Blood Trouble

by Connie Suttle

  The pale title of the book splashed across the dark photograph used as the book's cover. The photograph still stood out, no matter how you looked at it. And once you looked at it, you couldn't draw your eyes away. It was the horrible accident you couldn't help but stare at, time and again.

  "I agree," Marshall shoved the book across his desk toward the elder Rome. "Turn a galley plus all the evidence over to the FBI and let them get started on this. If you wait until the book's published, anybody still out there and involved in this has time to run. Let the authorities start their investigation now. When is the planned publication date?"

  "Two weeks."

  "That's a head start, at least. I don't have a problem with that. There could be if the major players in this weren't already dead, but since they are," Marshall sighed and shook his head. "I think this may be one of the worst things I've ever seen."

  "I can't believe nobody reported it," James snorted.

  "Power and money," Marshall observed. "Power and money."

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Tanner was fast. Radomir was older as a vampire and catching up, but Tanner still had the lead. The chase ended up on streets and alleyways in a nearly deserted downtown Austin. Tall buildings clustered around us as Radomir raced after our quarry. I went to mist and did my best to get ahead of him, but he kept zigzagging between multistory buildings and other businesses closed for the evening.

  A fierce wind had kicked up, too, making it a cold, December night in Austin amid canyons of glass, steel and concrete. I misted through a narrow, back alley, where a few bits of leaves, trash and debris rattled against a steel doorway in a small alcove. A Dumpster lay just outside that doorway, and the brief scent of spoiled food flew past as I continued my pursuit.

  That's when it hit me—I could mist straight through a building instead of going around it. Keep following him, I sent to Radomir. I'll try to get in front. Well, he hadn't said I couldn't send mindspeech. Blasting through the building, which held offices and a restaurant on the lower level, I blazed toward the building's far corner—my quarry would have to get to that point before changing directions again.

  With only a blink to spare, my mist cleared the building. Becoming corporeal, I lowered my shoulder right in front of Tanner and caught him in the midsection. Two things happened, then—I was knocked flat on my back and Tanner flipped high into the air from the collision. Radomir, showing absolutely no surprise, arrived and removed Tanner's head as he fell.

  Tanner's head rolled next to where I lay gasping for breath, and I stared into eyes going lifeless before the rogue vampire flaked. What I saw before he died terrified me. He wasn't the only vampire rogue in Austin—two more had come, prepared to take up where he left off, should he be killed.

  It was an intelligent move by the one placing obsession, and Tanner had certainly been obsessed. In San Francisco and D.C., there'd only been one vampire loosed on the population. They were hedging their bets, this time.

  "Are you all right?" Radomir lifted me off the ground. I was still struggling to breathe normally, and coughed a few times before I could speak again.

  "I'm fine. Tanner there," I pointed my head toward the flaking body, "has friends. Two friends, to be exact, and they'll take over the killings as soon as they learn their buddy died."

  "You cannot be serious." Radomir's dark eyes bored into mine.

  "I can. You have to believe me on this."

  "This is untenable," Radomir sighed. "Did you get names? Never mind, that was a foolish question." Well, he didn't know how my curse worked.

  "Oscar Forde and Keir Arthur," I muttered. I couldn't read the actual obsession in Tanner's eyes, but his thoughts had turned to his two rogue buddies, who'd exact revenge for his life. He'd also expressed his satisfaction for even more girls dying. It wasn't hard to put it all together.

  "I have no idea how you're doing this," Radomir muttered. "Do you know where they are?"

  "No. They weren't with him where he stayed, and I have the idea they aren't together where they are, either. Did Tanner have a cellphone?"

  Radomir toed the pants Tanner had worn—they now lay on the ground, saturated with Tanner's ash. "Here it is." Radomir rummaged in a pocket, pulling out the phone. At least it had been protected from ash where it was—Radomir didn't even have to dust it off. He pulled Tanner's wallet and keys, too. No need to leave that stuff lying around for somebody to find.

