“Because,” I say, not holding my temper. Her energy is just so strong it’s contagious. “Because it is my job to find and capture the bastards who did this to you and your friends. To stop them from killing more people. So they don’t hurt others the way they hurt you. To do the only thing we can do for your friend now: get justice. And I know it’s tough and aggravating, but I need your help to do my job. So drink your damn water. Drink it!” Without protest both pick up their water bottles, and take a good chug. I should try the scary tactic more often. Petra’s energy levels out a little. “So, tell me what you remember about that night. Start at the beginning. Who picked who up?”
“Kate did,” Amanda says. “Around seven. We went to the new Zac Efron movie.”
“What time did you get out?”
“Around ten?” Amanda asks Petra, who nods.
“Then where did you go?”
“My house,” Petra says taking another drink of water. “We wanted to change clothes for the club.”
“The Glass Cactus? How did you get in?”
The girls exchange looks. “Fake IDs,” Petra answers.
“Do you go there often?”
“About once a month,” Amanda says, drinking more water.
“We remember getting there, and that’s it,” Petra says. “We woke up the next morning at my house without Kate.”
From my purse I pull out my pad and pen. “Okay, this is going to sound corny, but I want you to close your eyes and imagine walking into that club with Kate. You’re all wearing the same clothes you were that night. It is that night, okay? The sounds, the smells, the horrible music they were playing. Picture it all.”
“The therapists made us do this,” Petra says. “It got us nowhere.”
“Humor me.”
The girls close their eyes. “Okay,” Amanda says.
“Is Kate there with you?” I ask. “Do you see the club?”
“Yes,” Petra says.
“What did you do first?”
“Went to the fire bar,” Petra says.
“Did anyone hassle you?”
“No. Some asshole with a popped collar hit on me,” Petra says. “We didn’t stick around too long.”
“Where’d you go next?”
“Found a couch,” Amanda says. “Kate and I went to dance, and Petra kept our seats. We danced with a couple of guys.”
“That’s when she came,” Petra says, faced scrunched up like she’s just bitten into a lemon.
“Who?”
Petra opens her eyes. “Julie. She said her name was Julie. I remember her.”
“Describe her.”
“Our age. About five feet tall, I guess. Blonde hair with bangs. Pale. She had really blue eyes.”
“Had you seen her before?” I ask.
“No. Never. She just came out of nowhere and sat down. Started talking about the lack of cute guys. I thought it was weird. She didn’t talk like she was from here. I think she was Canadian. She kept saying ‘aboot.’”
I jot that down. “Then what happened?”
“Kate and I came back,” Amanda says. “We all talked to her. She asked about school. Said she and her family just came to town, and she was about to start a new one. Stupid stuff.”
“And when you were talking, did you notice anyone watching you?”
“No,” Petra says. “But then Julie waved to some guy and he came over. Said he was her brother.”
“Describe him.”
“Pale like her. Brown gelled-up hair, tall, early twenties. Said his name was Rick.”
“Kate liked him,” Amanda interjects. “She started flirting right away.”
“Did they mention anything about themselves?”
“No,” Petra says. “It was weird. Whenever we asked a question, they’d just ask us one back.”
“So you talked awhile. Then what happened?”
“Julie asked if we wanted to go back to their place,” Amanda says. “She said their parents were out of town.”
“I said no,” Petra says. “No way. But Rick looked into Kate’s eyes and whispered something. Then she just stands up and says, ‘I’m going with Rick.’ I’m like, what the hell? She’s our ride, and it’s so not like her to do something like that.”
“That’s all she said,” Amanda adds. “She followed him out like a puppy. It was so weird.”
“What did you guys do?” I ask.
“We weren’t going to leave her with those people,” Petra says. “We followed them to the parking lot, and when we got there, Kate was already in the back of the car. I grabbed her arm, but it was like she wasn’t in there. Like her brain wasn’t there.”
“Describe the car.”
“New dark blue Mercedes,” Amanda says. “Tan leather interior. Dirty, like covered in dust. And there was a black bat hanging from the rearview mirror. I didn’t see the license plate number.”
