"Welcome to Ireland," Donahue said, "and before you ask, yes, it rains every day."
"Decide who's going and who's staying with the trucks," Edward said, and his voice was all business Edward. Ted's down-home drawl was totally gone. I wondered what in the last few minutes had made him give up on it.
I left pretty much everyone at the trucks, except for Nicky, Dev, Jake, and Kaazim. We had an understanding that I wasn't taking all four of them into the crime scene, but four seemed to be the bodyguard minimum for foreign soil, so rather than arguing I just told them not to get in the way of anyone else, and we followed Edward up the hill. He'd pulled his cowboy hat down snug to keep the rain off his face. I had pulled up my hood, though pulling it up far enough to keep the rain off my face meant I was limiting my peripheral vision, and the movement of my hair inside the hood would even mess with my hearing. Not great.
Nicky had pulled out a billed cap and put it under his hood. It seemed to keep the rain off without him pulling the hood up as snug, which meant he didn't have to compromise his side vision or hearing as much. He'd done this before. He'd done most things before when it came to crime and violence; he was just used to being on the other side of the equation.
Kaazim just pulled his shemagh around his head and pulled his rain hood up over it; Jake did what Nicky had done with a ball cap. Dev had pulled up his hood and then slid it off again. I think he'd decided to get wet rather than compromise vision and hearing. Since he was supposed to be my bodyguard, I was okay with that. I was really wishing I'd put my hair in a braid, or at least a ponytail, before I shoved it all under the hood as I followed Edward and Nolan up the hill.
People started to stare at us, and for once I didn't think it was my fault. Nolan was in full tactical gear. It wasn't just the civilian gawkers staring either. Apparently even the other police weren't used to someone dressed in full battle rattle showing up at a crime scene. Nolan got stopped by a man in a suit who turned out to be a police bureaucrat. I would have said a detective--I never got a clear introduction and he talked like a paper pusher, not a policeman, because he seemed more interested in the fact that Nolan showing up in full gear was sending the wrong idea. People would think someone was armed inside the house, or holding hostages, or both, because that was the only reason to have someone like Nolan here. The suit never questioned the rest of us, so Edward kept moving and we moved with him. I hated leaving a man behind, but if Edward was okay with leaving his old frenemy behind, then who was I to question it? Besides, we hadn't gotten me inside the actual crime scene yet and I was still expecting another suit to protest me, or the men with me. Until that happened we kept moving up the road in the persistent soft fall of rain. It felt like autumn though I knew it was still July here, just like back home. The air was damp and chilly, fresh with rain, and the constant murmur of the sea was like background music to the crackle of the police radios and the noise that always happens around a major crime scene. It was like we'd changed seasons along with countries. I'd have liked to ask someone if it was always like this in July, but I didn't want anyone to hear my accent or figure out that I was new to the investigation. If I kept my mouth shut and just stayed at Edward's side, I might finally get to help investigate something.
Dev's blond hair looked almost luminescent with rain by the time we got up to the top of the hill. Nicky's and Jake's hat brims were beaded with water, but it wasn't heavy enough to actually drip off. Water was beaded all over Edward's white cowboy hat, too. It was the same hat he'd had as Ted since I'd first met him as his alter ego, so the brim was worked well up with his hands and it fit his head just right. It still bothered me that he had a white hat. It just seemed like false advertising. In the rain the hat looked like old ivory, off-white, and that made more sense. Edward wasn't a bad guy, a black hat, but he wasn't exactly a white hat either; off-white would do.
