by Amie Gibbons
“Miranda Parks.” He looked up from his computer. “She was twenty-one, a junior at Belmont, and pre-law. Her prints were in the system from a background check she did for an internship at the legislature last summer. Dan and Grant left to talk to the father.”
“She live around the lake?”
“Nope, lives with dad up in Hendersonville.”
“Any connections to Jo?”
“Not that we could tell. Those guys are going to talk to her family and friends.”
“She has to be connected to the club,” I said. “Len said this was an attack on them. Whoever they are.”
“I’m with ya, girl, but I can’t find anything linking her to it.”
“Kat finished the autopsy. Miranda was drained alive. I couldn’t get a vision. But why there? A lot near Vandy and then a Chinese restaurant clear out by the lake? I don’t get it. But based on her clothes, she was out partying.”
“Wait, the Chinese place is open until two. Where does everyone go after a night drinking?” he asked.
“Denny’s,” I said.
Not that I’d been clubbin’ for a while. Too many people in too tight of spaces meant death by visions for my head.
“Right. You go to places open in the middle of the night. Maybe she went clubbing, maybe to the mystery club, maybe on a yacht, or maybe a friend lived around there and she got Chinese on the way to their home.”
“Okay, but no one ever goes partying alone, do they?”
“A young woman by herself? I hope not. But if she was heading home, or to somebody’s place?”
“Then where was her car?”
“Taxi?”
“But why go there? Anything to connect her to someone who lived around there?”
“I’m looking up people she’s Facebook friends with, but it’s going slow and she doesn’t have a lot set on public. I’m hoping Dan can get me into her account when he gets back.”
“Maybe he did grab her from a club and just drove her out there and dumped her.”
“Then why the production on the first one? He left her out in the open, obvious, and with staged bites. Why try to hide this one?”
“To drive us nuts?”
Jet shrugged. “Good a theory as any.”
“So what should I do? Normally Grant tells me to assist someone.”
“The rest of us do paperwork when we have downtime.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I hate paperwork.”
“Help me run down her Facebook friends?”
“Okay. Have you checked other social media?”
He gave me a blank look.
“Like Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat? Facebook’s not exactly the hot new thing anymore. Lots of people are on it, but use the other ones more.”
“Okay, you look into those.”
My phone rang as I stood.
“I swear he’s psychic,” I said, hitting talk. “Yes, sir?”
“Get on tracking down her friends.”
“Yes, sir, but Jet’s-”
“Tell him to answer his damn phone. I want him interviewing the restaurant employees.”
He hung up.
“Wow,” I said. “Ugh, Jet, I think you left your phone on silent again.”
He turned and grabbed it. “Shit! Four missed calls.”
“He said go interview the restaurant employees. I’m supposed to take over for you.”
He nodded at his computer, indicating I should use it so I could pick up where he left off, and ran to the elevator.
I sat down and copied the name Jet had highlighted.
“Too bad I can’t get visions on these people through the computer,” I said. “Please, please let me find something.”
###
Three hours and about two hundred names later when the guys got back, I had pain shooting up my neck and nothing to show for it.
That I knew of.
Until we knew who was connected to that club, we couldn’t say if Miranda’s friends had any connections to them or not. All I found was none of the friends on Facebook lived around that part of the lake or had a yacht, at least not one registered in their name.
We settled around Grant’s desk for an info swap.
“Friends confirm she didn’t have a job, had a ton of friends but no one with a yacht, and no mention of a private club, but was seeing someone for a while now,” Dan said. “The dad hadn’t met him yet, but thought his daughter was spending too much time out because her grades slipped this past semester. One of her friends had met the guy at a party. He introduced himself as Carlos, no last name.”
“Description?” Grant asked.
“Not much of one. Tall, Latino, curly black hair. The girl said she was drunk when she met him so that’s all she remembers.”
I said what I hadn’t found, then Jet summed up the interviews. Nothing we didn’t already know. A worker found the girl and called the cops and no one saw her there last night, alive or dead.
Grant gave us Miranda’s family background. Fairly typical middle class upbringing, and her mom died from cancer two years ago. And he’d checked old cases to see if there were any vamp-looking attacks before the SDF was formed, none in Nashville. At least, none recorded.
“Ariana, go home and get ready,” Grant said. “Be. On. Time. Tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Kowalski, you’re checking cold case files. Bridges, get into her computer. Emails, social media, snapchat, whatever. I want to know who she was seeing.”
And we were off.
I got home, left food out for Pyro and opened the window so he could get out, scarfed some leftovers from my favorite Italian place, pulled my hair up in a clip, and changed into a red wrap dress and my camera necklace and earbud.
I sped to the club, stomach twistin’ with bats.
The point of undercover is to find information you normally wouldn’t be able to get cuz you need the information, but goin’ in knowing so little… well, it wasn’t the brightest move on our part.
The front parking lot was pretty empty. I drove around back and parked in the dirt alley area. The employee entrance and a low to the ground, shaded window were the only breaks in the brick wall.
