“So the cat moved in?” Teffinger asked.
She laughed.
“I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
When he hung up, Geneva asked, “Who was that?”
“London.”
“London? What kind of name is London?”
Teffinger shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Why? Don’t you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said. “It’s just sort of weird for a person, since it’s a city and everything.”
“You mean, unlike Geneva?”
She chuckled.
“Got me.”
“Yes I did,” he said. “Anyway, she’s living with me.”
“Living with you? Since when?”
He shrugged. “Since this morning, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Right.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I can’t even believe you sometimes.”
HE SEARCHED FOR A SMART REPLY, but his thoughts diverted to the conversation he had earlier today with the Paris detective—who said that the skinhead wasn’t strong enough to commit the murders over there. If that was true, then maybe Teffinger was going after the wrong man. Or, if he was going after the right man, then there were two perpetrators committing almost identical crimes thousands of miles apart. Either way, he needed to give a lot more thought to the Cameron Leigh case.
But not right now.
Because she was already dead.
Whereas Jena Vellone hopefully wasn’t.
“So now what?” Geneva asked.
“This is a long shot,” he said. “But we have some footage from the club I took Jena to. Why don’t you watch it and see if you recognize anyone in the crowd?”
“Fine. When?”
Before Teffinger could answer his phone rang and the chief’s voice came through. “I thought you were going to bring your truck down—”
Oops.
“I didn’t forget,” he said. “I’m heading there right now.”
“Good. I got people here chewing my ass.”
Teffinger hung up, looked at Geneva and said, “You better follow me in your car since I might not be able to bring you back.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Day Four—April 15
Friday Night
______________
TRIPP WAS A BALLOON expanded to its limit, ready to pop. Rave Lafelle’s rusty VW was parked on the street, a block from the club. Tripp sat behind the wheel of the Dodge, a half-block down, pointed the same direction as hers, keeping an eye in his rearview mirror. The club closed at two. Now it was ten after. The vampire ought to be coming out any time now.
Then she did.
Walking briskly.
Alone.
Looking agitated.
She was almost at her vehicle when a man bounded out of the club and ran after her. Judging by his build and size, he was the same man who screwed her on the couch the other night.
The boyfriend or whatever he was.
They exchanged words.
Heated words.
Angry words.
Then the vampire slapped him.
The man raised his hand and almost hit her back.
But didn’t.
Then the woman got in the vehicle and squealed out.
Tripp cranked over the engine and followed.
So nice.
He already knew what he’d do.
As soon as she pulled into her driveway, he’d slam to a stop behind her, leave the engine running, and do whatever it took to get her in the trunk.
Whatever it took.
Short of killing her.
Then he’d take her to the warehouse.
UNFORTUNATELY, SOMETHING UNEXPECTED HAPPENED. She didn’t exit at Kipling like she should have. Instead she kept heading west. Where the hell was she going?
Not to worry.
Just keep the same plan.
Grab her fast, as soon as she stopped.
She turned left on Colfax and then left again on another road a mile or so later. Tripp didn’t catch the name. The sign went by too fast. But it was a dark road that winded away from the lights.
Tripp dropped back.
The last thing he needed was to spook her.
Where was she going?
A girlfriend’s?
There were no other headlights.
Coming or going.
Then something totally unexpected happened.
The vampire pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. There was nothing Tripp could do. He had no choice but to continue going in that direction and pass her.
He approached.
Getting closer and closer.
Then he saw a wonderful sight.
A perfect sight.
She was standing in front of the vehicle.
The hood was up.
Tripp looked in his rearview mirror.
He saw no cars.
He looked ahead.
And saw no cars.
They were the only two out here in the middle of nowhere. Life didn’t get any better than this. He pulled up behind her, left the engine running, punched the trunk release button, stepped out and walked towards her.
“Car problems?” he asked in his kindest voice.
Chapter Forty
Day Four—April 15
Friday Night
______________
WITH FOUR SCREWDRIVERS IN HER GUT and two joints in her lungs, Rave wished that she had taken Forrest Jones’ advice and stayed sober.
But she hadn’t and that was that.
When the gig was over, she stepped into the Denver nightscape and headed for the VW, just like she was supposed to. Parker ran over just like he was supposed to.
And they argued.
Just like they were supposed to.
With one exception.
It was real.
“You’re stoned!” Parker said. “You screwed it all up—”
She pushed past him.
“I’m fine.”
“This is a no go,” he said.
“The hell it is.”
He grabbed her arm.
But she twisted away and slapped him.