The neighborhood at the top of the hill was very different from the stretch of houses perched by the beach; though some of them on this side of the street probably had a great view of the sea, that wasn't the main selling point. I think the point was more security, because almost all the houses up here had stone walls around them. The walls were all taller than I was, so they were like stone versions of the wooden security fences back home. The yards behind the fences were invisible from the road, or from the lower floors of their neighbors' houses. The houses were close enough together on the sides that seeing over the fences and into the yards might happen depending on the height of the houses involved. The gates that I could see were mostly metal and looked as security-serious as the stone-walled fences themselves. From what few glimpses inside through the gates I got, the yards looked well planted and thick with lush vegetation. I didn't know if it grew that way or if gardeners helped it along. Back in Missouri either you hired someone for that much nice yard, or you worked at it on the weekends yourself. It didn't just magically grow that way.
"I'm counting three ambulances," Edward said.
"Isn't that a lot?" Dev asked.
"Yes," we answered in unison.
"Does it mean there are survivors?"
"Maybe," I said.
The house that was the focus of all the cars was tucked in behind one of the stone walls with only the top of its roof showing, or at least it was all I could see. I'd have liked to ask Nicky--or Dev, who was even taller--if he could see more, but one, I try not to point out how short I am, and two, it wasn't a police officer kind of question. Men did not ask other men who were taller if they could see better over a wall, unless actual enemies were hiding behind the wall to maybe shoot them. Short of emergencies involving death, men did not admit to certain things and that was one of them. I'd been working in male-dominated fields for too long not to understand the rules. If you wanted to play with the boys, you needed to know how to play like one.
There was a uniformed officer in front of the metal gates leading inside. He stopped us, because now that we didn't have Nolan with us none of us actually had credentials for this country. We needed an Irish cop to get us inside. Edward flashed his Marshal credentials, and the uniform didn't react badly to them. It meant even if he didn't know Ted on sight, he knew he was around and helping with the case. He still wouldn't let us inside the gate.
In his best Ted cowboy drawl, he said, "I appreciate that you've heard of me, pardner. Could you locate Superintendent Pearson or Inspector Sheridan to escort us inside?"
"Who are they?" he asked, and nodded at us.
I flashed my credentials, and the fact that they matched Edward's seemed to reassure the officer. "We heard more of you were coming from the States."
I smiled and tried to look helpful, encouraging even. "We just landed at the airport and came straight here," I said.
The officer glanced at the other four men. I expected him to ask for their badges, too, but he didn't. He glanced behind him at the gate and the house beyond, and then he shivered. You didn't see that often in cops that have been on the job long. Either he was younger than he looked, or something in the house behind him had seriously unnerved him.
"I know we're supposed to think of them as citizens with a disease and they can't help what's happening to them, but . . . this isn't a disease."
"We're here to find them and stop them," Edward said.
"I hope you do . . . stop them, I mean. I hope you stop them all." And there was anger in his voice now.
"Let us inside, pardner, and we'll start hunting 'em down."
He reached toward the gate. He wanted to let us inside, but we hadn't been cleared. What's a cop to do? I was sort of wishing him to let us in but wasn't sure how much trouble he'd be in if he did it.
Edward's phone rang. "Inspector Sheridan, I'm at the gate trying to get inside now. Yes, Marshal Blake is standing right beside me." He listened for a second and then said to the officer, "The inspector would like to speak with you."
The officer hesitated and then took the phone. He did a lot of Yes, ma'am, No, ma'am, and finally han
ded the phone back to Edward, who was smiling warmly at him, doing his best Ted impression.
"You can go inside. Inspector Sheridan will meet you at the front door." He opened the gate for us and in we all went, all six of us.
39
INSPECTOR RACHEL SHERIDAN was tall, slender, with nearly black hair falling in glossy straightness to her shoulders. She'd turned the ends under with a curling iron, or maybe curlers. My hair was so curly that I didn't really use either, but whatever she'd done it looked good. She managed to be both pale and dark complexioned, like someone who would tan if she ever got enough sun. The white button-up shirt may have helped her face look darker. The black pantsuit didn't fit her well, as if she'd lost weight recently. Her face was a soft triangle, and the bones of her face and even her hands were delicate; elfin was the word that came to mind, even though she had to be five inches taller than me, or maybe more. But despite the height she was delicate looking and very pretty. If she'd been just a little curvier I'd have said she was beautiful, but I'd have had to know if she was naturally that thin or starved herself. If the first, we could talk; if the second, I didn't have patience for women who ate lettuce leaves or less to keep some mysterious perfect size.
