They passed the city limits. Garreth floored the accelerator. The car leaped forward like a wild thing unleashed.
Maggie whooped in delight. "This thing really moves. Just don't overrun your lights too far. Cows sometimes get out on the highway along here."
"No problem." Even on this moonless, overcast night the highway stretched in a shining gray ribbon, clearly visible far beyond the edge of the headlights.
He sighed. Nightsight. Vampires. Lane. What was Mrs. Bieber going to do? Here it was nearly Thanksgiving and no word yet about whether she was going to Acapulco or not. Belatedly he realized Maggie had asked him a question. "What?"
"I said, what are you doing Thursday?"
He bit his lip. Was she going to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner? "Nothing in particular. Sleep."
"Not going to pollute your body with delicious, fattening carbohydrates and preservatives and additive-filled plastic side dishes?"
A flood of Thanksgiving memories rose in him, bringing a wave of homesickness. He could never enjoy another feast like those again. Would he even see another holidays? A nagging suspicion had haunted his dreams lately that once he had settled with Lane he would simply cease to exist. "I'm not going to feast, no."
"Then could I talk you into talking Danzig into letting us trade shifts just this once, oh golden-tongued one? Dad and I have been invited to Aunt Ruth's in Victoria and I'd love to be able to spend the whole day there."
Garreth did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed that she was not inviting him to dinner. "I'll talk to Danzig." Without his glasses on.
"Great!" She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Sitting back, she glanced out the window and said, "Look, it's starting to snow."
What? He pulled the car over to the side of the road and switched off the lights. Fat, feathery flakes drifted down around them, and with them the darkness lightened, as though each snowflake brought a bit of moonlight with it. Garreth leaned out the window to stare up, fascinated.
Maggie grinned. "I don't suppose you've seen much of this before. The ground's too warm yet for it to stick, but isn't it pretty?"
"You know what I'd like to do? Run in it. Want to? Just a couple of miles to that rise over there and back."
"Garreth!" She laughed. "Run? Just a couple of miles? Look at my shoes. I can't run anywhere in them. Even if I could, we'd break our legs running in the dark. Let's go on to your place. We can sit out on the deck in the snow there, if you like, and think of some way to warm up afterward."
Pleasure at the snow faded. He put the car in motion again and sighed inwardly. Sitting on the deck would be all right, but . . . he wanted to run. It seemed he and Maggie could date and talk about everyday things. It sounded like she was inviting him to make love later, too. But they could not talk about the things deep in him, could not even share some of the physical activities he had come to take for granted. She could not run through the magic of falling snow with him. Tonight he would just about sell his soul for someone who could.
12
Baumen felt like a ghost town. Garreth saw almost no one. Kansas Avenue lay completely deserted. Which did not disturb him a great deal. With luck nothing would happen on the shift. Even beneath an overcast sky threatening snow that might manage to stick in today's near-freezing temperature, and wearing his trooper glasses, the light still gave him a headache. Somewhere above the clouds the sun pressed down on him, draining his energy. l hope you appreciate what I'm doing for you, Maggie. 1 wouldn't take on the sun for just anyone.
He tried not to think about what she was doing at the moment, for fear it might bring on more memories and homesickness. But those came anyway. Would calling home after the shift help or just make the pain more unbearable?
"Baumen 407," the radio murmured. "Public service a Mrs. Anna Bieber at 555-7107."
Mrs. Bieber? Garreth drove to the telephone outside the A & W and dialed the number. Background voices almost drowned out conversation with the woman who answered. Garreth had to shout to make her understand who he wanted to talk to.
But finally Mrs. Bieber came on the line. "I tried calling you at home but Emily Schoning said Helen said you were working. Can you come to the house after you're off? I have the address of the hotel in Acapulco where I'll be joining Mada after Christmas."
He sighed. So it was decided. At least he had several weeks to sell the car and make other arrangements. "It may be eight-thirty before I'm through. Is that too late for you?"
"I'll be expecting you."
