Blue Blood

by Richard Poche

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You're letting me win,” Mark said as he looked down at his Sequence cards.

  “That's not my style,” Veronica said. “If you want to beat me, you got to earn it.”

  Veronica lied. She didn't want to be one of those girlfriends that constantly competed with their men. So, she held back. She could have laid down the card and the chip to win the game, but she held back.

  “Okay, fine,” Mark said, placing down a blue chip that give him five chips across the board in sequence. “You lose. I win.”

  Leaning over, he gave her a kiss.

  “But you are a lovable loser,” he slammed the heel of his palm on the table like a judge's gavel before backing away in his wheelchair. She watched as he maneuvered around the table and past the kitchen counter as if he had been using the chair for all of his life instead of just a year.

  Mark still had not given her or anyone else the exact details of what happened to him in Iraq. A part of Veronica wanted to keep it that way. She didn't want the gory details of what happened to someone she loved. She just wanted him alive.

  They could never run on the beach together. She accepted that that. But she didn't know if he did. He remained silent on so many things.

  He also taught her so many things without saying anything.

  “Don't ask him any questions,” Veronica's father warned her when Mark came home in a wheelchair. “Questions never do any good.”

  Disabled or not, Veronica wanted to be with him.

  Their relationship had turned romantic the moment he joined the Marines.

  Veronica opted to stay local in the Bay Area attending UC Berkeley with his sister, Terri.

  Mark, on the other hand, felt the need to be a hero. To make his firefighter father proud.

  So, he joined the Marines.

  He went around to say goodbye to all of his closest friends and family before he shipped off to Parris Island for basic training.

  Veronica drove Mark home after a going away party. The parting hug came as no surprise. The kiss, however, came unexpected.

  Something electric happened between them that night. Mark had never been on her radar. Handsome and charming as he was, she deemed him off limits because of her friendship with his sister, Terri. Dating the biological twin of your best friend just didn't seem right.

  But that night Veronica felt like maybe she would lose him forever.

  She initiated the kiss and he responded back without any hesitation. In subsequent letters, he confessed his own love for her.

  They vowed to keep their budding romance a secret before telling his sister and mother. They had to make sure they were the right fit for each other before getting everyone's hopes up.

  She wrote him from school, telling him about the stupid protests going on near the campus that she dutifully avoided. But after his deployment to Iraq, his letters came with less frequency.

  Veronica worried after she didn't hear from him in about two months.

  Then she received his final letter. Brief and to the point.

  Mark would be coming home.

  For good.

  He was paralyzed from the waist down. He said that if she didn't want to pursue a relationship any further that he would understand.

  The revelation came as an abstraction to Veronica. She couldn't fathom what being a paraplegic could do to someone not only physically but mentally. She told her father what happened to Mark, and her old man could only shake his head. A Vietnam veteran, he warned her that Mark would never be the same.

  “He'll feel helpless,” her father said. “I know. I've seen it. I've felt it. You become fixed in a time and place. Your mind forever repeating some action that will feel that it has no significance to anyone but him.”

  Her father had been half right.

  When Mark came home, she did see something different in him. He no longer had an innocent cheerfulness about him. The quick smile no longer flashed across his face. His hazel brown eyes no longer flickered with mischief.

  Something else took the place of these things. A firm resolve. A determination to not let his circumstances dictate his prospects in life.

  “I can manage,” Mark said when he noticed Veronica getting up to follow him to the fridge. He opened the refrigerator door, grabbed two Cokes then spun around to close the door behind himself.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Did someone say 'hungry'?” a voice called out from the front door.

  Elaine entered the kitchen as cheerful as a doting mother could be.

  “Don't eat yet! I'll cook something!”

  Veronica liked Elaine. She had compensated for Mark's tragedy and her husband's recent death by going out of her to way be cheerful and positive.

  At least on the surface.

  “What are you two up to?” she said with an innuendo that made Veronica blush.

  “Veronica is kicking my ass at Sequence,” Mark said. “Again.”

  “Your son is far too modest,” Veronica chimed in before noticing Elaine setting up a grocery bag on the table. “Do you need help?”

  Elaine waved her away. “You two kids play away. Don't mind me.”

  “You sure?”

  “Well, tell you what, if you get the rest of the groceries, I'll make you guys a chocolate shake just like the old days.”

  “Actually, I could go for a root beer float,” Mark said, placing his Coke back on the table.

  “Two root beer floats!” Elaine chirped.

  “Oh, you are the best Mom,” Veronica said, laughing.

  “She knows, believe me,” Mark said, wheeling around the table and heading out behind Veronica.

  “Have you guys heard from Terri at all?” Elaine called out, opening the refrigerator and taking out the ice cream.

  “Terri?” Veronica thought for a moment. “No. Last I heard from her was, well, three days ago. Usually she's out with-”

  “That Glen character-” Elaine said, waving her hand dismissively. “I called her yesterday and she didn't call me back. Called this morning and it still went to the answering machine.”

  The doorbell echoed throughout the spacious home.

