The walls were lined with bookcases and filled with books. Reference books behind the heavy wooden desk, classics and varieties of fiction along the other three walls. Judging by the colors of the spines and the size, many were romance paperbacks. Stained-glass transoms, dark because of the hour, topped several of the bookcases.
The girl’s mother and another man who patted her hand sat on a small spindly couch in front of the bookcases.
Behind the desk sat, Eric presumed, the father of the girl. A fed and Aaron’s boss occupied the visitors’ chairs, while what appeared to be another fed stood off to the side. Every so often, he would narrow his eyes and write something. He emitted an air of suspicion. It was a tactic. Someone for the father to focus on aside from the questions. The better to trip you up, my dear, Eric thought.
The girl’s father didn’t squirm. He was poised, yes, but behind the air of control, something that must’ve been a habit for the powerful man, was the panic of a distressed father—a crease between his eyes that never smoothed, hands that maintained a death pinch on either end of a gold pen.
After ten minutes or so the pacing agent received a nod from the female doing the questioning and left the room. As he passed, the air currents wafted in Eric’s direction. A familiar scent caught his attention. The killer had either been in the room recently, or he was still here.
How could Eric scan the room? The pacing tactic had been done and discarded. The father had officially moved to the category of victim’s father. Eric glanced at Aaron and motioned for the two of them to leave the room.
Aaron’s eyes widened as they rounded the corner. “Seriously, what’s going on? He was making an enemies list. There are probably dozens of leads in those names.”
“The feds will make you a copy.”
Aaron continued to stare.
“Or at least they will be tracking down the leads themselves. Look, I need you to trust me one more time. I think our guy is in that room.” At Aaron’s sharp intake of breath Eric held up a hand. “I know I’m on thin ice with you as it is, and if I could explain everything now I would.”
Aaron’s face didn’t twitch.
Eric chuckled softly. “I forgot what a good poker face you have.” He considered a short version and dismissed it. This wasn’t the place to debate the paranormal. “I’ll tell you everything over coffee as soon as we’re done here.”
No reaction.
“Dude.” Eric glanced over Aaron’s shoulder to the three agents still outside the office. “We really can’t talk about it here. It’s the best I got.”
Aaron ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. How do we find out if you’re right?”
“I need a plausible reason to circle the room.”
Aaron nodded. “How many times?”
“Just once. I need to get close to everyone for a second.”
Eric’s oldest friend stared at him, seeming to search his eyes for the reason behind his words. “Fine,” he said again, “but when we’re done I want a big-ass coffee and not some pussy espresso.”
Eric clapped Aaron’s shoulder. “Deal. Now how do I get around the room?”
“That’s easy enough.”
When they reentered the office, the man who had sat beside the wife had stepped to the right-hand corner of the desk. Mr. Gunderson had begun to ask questions of his own. Although he wouldn’t appreciate it, an interruption would keep him from working himself up.
Aaron walked up beside the agent who sat in a visitors’ chair. “Excuse me. I’m Lieutenant Aaron Decker and this is my associate, Detective Eric Adams.”
Hellos were exchanged, and Eric moved to shake everyone’s hand.
The FBI agent was clean. So were the father and mother. Though, from the wobble and the faint botanical smell on the mother’s breath, she’d washed down an anxiety pill with gin.
The man who stood at the right-hand corner of Mr. Gunderson’s desk stepped up and extended a hand.
HIM.
This man, with his expensive Italian suit, smooth face, and neatly trimmed dark, wavy hair, was the man who’d kidnapped the girls. This businessman had killed Suzie Hogan and who knew who else. “Hello, I’m Irving Pilcher, Mr. Gunderson’s Chief Operations Officer.”
Eric forced himself not to growl as he gripped Pilcher’s cool, dry hand. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”
The man nodded. “Are you the team who’ve been trying to find the other missing girls on this case?”
“Yes.”