He almost hit her back.
She ducked in the car, pushed the lock down before Parker could get his hand on the handle, and squealed off. She watched him in the rearview mirror, waving his arms for her to stop, frantic.
“Love you,” she said.
And kept going.
SHE TOOK THE 6TH AVENUE FREEWAY west to Colfax and then to Rooney Road, speeding. The city lights disappeared and blackness took over.
Game time.
Her heart raced.
A solitary car followed.
A ways back.
Him.
She could feel his eyes.
She pictured him twisting a wooden stake in his fingers as he drove.
She got to the place she was supposed to stop. She slowed, but was too scared to actually pull over.
Then she did.
She left the engine running and the headlights on.
And stepped out.
She opened the hood as if she had engine trouble.
Just like she was supposed to.
And waited.
The other car continued to approach. At first, it was just a pair of headlights. Now those headlights punched out glimpses of terrain. Then the sound came—first, the humming of the tires; and then the purring of the engine. Finally it was all the way there. She held her breath and prayed for it to pass. It didn’t. Instead it pulled behind her and stopped. A touch of dirt kicked up and flickered in front of the headlights. A strong man stepped out and said, “Car problems?”
At that moment she realized something.
The gun.
She had forgotten to grab it.
It was still under the passenger seat.
Okay—
Just be cool.
Forrest wouldn’t let anything happ
en to her.
The man was next to her now, illuminated by the headlights. He was big, well over six feet. He must have seen a look of fear on her face because he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.” He smiled and added, “Rave.”
Rave?
He knew her name!
He was definitely the slayer!
“Stop!” she shouted.
Forrest’s cue.
She looked towards the back of the car, where Forrest would charge from.
But he didn’t come.
Not in the next second.
Or the one after that.
Or the one after that.
Then she realized that she had stopped at the wrong place.
Chapter Forty-One
Day Four—April 15
Friday Night
______________
THE STRESS OF NOT FINDING JENA VELLONE made Teffinger prop up with too much coffee during the day, so much so that even now, at nine o’clock at night, his nervous system still sparked like a downed power line. He drank a Bud Light in three long gulps to counterbalance it. Then he pulled another one out of the fridge, looked at London and said, “You feel like taking a walk?”
She did.
So they headed out the front door and put one streetlight after another in their wake. They were ten minutes into it when Teffinger said, “Jeez, I just realized it’s Friday night. You’re probably used to doing something fun—”
She hooked her arm through his.
“Trust me, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said.
“There’s nothing to make up.”
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“Relax, Nick. I’m not here to be entertained,” she said. “I’m here because we’re starting something. Right?”
He squeezed her.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then.”
HE HESITATED AND THEN SAID, “I need to give you a heads-up on something. The press has been spotlighting Jena Vellone, which has forced everything to be strictly by the book. The problem is, when you look at it strictly by the book, I was the last person to see her alive, meaning that I’m automatically a person of interest.”
“That’s wrong.”
“Yeah, well, unfortunately the truth doesn’t matter,” Teffinger said. “They pulled me off the case today. Then they took my truck this afternoon and processed it. They found some drops of blood and are going to have them analyzed. My suspicion is that the blood is Jena’s, but it’s there only because she got a nosebleed that night when I was driving her home. Anyway, once the press finds out that Jena’s blood is in my truck, they’re going to get real interested in me.”
“Screw ’em.”
Teffinger grunted.
“I could care less about the whole thing,” he said. “Except that it’s totally messing up my investigation.”
“If I can do anything, let me know,” she said.
He nodded.
Maybe he would.
“I just didn’t want you to get blindsided by it.” He drank the rest of the beer, crushed the can with his foot and then shoved it in his back pocket. “The whole thing will blow over eventually,” he said, “but I didn’t want you to get overly excited about it in the short-term.”
THEY WALKED IN SILENCE.
Then Teffinger said, “I got the weirdest case. Someone pounded a wooden stake into a woman’s heart as if she was a vampire. I thought I had it solved, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was pretty sure a skinhead did it and even got his picture all over the news,” he said. “But it turns out that there was a similar murder in Paris—a model named Diamanda. The strange part, though, is that she had a bodyguard who got beaten to death. My skinhead wouldn’t have been strong enough to do it. Meaning that I either have the wrong man, or I have the right man but there are two or more people doing the same thing.”
“Bizarre,” London said.
Teffinger nodded.
“What was the woman’s name?”
“You mean my woman?”
“Right.”