He hung up the phone and leaned against the side of the booth, staring out at the patrol car. Guilt stabbed him at the thought of walking out on Danzig and the department. He could give them a story about a critical illness in his family, but it was still unfair to everyone. Doubt at the correctness of his chosen course nagged him again. It spread pain from one temple across his forehead to the other, a headache which not even sunset cured.
At the watch change, Maggie took the car keys from him and said, "You look terrible. I think you're right about being a night person. Would you like it if I come over after I get off and show my appreciation for the favor?"
Monday night seemed to have started something. Would she be amused or insulted if he told her he had a headache? No, headache or not, he wanted her to come. He needed someone, however wide the gulf between them. "The bed and I will be waiting."
He raced through his reports and drove straight to Mrs. Bieber's, still in uniform except for the equipment belt left in his locker at the station.
The old woman answered the door. "My, you look nice. I've never seen you in uniform before. Come on in the living room." She led the way.
He smiled at her despite the lump in his stomach. "I hope you had a good Thanksgiving."
"Oh, yes. My daughter Kathryn hosted this year. It was noisy, of course, but I loved every chaotic minute." She stopped and turned to face him. "I'm afraid I have a confession to make."
A chill of unease moved down his spine. "Confession?"
"I have a hotel address, but that was just an excuse to get you here. Come on." She moved on into the living room.
He followed, only to stop in the doorway. A woman sitting on the couch stood up.
Mrs. Bieber grinned. "I wanted to surprise you. Garreth, this is my daughter Mada."
Mada! His stomach plunged. But this was not Lane! The woman had the right height, legs that seemed to stretch forever and looked even longer with the high heels on her black boots and her snugly fitting dark green slacks. Mahogany hair swept the shoulders of a scarlet turtleneck, but . . . gray streaked the red and her skin had the coarseness and creases of middle age.
He felt numb with shock. All these weeks he'd been lying in wait for the wrong woman? But-his mind stumbled trying to think-the postmark, the school picture, Mrs. Bieber's description of her daughter as a singer; how could all that match so well and yet be so totally wrong!
"I . . . am very glad to meet you," he managed to force out. He must not betray his disappointment.
"And I you," Mada said in an amused voice.
He stiffened. It was Lane's voice.
Looking at her again more closely, this time he saw her eyes. His heart jumped. The eyes were hers, too. They reflected the light, vampire eyes, and they glinted cold and blood-red, recognizing him . . . measuring him.
1
A jumble of emotions and thoughts jostled each other in Garreth's head:
Admiration . . . That's a really convincing make-up job.
Relief . . . I don't have to go to Acapulco after all.
Anxiety . . . Oh, lord, we're in the middle of her mother's living room; 1 can't arrest her here.
Concern . . . This is going to make the department short for the weekend.
Dismay . . . So soon? I thought I wouldn't be dealing with her until after Christmas. I don't want to leave here yet.
Apprehension . . . What will happen to me now, when she's in custody and my reason for living is gone?
/> From somewhere beyond the mindstorm, Mrs. Bieber's delighted voice reached him. "Isn't this nice? Mada got tired of Acapulco and decided to come home. We picked her up at the airport in Hays this morning."
"Not tired, Mama," Lane said. "I was there with a friend who had a terrible accident and I just couldn't enjoy it any longer." The middle-aged mask smiled at Garreth. "Mama says you're from San Francisco. Are you the same Garreth Mikaelian the papers were calling Lazarus?"
"Accident? You didn't say anything about that before," Mrs. Bieber said.
"I didn't want to spoil Thanksgiving, Mama. My mother has been telling me something about you, Mr. Mikaelian," Lane said lightly. "It's a very interesting story, but also a little puzzling. Baumen is a long way from San Francisco. How did you happen to come here?"
He took off his glasses and met her eyes. "Good police work."
"What kind of accident?" Mrs. Bieber asked.
Lane shrugged. "He was found at the bottom of the cliff with his neck broken and throat torn out. The police said he must have been attacked by some dogs and fell over the cliff trying to escape from them."
Garreth reached automatically for his own throat, for the now almost-indistinguishable lines of scarring.
