by Aimée Thurlo
Victor Wayne was inside the office area, seated before the late Dr. Prescott’s computer terminal when they brushed past the two shotgun-brandishing “federal marshals” and entered the room.
“Good evening, Diane and Officer Hawk,” he said without turning to look. “My people said you’d arrived. What’s new on the Judge Baca killing?”
Lee glanced at the computer monitor just before Victor closed the software window, leaving just a desktop image of Ship Rock and a few icons. Yet that brief look had revealed text that referred to Stewart Tanner by name, something Lee and Diane had been unable to find on their earlier search through computer files.
“Tanner left a note,” Diane began, then told him what it said and where it had been found. She also let him know what Tanner had told the housekeeper.
“The man is a homicidal maniac, but at least he spared that young woman,” Dr. Wayne said. “Unfortunately he obviously bears a grudge against his doctors and the agency responsible for his care.”
“Care? Quit jerking us around, Victor. We know that Tanner was taken into custody probably on some trumped-up charge—essentially kidnapped—and was being held against his will and experimented upon like in some mad scientist novel. Exactly which agency is behind all this, and how did Tanner get their attention?” Diane was barely keeping her temper under restraint, and Lee wondered how much of it—if any—was an act.
“Where would you get such outrageous ideas? Certainly not from anything you found in this office.” Victor looked at her as if she was deranged, then stood. He was at least a foot taller than Diane, and a few inches more than Lee.
Maybe I should bounce him off the wall a few times, Lee thought, but instead he just smiled at Victor. Diane would take him off at the knees all by herself.
She stepped up within inches of the tall man, and the look in her eyes was definitely unenticing. “You wanna play mine is bigger than yours, mister Vienna sausage? These murders are all part of my investigation, so unless you want to read all about obstruction of justice charges from your communal jail cell, you’d better tell us everything you know—now. We already suspect that Tanner reads the papers, so what do you think he’d do if he found out who’s really responsible for his treatment? Keep in mind that Judge Baca had half the county protecting him.”
“You’re asking for classified information, Lopez. Information you don’t need to know, and information I’m not authorized to tell you.”
“Authorize this!” Diane reached over and grabbed one of the wooden stakes. “Why does Stewart Tanner continue to portray himself as a vampire, and what were these doing here if nobody was humoring his story?”
Diane’s cell phone rang. She flipped it open, listened for a few seconds, then handed the device to Victor Wayne. “It’s for you.”
“This is Dr. Victor Wayne,” he said into the speaker.
The conversation that followed seemed very one-sided. Victor said “Yes sir” several times, and “No sir” once.
Lee enjoyed watching the man struggle to retain his air of superiority—and fail. Diane was probably enjoying it as well, but her expression didn’t change. If looks could have inflicted bodily harm, right now Victor would have been scrunched up on the floor in the fetal position, screaming his head off.
Finally the call ended. Victor looked beaten, but not defeated. He stepped away, reaching for a cup of coffee on the desk.
“My phone, please?” Diane asked, holding out her hand. Victor handed it to her, then sat down in his chair and swiveled around to face them. He leaned back, feigning a relaxed attitude, then finally spoke. “All right. What do you want to know?”
A half hour passed. Lee and Diane learned what they already suspected. Tanner had been ambushed by a mugger faking an injury late at night in front of the Albuquerque federal building, and been stabbed repeatedly. He’d gone down, bleeding, and the mugger had taken off with his wallet. Everything had been captured on a building security video, including Tanner’s quick recovery and departure and, equally important, his vehicle tag.
“I work for the Department of Defense, and one of our agency’s contacts saw the video and called our office. My people immediately saw the implications a miraculous healing ability could have for the military, and Tanner was taken into custody, bypassing local authorities. A research lab was established to study his unique physical characteristics and their possible use in developing new treatments for trauma injuries, especially battle wounds. I was appointed to oversee the project because of my medical background. But Tanner’s ability to heal himself hasn’t kept him from going crazy.”
“What makes you say that?” Lee asked.
“Tanner actually believes he’s a vampire. He said that he was attacked while on a hunting trip to Europe. He claims that he fought the vampire, but during the struggle their blood mingled.”
Victor shot Diane a level gaze. “So either Tanner was lying and hoping to unnerve the people around him, or he’s insane. Your choice.”
Diane considered what he said, then finally nodded. “Okay, we can all agree on two things. First of all, Stewart Tanner believes he’s a vampire. Secondly, we know there are no such creatures. But the fact remains that Tanner is a very skilled killer and needs to be stopped.”
“Which brings up a topic we haven’t discussed yet,” Lee said.
“Do you have any reason to believe that Stewart Tanner hunted more than animals—that he was a killer—before he was discovered by your people?”
“There’s nothing about that in any agency file, anywhere. The only thing we had on Stewart Tanner were a few speeding and parking tickets. If he killed someone before the incidents here, we have no knowledge of it.”
Diane looked at her watch. “It should be daylight now, and we haven’t received any calls about Tanner. That means we have until sunset tonight to track him down, or the killing will continue.”
