Blood Reaction Saga (Book 2): Blood Distraction

by Atha, DL

  “Is this an investigation? Do I need a lawyer?” I asked, lowering my shirt.

  “No. There’s no investigation. And you don’t have to answer. It’s completely voluntary.”

  Avoiding the police would only lead to suspicion, and it certainly hadn’t worked with Rumsfield. What did I have to lose at this point? “Go ahead,” I said. “Ask away.”

  Langford smiled and nodded towards Mike, giving him a look that said, “I’ve always been the better cop.” Internally, I bristled. He’s a good cop. Smarter than the rest of you dumbasses, I thought. I caught myself mid‐thought. What are you doing? You hate this man. But that wasn’t quite true. I didn’t hate him. Rumsfield was a good cop. His instincts were right on. Still, I was going to have to lie to protect myself. He’d get a couple weeks off and a psych eval, but in the end, everything would be normal again for Detective Rumsfield. He’d live, and I’d be a mom again. I’d eventually be able to return to work. Everything was going to be fine.

  Langford was still glowering smugly when he turned towards me. “Have your Mom and daughter moved out of your house and into town?”

  I covered my eyes as if I was holding back tears. I added a deep breath and a pause for effect. “Yeah, they have. I’ve developed a skin disorder, Sheriff. It’s pretty rare and makes living and working in the daylight hours nearly impossible. My mom came to help with my daughter while I began treatment. Take her to school, run errands, buy groceries. Unfortunately, what was already a difficult and painful situation has been made far worse by your detective, who has now convinced my mom that a man I had two dates with killed Ms. McElhaney, and I then wouldn’t provide information about his whereabouts. Of course, he has not a shred of real evidence to speak of. I would never have hurt her. She was my neighbor and my friend.”

  “And what about the clothes and this sharpened spear he found?” Langford asked, looking even smugger.

  “I don’t have a clue. He showed up at my house waving that spear around in the air. It looked like an old broom handle that I’d thrown out months ago to me. The clothes could have belonged to anyone. They were non‐descript. Detective Rumsfield said they matched the description of the clothes a man I had dinner with was wearing. I’m not sure because I don’t remember what my date was wearing. And even if the clothes did match, there is nothing to tie the man I had dinner with a couple times to Ms. McElhaney’s murder.”

  Rumsfield was about to come unglued now. “You said you staked the clothes symbolically!” he nearly shouted across the room. “You said that! And you were out in the woods when I showed you that spear!”

  I blew out my breath and looked at him as if he were an idiot. “I was joking, Mike, because you were standing in my yard accusing me of killing a man in the woods. It was so absurd I just said the first thing that came to my mind. And no, we were standing in my yard.” Levi was right. Lying came so much easier now that I was one of the undead. “We were in my yard because that’s where you spend most of your time. Hanging around my house and harassing me and my family. I can’t get any rest. I even moved out because you won’t leave me alone. I’m afraid to stay at my own home anymore because I never know when this lunatic is going to show up, Sheriff,” I said, turning back towards Langford. “And I’m asking you to make this stop. I’d like to return home and know that I won’t be targeted for something I haven’t done.”

  The sheriff was gloating; I could see it in his expression. “Dr. Creed, I assure you that this matter will be handled. You can go home any time, and Detective Rumsfield won’t bother you further.”

  The smile on Langford’s face seemed genuine. I couldn’t smell any fear or sweat to indicate he was lying, but still, I was nervous. Something didn’t seem quite right. Everything was just way too easy. The other three men in the room were on edge; the air was laced with anxiety, and in one corner of the room, even a little sorrow. Heart rates and respirations were up, and for once, I wasn’t the cause. So what was? I wondered as I looked around the room.