I walked to the door and paused. Len had told me I could walk right in but shouldn’t there have been some kind of guard for such an exclusive place?
I opened the door and a big guy looked up from a tiny table next to the door.
“Name?” he grunted.
He wore jeans and a tight black tee that showed off biceps as big as my head and tattoo sleeves. He was shaved bald with a squishy face and squinty eyes.
He looked like he was rented from Guards R Us.
“Um, hi.” It wasn’t too hard to act nervous. “I’m the singer... Ariana?”
I held out my hand for him to shake. He didn’t.
“This way, miss.”
He locked the door behind me with a flick of the wrist and led me down the back hallway I’d been in yesterday. He knocked on the door of the office and Len answered.
“Thanks, John. I’ve got her from here.” Len smiled as he watched John walk away and I suppressed a giggle.
“Hey, Len!” I said and he jerked back a smidge. “Sorry. Volume. I’m a little nervous.”
“That’s alright, darling,” he said in a general American accent. Apparently the affected Texan accent had left the building.
“What happened to your drawl?”
“I just felt like being Texan for a night.”
I fought a smile. He still looked like a cowboy tonight with a gold shirt and a ten gallon hat.
“Okay, so how does this work? Do you give me songs to sing or..?”
“I’ve got a list of songs, separated by mood. I tell you what to go for and you choose a song you can do from the list. Our band can play anything in there.
He handed me a thick binder. I reached in a little too far to take it and grazed his hand.
Flash.
Len was shaking like a
lamb as another blond guy leaned over him.
They were both naked and obviously happy to be that way. I couldn’t see much of anything past them, the world was fuzzy white. Len felt happy, but terrified.
That was wrong. You didn’t feel both at once. There was… something.
My stomach twisted. I didn’t like this. Death hung on the air.
“You’ll wake up and be like me,” the second one whispered, running his hand up Len’s arm.
His thick, shoulder length hair fell over his face as he angled into Len’s neck. There was a flash of thin, almost needle-like fangs before they vanished into Len’s neck.
Len jerked.
“...start, you do one romantic song, introduce yourself, wail it out, and then do about a half an hour of numbers from the country dance section, and we’ll go from there,” Len was saying. “What’s wrong, darling?”
Could he hear my heartbeat increase, my uneven breaths? Did he notice me glaze over?
Did he know I knew?
“I’m trying not to freak out, actually,” I said. “I mean, all I’ve ever done is karaoke; this is like a real job.”
He smiled like he understood.
I placed a hand on my stomach as it lurched.
“Is it okay if I run to the bathroom and then come out and get going? Stomach needs to be told it’s gonna be okay.”
“Of course.”
Len showed me to the ladies room and went back to the office without glancing back.
Trusting or confident?
So that’s why he didn’t he want me touchin’ him? Was he afraid I’d notice the cool skin? The lack of a pulse?
I ran the water in the sink just in case their hearing was a good as myths said.
“Houston, we have a problem,” I said very quietly.
“What?” Grant asked.
“Len’s a vamp.” I couldn’t stop my hands shaking. “I think it’s a vampire club.”
Chapter four
“Are you fucking kidding me!” Grant yelled, making me flinch.
“Ow, little loud, sir,” I said.
“Sorry.”
I think that’s the first time Grant’s ever apologized for anything. Like in his whole life.
“Did you get a vision?” Jet asked.
“Yeah. I saw Len getting bit. And his hand was cold… not dead cold, just cool, like poor circulation.”
“So you don’t know if it’s the whole club?” Grant asked.
“No, and I know, don’t assume anything, but I can’t help it. It’s a feeling. Len talkin’ about them like they’re a group, I…” I took a deep breath. “I’m freaking out, General. What do I do?”
Mutters filled the background. Grant must’ve taken his mic off.
“Stick to the plan,” Foster said after a pause as fat as a prize pig.
Where the crap did she come from?
More noise, definitely Grant’s voice, and maybe one other.
“Ariana, get out of there,” Grant said.
“No, stay there,” Foster said. “You’re in. We are not squandering this opportunity.”
“Listen to me, you bitch-”
Buzzzzzzzzzz.
Holy crap and kittens on crackers, she cut Grant off.
“Stick to the plan, Agent Ryder,” Foster said. “That’s a direct order. And if Agent Grant wants to keep his job, he’s going to remember the proper response to a direct order.”
“Ummmmm.”
“Your orders are to sing and touch people when you can to get visions. There’s no reason to think you’re in any more danger than before. I want to know what they know.”
“You fucking politician,” Grant yelled, makin’ me jump. “You’re an irresponsible hack. What are you going to say when my agent’s the next girl dead? You don’t get to shove your bullshit orders down my throat when we all know you’re angling for a promotion and my agent’s life is on the line.”
My jaw dropped.
Can she actually fire Grant? Because after that, she may fire him.
“General,” I said, “if you keep doing that, I’m going to be distracted, and I can’t afford that. Please, let me try.”