“Oh, come on, we know he’s not a vampire. He could be out there right now, looking for victims,” Victor said, his voice becoming perilously close to a whine.
“He thinks he’s a vampire,” Lee said. “That means he’ll hole up inside somewhere and rest. He’s not going anywhere now,” Lee pointed out, unwilling to go into an explanation of sunblock and UV rays.
“Oh? And where’s his coffin and Transylvanian soil? A church basement? Or better yet, a castle?” Victor said with a sneer.
“Hell, there’s not even a White Castle in this county, is there?” Lee countered.
“Let’s just assume he’s staying indoors, okay, boys?” Diane said, standing. “Shall we go, Lee? I’ve got an idea or two I’d like to follow up on.”
Lee nodded. He wasn’t going to ask what that was in front of Victor, though, admittedly, the doctor didn’t seem particularly interested.
“We’ll be seeing you again soon, Victor,” Diane said as she turned toward the door.
“Count on it,” the man replied without expression.
Lee and Diane left without another word, and didn’t speak until they’d passed the last cluster of Navajo police at the main highway. A big silver SUV was parked away from the department units, across the road, and Lee took a glance at the driver as they passed the vehicle. “Isn’t that … ?”
“Charles Alderete.” Diane nodded. “Thought Charles was going back to Albuquerque. I wonder how long he’s been out here—in what looks like a rented vehicle?”
“I’ll ask.” Lee picked up the vehicle radio, and within a few minutes reached the Navajo sergeant in charge of the highway detail they’d just passed.
After a brief conversation, Lee racked the mike. “Charles showed up just after we did, apparently. The officers checked him out, and once they learned he was the brother of one of those who’d died at the river, they let him stay. The officer I spoke to said Charles has a shotgun in his car—and a wicked-looking knife.”
“Not including his handgun. So Victor Wayne isn’t the only person who’s been lying to us recently. Charles has pass
ed up his trip home for a hunting expedition. How long do you suppose he’s been following us?”
“At least from the hotel. His showing up just after we arrived … I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Neither do I. But is he going to try and follow us now?” Diane was driving, and she took a long look in the rearview mirror. “I don’t see him, but there are several cars on the road behind us. He could be back there, somewhere. With basically just one route to Farmington, it won’t be hard to stay with us.”
“We could always take the southern route.”
She looked at him. “Gallup?”
“No. You’re not familiar with the roads around here, but there’s a route farther east, closer to the old power plant, that goes all the way into Farmington. Not the main road, but it’s good, new, and paved. We’ll have to go slow through a residential area, but there are some good open stretches, and we’ll be able to see him if he follows.”
“Just show me where to turn.”
Thirty minutes later, they were waiting in a hangar near the Farmington terminal while a state police helicopter was being fueled. They were going to fly to Albuquerque to interview anyone they could find who’d known Stewart Tanner. Other Bureau agents had done some of the groundwork, but Lee and Diane had specific questions to ask—those related to vampirelike activities previous to Tanner’s “disappearance.”
By using the helicopter, which was on standby anyway because of the search for Tanner, they also ensured that nobody would be able to follow them easily. Unless Charles chartered an airplane, they’d be hours away from his location soon.
It was midafternoon when they returned once again to Farmington. They hadn’t been able to discover much more about Tanner than they’d already known. Tanner had been adopted and had taken on the name of his new parents, though they still hadn’t been able to learn the identity of his biological parents nor the state where Tanner was born. As with many investigations, they knew a lot that didn’t seem to matter, and maybe never would. But still they had to sift through everything, just in case some apparent trivia proved otherwise.
Though he’d never talked about his childhood prior to his adoption, they’d managed to confirm that Stewart had indeed grown up in New Mexico—at least since his early teens—attended a local college for a few years, then taken culinary classes and become a chef. After his foster parents died he’d inherited their money and used it to open his own restaurant. The competition was tough, but he’d been successful enough to stay in the black and build a steady trade.
Diane had managed to sleep on the trip back, but she was still groggy, so Lee drove their borrowed vehicle as they left the airport. There was going to be a strategy session of local law enforcement at a warehouse on the west side of town, so they didn’t have far to go.
“We know that Stewart Tanner shifted his business hours four years ago to cater to the late-night crowd after returning from his last big hunting trip, so that’s probably just after he’d become a vampire,” Diane said, then yawned. “Is that your guess?”
Lee nodded. “Yeah, and that’s when he quit dating regularly and stopped seeing most of his old friends. Too many complications from relationships when you have a secret like that.”
“But he didn’t become a total hermit, or change his name and disappear.”
“Like me?”
Diane may have nodded, or maybe it was just a shrug. She was the only person in his life right now that held anything resembling a relationship with him, and they were taking it very slow. As far as Lee had been able to determine, Diane didn’t have any close friends in her own life right now—except for him and her parents, whom she rarely saw except during holidays because of her demanding career. Of course, if they parted someday, she’d have an easier time finding friends. In his life, secrecy was a staple and that one quality made it difficult for him to make lasting connections.