  Rumsfield was glaring at me like I was the white elephant in the room that no one else could see, and he seemed oblivious to the tension hanging like storm clouds over the other men. Except Sheriff Langford, who was very collected in comparison to the edginess in everyone else. His scent was sticky, if I were forced to find a word to describe it. Sweet and sickly smelling, like desire gone too far. Something was going on that I hadn’t picked up on. I guess I’d been so concerned about my own personal drama that I hadn’t noticed. Why are these men here with Rumsfield? I questioned for the first time. It certainly didn’t feel like a social visit. Besides, it was late. Well after typical office hours. I got the feeling they were here because they didn’t want to wait any longer. They had put this conversation off as long as they could. “So, we’re good here then? No more moonlight visits from the detective? No more meritless search warrants? Everything can go back to normal at my house?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. You have any problems with Mr. Rumsfield and you just contact me personally. Here’s my cell number,” he said, handing me his business card.

  The thick, sweet smell brushed against me as I reached towards him. I could feel the imprint of the letters of his name as the thick paper of the business card slipped between my fingers. I hesitated momentarily, rubbing my thumb across the indentations of his title, as I tried to decide why I felt like Judas Iscariot.

  “Listen, I realize Detective Rumsfield was just trying to do his job. I get that. So maybe we can all just put this behind us. He’ll probably realize soon enough that all of this was a mistake. My guess is he just needs to get back to work and move on.”

  The same sweet smell washed over me again. I couldn’t help it; I wrinkled my nose it was so strong. It reeked of a mid‐ seventies outdated powder on an old woman. Or the sickly sweet pea‐green drainage of a Pseudomonal infection. Pea green with envy suddenly had an entirely new meaning to me. Langford was jealous of Rumsfield, and he certainly didn’t mind making the detective look stupid. “Thanks for stopping in, Dr. Creed. If you don’t mind, we’ll let you step out. We’ve got some business with Mr. Rumsfield to attend to. But rest assured, he won’t trouble you any further,” Langford said.

  I let him usher me towards the door, careful to stay in front of him. I glanced back at Rumsfield. His glare hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d say if looks could kill, I would have been dead. Since I already was, I tried not to think about Mike Rumsfield at all. Shifting my gaze back to the sheriff, I slid his business card into my pocket in case I needed it.

  “Thanks,” I said, crossing the threshold to the corridor. Behind me, I could hear Rumsfield’s sheets slide off into the floor. I didn’t look back.

  “Do you know what this means?” I asked as we rounded the corner outside of Rumsfield’s room. “Levi, I get to go home. It’s all over.” I had him by the shoulders and was near to swinging him around I was so excited.

  “Nothing’s changed, Annalice. This means nothing,” he said, knocking my hands away.

  I looked at him incredulously. I could feel my smile caving in on itself. “How can you say that? The man that has ruined my life has just been told to cease and desist. I’m a free woman. He can’t do anything to me now.”

  “Are you really that naïve? He’s not the reason that you can’t go back to your old life. You’re a vampire. That’s the reason. This man—Rumsfield—is an excuse. You’re trying to make everything revolve around this pitiful human. And honestly, I don’t see the attraction.”

  “Of course it all revolves around him. He’s the prime reason that I can’t go home. He’s hunted me every night. Not to mention that he’s turned my mom against me. So yeah, it’s pretty much about him.”

  “Maybe you want it to be about him,” Levi said. He was standing with his back leaned against the wall. Behind him through the plaster walls, I could heard Sheriff Langford’s voice rise. Rumsfield’s rose to meet the older man’s. He wasn’t backing down, it appeared. I listened in between
mine and Levi’s conversation.

  “I know what you’re trying to imply, but there’s nothing between Rumsfield and me. I can’t stand the man. You’re wrong, but even if you weren’t, what do you care?”

  He reached for my arm. “Caring is for humans. So no, I don’t care. You can long for your detective all you want. But don’t forget who you belong to is all I’m saying.”

  I jerked my arm from his grip. “I don’t belong to anyone.” I’d had enough of that crap with Asa to last a lifetime. Or many lifetimes for that matter.

  His right hand grazed my cheek then slipped down to wrap lightly around my neck. Not in a violent way, but his point wasn’t lost on me. “In my possession and through my blood, you are made whole. I wasn’t joking when I said it,” he answered.

