The Turned

by A A Mize

  “Sit back down, Roberts,” Walker demanded, leaning onto his elbows.

  Roberts hesitated, then lowered herself back into the chair. It didn’t seem that he was going to let it go after all. It wasn’t a good sign. Had they given up the name the bouncer told them, Miller might have forgiven them and let them off the hook. But now they were racking up trouble with Homicide.

  “What was the name the bouncer gave you again?”

  “Michael Valentine,” Roberts said.

  “I want him brought in for questioning as soon as you can find him,” Walker said, pulling a fresh cigar out of the box on the desk. Roberts clenched her jaw, eyes never leaving him as he put it to his lips and began to chew.

  “Shouldn’t we let Homicide handle it?”

  “We are,” Walker shrugged. “Bring him in and question him, then called Miller and his boys and let them take over.”

  “Sir, I don’t understand why we’re pursuing this case.”

  “You don’t have to, Roberts. You take orders. That’s it. That’s your job. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  10

  Detective Davis left behind the flashing lights and noisy police department with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, back hunched against the wind. Outside of work he wasn’t Detective Davis anymore. He was Joel, youngest son of Mike and Ylonda Davis, the baby of the five siblings but still overlooked.

  A woman bumped into him on the sidewalk, her elbow jabbing into his ribs. She barely turned to mutter an apology and he couldn’t help but mutter one of his own under his breath. He paused a moment, watching her until she disappeared into the crowd just as someone else stepped on his toes.

  Joel pushed his back against the wall and people passed him by without a glance. Without his uniform and badge he was little more than a ghost to the rest of the world. But still a small smile quirked his lips and his light brown eyes glistened because he knew something they didn’t. Most of the world overlooked him, but not her. No, she had sought him out across a smoky bar and lured him in with her sweet smile and doe eyes.

  That was why he couldn’t believe the trouble she’d almost gotten herself into. Joel thumbed the identification card in his pocket, not daring to withdraw it out of paranoia that the wrong person might see it. His eyes darted around, looking for anyone he might know and seeing no one he continued on for several more blocks until at last he was across the street from a pretty little townhouse with ornate black wrought iron details and ivy hanging in baskets along the rail for the upper gallery.

  There his angel sat, her fingers to her delicate lips as she read a book, unaware that he was on the street below, gazing up at her. A muffled voice called her from inside and she rose from her place to answer it. Joel’s heart leapt up in his chest and he jogged across the street to knock on the door. Catching his reflection in the strike plate, he smoothed his soot black hair into place mere moments before a woman opened the door.

  “Hey Joel,” she greeted, stepping out of the way for him to enter. “She’s been waiting for you upstairs.”

  “Thanks, Elizabeth,” he said before taking the steps two at a time only to freeze when he caught sight of his angel in the door of her room. “Ivanka,” he breathed.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said, looping her arms under his and around his waist, burying her face in his chest.

  “I’m sorry. I left work as soon as I could. Can we talk in private?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  “Of course,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into her room, closing the door behind him.

  The space was small and comfortable, but it was obviously not hers. There were generic images of the city on the neutral colored walls and her luggage lay open in the corner, empty. It reminded him that she was only visiting and soon she’d have to leave the city. Their time together was limited and he was beginning to resent the fact that he had to go to work and miss time with her, which was odd for him. He loved his job and had worked hard to be there and although it was strange for him to feel the way he did about it, he also didn’t question the source of the discontent.

  “Joel?” she said, bringing his attention back to her. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

  “Oh, right,” he said, fumbling the ID card from his pocket. “Homicide found this in an alley earlier. I don’t think they processed it yet but I don’t want you getting mixed up in this investigation by accident.”

  Ivanka took the card, but she didn’t seem pleased. Her eyes trailed off and she walked slowly to the window. “Where did you find this?”

  “In an alley beside the Iron Lotus. We’re investigating a murder and the victim was last seen there.”

  “Who else saw it?”

  “My partner and our superior.”

  “You don’t think I’m involved in that, do you?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes were puffy and Joel’s heart dropped.

  “No, of course I don’t. If I thought you could be a killer I wouldn’t have risked everything to get that card for you. I could lose my job for that but I can’t let you go down for something you didn’t do. But Ivanka… I have to ask. Why didn’t you tell me you were Turned?”

  Her head dropped but he couldn’t see her face. The twist back sweater she wore exposed the soft curve of her spine and he longed to reach out and touch her, feeling hazy about his position. Where was his distrust or fear? Where was the betrayal? All he felt toward her was longing and yet that didn’t seem quite his own. Something about it felt as though it was planted in his head but he wasn’t strong enough to question it too deeply.

  “I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me,” she whispered, the hint of tears in her voice. “I didn’t want you to think I’m a monster.”

  “I don’t think you’re a monster. I couldn’t think that.”

  “You can leave now if you want.”