  "I expect you to help track these others, as they are also rogues hunted by the Council," Radomir informed me.

  "Then let Director Bill know you're here," I countered.

  "Very well," Radomir sighed.

  "There's something else you should know," I said.

  "What is that?"

  "I don't fry in daylight, Bill Jennings doesn't know I'm vampire and I really need to get back to the hotel."

  * * *

  Radomir insisted on driving me back to the hotel, after I argued with him for a few seconds about its necessity. Both of us knocked on Bill's hotel room door, and it wasn't difficult to see that Bill knew Radomir when he opened the door.

  "Radomir, I had no idea you were in the area," Bill invited us inside his room. He was still dressed—and working on his laptop—when we interrupted him.

  "Breanne," Bill added, "I thought I told you to go to bed early."

  "Best laid plans," I shrugged.

  "We only got the first rogue," I informed Bill later after he had drinks sent up by room service. Poor Radomir pretended to sip coffee while I had a tall glass of orange-pineapple juice and Bill had a martini.

  "Tanner Johns," Radomir supplied the name of the vampire he'd dispatched. "But Breanne tells me that the other two, Oscar Forde and Keir Arthur, are waiting, should their fellow rogue fall."

  "Not good news, and I've learned to trust Breanne," Bill nodded. "This doesn't sound good at all. How soon do you think they might discover that Tanner's dead?"

  "I have his cellphone," Radomir pulled the item from a pocket and handed it to Bill. "There are several unidentified numbers on it."

  "I'll have a trace run," Bill said. "Bree, go to bed, you're exhausted. Let me talk with Radomir for a while."

  "All right," I sighed and rose. "Good night." I walked out and closed Bill's door softly behind me.

  * * *

  "That young woman is extremely unusual and very rare," Radomir began as Breanne's footsteps faded.

  "You don't have to tell me that," Bill grumped.

  "Where did you find her?"

  "She volunteers for Mercy Crossings, as an interpreter. There isn't a language she doesn't understand. Somehow, because there are still too many questions and few logical answers, I believe she's responsible for getting me out of Beledweyne alive."

  Chapter 16

  Breanne's Journal

  Baby, I hope you slept last night. Hank sent a text—it waited for me after I got out of the shower at seven.

  It's 5am there, I texted back. What the hell are you doing up?

  Late night, plus a few repairs in the bathroom had to be done.

  The unisex bathroom/dressing room?

  Yeah. Somebody got a little feisty and broke one of the faucets.

  OMG. My imagination just ran wild.

  Probably not wild enough, Hank texted back.

  You know I'm not gonna get that out of my mind now, I tapped.

  You just made me laugh. Baby, why aren't you here right now?

  Honey, we got the guy last night after I talked to you. Bad news, though, there are two more.

  You went out after you talked to me? Breanne Hayworth, I have no words.

  Is that a first?

  I think my temper is about to explode. It's probably a good thing you're not here. I'll talk with you later, after I cool down.

  Well, nothing like being in trouble with Henry Hank Bell, I guess. Tossing my cellphone onto the bed, I went to find something to wear.

  * * *

  "She said they
got one guy, but there are two more," Hank informed Jayson during their morning workout at Jayson's gym.

  "How deep was she in all of that?"

  "Probably in the middle of it."

  "You think she has a death wish?"

  "I don't know what she has. She's giving me heart palpitations," Hank grunted, throwing out a punch. "We probably should change the subject."

  "I heard from Dad's legal department this morning," Jayson said, ducking Hank's blow. "They're sending a galley of a book that Dad and Ross Gideon are rushing through the process. Didn't tell me what it was, just said they wanted to give me a heads-up and to look at the mailing as soon as I received it."

  "Does that happen often?" Hank stepped away from Jayson's punch.

  "No. I don't recall ever getting a galley before, unless it's something to do with an article in the magazine. Nobody's said anything about a connection, so I have no idea what it is. Guess I'll find out. It surprised me, though, to hear that they're putting something else in front of Everett Williams' bio."

