“Yeah?” The young woman’s voice was staticky over the line, but I recognized Teresa’s deep tones.
“Teresa, it’s Marisol Whitman, Elaine’s sister.” There was a pause, and then she said, “Elaine isn’t here.”
I took a deep breath. It had been a reach to think I might find her at Teresa’s, but I’d still hoped. “Can I come up and talk to you? It’s important.”
“Yeah, sure.” The door buzzed and I yanked it open and stepped inside. What passed for a lobby in Teresa’s building was small, and covered in brown carpet that carried obvious stains. The small mailboxes that had been incorporated into one wall were the only things that broke up the room. A stairwell rose at the end of the narrow room, with a hallway next to it leading to the first-floor apartments.
I walked up the stairs to the third level and knocked on the fourth door on the left. Apartment 308.
Teresa opened the door almost instantly. Eyes wide, she stepped back and let me in. The small apartment was a studio style. The bed sat in one corner of the large room and a couch sat against the other wall. A small television was sitting on a dresser next to the bed, right across from the couch. A tiny kitchen was off to one side, with a bathroom across from it. The apartment was small but tidy. No sign any crazy party had happened there lately, and no sign of Elaine.
“Is everything okay?” Teresa asked.
Teresa looked like a deer in headlights, and I suddenly realized that I’d only met her once, when Elaine brought her to the house for a study session. I pasted on a smile and did my best to make it soothing instead of forced.
“I hope so. When was the last time you saw Elaine and Wendy?”
“Last night at the library. We headed out together, but they went to the south parking lot and I took the L.”
“Elaine didn’t take the L?”
“No, I think she was planning on it, but—”
“So she left with Wendy? Did they talk about going anywhere else before they headed home?”
“No, it sounded like they were going right home.” Her eyes were still wide, like any moment she expected me to pull my gun.
“I’m sorry, Teresa. I’m not trying to scare you, but I haven’t seen Elaine since yesterday. She didn’t come home last night.”
Teresa grasped her hands together and tugged her fingers nervously. “She didn’t come home? That’s not like her.”
I nodded, doing my best not to yell that I was well aware the behavior was very unlike my sister.
“They didn’t say they were going anywhere else. I’m sorry. I just assumed they went home.”
“Why didn’t you ride with them?” Wendy’s apartment was less than a mile from Teresa’s.
Teresa shrugged. “I was going to my boyfriend’s. He lives up north.”
I paced in Teresa’s small room. From the end of the bed to the end of the living room. Back and forth. Teresa watched me, nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek.
Halting in midstride, I pivoted to face her. “Nothing unusual happened at all yesterday? I need to know everything. Start at the beginning, from when you met them at the library. Every detail you remember. Every.
Thing.”
Teresa took a deep breath and began her story.
I pulled into the parking lot, taking one-and-a-half spaces, then strode into the station. Vasquez’s door was closed. I paused in front of it. Barging into his office not once, but twice in one day? I steeled myself. I didn’t have time for knocking.
I swung open the door and stepped inside. Vasquez sat across from a man who looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
“Thanks for knocking,” Vasquez said, but his voice lacked anger.
“No one has seen Elaine or her friend since last night.
I’m going to pull contact information for Wendy—the friend she was with. But we need to file a missing person’s report on Elaine now, Vasquez.”
The lieutenant’s eye twitched at my lack of proper address, but he didn’t call me out for it. I guessed that having a missing sister helped my latitude with him.
“Already done, Marisol.” He gestured to the man across from him. “This is Agent Valerio Costa. He’s from the OWEA. I’ve already briefed him on your sister’s case.” The Otherworlder Enforcement Agency was a federal investigative force similar to the FBI, but they mainly investigated crimes that involved otherworlder victims and criminals. Why would an OWEA agent be interested in Elaine?
I nodded at Costa. Even sitting, he looked tall and deceptively slender because of his height. I could make out the muscles under his dark gray button-up shirt. He wasn’t built like a meathead, but he definitely visited the gym regularly. His nose was hawk-like and a touch imperfect, like he’d broken it a few times. Black hair topped his head and waved around his face, softening his otherwise sharp features, and I had the sudden desire to brush a lock of hair away from his face with my fingertips. Dark brown eyes met mine—not angry, but hard and closed-off.
Costa reached out and I met his hand with my own.
He shook it, his fingers firm and almost cold against mine.
I frowned and examined him more closely.
“Vampire?” The question was rude, but propriety was the least of my worries. I needed to know who I was dealing with. He didn’t have the slight paleness that vampires were known for, but then he may have fed recently. No fear emanated from him, but that didn’t disqualify the vampire angle altogether, since some vampires exuded more fear than others.
A grimace touched Costa’s features, gone so quickly I wasn’t even certain I saw it. “Salamander.”
“Ah.” Salamanders were essentially a type of elemental. They could control fire and were resistant to its effects. I didn’t know any personally, but they weren’t the rarest of otherworlders, and most were only slightly more powerful than a match.