  Joel didn’t hesitate to go to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his cheek resting against her neck. He became hypersensitive to her, realizing that she had no pulse but she still breathed, just like he did. He thought about the times before when he’d seen her and the way he’d felt so tired when she was gone. The thought of her feeding from him seeped into his mind, yet he couldn’t bring himself to let her go and walk away. His grip only tightened, and he closed his eyes to the subtle scent of her perfume. Never before had he wanted someone or something so badly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  11

  Michael Valentine had never been a clever individual. He flunked out of high school and never looked back, instead choosing to take up at his dad’s auto shop where he thought he’d have some leniency with his irresponsible ways. That was where he had been wrong. His father took the business very seriously and had no time for his son’s nonsense. As much as it had pained him, he fired Michael after three days of missing work without so much as a single phone call. In his father’s mind, his son needed to learn that there were consequences to his actions, but for Michael, all he could feel was bitter anger toward his father.

  Today was different, however, as there was a new bitterness in his heart for his dear old pal Lukas. Michael had little choice but to stew over it as he sat alone in the interrogation room of the Eighth District’s police department. The young man cursed under his breath, his fingers tapping on the table until an officer finally joined him in the tiny room.

  “Way to take your damn time,” Michael grumbled as the officer sat down opposite him. His eyes cut over to her and although his words were harsh, he couldn’t help but hesitate to speak to a woman in that manner.

  “I’m Officer Roberts, Mr. Valentine. Do you know why you’re here?” Roberts asked dryly.

  “Yeah. Lukas. Toland. Beaumont,” Michael stated each word individually, his words dripping with resentment.

  “Where were you between the hours of midnight and six a.m. on January First?” Roberts asked, flipping open a notebook.

  Michael leaned back in his ch
air. He and Lukas had been friends since they were kids and through his anger there was a twinge of loyalty to those memories and all the times Lukas had helped him. But there was something he valued more than friendship and that was freedom. He knew that what they had done that night could get them all in a lot of trouble, but if he convinced the police he was just along for the ride, he might get a lighter sentence. Surely Lukas would understand.

  “I was with a few friends. We walked along the river for a while, then went out to the Iron Lotus.”

  “Who were you with?” Roberts asked.

  “Chris Thomas, Tony Carver, and Lukas Beaumont,” he answered shortly.

  “What happened once you reached the Iron Lotus?”

  Michael eyed the officer, chewing his lip as he thought. “Me an’ Chris started goofin’ off. Horseplay, ya know? Bouncer kicked us all out,” he shrugged, meaning to end his statement there, but Roberts agitated sigh spurred him onward. “We were all standing in the alley across the street and this chick walked out. She was wasted, stumbling around by herself. Lukas walked up to her and they talked for a minute. I couldn’t hear what they said, they were too far away, but next thing I know he was kissin’ her neck and takin’ her into the alley. We were yellin’ stuff after him. But we didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Just boys bein’ boys, ya know?”

  Roberts wasn’t amused. She narrowed her eyes, mouth turning into a deep frown. Michael sense her distaste and changed his tune a bit.

  “All right fine, it wasn’t right. We were drunk, and people don’t make the best decisions drunk.”

  “Was this the woman you saw?” Roberts asked, pulling Rachel’s picture from her case file.

  Michael shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t a terribly smart man, but he was starting to get the bigger picture. He nodded silently, fear seeping into his expression.

  “Her name was Rachel Summers. Her body was recovered from City Park on January first,” Roberts explained, letting the gravity of the situation settle over them.

  “We...we didn’t do nothin’ to her,” he sputtered.

  “What happened once Lukas took her into the alley?” Roberts pressed on.

  “Well, he came back out with her a few minutes later. Got her a cab, and then...” Michael licked his lips, his mouth suddenly parched. “Then we stole her car and drove it almost to the Alabama line. I couldn’t tell you where we ended up. I don’t remember much after Lukas took her car. I just remember waking up in some shitty hotel in the middle of nowhere. The car was gone when we woke up, so we had to take a bus back.”

  “We’ll get back to the car in a minute. How did the woman look when you last saw her?”

  “She looked all right I guess. Hair was a little messed up, but who knows what they were doin’ in that alley,” Michael paused. Roberts paused as well, pen poised over paper. “Come to think of it...what were they doin’ in there? It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. I don’t think anything coulda happened in five minutes...”

  “Did she have any wounds on her? And cuts? Did you see any blood?” Roberts asked.

  “Blood?” Michael asked, truly taken aback. “No, she didn’t have any blood or anything on her. She pretty much looked the same comin’ out as she did goin’ in.”

  “Tell me more about the car. Where was it parked?”

  “It was on the same street, just a few blocks down. I don’t remember how far, so don’t even bother askin’. It had one of those key fobs. Lukas just pushed the unlock button and watched for lights nearby. He might not have even stolen it if he hadn’t been walkin’ that way and managed to find it.”

  “Michael, if we bring in Chris, Tony, and Lukas for questioning, will they corroborate your story?”