I jot all that down. “Then what happened?”
Petra says, “I started yelling at Kate, but Rick grabbed my arm real hard.” Petra lightly touches her arm where the bruises in the picture were. “He looked me in the eyes and … I don’t know. It was like … have you ever woken up in the middle of the night and you can’t move? You can breathe and stuff, and you’re telling your legs to move, but they just won’t? That’s how I felt for the rest of the night.”
Amanda picks up the story. “He told you to get into the car and not to move or say anything until he said so,” she says in a low voice. She wipes a tear away. “And you did. I couldn’t believe it. That’s when Julie did the same thing to me. It was like I had no control over my body, but it moved and got into the car too. The whole ride I didn’t move, didn’t say anything. None of us did. But I was, like, calm. Like this was no big deal.”
“I didn’t feel that way,” Petra says. “I tried everything I could to move. I just couldn’t. I was screaming and screaming, but no words would come out. They must have drugged us.”
“On the car ride, did they say anything?” I ask.
“They kept fighting over the radio station,” Amanda says. “It got so bad he slapped her. She just sat back and pouted.”
“Then he apologized and kissed her,” Petra adds with a scoff. “Like full on make out. But he kept looking back at us in the mirror.”
“Anything else?”
“They talked about us like we weren’t even there,” Petra says. “Saying how ‘Yummy’ we look. How their friend Geraldo’s gonna love me. I felt like throwing up, but I couldn’t.”
“I just felt numb,” Amanda says.
“Where did they take you? Describe it.”
“A farmhouse in the middle of nowhere,” Amanda says. “I don’t know what town. We took back roads without signs.”
“It was two stories with a dirt road driveway,” Petra says. “Beige, I think. Real run down, paint chipping a lot. The windows were blacked out, like, literally black, as if someone sprayed them with black paint. No porch. And the front was all dirt, but the backyard had dying corn.”
“Were there any other cars?”
“Yeah. A huge black van with the windows blacked out.”
“Wasn’t there an old pickup all rusted out?” Amanda asks.
“I think so. It was the same color as the house.”
“Then what happened?” I ask delicately. Both girls are visibly tense, backs ramrod straight and hands clenched. Amanda stares down at the table as if she can see through it. Petra’s jaw is set in concrete.
“When we pulled up, a woman came outside,” Amanda says. “She was black. Pretty. Rick and Julie got out, and the woman asked what took them so long. They didn’t answer. They just opened our doors, and pulled us out. Julie said, ‘Nice, right?’ The woman huffed and walked back inside. Rick said, ‘Get inside’ and Petra started walking. He took Kate’s hand and led her inside. Julie told me to move and I did.”
“What did the inside look like?” I ask, writing it all down.
“I guess drab,” Am
anda answers. “Like my grandparents’ house. Needlepoints on the walls. Old furniture from like the seventies. They did have a flatscreen TV.”
“There was a girl passed out on the couch,” Petra adds. “She had bruises all over her arms and neck. Like covered. I thought she was dead, but then Rick nudged her with his foot and she woke up. He told her he didn’t need her that night. I think she went into the kitchen, I don’t know. They told us to sit down. Then this really big guy with the same bruises came up out of the basement.”
“He had a gun on his hip,” Amanda says, all color draining from her face. “I saw that …” She shakes her head. “Do we have to keep going? I don’t feel so good.”
“We can take a break if you want,” I say.
“Mandy, why don’t you go outside and get some air,” Petra suggests.
“Okay,” Amanda says, standing up on shaky legs. The poor girl all but runs out of the room.
“You don’t need a break?” I ask Petra.
“No. Let’s keep going. I want this over with.”
“Okay.” I have the feeling that if this girl lost every one of her limbs she’d still try to run a marathon. Wish I was like that. “What happened next?”
“The guy with the gun told them he oiled their coffins and put more black paint on the windows. Rick thanked him, and the guy went upstairs. Then he asked the black woman where everyone was. She told him JR got hungry and was upstairs with Miles. I think she said Liang and Ken were out, and Gerry was in the basement.”