Pilcher nodded again and stepped to stand beside Mr. Gunderson and put a hand on the father’s shoulder. “Russell, these men have been trying to track this guy down and are stymied.” To the FBI agent, he said, “I trust the FBI is in control of the investigation.” Then he locked eyes with Eric.
Mr. Gunderson said, “Of course, we will appreciate any help you can offer.”
Aaron passed a card to the FBI agent and laid one on the desk. “We will help in any way we can.”
As they left the room Pilcher’s voice could be heard, followed closely by the FBI agent assuring that while they wouldn’t alienate any possible recourse they were in charge of the investigation now.
Aaron and Eric exited the front of the home. Aaron hissed, “Thanks a lot.”
Eric glanced around and caught sight of Ashley standing next to the car. “Look. Do what you’ve got to do, then lead the way to breakfast. We’ll give you that explanation.”
“It’s Saturday.” Aaron glanced toward the sky brightening in the east. “Viv is always up with the sun. Come to my house for breakfast. She’ll never let me hear the end of it if you don’t stop by while you’re in town.”
Eric checked the sky as well. The setting moon was almost full. He had about four days to bring this guy in before Lydia went into labor. He could see Ashley patiently sitting in the car.
Aaron shifted his stance and caught Eric’s attention. Eric said, “I think I can speak for both of us; after a night like tonight your wife’s cooking sounds like heaven.”
• • •
Aaron lived in a smallish house on a street filled with others just like it. The yard was trimmed, and a variety of flowering cacti filled the beds. With the low humidity and the nearly constant breeze it was easy to forget they were in a desert.
As they followed Aaron into the house, Ashley whispered, “Good people live here.”
From the entryway, the scent of baking cinnamon and fresh coffee greeted them. “Vivian is the best cook,” Eric said.
“Does your nana know that’s what you think?” Vivian’s lime-green apron would have seemed out of place on most people, however, on the radiant woman, it worked.
“Best after her, of course.” Eric pretended to stammer as he returned her embrace.
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Who’s this?” she asked as she offered a hand to Ashley.
“Um,” Ashley said.
“Yes.” Aaron set a briefcase on the sofa just inside the living room and turned to Eric. “Would you like to introduce us to your companion?”
“My name is Ashley Paulo.” She shared a glance with Eric, who nodded. “I’m a member of a sisterhood of succubae.”
“And I’ve been a werewolf for the past year.”
“Oh.” Vivian smiled. “Well, I hope you’re okay with apple cinnamon pancakes for breakfast, or maybe you’d like bacon and eggs, or better yet”—she patted Eric’s chest—“I could defrost a chicken.” Still giggling, she left the room.
Vivian had reacted as most people would. Aaron, on the other hand, stood as if flash-frozen, his eyes wide, his hands still holding the newspaper he’d brought into the house.
“You’re not serious.” He crossed the room and placed the paper on the coffee table. Still facing the paper, he spoke, “There’s no such thing—well, Viv watches these shows—reads some books. It’s not real.” He turned to face them. “It’s not real.”
“Okay, it’s not.” Eric clapped his friend on the shoulder
and squeezed. “You wanted to know, and I told you. I can’t force you to believe me.” He squeezed again before turning away. “Let’s go get some of that breakfast.” He tried to step past his friend to the door Vivian had used.
Aaron didn’t move. “But—”
“I can convince him,” Ashley said, stepping between them.
“Are you sure?” Eric asked.
“There’s no way he’ll really believe us otherwise. We know who the killer is. And there’s no catching this guy alive without backup.” She didn’t need to go into the way they would have to stop him without Aaron’s help. Ever the cop, Eric could bring people to justice, but extracting it on his own took a coldness he didn’t have.
“What do you mean by that?” Aaron asked.
“You want him to face justice. If we go it alone, that won’t happen.” Her voice was hard as stone.
“You’ll kill him,” Aaron said.
“Worse. And even with you ready to scoop him up I can’t say I won’t do irreparable damage.” She shook out her shoulders.