  “Think so. I mean, Lukas might not. To save his own ass, ya know? You might have a hard time with Chris, too. He’s stubborn. Bad with authority types. So if you send in someone who won’t set off his testosterone, you should be OK.” His bitterness toward Lukas had begun to fade ever so slightly, replaced by anxiety. They were in deep water right now and although he didn’t have a hand in killing Rachel, he was one of the last ones to see her alive. That was enough to have Michael Valentine shaking in his boots.

  Homicide arrived shortly after Roberts concluded her interview. Miller passed her in the hall but said nothing. Smith and Davis followed closely but Rowan wasn’t with them. Roberts watched as they entered the interrogation room, her stomach in knots until at last they left the station, and no one said a word about how long he’d been there before they were called.

  It was a short-lived relief. She’d have to report her findings with Walker and she was anxious as to why Miller wasn’t making a big deal out of what he must have known was happening; they were working a case that wasn’t their business to work. Maybe he didn’t mind? Maybe he was using them for information and the moment they were no longer useful he’d report them? It made her sick to think about.

  Michael eventually left the department and Roberts could speak with Walker about her notes. Kincaid followed, closing the office door behind him. Walker sat at his desk, rubbing his temples. A bottle of aspirin and a half full glass of water sat amidst piles of paper.

  “I hope you have something good for me,” he grumbled.

  “Michael says he was there that night and he remembers one of his friend walking into the alley with Rachel. He says they came back out a few minutes later and got her a cab before stealing her car.”

  “Who else was with him?”

  Roberts flipped through the little notebook until she found what she was looking for. “Lukas Beaumont, Tony Carver, and Chris Thomas.”

  “Well, well, well. Lukas Beaumont? This must be my lucky day,” Walker grinned broadly, leaning back in his chair.

  “You know him, sir?” Kincaid asked.

  “I do. His Turned name is Matthias and he’s Rowan’s Pupil. He was Turned a couple years ago, and he had some run-ins with us when he was a human but Rowan’s always fast to respond if he gets into trouble with us now. I’d be nice to get him out of my hair for good.”

  What the bouncer said suddenly made sense. He knew Lukas was a Turned but he wasn’t in a position to say too much against Rowan’s Pupil. It made Roberts wonder if he was hiding other information and although she was curious, she kept her mouth shut. The less involved she had to be, the better.

  “I get that, but I don’t think he killed her. Michael said that when Lukas came back from the alley with her, she was fine. No blood or torn clothing and they got her a cab. No cabbie is going to let someone stick a dead body in his car.”

  “Anything’s possible with the right amount of money.”

  “I just don’t think that’s the case, sir.”

  “Bring him in for questioning, and we’ll see what he says. If nothing else he’s a damn thief.”

  Roberts couldn’t argue with that, nor would she as his thick fingers were already tapping impatiently on the desk. Besides, Michael had admitted that they had intentionally stolen the car. They had to bring them all in and question them anyway, but Roberts wondered about the true motive. They’d be held accountable for their theft, of course, but it was also a good way for Walker to keep on the case without causing too much of a stir with Homicide. Still she got the feeling that they weren’t about to stick to protocol any more than they had been.

  “Oh, one more thing Roberts; bring Matthias in last. I want as much evidence against him as I can get before we make our move. I don’t want him getting off easy again but I do want to see what he’ll do if he knows were on his heels.”

  “How do you want us to do that, sir?” Roberts asked dryly.

  “He works at a place called the Crow’s Nest. You heard of it? Good. Go there before sunset and ask about him. He shouldn’t be there if it’s still daylight but maybe it’ll be enough to make him squirm,” Walker said, his mouth twisting into a grin around his unlit cigar.

  12

  Matthias had no idea his friends had spent the last
few hours in an interrogation room, talking about the events of New Year’s. He had spent his day sleeping, fresh blood in his belly from his last meal helping to recover his body from whatever drug he’d ingested from the woman he’d fed from on that night. He was sure that the drugs had left his system and he no longer felt that he was walking in a haze. Although his mind was clearer, he could not retrieve precise memories from the incident on New Year’s. There was little else he could do but shrug it off and move on. Everything he remembered had already been recorded in his journal and other than plain old curiosity, he had no reason to linger on it.

  The only thing he’d done wrong for sure was steal her car and Rowan would likely get him off the hook as he’d done before. Better to deal with a lengthy lecture than to spend time in a jail cell. Besides, the Elders didn’t care too much about punishing Turned for things like theft against a human. They had more important business to attend and they trusted Rowan to punish him. Most wouldn’t think much of a lecture, but Rowan was boring when he droned on. Looking back; Matthias hadn’t been in as much trouble since he’d had to answer for his actions in the way of mind numbing boredom, so it must work to an extent.

  Still there was a little nagging feeling deep down that the car might be the breaking point. But a text from Mamma demanding he go to the Crow’s Nest immediately would be enough to distract him from the possible consequences of his actions. He trudged into the heart of the Quarter as the sun was setting, casting deep purple shadows and bright golden highlights on everything. Dark sunglasses kept the glow from hurting his eyes, and his trench coat protected his skin. As long as he stayed in the shadows of galleries he should avoid getting burned as Rowan had done a few days before.