She let us step inside enough to get out of the rain, but then stopped us because there were four more of us than she was expecting. "I'm glad you're here, Ted, and Marshal Blake. I will be happy to have your expertise today, but I don't know these other men."
We did quick introductions. She couldn't even shake hands, because she was wearing the rubber gloves that she'd already walked through the crime scene wearing. She was also wearing the little booties over her shoes. She wasted a nicer-than-work smile on Edward, but as I introduced the rest she smiled a little more than typical at a crime scene at Nicky and Dev. I guess everyone has a type and apparently, Sheridan had a thing for blue-eyed blond men. She wasn't unprofessional, but I could just tell that she was a little more happy to see them than Jake and Kaazim. I filed it away for later to make sure she didn't waste too much time flirting with men who were taken. I'd run afoul of one female detective back in St. Louis who still held a grudge because I had "pretended" that Nathaniel wasn't my boyfriend, so she felt she'd made a fool of herself over him. Women puzzle me. Sheridan motioned all of us to the box of gloves. "Even if you don't all get to walk through the house, I don't want to waste our time eliminating any of your fingerprints from the investigation."
None of us argued; we just slipped the little plastic-bootie things over our shoes and then gloved ourselves. Now, whoever was walking through the crime scene wouldn't accidentally track in evidence, or step on evidence in the house, and we wouldn't be getting forensics excited about a fingerprint that didn't match the family.
A tall man, as in taller than Dev, walked into the room. He was almost completely bald with just an edge of dark hair trimmed short. His jacket was a subdued gray check, pants solid gray; he wore a white button-down shirt that seemed to be handed out to all detectives in America, and here, bisected by a tie that almost matched the jacket. Once I would have thought it matched, but I'd been dating Jean-Claude and Nathaniel too long, and it had made me pickier.
"Forrester, good that you're here, and you as well, Marshal Blake." He was wearing gloves, so there were no handshakes with this inspector, who was introduced as Superintendent Pearson, either. He glanced at the men around us. "And who are these gentlemen?"
Names weren't what Pearson wanted to know. He wanted to know what good they were going to be inside his crime scene. How could they help the investigation? The four of them stayed silent and let Edward and me do the talking. They probably didn't know what to say either.
Edward said, "It depends on what kind of scene we have here. Everyone has their specialties."
Pearson nodded, as if that made sense. "Currently, we're trying to decide if it's safe to move the vampires out of the house. Do you remember the vampire that burned up on us before you came in on the investigation?"
Edward turned to me. "Paramedics got called to an unconscious victim, but when they tried to take him out of the house on a stretcher the sun was up."
I gave him wide eyes. "He burst into flames?"
Edward and both of the inspectors nodded.
"Wow, that must have been quite the surprise for the paramedics."
"According to witnesses the vampire woke up as it was burning to death and started screaming. The paramedics weren't prepared and didn't know what to do to help the victim . . . the vampire."
"Once they go up in flames from sunlight there isn't always a way to put out the fire," I said.
"May I interject?" Jake asked.
"If you have something useful to add," Pearson said.
"Once a vampire is out of direct sunlight, you simply extinguish the flames as you would on anyone, though admittedly some types of vampires burn more violently than others."
"Marshal Forrester has been trying to enlighten us on the variety of vampirekind," Pearson said.
Sheridan asked, "If the paramedics had put the vampire in the ambulance, would they have been able to put out the fire, or would the entire ambulance have gone up in flames?"
"I'd have rushed him back to the house--more room to work with and less likely that you'll burn down an entire house. I am not certain I would want to take a combusting vampire into the back of an ambulance. You say this one was screaming and thrashing around?"