"He?" Mrs. Bieber's forehead furrowed in distress. "You were there with a-I'm sorry," she said as Lane started to frown. "I just can't imagine you as part of this modern morality. I'm so sorry about your friend. Are you all right?"
Satiated, Garreth thought angrily. Replete. She had come home to wait for Acapulco to cool.
"I'm fine, Mama. He wasn't a close friend, and there was nothing improprietous." She smiled at her mother without taking her eyes from Garreth. "Men don't have wild affairs with women my age. I shared a room with his teenage grandaughter in order to help him chaperon her. So you've decided to settle here because it's a pleasant change from the city, my mother tells me. But you're still a policeman."
The mockery underlying the pleasant tone irritated Garreth. He said evenly, "It's what I know how to do best, enforce the law." See what she made of that.
Her eyes flared red.
Mrs. Bieber glanced from him to her daughter, her forehead furrowed, obviously sensing the tension between them but unable to understand the reason for it. In a determinedly cheerful tone, she said, "Why don't you two sit down and get acquainted while I go make tea. Garreth doesn't drink coffee, either."
She left the room.
Garreth took off his jacket but continued to stand, eyeing Lane.
She broke the silence first, raising her brows and laughing. With the sound of it he seemed to see through the mask to the ever-young face beneath. "You amaze and delight me, Inspector. I've been looking forward to our next meeting, but I confess I never expected it to be here. Tell me, how did you find your way?"
He blinked, nonplussed. She looked forward to their next meeting? What made her think there would be one? "I'll tell you all about it on the way back to San Francisco."
Lane turned away, walking in a wide arc toward a widow, where she peered out into the night, toying with the jaw-high collar of her turtleneck. "Ah. So that's the reason for your remark just now about enforcing the law. You came to arrest me."
The arc took her well around a crucifix on the wall, Garreth noticed. "Hunting killers is my job and you killed Mossman and Adair. You tried to kill me."
She whirled. "No, Inspector; I did not try to kill you. If I'd wanted you dead, rest assured you would have been found with your neck broken.
So it had not been a mere oversight. "Why didn't-" he began.
"Tell me, how do you propose to take me back?"
He frowned. How did she think? "There's a warrant for your arrest. Extradition will be arranged and you'll-"
She hissed, interrupting him. "Are you really so dense? I mean, how will you take me back? By what means do you propose to force me to accompany you and remain confined: rosestem handcuffs? A cell with garlic on the bars? May I remind you that anything used against me hurts you equally, if you can even convince your law enforcement colleagues to agree to such nonsense."
The words echoed uncomfortably through his head. It had not even occurred to him there would be problems with taking her back and jailing her. Even given his concentration on finding her, how could he have been so blind, so unforesighted. Dumb, tunnel-visioned flatfoot. There must be a way to handle her, though. He could not just let her walk away.
The crucifix caught his eyes. "Maybe I can drape a rosary around your wrists."
Lane's pupils dilated. "Superstition," she said smoothly.
But Garreth watched her breathing quicken and pupils dilate. Superstition, yes, since crosses and holy water did not bother him, but superstition still affected those who believed in it . . . and the look of this house told him she had been brought up in the bosom of the Roman Catholic church. "Then why did you tear the Christian fish symbol off Mossman's neck?"
"I detest tacky jewelry." She came back to him, again swinging wide around the crucifix. "Open your eyes, Inspector. It's useless to arrest or try me. Our kind are beyond the reach of mere human laws."
"No." He shook his head. No one could be beyond the law. Without law there was only chaos. "I don't believe-"
He broke off as Mrs. Bieber came in with tea and slices of pumpkin pie. "Mada, you didn't eat a bite at Kathryn's. You must be starved by now. Have some pie. You, too, Garreth."
Garreth and Lane exchanged quick glances. He laughed wryly inside at the irony of finding himself on the same side of a problem as his quarry.
"If you don't think I ate, you didn't see me snacking out in the kitchen while we were cooking," Lane said. "You know I don't have a big appetite anyway, and I never eat dessert."
Garreth smiled but shook his head, patting his belt. "Sweets have been my downfall for years. Now that I've finally gotten the weight off, I don't dare relapse. Thank you for the tea, though."