“So there were ten people living there total?”
“I guess.” She drinks more water, and then starts ripping off the label in small strips. “Rick sat down next to Kate and put his arm around her. That pissed Julie off. She fell into the chair next to us, just glaring at them. Then Rick yelled down to Gerry. He said, ‘Dinner’s here’ just before he started kissing Kate. She didn’t respond, but he kept doing it.”
“Then what?”
“Then the black woman took Amanda’s hand, and yanked her off the couch like a rag doll. She said, ‘I’m fucking starving,’ and they went upstairs. I have no idea what happened up there. And don’t ask Amanda about it,” Petra says harshly. “She can’t handle it. I’ll tell you whatever you want, just leave her alone or this interview’s over.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I say, “Okay.” I’m such a softie. “What happened next?”
“This guy came up from the basement. He was … huge. Tall, like three hundred pounds of muscle. Um, he had an eagle tattoo if that helps. Hispanic, long black hair. He scared the fuck out of me.
“Julie was playing with her hair, just glaring at Rick and Kate and she said, ‘Gerry, dinner’s here’ and pointed to me. The fucker smiled. That’s when I saw them.”
“What?”
A lone tear falls, but she wipes it away like an annoying bug. “His fangs. They were fucking vampires, weren’t they?”
I could lie, but she deserves the truth. “Yes. They were.”
“Right,” she whispers, shaking her head. “Not just crazy assholes who like to pretend either, right? Fucking Dracula vampires?”
“I’m afraid so,” I say quietly.
“Jesus Christ. I was afraid of them as a kid, you know? I grew out of it. Stupid, huh?”
“No.”
“And you put something in this water, right? That’s why I remember all this crap now,” she says, relief replaced with anger. “The FBI drugs people now?”
“It was the only way to get you to remember. I’m sorry.”
“So you stop vampires? That’s your job?”
“Today it is.” I meet her cold, hard eyes. “I’m sorry I tricked you. I really am. But I meant what I said; I need your help to stop them. To get Kate a little justice. But you need to keep going. I need as much information on these creeps as possible if I’m going to find them. You can be peeved off later. What happened next?”
After a few more seconds of icy glare, the scared teenager looks away. “Rick and Kate stood up. He said, ‘I’ll leave you two alone. Try not to make a mess.’ Then ‘Come on, Julie. We’ll share.’ She scowled but followed them upstairs. Gerry sat down and he … you know. You saw the bruises.”
“Did he …” I can’t finish.
“Rape me? No. I think he was going to, but then there was shouting upstairs. He went to check it out.”
“Could you hear what they were saying?”
“‘You stupid bitch! What the hell is your problem?’ Stuff like that. Then another man said, ‘Not again.’ The two in the kitchen ran up to see what was going on. I still couldn’t move. There was more shouting, then a loud thwack and someone fell down the stairs. It was Julie. She was naked. Covered in blood. Like, even her hair was red. Rick ran down the stairs after her, pissed off to hell. He was naked and bloody too. He got Julie up, punching her in the face. Gerry and some other guy I hadn’t seen before had to pull him off. The black chick stood at the top of the stairs grinning.”
“What did the third man look like?”
“Lanky, but with muscles. Black hair. He was in pajama bottoms. Anyway, they got Rick away from Julie. The thin guy kind of took control. Asked Rick what happened. He said Julie went bat shit and ripped her throat out.” Petra tries to retain her composure but can’t anymore. She starts crying softly. “He must have meant Kate. Fuck.” She gasps a few times and shakes her hands to calm down. “I can get through this,” she says to herself. “I have to get through this.” The hands wiggle for a few more seconds in time with the gasps. She stops crying. “Shit.”
“We can take a break if—”
“No. I need to finish.” Petra takes in as much air as she can, slowly letting it out. “The thin guy got pissed off too. He said, ‘What the hell is wrong with you guys? We have rules! Why can’t you fuckers follow them? Do you have any idea how pissed he’s going to be when he finds out?’ The black woman said, ‘Then don’t tell him.’”