  Both Elaine and Mark froze in place. Veronica knew that the sound of the bell brought back memories.

  Memories of when the firefighter captain came to tell them that Mark's father had died in an accident.

  His mother became agoraphobic, needing weeks before she transformed overnight into a woman who forced a smile and a laugh at every opportunity. She had experienced too much tragedy in too short of a time.

  The doorbell rang again. A pounding at the door.

  “I'll get it,” Mark called out, wheeling toward the door. Veronica followed as Mark opened up to a police officer who looked very, very solemn.

  “Is this the residence of Terri Marsh?”

  “Well, yeah, she lives here sometimes. I'm her brother.”

  “I'm Officer Frank Guinness,” he said. “May I come in?”

  “What's this about?”

  “I think it better we speak inside,” the officer looked behind himself then back at Mark. “Please?”

  “Sure,” Mark wheeled his chair back as the officer stepped in. Guinness stood tall, six-foot four at least but weighed only one hundred seventy pounds at best.

  “I have some bad news,” Guinness said. “Your sister's boyfriend, Glen Eubank. Do you know him?”

  “Of course.”

  “He was found murdered last night. We've been trying to locate your sister.”

  “Oh, my God,” Elaine stepped into the living room, her face registering shock.

  The officer stood in awkward silence. “I'm really sorry.”

  “Sit down, please,” Elaine pointed to the couch.

  “Thanks. You’re Terri’s mother, I presume?”

  “I am. Oh, my God. He’s dead?”

  Guinness took a seat on the sofa and pulled out his tablet. “I'm afraid so.”

  �
��Is my daughter all right?” Elaine blurted out, sitting across from the policeman.

  “We're trying to locate her,” Guinness said. “Eubank was found with another female. We're just trying to piece together what happened last night. His family told us of his dating relationship with Terri.”

  “Where were they found?” Elaine asked.

  “The bodies were found on the beach here,” Guinness said. “As of right now, we have no leads. It is an isolated place. There is always hope for witnesses, but the nearest home is about a half-mile away. Right now, we're just tracking down people who knew the victims. Did you know a Polly Blackwell?”

  Guinness looked at Mark then at Veronica.

  They both shook their heads.

  “My daughter-” Elaine interrupted. “Is she in danger?”

  Veronica's mind raced. Terri had a snarky nature, the total opposite of her brother. She had a sharp mind and used it against people that tried her patience. Not exactly short of enemies but she couldn't imagine anyone trying to kill her.

  “I won't lie,” Guinness said. “This does look like a crime of passion and we can't rule that out. But this is the fifth murder we've had in as many weeks. We think they're all related somehow.”

  “You don't think-” Elaine said. “My daughter wouldn't hurt a fly.”

  Guinness stayed more than an hour. He had a private question and answer session with everyone.

  He got to Veronica last. He asked when the last time she'd seen Terri and what her state of mind was.

  “You don't think she had anything to do with Glen's murder?” Veronica asked.

  “Right now,” the officer rubbed his eyes as if he were bored. “We're just collecting facts. No one is accusing anyone of anything.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, when was the last time you saw her?” Guinness' eyes remained fixed on the tablet in front of him, like a man trying to decode a computer program.

  Veronica furrowed her brow. The guy couldn't be that stupid because he just asked her that question.

  “I don't remember,” Veronica repeated. “It was two days or so ago.”

  “Do you remember what you talked about?” Guinness finally looked up from his tablet. He now had a look of concern that seemed genuine.

  Veronica shook her head. “I don't even remember what the conversation was about. I think she asked me if I watched the episode of the Walking Dead. It was our tradition, every Sunday night to watch that show. She bailed on me but the next day she asked if I watched it.”

  Veronica lied. The last time she spoke to Terri she had looked like a ghost. She felt as if she were talking straight through her and nothing she said seemed to sink through. She felt worried until Terri snapped out of it and told her that she had a headache.

  “Okay,” the officer wrote down the information. “Do you remember why she bailed on you?”

  “Said she was sick,” Veronica's eyes diverted to a photo that Elaine had placed on the mantelpiece. A picture of Veronica and Terri arm in arm, wearing their graduation gowns. “Had a really bad sunburn or something.”

  “Anything seem out of the ordinary other than that?”

  “No,” Veronica answered too fast. Her mind raced to other scenarios as she answered the officer's questions. Maybe that is what he wanted. To blurt something incriminating about her friend. But Veronica knew Terri couldn't be behind his murder. If anything, she may be in danger herself.

  “Anyone that you know may have hurt her or Glen?”

  Veronica shook her head again. “Glen was a pretty easy-going dude. They were doing good as a couple. Here, I could show you their posts on Facebook.”

  Veronica took out her cell phone. She clicked her Facebook app and began scrolling through Terri's page.

  “See?” she held up her phone for the officer to see.

  “Interesting,” he said, sliding through the photographs. “You know, usually when a female posts so many pictures of her and her significant other on social media, that means they are not doing so well. I've seen that happen a lot.”

  After a minute or two of browsing through photographs, Guinness handed the phone back to Veronica.