Shaking her head, Mrs. Bieber poured the tea. "In my day, a good appetite was considered healthy. These days it seems everyone wants to starve to death. Well, have you two been getting acquainted?"
"Yes," they both lied, and sitting down, accepted tea from her.
"I'm so glad. And I'm glad you came home after all, Mada. Will you be able to stay through Christmas?"
Lane glanced at Garreth. "I plan to stay until I take you back to Acapulco."
Daring him to make her a liar? Garreth sucked in his lower lip. What could he do about her? Sipping his tea, he listened to Lane tell anecdotes about people in Acapulco. Opposing feelings warred in him . . . his belief in due process and justice against the obvious impossibility of following proper established procedure. He must violate the latter to accomplish the former, and that itself violated what his badge said he stood for. I Ching insisted that one must act with proper authority or end up in mistake and failure.
The delicate blood smell drifting from Mrs. Bieber set hunger gnawing at him. Before he did anything, he would eat and think the problem over. If he appeared to be retreating, Lane might not feel it necessary to bolt. Garreth stood and reached for his jacket. "I'd better go. Thank you for asking me over, Mrs. Bieber. And it's nice to meet you, Miss Bieber." He pulled on the jacket. "I hope we'll see each other again."
Lane raised a brow. "The night isn't over yet. Mama, I'm going to impose on this nice young man of yours to drive me around for some fresh air. I'll be back before too long."
He stared at her.
She kissed her mother on the cheek and smiled at Garreth. "Shall we go, Mr. Mikaelian?" She led the way into the hall, where she picked a coat off the huge mirrored coat-and-umbrella rack, then fairly pushed Garreth out the front door before surprise gave him time to think or react. "We got sidetracked from our conversation about the nature of reality and I'd really like to finish it."
2
The door closed behind them. Garreth said, "There's nothing more to say except to read you your rights."
"Oh, I think there's a great
deal to say yet. That ZX is your car? Of course it is; I saw it outside my apartment." She took his arm. "Let's go for a drive."
I Ching had also said: The maiden is powerful. Beware of that which seems weak and innocent. "I don't think so."
She scowled. "How paranoid cops are. What can I do to you? Anyway, do you really think I'd be careless enough to try something in my hometown, where everyone sees everything? Where my mother would see it? I won't foul her nest. I don't even hunt here, one reason I never stay too long."
Somehow he found himself propelled toward the car. "How do you eat?"
"Even during the holidays there are young men around the college campus in Hays. They're always willing to pick up an attractive young woman and demonstrate what superstuds they are. I hunt in disguise, of course . . . in my own face." She slid into the passenger side of the car and closed her door. "When I was a girl the most popular spots for couples to park were behind the Coop elevators across 282, around the fairgrounds and sale barn, and in Pioneer Park. I think these days you police hang out behind the elevators waiting for speeders so let's go to the park."
Thinking about it, what could she do to him? Garreth wondered. He was strong enough to resist a physical attack and in the reverse of what she had said to him, anything she could use that would hurt him must also hurt her. He walked around the car, climbed in, and started it.
Lane leaned back in the seat. "I have always loved beautiful cars, though I've never dared own one. They're too conspicuous. Though I was once seriously tempted by the Bugatti Royale a friend of mine in Europe had years ago, and lately I've thought about Porsches. My favorite lovers have always been men with fine taste in cars. Yours is passable. Is this stock, Inspector?"
Now why did he feel ashamed to admit it was? "You didn't come to talk about cars." Hunger gnawed at him. His stomach twinged in the threat of a cramp. Damn! If only he had taken time to eat before going over to Mrs. Bieber's. "We're here to talk about law."
Lane sighed. "I told you, human law doesn't apply to us, but . . . I don't intend to talk about anything more just yet, except maybe the weather." She leaned her head out her open window and blew. Like steam from a locomotive, her breath blew back past her in clouds of billowing white. "Fairy wreaths. I hope it it snows. I love snow now. I didn't used to because I hated being cold. Isn't it a relief not having to care whether it's hot or cold out anymore?"
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