  “You don’t own me,” I said. “And what does that even mean?” “You accepted my ownership the night I said the bonding words to you. You sealed the deal by drinking from me.”

  “I’ve had enough owner …” I cut my angry speech off as the raised voices in Rumsfield’s room drifted through the walls.

  “Don’t worry. I’m easy to belong to,” Levi said. “We can come up with some arrangement regarding Rumsfield.”

  I waved him off. “We’ll get to that later. Something wasn’t right in there,” I whispered to change the subject. “I’m not sure what. I can’t seem to put my finger on it.” I went back to listening, turning my head so I could press my ear firmly to the wall.

  Unfazed and looking bored, Levi started flipping through his cellphone. Thank God they still made Blackberries—the cellphone of choice for vampires everywhere. “Something wasn’t right about which part?” he asked. “The part where you cared enough about this Mr. Rumsfield to come up here and check on him? Or the part where you lied through your teeth about your meetings with him? Or that we gave up what could have been a fabulous tryst in the woods to come here and check on him. It’s hard to tell, you know, because there’s so many wrongs on so many levels.”

  “Mr. Rumsfield …” I started to say but then corrected us both. “Not Mr. Rumsfield. It’s Detective Rumsfield.” That’s when it hit me. “Shit,” I said aloud this time.

  Levi shoved his phone in his pocket and turned towards me. “What?” he demanded.

  “Shhh‘” I waved him off again. “Listen.”

  In Rumsfield’s room, Sheriff Langford was preaching about responsibility and legitimacy. “Credibility is all a police officer has,” he said. “And you’ve lost it, Rumsfield. You’ve become a liability to our force. I need you to surrender your badge and your gun.”

  Besides the thumping hearts of the men and the soft hum of the electronics, Rumsfield’s room had taken on the eerie quiet that can only precede coming disaster. The quiet moment right before a car wreck or the sickly green sky of a tornado‐pregnant storm cloud. Even I felt the storm coming, all the way through the wall.

  “On what grounds?” Rumsfield finally asked, his voice a razor blade.

  Langford cleared his throat. I couldn’t hear it, but his very full pause gave his nerves away. I guess he’d heard the cutting edge of Rumsfield’s tone himself. “Your drug screen was positive for methamphetamine, opiates, and PCP. Bring your things by the station as soon as you get discharged from the hospital.”

  “This is bullshit, Langford!” Rumsfield said. His voice had only gotten sharper.

  Langford hurried this time, barely letting Rumsfield finish his sentence. Nervousness made his voice a little too high. “Your office will be packed up and waiting. You know I could arrest you for it—you being a cop and all. But I’m not going to. Just do the right thing and bring your badge in.”

  Langford turned on his heel, his cowboy boots squealing against the linoleum of the floor, and left the room. The others turned and followed him, one by one.

  Sheriff Taylor stopped at the door and turned back towards Rumsfield. “I asked them to repeat the screen twice, Mike. The station owed that to you, but they were all three positive. I’m real sorry.”

  The door shut behind them, and Rumsfield was alone. He took a deep breath, letting the air slide out of him staccato style. He was holding back tears, I realized from the punctuations in his breathing. “A real piece of work,” I heard him say. Then his IV hit the floor, the plastic tubing slapping against the bed rail as it fell. The bed alarm screamed as he pulled himself out of it. His heart rate shot up with the exertion and he faltered, the bed rail rattling with the grasp of his hand. He was leaving, I knew, signing out against medical advice.

  I’d had my predictions of what my saliva could do, but I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to give exact names to the compounds or to consider that they’d show up in drug screens. Whatever the hormones were, they were the chemical equivalent of the most addictive drugs in production, and I’d just destroyed his career.

  I let my forehead rest against the coolness of the wall and tried to not think about the life I’d ruined. I focused on the positive. I was going to get to go home. My daughter would be coming back, and Rumsfield was still alive. I haven’t done anything that bad, I told myself. He’d find a new career.

  As if he’d read my thoughts, Levi ran a hand through my hair and squeezed my shoulder. I turned towards him, ready to argue that I really was worse than he was giving me credit for and that he was wrong, I should feel bad. I was needing an “everything is going to be okay” speech.

