed. Snoot had been beyond scary that night, ignoring my screamed safeword. I’d lost control over my bladder, and he’d lost a steady Thursday night playmate. “I dropped him as a client after that, and he was blacklisted from the agency, not to mention the local kink community. I’m surprised you didn’t hear abo
ut it, Tristan.”
The commissioner shook his head. “I don’t have contacts with the local leathers. Bad for politics, and it would get out.” He considered the shackles, and my insides clenched. Being chained up and at Tristan’s tender mercies had a great deal of appeal.
I grinned. “You like those? Too bad we’re not all solid, huh?”
To my surprise, Dan spoke his interest first. “Actually, we can make use of some of these toys.” He stepped to the closet and set the hanging straps swinging with a swipe of his hand. “Remember, you just have to pull on the energy around you.”
Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy Page 12