“Agent Costa is investigating the disappearance of succubi around the country.”
My heart skipped, and I dropped Costa’s hand as if the cold had suddenly been replaced with fire.
“Tell me.” My voice was firm and void of the emotion that boiled just below the surface.
“Nearly twenty succubi have disappeared from various locations around the country over the last two years. Most young, under thirty.” Costa’s voice was deep and smooth, with a hint of an Italian accent.
“None…recovered?” I asked, fearing his response.
“They are still considered missing, not presumed deceased.”
I dragged out the chair next to Costa’s and sat down heavily. “Why do you think they’re still alive?”
“We’ve picked up rumors of a man who is selling succubi to the highest bidders.” He paused and took a deep breath, eyes on mine as if assessing my ability to take whatever news he was about to give me. I met his stare with a hard expression that seemed to reassure him that I could take it, but he glanced at the lieutenant and waited for his slight nod before continuing. “It seems he’s selling them as sex slaves.”
My stomach dropped and the room spun. I gripped the arms of my chair and tried to grasp my thoughts. God.
With everything Elaine had already been through, it just wasn’t fair. Couldn’t be real. “That doesn’t make any sense.
Succubi can kill with their powers. It can be suppressed with drugs or magic, but then they wouldn’t be any more interesting than normal human women. Why target succubi?”
“We’re not sure. The bit of information we’ve been able to glean is unreliable, and it varies depending on who we talk to. The one consistent rumor is that they’re still alive. And that’s what you should focus on.” I opened my mouth to tell him not to tell me what to focus on, but then snapped it shut. My strength was in my ability to deal with people, even bossy, know-it-all OWEA people. I’d get more info from him playing nice than playing hardball. “All right. What else do we know?
I’ll need some specifics.”
“I’ll get you files on the victims and the case summary I�
��ve put together so far. We need to figure out where they took your sister and how. This is the quickest a disappearance has been reported, so we might be able to get them while they’re in the area.”
“Wait—when exactly did you get into town?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Did you know there was a danger and not warn us?”
Vasquez turned a suspicious glare to Costa, but the OWEA agent didn’t look the slightest bit uncomfortable under our scrutiny.
“I got into town last night. There was another kidnapping here several months ago, and then two weeks ago a succubus disappeared in Phoenix. The one here took a while to get reported, since she was estranged from her family. My partner is in Phoenix right now. I didn’t expect them to hit the same city more than once in such close succession.” He met my gaze. “I got lucky.” I flew from my seat and Costa grabbed my wrists to protect himself from the blows I was trying to level at his face.
“Get off him, Marisol!” Vasquez barked.
“I’m sorry,” Costa said. “That was…a poor choice of words.”
Poor choice of words. Yeah, sure. I yanked my wrists out of his cool hands and sat back in my chair.
“I really am sorry,” he murmured.
I looked up at him. His mask had fallen just enough for me to see that he meant his words. Or that he wanted me to think he did, anyway. I gave him a short nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Costa cleared his throat. “I would like your help on the case, if you don’t mind. My partner is in Phoenix for a few more days, at least. I could use another investigator.”
“Of course!”
“Now wait just a damn minute,” Vasquez said. “This is personal. No way am I putting her on this. Her judgment is impaired.”
“My judgment is fine,” I snapped, pushing myself up from the chair to tower over the seated lieutenant.
“Normally I’d agree with you, Lieutenant,” Costa said, voice back to smooth and confident. “But Whitman is the only succubus you have at the detective level in your squad, and I think a succubus could be helpful in this case. Perhaps you will allow me to consult with her, if not involve her directly in the investigation?” Vasquez looked like he wanted to argue, but finally he said, “Fine. Though if I think your investigation is in any way harming my officer, I’ll have your badge, Costa.” He turned his gaze to me. “And don’t forget you’re not off the hook with helping Astrid. Claude will be back in a couple of days, but she may need some backup in the meantime.
If nothing else, the murder investigation should keep you out of trouble.”
Chapter Three
“Where are we going first?” Costa asked after Vasquez’s office door shut safely behind us.
I blinked at him.
“Come on,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “I’m not an idiot. I didn’t really believe your lieutenant’s orders were going to faze you.”
I cleared my throat. “I need to look up some info on Elaine’s friend Wendy. She’s a siren, and I haven’t been able to track her down. She was the last person to see Elaine as far as I’ve been able to tell. I’m afraid something has happened to her, too.”
Costa nodded and gestured for me to lead the way. The man was cool under pressure. Most people—
otherworlder or no—would have pressed for more info or shown more emotion when I mentioned Wendy’s species.
Sirens were relatively rare and almost always stayed away from humans as much as possible. Their abilities were very powerful, and that made normals and otherworlders very suspicious of them—more so than succubi, even, which was quite an accomplishment.
I walked to my desk, unusually self-conscious with Costa behind me, and far too aware of him. When we reached my computer, I sat and logged into the national police database.