"Witnesses say he was," Pearson said.
"The vampire was panicking at that point and might have reached out for the medics. If the vampire had grabbed hold of them in his panic he could have burned them, too, and the interior of the ambulance could have gone up with them inside it."
"They attempted to douse the flames but didn't think to try to get him out of the sunlight," Pearson said.
"I told them that the only thing I'd ever used sunlight for was to burn vampires. I'd never tried to save one, so I didn't know if it was possible," Edward said.
"I've never tried to save one from sunlight, not once they caught fire anyway," I said.
"I am glad that I could add something to the conversation," Jake said.
Pearson was looking at him closely. "We have a house full of paramedics who are wanting more information on how to treat vampires medically."
"I will be happy to lend what knowledge I possess."
"Is that why you have so many ambulances out front, because you're treating the vampires and the victims both?" I asked.
"We transported everyone in the house that didn't have fangs as victims found unresponsive at the scene," he said.
"I told them that fangs were one way they could tell vampire from victim," Edward said.
"The not breathing is a clue, too," I said.
"But some coma patients have respiration so shallow that it can barely be detected, Marshal Blake. A doctor with better equipment needs to make that decision."
"That's fair. So how many . . . victims with fangs do we have left, and are they what the three ambulances are waiting for?"
"We have three possible vampires on site," Pearson said.
"How many nonvamps did you transport?" I asked.
"Four."
"What are you doing with them?" I asked.
Sheridan answered, "The hospital is trying to figure out if they are alive, dead, or other, and if there's anything they can do to bring them back."
"I just read a new study on brain activity in vampires. It turns out that unlike the true dead, bodies that are going to rise as vampires don't go completely brain dead," I said.
"Does that mean that vampires aren't the walking dead?" Dev asked. "I mean, brain death is one of the ways they decide whether to pull the plug on life support, so does that mean vampires don't really die?"
"It's cute when you try to be deep," Nicky said.
"Actually it's a good point, but for right now if the hospital looks for brain activity on the victims and doesn't find any, then they're probably dead," I said.
Dev gave Nicky a look that said, See, I was right. Nicky frowned back at him. I noticed that Sheridan was watching the interchange more than Pearson.
"Where did you read this new study?" Kaazim asked.
"I'm on a list for science and medical articles about vampires, zombies, wereanimals, and preternatural research in general. It's like an old-fashioned clipping service except it comes on the computer and doesn't kill trees unless I print something."
"That's my partner, always trying to improve herself," Edward said, so dryly that I couldn't tell if he meant it or was wanting to be far more sarcastic than Ted would be.
"I talked to the couple that owns this house personally, Marshals. Less than two weeks ago they were in wanting--no, demanding--that we work harder to help locate their missing daughter." Pearson's pleasant but unreadable cop face crumbled around the edges, and I got a glimpse in his brown eyes of how much pain this was causing him. It was just a moment, but it was enough to let me sympathize.
"Are the parents at the hospital, or here?" I asked.
"Mr. Brady is at the hospital along with his parents and the youngest daughter. Mrs. Brady is here along with the daughter we couldn't find and the daughter's best friend."
"It's always hard when you knew them before they became vampires."
"Have you known people before and after?" he asked.
I nodded.
"It's always harder to kill someone that you knew," Edward said, and there was none of Ted's happy down-home charm in that sentence.
Pearson looked at him. "Have you killed all the people you knew once they became vampires?"
"They were trying to kill me at the time," Edward said.
"When people first become vampires, the bloodlust is so powerful that they will attack anyone. They just want food, and that means fresh blood," I said.
"Is that why we found the daughter here with her family?" Sheridan asked.
"No," Edward said, "you found her here because some of them remember enough of their humanity to go home. They can be drawn to places they knew well in life, and it's easier to persuade family to get close so they can feed."
Crimson Death Page 45