  "How soon will you get it?"

  "Said they were mailing it out today."

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  "Here are the photos from Radomir," Bill slid two pictures across the breakfast table toward Opal and me. I let Opal take them—I'd already seen images in the dying eyes of a rogue vampire.

  "So you got to work with a vamp last night?" Opal turned unblinking eyes in my direction. Yes, she was asking a silent question for which I had no answer. No good answer, anyway.

  "Yeah," I muttered and lifted the obligatory cup of coffee to my lips.

  "I'm upset that you went out without telling us," Bill scolded. I could tell he was worried for my safety, but I still hunched my shoulders uncomfortably.

  "I know," I mumbled after swallowing a mouthful of hot coffee. "I won't do it again."

  "Bree, if something had happened, how would we have known where to start looking?" Bill wasn't done, yet. "Granted it turned out well this time, but what if it hadn't?"

  "Bill, I'm sorry," I muttered. "I know what you're thinking, but I've had to fend for myself for a long time." I didn't add that I'd been responsible for others, too—most of my life. That was my past. My future looked much the same. I was in a position to do something; therefore, I felt obligated.

  "Look, we'll talk about that later," Bill sighed and went back to his menu.

  "What are we doing today, since suspect number one is now flaky?" Opal broke the uncomfortable silence between Bill and me.

  "We'll try to track the other two. Didn't get much of a lead from the numbers on the first suspect's phone," Bill said. He hadn't lowered his menu to answer, which meant he wasn't looking at me. I sighed and dumped another sugar packet in my coffee.

  "Do we know where the first suspect was staying?" Opal asked.

  "Yeah." Bill dropped his menu to stare at me when I made my admission. I'd gotten it in my reading the night before—I'd known the other two weren't staying with Tanner—they'd separated on purpose.

  "Well, maybe we ought to go there first," Opal said dryly.

  "Breanne," Bill's menu went up again, "We really will talk. Right after breakfast. Opal, find something else to do for half an hour after we eat."

  "All right."

  * * *

  Shaky might best describe how I felt as I followed Bill back to his room. He was likely going to yell, so I kept my shields up and tight; I didn't want to read what he intended to say. He opened the door and pointed me inside. I went. The door closed behind us. What happened next I almost can't describe properly.

  "Bree," Bill jerked me into his arms and kissed me—hard—"you scare the hell out of me." He kissed me again, just as hard. My face was in his hands, and they were large, nice hands, his face inches from my own. "Your sister died from caring too much. I can't begin to tell you how it will kill me if you're lost, too."

  "Bill, I don't intend to be lost," my voice wobbled and I was afraid I might cry. I couldn't hurt Bill like that.

  "Sweetheart, you need to tell me when you go out. I could have gone with you. I would have gone with you." He pulled me against him again, tucking my head beneath his chin and rubbing my back with gentle, soothing strokes. My arms stole around his neck and he sighed against my temple.

  * * *

  Tanner Johns' hideaway wasn't much—a metal bunker sunk in the backyard of a two-bedroom house. The house was furnished but empty of occupants, and lights were wired to a timer to turn on and off according to their programming.

  The bunker was equipped with a small lamp, a narrow bed, a tiny table and a cube refrigerator. The fridge held no bagged blood, so Tanner had been drinking from the population.

  "This is frustrating," Bill sighed. We found very few personal effects inside the bunker—mainly clothing, shoes and a few receipts for the same items. As Bill had Tanner's wallet in his possession, he already had copies of credit-card charges. Obviously, Tanner paid cash for drinks or anything ordered in the bars where he'd placed compulsion on college girls—just in case anybody made a connection.

  "None of the phone numbers panned out?" Opal turned dark eyes on Bill.

  "Four were for disposable phones, and we have no answers and no locations," Bill shook his head. "We're back to the beginning, and it's anybody's guess when and where the next murder will happen."

  "Did any murder happen last night?" I turned to Bill. "Anything we might attribute to Tanner?"