“You don’t ask him, Ryder,” Foster said.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but he’s my lead and he’s saved my life more than once. If he thinks it’s too dangerous for me, I’m trustin’ his judgement. And so should you.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
I can’t believe I just said that!
“The second anything goes sideways, get out of there,” Grant said. “We’ll be there in under a minute if you give the signal, but…”
“A lot can happen in a minute. I remember, sir.”
“If you get yourself hurt, you’re fired.”
I actually laughed then. “Yes, sir.”
I headed back to Len’s office, stomach and head high on my bravery. I stood up to the director!
“Sorry that took so long,” I said to Len once I got back to his office.
“You okay?”
“Just nervous.” I grabbed the binder. “Pretty sure I know what I want to sing though.”
We ran down my choices and Len okayed them, checkin’ his watch. “You ready?”
Nope.
“Yup.”
I followed him out into the club and had to pinch myself as the wall of noise hit me.
The place was packed! The parking lot was virtually empty maybe fifteen minutes ago. Where did they all come from?
Gulp!
Len took the stage and the generic eighties overhead cut off.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Ariana Finn. She has graciously agreed to sing for us tonight. She’s a senior at Vandy and is saving up for law school, but I figure we can forgive her for being a future bloodsucker.”
The crowd tittered and my heart rate shot right through the roof.
Was that some kind of prediction?
“She’s going to sing, you’re going to enjoy it. Everyone, have a great evening at The Kickback.”
So that was the name of the club.
He handed the mike to me. “Knock ‘em dead, darling.”
Gee, shouldn’t be too difficult.
I took a sip of water as the music started, pretendin’ Grant was telling my nerves to shut the hell up in his calm voice. I pictured his face in front of me as I started singing and the belly snakes calmed down.
The clubbers went back to their dancing, drinks and conversations, clapping for me between songs.
Me and the band did an eight song set then went on break.
They turned the sound system back on, and I moseyed over to the bar where Len sat.
“Sooooo?” I asked.
“So how do Mondays and Thursdays and alternating weekends sound?” he said.
“Wahoo!” I squealed, lunging and wrapping him in a hug.
Flash.
No picture, the world was bright red.
“Thanks, Quil,” Len said. “Miranda’s Carlos’s girl, that plus Jo…”
“It’s an attack against our nest. Even if the queen didn’t order me, I would help,” the other guy, Quil apparently, said in a beautiful purr of a voice. “Let me talk to them one at a time tonight. Someone got away with Jo from here somehow without anyone noticing. Someone had to let him in. Are you sure Jo didn’t?”
“She wouldn’t have,” Len said.
“Then I’ll question them tonight.”
“What if it was one of us?”
“Why would any of us do that?”
“You’re the investigator,” Len said. “You tell me.”
I blinked, nausea like too much candy sweepin’ my stomach.
“Thanks, Len. I won’t let you down,” I said.
I excused myself and rushed to the bathroom to fill the guys in on what I’d heard.
“Nest?” Dan asked. “They actually fucking nest?”
I shrugged at the mirror. “I think it’s safe to say they don’t know much more a
bout the case than us at the moment, and they’re investigating too. Do I just keep doing what I’m doing?”
“Yes,” Grant said. “We’re running the faces you got with the camera through the system and we’ve gotten two hits off driver’s licenses.”
“Great, so that means-”
“Both are dead.”
“Never mind. So we found a nest. And I’m in it. Oh yay me.”
“Be careful,” Grant said before I walked back out.
“Excuse me, Ariana, is it?”
My jaw turned to jelly and my knees weren’t far behind.
The man in front of me was about six feet of pure, lean muscled goodness. He had short, soft blond curls that begged to be touched, chiseled features, and the prettiest eyes. Large and expressive, they were an impossible mix of green and blue.
I wanted to bathe in those eyes.
And that purr of a voice was most definitely the guy I’d heard in my vision. The voice slid over my skin like satin and I wanted to stroke his throat just to get closer to it.
The jeans and green button-up were obviously tailored and showed off his long, lean body.
Yum.
I grinned. “Ariana, yeah, that’s me.”
He smiled back, flashin’ dimples and little boy charm.
Why was the song ‘Black Velvet’ suddenly playin’ in my head?
“I’m a private investigator and I need to ask you a few questions, Ariana.”
He opened the door next to the men’s room and gestured for me to go in.
“Ummmmmm.” I looked around.
Shouldn’t Grant be sayin’ go in or not?
But nothin’.
“I’m going back on soon,” I said.
“Oh, I assure you, this will only take a moment.”
“Well, okay.”
I walked into a small office that didn’t look like it got used often and he closed the door behind us.
“Please sit,” he said, taking a chair in front of the desk and wavin’ a hand at the other.
“Len already said he could spare you for a few extra minutes, and this won’t take long.”
With that voice, you can ask me anything you want.
I blushed and cleared my throat. “Okay. What about?”
“Just relax, please.”
I frowned as he turned his chair to face mine.
Well that was a non-answer if I’d ever heard one.