There was a long lull broken only by Viv’s humming and the occasional clatter in the kitchen.
“I’m a sister succubus,” Ashley continued. “I can change my form in order to attract prey.”
Eric circled her to stand at Aaron’s side. If he was startled, he might draw the weapon holstered at his side. Even Eric’s quick reflexes might not be able to stop the reaction.
She made the change slowly. Eric recognized the woman as the one they’d raced through the night to save. Nichole.
“Wa—” Aaron started, his voice about two octaves too high.
“Steady,” Eric muttered.
Even as a tear rolled down her cheek, she darkened her skin to that of a perfect chocolate chip cookie and shifted her features to simulate Vivian.
“Viv?” Aaron stammered.
“Yes, dear?” came the response from the kitchen.
“Uh … Is breakfast almost ready?”
“A few more minutes, but you can come pour some coffee if you want.”
Even as the real Vivian responded to her husband, Ashley was already changing into a replica of Eric. The real Eric winked.
When she’d shifted back into her version of Lydia she stopped and leaned against the arm of the couch for a second. Both men stepped toward her. She released a weak laugh. “It’s harder than it used to be.”
Eric’s smile faded, and he stepped even closer.
Ashley raised a hand. “I’m fine.”
• • •
His eyes held only concern. He was too close. Hunger built within her—not for food, and not for his soul. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this kind of hunger.
Had his shoulders always been so broad? Had his eyes always seen into her heart? She reached a hand to touch Eric’s face. A night’s growth of beard prickled her fingertips. Had his lips always looked so inviting?
As he leaned closer, Eric whispered, “You’re beautiful.”
She’d been told that by countless men over the years. Mostly prey. And none of them had been talking about anything other than her looks. Eric’s words meant something. A flush filled her cheeks.
His lips, soft and warm, pressed against hers. Her body reacted instantly. Libido, long dormant, inflamed every inch of her. She slid her hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. The kiss deepened. The room, the horrors of the past few days, everything slipped away as their bodies pressed against each other.
“Hey.” The voice seemed so far away. “Hey.” It sounded again like the insistent droning of a mosquito. “I hate to break this up, but Viv could walk in at any second, and you don’t look a thing like you did a second ago.”
Ashley glanced into the mirror, and a face she hadn’t seen in a long time looked back at her.
“Hello?” Aaron stalked toward them. “Whenever you’re ready?” His widened eyes emphasized his hoarse whisper.
Eric kissed the top of her head and released her. Once again, she shifted into Lydia. Just in time.
“Did you want coffee? I have tea.” Vivian saw them in the foyer. “You’re not leaving?”
“No, Ashley felt faint and was going to get some air,” Eric replied.
“Oh, dear.” Vivian started forward and took Ashley’s hand. “You look so pale. When was the last time you ate?” Without waiting for a response she steered her into the other room. “Dig in.”
They all sat, and Vivian set a pitcher of orange juice on the table before sitting across from Ashley. The conversation turned to catching up for the old friends.
“How is your grandmother?” Vivian asked Eric, as she spooned some fruit onto Ashley’s plate.
“Nana’s great,” Eric said, forking a couple pancakes onto his plate beside several strips of bacon. “She spends her days divided between her garden and her kitchen. When I told her I was coming out here she told me to say hi and invite you to come visit.”
“That sounds like a great idea. Aaron’s due for a vacation soon. Perhaps we’ll convince him to take it. We definitely won’t get a chance to travel once Ricky starts school.”
“How old is he now?”
“Three. And he already wants to be a detective like his daddy.” Viv smiled warmly at her husband.
Rapid footsteps sounded on the ceiling. “Speak of the devil and he shall awaken.” Viv made two plates and stood, lifting them both. “I’ll take him into the den for breakfast so you three can talk.”
“That’s okay,” Aaron began, but she shut him up with a peck on the lips.