  I would have sworn he could read my mind, he was looking at me so intently. I waited for the words of encouragement. He slid his Blackberry into his jacket pocket as he moved towards the exit. “It might have been easier on him if you’d just killed him in the first place,” he said.

  I was still standing in the hospital corridor when Rumsfield’s door opened. Levi had left, and I hadn’t bothered to follow him. I was too angry. His last words to me had been hateful. Spiteful, actually, and none of this was my fault.

  Rumsfield was arguing with the nurses and pushing their hands away when they tried to cajole him back into his room. The charge nurse told him she was going to call security, but it was just a bluff. Rumsfield might be an ass, I knew, but he was mentally competent. No one could hold him here. I considered going to him and explaining why he needed to stay. He’d lost a lot of blood and had a flail chest along with aspiration pneumonia. He needed more antibiotics. I thought about it, but logic told me I’d done enough and to leave well enough alone. I left before he could see me.

  I took the stairs, flying down them in a handful of seconds, there was no one to see. But I did remember to slow down before I burst from the stairwell into the ground floor plaza of the hospital. The glass wall of the plaza stretched several stories above my head. The coffee station had opened up in the far corner for that last coffee call that so many night docs and nurses relied on, and there were several employees gathered around it, their badges pulled out to pay. But Levi was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t waiting for me outside either.

  Chapter 27

  I found Levi back at our makeshift home or base camp. Whatever you called it, I was looking forward to not ever seeing the place again. I couldn’t wait to go home. First, I’d stop at the grocery store and stock up on all the normal things that normal people eat, especially foods that little girls like to eat. Then I’d drop by the knick-knack store and refurbish the living room. A couple new pairs of jeans wouldn’t hurt and maybe a new pair of boots. Ellie and I could go shopping together. I’d take Mom and Ellie out to dinner. How I was going to convince Mom to go, of course, I hadn’t yet figured out, but optimism was oozing from my pores. I’d dropped the guilt about Rumsfield quick enough and was already planning out the next year.

  Levi was building a fire in the remains of the hearth when I walked in. The bird’s nest had been cleaned out, the bird having long since flown the coop, and he was breaking up kindling. He’d dragged a couple dead, dried up trees to the edge of the porch. I’d seen them lying out front when I’d walked in.

  “I’m certain
you’re not cold,” I said as I sat down on the left side of the hearth. Behind me, winter’s last gasps were rattling the broken window frame.

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t like a nice fire,” he answered, not looking at me.

  “Why’d you leave me back there?” I asked. I reached for a long, gnarled limb and started breaking it into kindling. “I would have thought you’d be happy that I get to go home.”

  Snorting lightly under his breath, he paused momentarily before he thrust another piece of wood into the fireplace. Sparks erupted under his hands from the parched leaves still clinging to the branches. “You can’t ever go home, Annalice. You can’t go back. No matter how much you want to.”

  “I can, and I will. My house is waiting. My daughter is waiting.” He was wrong. Was this jealousy? I wondered. I tossed a couple sticks of kindling into the fire, watching as a flurry of sparks erupted and danced like a sparkler before ascending up the chimney. Toying with one last piece of wood, I peeled the kindling, pulling strips of wood off in long fibers that resembled locks of silver hair. My dad had made a doll this way once.

  The fire was crackling now, and inside the fireplace, I could hear the sizzling of decades old cobwebs. Some roosting creature, its wings scraping the rock walls of the chimney, flew out the top of the flue, which still functioned after all these years. Talk about craftsmanship.

  “I’m not talking about the house or your daughter, Anna. It’s not about them. You can’t go home. You’ve changed. I mean, you can go, of course. But it’s never going to be the same. You need to move on. Let your family go.”

  I snorted in disgust. “You don’t understand because you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have family.”

  Sparks showered from the firebox and landed on my clothes and bare skin. I slapped at them and slid away, but the embers had burned deeply into my skin, leaving smooth, round holes.