“Cameron Leigh,” Teffinger said. Then he chuckled and added, “Here’s something even more eerie. She had a whole wall full of vampire books in her house. And we found a vial of human blood in her purse.”
London looked startled.
More than Teffinger expected.
“Human blood?”
“Right.”
“Hers?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Someone she killed?”
“We don’t know,” Teffinger said.
“Are you sure it wasn’t animal blood?”
“Positive,” he said. “There are distinct characteristics that are easily identifiable in the lab.”
“Well I will say one thing, you have an exciting life.”
“Actually it’s pretty tedious,” Teffinger said. “It just sounds exciting when I speed it up. Oh, by the way, all this stuff is off the record. Don’t repeat it to anyone.”
“Or what? You going to spank me?”
Teffinger chuckled.
“No, I’m going to do that anyway.”
WHEN THEY GOT HOME, Teffinger grabbed another beer and plopped down on the couch. Suddenly the lights went out and the room slipped into darkness, broken only by a few peripheral rays of illumination thrown from a distant streetlight.
London walked over through the dark.
Barely discernible.
But visible enough for Teffinger to tell that she was naked.
Incredibly naked.
Hypnotically naked.
She laid across his lap.
Face down.
And wiggled her ass.
Then she said, “Okay, let’s see what you got.”
He chuckled.
“Be careful,” he said. “I’m not as straight-laced as you might think.”
“Go ahead then.”
He put his hand on her ass and was amazed, yet again, at how taut it was.
Then he gave her a few light taps.
“That’s it?” she asked. “What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever done anything kinky before?”
“Of course I have.”
“What?”
“I had a girlfriend once who liked to be tied up,” he said. “Does that count?”
London wiggled her ass.
“In what position?”
“Spread-eagle on the bed.”
“Nice,” she said. “And what did you do to her, when she was all helpless and under your control and spread-eagle on the bed?”
“I teased her.”
“You teased her?
“Right.”
“How?”
“I’d feel her all over and bring her to the verge of an orgasm but wouldn’t let her come,” he said. “Then I’d start all over. I’d make her beg and beg for it but wouldn’t let her come until I felt like it.”
London wiggled.
“I want you to do that to me.”
Teffinger grunted.
“Right now,” she said. “Do you have rope?”
He did.
Ten minutes later he had her secured to the bed.
He worked her over slowly, getting acquainted with her body, finding the sensitive spots, the ticklish spots, the responsive spots.
He turned her into an animal.
Out of control.
Pulling at her bonds.
Wanting and needing only one thing.
But not getting it.
Not until he was good and ready.
Then, after an eternity, he gave in.
Twice.
Then he untied her.
She immediately pushed him on his back and said, “Your turn.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Day Four—April 15
Friday Night
______________
RAVE TRIE
D TO ESCAPE down the dark lonely road but it did no good. Tripp was fast and always had been. He closed the gap in no time and punched her in the back from behind. She hit the ground face first and made a terrible noise. Her face dripped blood as Tripp grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet.
“Don’t fight me!” he warned.
The words must have registered because the intensity went out of her body. Tripp kept an iron fist in her hair and yanked her towards the car.
She went.
Resigned to her fate.
With her fingers on her face.
Trying to feel how much damage there was.
Then something happened.
TRIPP THOUGHT HE HEARD A VOICE.
Hollering.
A long way down the road.
But heading this direction.
He froze and concentrated on it.
Yes.
A voice.
A man’s voice.
Shouting something.
Rave?
Was that what he was saying?
The vampire must have heard it too because she suddenly dug her feet in and tried to pull her hair out of his grip. Tripp didn’t need that. He clasped harder and yanked. The woman screamed and dropped to the ground. He tried to pull her up by her hair but she wouldn’t budge.
“Get up!”
“Screw you!”
The words snapped something in Tripp’s brain. He let go of her hair and punched her in the head as hard as he could. All movement in her body immediately stopped. He might have killed her.
He didn’t know.
And didn’t care.
THE VOICE WAS GETTING CLOSER BY THE SECOND. Tripp looked up the road and was astonished to actually be able to see the man now.
Charging.
“Rave!”
Tripp kicked the woman in the ribs.
Wind came out of her lungs.
But she didn’t move.
Tripp had time to get away. He could hop in his car, this second, and be gone by the time the man reached him. But he wouldn’t have time to get the woman in the trunk first.
Screw that.
He ducked behind the car and then snuck into the blackness.
When the other man came, he spotted Rave on the asphalt and rolled her over to see if she was dead.
That’s when Tripp attacked from behind.
Dark Hunger (A Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order) Page 10