“I know when you need to talk shop.” She carried the plates from the room. The little pounding feet made their way down the stairs. They could hear a piping voice call for mommy before giggles and more running. A door closed on the other side of the house.
Aaron sighed and said to no one in particular, “I’m a lucky man.”
After a moment, Eric broke the silence. “Irving Pilcher is our guy. We need to find a way to lure him in.”
“Why would the COO of Gunderson’s empire want to kidnap, torture, and kill young women?”
Ashley grunted softly. “Just because he’s rich doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of extreme evil.”
Eric nodded. “Some would say he would be more capable.”
Aaron shook his head and ate a bit of cantaloupe before responding. “His life is so public. How could he possibly do this for so long without anyone knowing about it?”
Ashley gripped her orange juice. “His sort of fantasies don’t grow in the light of day. They build in the corners of his mind until they darken his soul. The darker it gets, the more likely he is to act on what he truly wants.”
“How do you know it’s Pilcher?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? He’d seen what Ashley could do; would he believe his old friend could be a supernatural beast?
“I smelled him,” Eric said. He took a bite of bacon and smiled, showing nothing of the unease Ashley knew boiled under the surface.
“Because you’re a werewolf?” Aaron’s gaze shifted between the two of them. “Even with her show, it’s hard to believe.”
“Why do you think I’m not a cop anymore? I can smell better than any police dog. It’s as good as seeing. I couldn’t explain how I knew where a pedophile was hiding his latest victim. I knew who’d committed murder, rape … and who was lying. Did you know you smell different when you lie? But as a cop, I had to give cause. I had to find ‘real’ evidence. Quite often, there wasn’t any, or when there was, it was so minute, no one should have found it. No one questions a PI as long as they deliver. I haven’t had a case yet that I couldn’t solve. You know that. It’s why you brought me here.”
Aaron sipped his coffee, then rubbed a hand over his face. “You’ve been this way for a year?”
Eric nodded.
“It’s going to take a while to process. I’m sorry.” He stood then and walked to the kitchen window. In the silence, they could hear a televisio
n in the other room. A child’s song was playing, and a tiny voice piped gibberish to the melody. Finally, the song ended with “Yeahs” and clapping from Ricky and Vivian. Aaron nodded as if in agreement.
“I don’t need to know any more. I’m not sure I want to. Whatever you claim to be, you both are on my side and that’s all that matters.” To Eric, he said, “You’re a brother. I believe you, no matter how outlandish it sounds.”
They stood, clasped hands, bumped shoulders, and slapped each other’s backs in a kind of man-hug.
Once everyone got settled Ashley cleared her throat. “So, how do we catch this guy?”
Aaron cleared his throat. “I can’t put a tail on him or get a warrant for his house without approval … ” He glanced across the table at Eric.
“But we can.” Eric nodded. “We’ll stop by his house this afternoon and tail him when goes to visit his victims. Then we can call in a tip.”
“Can you tail him without being seen?”
Eric leveled a gaze at his old friend.
“Okay.” Aaron smiled. “Do your reconnaissance. Make sure there’s proof we can use. Then call in the tip, and I’ll bring the cavalry.”
• • •
They had several hours before they planned on trailing Pilcher. Given their evening, Eric suggested they return to the room to sleep. He knew they both could use it.
Once inside, they didn’t say a word. He sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. When he stood and faced Ashley she’d already slipped out of her jeans and had shifted so she was wearing a baggy t-shirt that just barely covered white cotton panties. She was still in the image of his partner.
“What do you look like?” he asked, seeming to startle her from her own thoughts.
“I look like anything I want.” She didn’t seem to understand, but he suspected she did.
“You. The real you.” He pulled off his belt, rolled it up, and placed it on the dresser.
“You’ve already seen the real me.” She climbed into the bed.
If she could get comfortable for bed, so could he. There was something strangely dirty about climbing into bed with Lydia, though. “Have I?” He pulled off his shirt, but she was still on the bed, as his old partner, and he stopped.
Redeeming the Night Page 13