  “Yeah, well, I've been friends with her since seventh grade. If something was wrong, I'd know.”

  “You guys tell each other everything?”

  Veronica nodded. “Well, yeah. That's what best friends do.”

  “Any place you can think of that she might run off to? Any secret hiding place? Favorite place to just hang out?”

  Veronica shook her head. “Just her apartment and work.”

  “She lives next door to you?”

  “Same apartment complex,” Veronica nodded. “Just off the campus of UC Berkeley.”

  “She wouldn't be one of those people who has a key under the mat would she?”

  “I got the key to her place,” Veronica said. “She calls me to feed her cat sometimes.”

  “Mind if we go and take a look? We tried her apartment and didn't get an answer.”

  Veronica began to think of Terri in the past tense. She didn't know why and that scared her. She began feeling nostalgic for her friend, remembering all the times they spent together. Her mind flashed to moments they spent eating fries at McDonalds. Driving all the way down for the Coachella music festival.

  Most of all, she remembered the laughing. How they would have giggle fits that would be contagious to everyone around them.

  “Veronica?” the officer asked.

  “I'm sorry,” she said, snapping out of her daydream. “We can go there, yes.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Stars salted the black sky with a full moon above which lit the policemen scurrying about. Four large oak trees loomed like prison wardens against the dark horizon. Darien parked about a fifty yards away, drawing down her window. She could smell the aroma of wild animals in heat in the air. Reaching into her back seat, she propped up the parabolic microphone on the passenger side and began listening to the conversation among the different law enforcement personnel.

  “Two deceased found in a park area next to the beach,” the dispatcher's voice sounded robotic.

  Darien had two different police scanners set up in her car. No matter what city she found herself in she always thought the dispatchers sounded the same.

  “Deceased male,” one of the officers said as Darien curled her black nails around her headphones as she placed one side to her ear. “Identification shows his name as Glen Eubank. Female has been identified as Polly Blackwell.”

  Peering through her night-vision binoculars, she looked for a familiar face among the police officers. She could tell the officers were having a tough time processing the brutality of the crimes. They were all trying hard to seem tough and calloused, be everything they really weren’t. One of the officer’s eyes bulged out as he knelt down and inspected the body. A female officer stood next him, looking down in horrified amazement. She looked around, then straight at Darien as she peered at them.

  “Yeah, I’m watching you, bitch,” Darien muttered. The female officer then looked back down at the body, her hands jittery and her face afraid.

  Darien reclined deeper into her tufted black leather seat, listening as the investigators spoke in hushed tones.

  “I ain’t never seen shit like this before,” a police officer said, wiping a gob of sweat from his forehead.

  Darien had seen it all before.

  She saw firsthand how ferocious some of the turned could be. But this occasion seemed a bit more brutal than the standards she had gotten used to.

  Darien's gut instinct told her that this killing had been done by someone who knew the victims. Practiced vampires usually did the deed without a lot of unnecessary bloodshed. The way the officers were describing the scene, with the male victim's throat and penis ripped out, Darien concluded that this attack had a personal bent.

  She put the headphones on both ears and listened while she took out a tablet from her satchel. Scanning through soci
al media, she found Glen Eubank's Facebook page. Looking at Glen's pictures, she saw through the young man as if he were a window. He had ugly parents. An ugly father who had a face that looked like fifty miles of bad road. His mother looked no better, having a face that looked like something that hatched out of an alligator's nest. Somehow, someway despite losing the genetic lottery Glen looked relatively handsome. But the smirk he gave in most of his pictures were a dead giveaway. He was just another douche bag out to screw as many chicks as could while his youth and parent's money would still allow him to. Scanning down, she saw numerous photos of the young man smiling with his arm around a young brunette, her name tagged as Terri Marsh.

  Darien had recognized her face. She had been one of the young women that Walter Torrence had been stalking since he had become a vampire. She pegged Terri as a lot like herself, someone you couldn't put a finger on, a puzzle, and one you couldn't put together on your own. She stalked Walter, waiting for just the right moment just as he stalked Terri waiting for his own right moment.

  But she didn't consider it her job to protect civilians. The job became simply to dispose of the turned with an expectation of collateral damage.

  Darien smirked as she remembered the fun she had in killing Walter.

  A petty criminal who now had some supernatural ability, he had taken a sadistic pleasure in killing his victims. He would sing Rick Springfield songs just before he would bite into their necks.

  “She must be somebody’s baby.

  She’s got to be somebody’s baby,

  ‘Cuz she’s so fine.”

  Darien gave him a taste of his own medicine when she sneaked behind him and stabbed him with a silver dagger.

  Silver seemed to have an especially painful effect on the turned.

  She remembered how Walter tried desperately to pry the dagger out of his neck while Darien whistled the tune back at him. He screamed in pain then started crying like a newborn baby rather than the hardened criminal he pretended to be.

  He had been hard to track down. Ducking and dodging her like the petty thief he had once been.

  “What's the matter?” Darien taunted. “Cat got your tongue. Let’s hear that song.”