  "Do you think that's what his associates will look for—whether a murder occurred?" Bill's brow furrowed as he considered my question.

  "You made those calls on Tanner's phone, didn't you?"

  "Yes—didn't want to spook anybody."

  "Maybe a death is the signal that all is well in rogue vamp land, then," I shrugged.

  "Let me check on that. I'll send a team in here, but there's nothing to find," Bill said.

  * * *

  "Where are Joyce Christian's twins now?" James Rome Sr. sat at a table in a Los Angeles restaurant. He'd invited Ross Gideon to the exclusive eatery for lunch.

  "They're in a very good private facility, since no relatives were willing to take them in. Been there for two years. They have Down Syndrome," Ross replied.

  "I remember. Is there any evidence that they were abused?"

  "None that I can see, but I couldn't get into their medical records."

  "How old are they?"

  "Nearly thirty."

  "So Breanne Hayworth took care of them until she disappeared—is that right?"

  "Looks that way. Money is donated through her charity to keep the twins where they are now—if she hadn't done that, they'd have gone to a state-run home."

  "Where did Hayworth's money come from?"

  "Lottery winnings. It's all public record."

  "So she's still taking care of Joyce's kids. Do you understand how ironic that is?"

  "I haven't failed to see it."

  "Is there any information about where the twins are in the book?"

  "I didn't put it in—I figure that can be a follow-up for the paper."

  "Good idea. Have you written the article, yet?"

  "Half done."

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Somehow, whenever I attempted to Look to find anyone with an obsession, I always drew a blank. I felt something was protecting them; whether it was the Sirenali's talent or something else, I couldn't say.

  Opal and I stood inside an ice-cream store, waiting to get a cone. Bill had gone back to the hotel to catch up with the electronic portion of the investigation while Opal and I took a short break. Her cellphone rang as we stepped up to the counter.

  I half-listened to Opal's conversation with Bill while I ordered for both of us; Opal liked chocolate chip ice cream—I'd gotten that in a brief reading. "We found a likely candidate we can initially attribute to Tanner," Bill said.

  "Is the word going out?" Opal asked as I handed the cone of chocolate chip to her.
She gave me a nice smile before going back to her conversation with Bill.

  "It's on all the local stations—breaking news," Bill replied.

  I handed money to the server after getting my strawberry ice cream and waited for change.

  "You think our targets will buy it?" Opal asked. That was our worry—whether Tanner's rogue buddies would believe that Tanner was still alive.

  "I'm hoping. The woman was a little older—twenty-seven, but she was a part-time student at the college. Local law enforcement knows who did it and they have the suspect in custody, so it's just a convenient lie for now."

  "Thanks, Bill," Opal sighed and ended the call.

  "So we may have a day and a half—if they buy it," I sighed as we sat at a small table near a window.

  "Yeah. And nothing to go on," Opal agreed. "We can still talk to the roommate like we planned, but chances are it was a different human and all of it leading to our already dead rogue."

  "Yeah." I bit into my strawberry ice cream and let it melt on my tongue. Ice cream was still such a treat for me, and I appreciated it every time I got some. "Do you still have those photographs? Of the other two?" I asked.

  "In the car."

  "Maybe we should ask the roommate if she saw either of them. Just in case."

  "Not a bad idea."

  * * *

  "Director Jennings, hold for Director Kelsey, please."

  Bill was surprised to be getting a call from the FBI Director. Local agents were working with some of his people, but they'd had limited success at getting any information. Frankly, Breanne and Opal were doing a better job than the army he and the FBI had on the ground in Austin.

  "Jennings? Dan Kelsey, here," the FBI Director said.

  "Yeah, Dan, what's up? Any new information?"

  "Not on your project, no," Dan replied. "What I have is information on one of your special agents—at least that's how she showed up in the database."

  "Which one?" Bill hid his worry immediately.

  "The new one—Breanne Hayworth?"

  "Yes?"

  "Don't worry, she's not in trouble, but you need to see information that was just passed to me on a former Texas politician."