Costa placed his hands on the back of my chair, and I was careful not to lean back and touch him. I needed to stay focused on Elaine. He leaned forward and his scent swirled around me. Aftershave and something spicy that could only be him. I closed my eyes for a second before I snapped them back open. Priorities much?
“So tell me what you’ve learned so far.” I pursed my lips. “I talked to her friend Teresa. Normal, twenty years old. She spent the afternoon and early evening with Elaine and Wendy at the library. Nothing unusual. Studying, girl-talk.”
“Nothing at all unusual? Are you sure?” Costa cut in.
“Yes, I’m sure. I know how to question a witness.” Costa didn’t comment, so I continued. “At the end of the night, Teresa left for the train station. Elaine and Wendy headed the opposite direction, toward the lot where Wendy’s car was parked.” I typed Wendy’s name and address into the police database.
“Did you get any other info?”
“No. There wasn’t any other info to get.” I suppressed a sigh when the screen came up with little more information than what I already had. I’d figured Wendy wouldn’t have a police record, but I’d hoped she might. It would have made our jobs just a hair easier. “We’ll need to go to the college to get contact info for Wendy’s family. She’s not in the system. Given the situation, hopefully they won’t give us a hard time about a warrant.”
“Full name?” Costa asked.
“Wendy Larson.”
“Do you mind?”
I slid out of the chair so he could sit. He pulled up the national database and logged in. I frowned at his list of options, which were far more extensive than my own.
“Are you going to read over my shoulder?” he asked.
“That was the plan.”
He stiffened but continued his search. A few quick clicks later, he ended on a page with a Skokie address.
The wheels squeaked as he rolled the chair out from under the desk. “Let’s go meet the parents.” Wendy Larson’s parents lived in one of the wealthier suburbs just north of Chicago. With access to the Red Line, one of the trains leading directly to various locations in the city, the neighborhood was desirable for people who worked in the city, but who also wanted the slower pace and free space that could only be found outside of the high-rises.
Costa parked in front of the quaint white home. With its shutters and large front porch, it would have fit in a small town in the southern part of the country more so than a Chicago suburb, and I wondered if her parents actually used the old wooden swing that hung on the porch.
I knocked on the door, trying to ignore the sensation of Valerio Costa’s body standing so close behind mine. The coolness that had clung to his hands when they touched me at the station seemed to cling to his whole body, and I shivered.
“Are you cold?” he murmured.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Saved from his response by the door opening, I almost sighed in relief at the sight of the woman behind the door.
Dark brown hair tucked into a neat bun at the base of her neck, she looked so like Wendy that I would have guessed them to be sisters. But Wendy didn’t have a sister, so the tall woman had to be her mother.
“Annette Larson?” I asked
A quizzical look on her face, she nodded. “Yes, I’m Annette.”
“My name is Marisol Whitman, and I’m a detective with the Chicago Police Department. This is Agent Costa.
We need to talk to you about your daughter.” Her polite smile faltered. “What? Is everything all right? Has there been an accident?”
“We hope everything is okay. And we don’t know that anything has happened to Wendy, but we need to speak with her, Mrs. Larson.”
She waved us into the foyer but didn’t invite us farther.
“What is this all about?”
“When was the last time you spoke to your daughter?”
“I talked to Wendy last week; she was fine.”
“Is your husband home?” I shot a quick glance to Costa. He was the lead investigator on this, so why was he letting me do all the talking?
“No. Frank is out of town.”
“We’d like to speak with him, as well.”
“He
’s quite unreachable. And he hasn’t talked Wendy.
They don’t keep in touch.” She crossed her arms, and her face hardened. “What is this about?”
“Wendy hasn’t been seen since last night when she left the library with another young woman who has been reported missing.”
“Excuse me? Last night? Do you have reason to believe that something has happened?” Her voice was tight, as if she spoke through gritted teeth.
“No…it’s just…” I struggled with how to explain.
“The other young woman, for reasons we can’t divulge, is unlikely to have spent the night away from home if not coerced,” Costa said.
Mrs. Larson let out a high-pitched laugh. “Oh my goodness, how silly. You come to my home and scare me.
Make me think my daughter may be in danger or hurt. All because some overprotective parents can’t believe their daughter stayed out overnight?”
“That’s n-not—” I stumbled over my words, trying to figure out how to explain in a way that wouldn’t sound stupid.
Her amusement dropped as suddenly as it appeared.
“Get out. Get out of my house.” She stomped a foot and pointed at the front door. “I don’t need you people coming in, worrying us. Take your prejudices elsewhere.” I looked at Costa, desperate for him to say something, do something, but instead he reached out and gripped my elbow, hand still cool against my skin, even through my blouse. Lightly, he tugged me toward the door.
I searched my mind for a response, any kind of response to make her take us seriously, but it was as if all my training had never happened, all of my experience was null and void. As we stepped through the doorway, Mrs. Larson barely waited for us to clear the frame before slamming the door behind us.
“So what was that, exactly?” I finally asked as we waited in line for a table at The Grill House.
Succubus Lost (Files from the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency, #2) Page 2