Diane interrupted his thoughts. “Unlike you, Tanner was a lot more … public.”
“Yeah, and look where it got him,” he muttered.
“To continue … according to the people we met today, Stewart greeted and spoke with his customers and supported many charities. Tanner chose to remain in the public eye. He was never really close to anyone, according to those we interviewed, but Tanner still enjoyed the night life and partied a lot in the company of more than one group. Even when he finally lost his lifelong tan, he explained away his pale complexion with a running joke.”
“He must have rehearsed it. Nearly everyone we spoke to remembered it the same—‘Nothing fun ever happened until after dark.’ And there’s that one weird bit of information we got from that sporting goods dealer.”
Diane nodded. “Tanner was an expert marksman, yet he sold all his hunting weapons and started buying knives. You think that’s because he started killing people instead of animals?”
“There’s nothing in the case files that points to any increase in homicides with edged weapons,” Lee said. “And nobody remembers him taking more than two or three days off at a time, especially after the restaurant opened. So it wasn’t like those two-week-long expeditions he liked to go on before that time. But where was he going, and why?”
“He may have been randomly killing locals or people passing through, and found an effective way to hide the bodies. There are a lot of missing people cases,” she said.
“With his vampire abilities, maybe hunting animals just wasn’t ‘sporting’ anymore for him. And, in this state, game hunting at night is basically illegal,” Lee said.
“But none of this means he’d taken up hunting people. Maybe he started stalking game at night, like deer, bears, and big cats. That would be a challenge, with just a knife. And with his healing abilities, unless he got very unlucky, any wounds would quickly heal and nobody would be the wiser. He bought a van, remember? He could have lived out of it and nobody would have noticed.”
“Right. Well, we’re here.”
They passed through a gate after stopping at a small security building where their IDs were checked, then looked for a parking place. Ahead, Lee noticed several armed officers walking toward a heavy metal door in the big, hangarlike warehouse, which also housed a package delivery service. The flat-roofed two-story building had been selected because it was isolated somewhat from adjacent structures and, with a well-lighted parking lot at night, easily guarded.
“Sure you’ve got enough sunblock on? Even though sunset can’t be far off, the parking lot is still pretty bright.”
He nodded. “Another reason why you asked for a place like this to meet. I’m sure that Victor Wayne approved.”
“Lee, with people so focused on vampire behavior, I’m still worried that you’ll end up giving yourself away somehow.” Diane got out of the car.
“That’s been on my mind too,” Lee said, following her lead and exiting the vehicle. “Fortunately, being half vampire, I can load up on sunblock and spend some time outdoors. That’ll discourage any theories based on conventional vampire lore.”
“Then make sure you don’t get hurt. Healing up in front of everyone’s eyes is something to see, and it’ll put you real high on Dr. Wayne’s ‘to do’ list,” Diane said in a whisper-soft voice, seeing another officer heading toward the same doorway.
“One problem at a time.”
Their conference setting was limited to folding chairs placed around four long tables that had been arranged in a square. The spot had been centered beneath an array of lights out on the concrete floor of a storage area the size of a small hangar. Conveyor belt systems, sorting areas, scales, and two loading docks more or less occupied the perimeter and half the square footage of the facility, but no workers were present, only armed officers.
The sun was low in the horizon now and Lee knew time was getting critical again. Diane, the agent officially in charge of the investigation, made sure there was little time for chitchat. The only amenities were urns of coffee and plenty of cups to go around. Most of the offic
ers, like her and Lee, hadn’t had much sleep the past twenty-four hours.
A half hour later the essential information had been exchanged between the fifteen or so agency representatives present. Quick, informal reports were made that included the areas searched and scheduled to be covered, all available information on Stewart Tanner’s background—minus the exact nature of the lab research and his observed abilities—and a quick chronology on his activities and known crimes.
Although Diane had been overseeing the general focus of the operation, she refused to confine herself to an office and micromanage the ongoing manhunt from there. Each agency had been given its general areas of responsibility, which basically delineated their search activities and any required actions that would take place within their respective jurisdiction. All information and leads went to a central Dispatch, and from there disseminated via radio and cell phones to each agency leader. Communication and cooperation was paramount.
Dr. Wayne spoke only briefly concerning the specifics of the killings themselves, pointing out that the murders had been brutal and straightforward, and Tanner had made no attempt to conceal his identity.
“Before Officer Hawk offers his strategy tips,” Diane said, “I’d like to ask Dr. Wayne to discuss the implications of Tanner’s delusions, and how his mental state and possible motivations may be useful in running him down.”
Victor Wayne nodded, then stood. “Mr. Tanner’s mental condition—his belief that he’s a vampire—directly impacts both the nature of the crimes he’s committed and how they were carried out. We need to use that knowledge to predict his behavior and stop him. For example, Tanner will avoid sunlight and only go outside at night. But once it’s dark he’s going to be very bold, believing himself to be invulnerable.”