“Back up. Who is this ‘he?’” I ask.
“No idea. The thin guy gave the woman a look, but she just smiled. Then he started barking orders. Told some guy named Bill to get the body, told Gerry to start digging a hole. Ordered Rick and Julie to get cleaned up. Then the bitch on the stairs asked, ‘What about the other two?’ Thin guy said, ‘Drive them back to their car. Wipe their memories.’ I guess he meant us. Then she said, ‘We should just kill them.’ Thin guy got pissed. Said, ‘One dead teenager he’ll accept, three and he’ll have no choice but to kill us. Just do it.’ And he went back upstairs. So did the black woman.
“A minute later, she led Amanda down the stairs. I was so happy to see her, I couldn’t breathe. She looked so pale. But then the guy with the gun followed them. He had … um, a bloody sheet wrapped around a body. Her hand was … hanging out. I knew it was Kate from her blueberry nail polish. Rick drove us back to the club, told us to forget the whole night, and go home. He drove away. He’d given me the key to Kate’s car, and I drove us home,” she finishes quickly. “That’s it. That’s all. I’m done.”
Petra stands up, not looking at me. “That’s all I’m going to say.” Then her eyes look into mine, chilling me to the bone. “Don’t contact me again until you’ve killed them all.” With that, she walks out of the room.
I close my notebook. I need a shower.
Nine
Purgatory
I’m in a crappy mood the entire drive back to the hotel. It’s not just the God-awful traffic that doubles my driving time, or the annoying commercials on the radio for mattresses, it’s the fact that I feel like a degenerate who tortures teenage girls. Petra was so angry, so hurt, so scared. She’s never going to forgive herself for what happened. I know she’ll be going over that night again and again, looking for all the things she could have done to stop it. What if they stayed home? What if she had screamed in the parking lot? I do the same thing all the time.
The GPS finally tells me to turn off the interstate, and five minutes later I’ve completed the turn. Crud
, I can’t put it off any longer. I have to call the mansion and give my report. I should have called sooner, but I wanted to be by myself as long as possible. My mouth just seems to bring misery today. I dial, and someone picks up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?” Irie says on the other side.
“Hey, it’s Bea,” I say.
“Well, if it isn’t our little troublemaker,” she says. “How’s Texas?”
“It’s hot. Why am I a troublemaker all of a sudden?”
“Can’t say. Sworn to secrecy. It might ‘jeopardize the case,’” she says in a mock masculine voice. “You’ll find out soon enough. Oh, here’s George!”
“Irie, wait, what—”
“Hello, Beatrice,” George says. “I was just about to call. How did it go?”
“Lousy. Why am I a troublemaker?”
“You aren’t. You’re doing excellent work,” he says quickly. “Now, we did a search of the town you mentioned, and there have been no listed properties in over a year.”
“I guess it’s possible they found a house they liked and just … took it over. I have a description of it.” I read off the characteristics of the house and cars. “I think we should instruct the local law enforcement officers to drive around looking for it. I can go out tomorrow and do the same. And they should be aware there are ten, not seven people in the house. I don’t know the ratio of vamps to people, but at least one has a gun.” I read off the descriptions too.
“Fantastic, just fantastic,” George says. “I’ll get them this information right away. What’s your next step?”
“A bath. I’m wiped,” I say with a yawn.
“You relax a bit. You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you. I’ll call if we develop anything else.”
“I’ll do the same. Truly impressive work, Beatrice. Stay safe.”
“You bet. Bye.” I flip the phone shut. Why is it whenever I call home, I end up more on edge than before? And why am I a troublemaker? Did they see the pay-per-view charges from last month? Come on, there’s only one video rental store within thirty miles, and they won’t let me get a DVD subscription. I get bored. Know what? I don’t even care right now. I’ll deal with it later. Now, I just want to soak away the last few hours.
To Catch a Vampire Page 13