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Tasha wrapped the tissue around the bag and vial and tucked them both into her pocket. Midnight users were incapable of rational thought and were prone to aggression and violence. The murders of Grant Williams and Eric Stromheimer were too clean and methodical for her to believe any vampire on Midnight could be responsible. However, given the connection between their latest victim and a currently missing vampire, it was a lead she couldn’t ignore. There was also the issue of the unidentified first victim. She checked her watch. She needed to get this new information and evidence to Alex as soon as possible.

  She slipped the notebook and pen into the inside pocket of her jacket as she stood. “I think that will do for now, Mr. Parsons. If you hear from Mr. Lipscomb or think of anything else”—she held out a business card—“please give me a call.”

  Parsons stood with her, accepting the card, and extended his other hand. “Sure thing, and if you hear anything from Gary, you’ll let me know?”

  Tasha shook his hand. “Of course.”

  The phone rang, and Parsons sighed. “I can have someone see you out, Lieutenant, if you don’t mind waiting,” he said, reaching blindly for the phone.

  “I can find my way.”

  The cacophony of the loading dock seemed to pulsate around her. She skirted the perimeter of the warehouse, taking care to stay clear of the forklifts and the heavy pallets of freight they moved.

  She glanced at her watch again as she exited the building. If she hurried, she could issue a BOLO for Gary Lipscomb and Owen Gibson. She wanted to talk to the trucker, get his side of the story.

  As she closed her sedan’s door and reached for the ignition, she saw Mr. Parsons burst through the door she’d exited, waving madly and running toward her.

  He was huffing by the time he reached her open window. “I—I thought of something.” He paused to suck down a few breaths. “Gary’s car. Would that help you find him?”

  “It might. You know where it is?”

  Parsons nodded and half turned, pointing across the expansive parking area. “Rusted Town Car in the corner. Been here since he went missing.”

  ———

  Emily Sabian tugged on the handle of her single carry-on bag, and it tumbled from the plane’s overhead storage bin. The flight from Louisville to Memphis had been a rough one. She’d tried to find a nonstop flight from Kentucky to Mississippi, but none existed, at least not on short notice.

  Storms were moving through the region and threatened to delay many of the connecting flights. Passengers hurriedly gathered their belongings and impatiently inched along the narrow aisle to the exit. Once they broke into the relative openness of the terminal’s walkway, several ran ahead as they grumbled about both the weather and the slower exiting passengers.

  Emily stepped out of the semi-dark tunnel into a blinding world of fluorescent lights. She paused near a cluster of chairs to gain her bearings and allow her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. She found a bank of monitors and checked the status of her connecting flight to Jackson, Mississippi. Thunder rumbled ominously as she saw that her flight was delayed due to the storm bearing down on the Memphis International Airport.

  She bought a coffee and croissant from a café and resigned herself to a potentially long wait. Autumn thunderstorms were unpredictable. They could last moments or hours. Either way, she wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

  She made her way to her next gate, which thankfully wasn’t crowded. Judging from the noise level coming from the nearby food court, she surmised that many travelers had decided to take advantage of the delay. She found a seat at the gate in front of a low-volume television but with a view of the flight status monitors, the service desk, and a runway. If any more delays were going to occur because of weather, she should be one of the first to know.

  Emily extracted her cell phone from her bag and pressed a preprogrammed button to dial Stephen’s number. She broke off a piece of her croissant as she listened to the ringing in her ear.

  “Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system,” a computerized female announced. “Please leave your message after the tone.”

  “Stephen, this is your mother. I’m in Memphis, on my way to Jackson, and my flight’s been delayed, so I’ll be late getting into Jefferson. As soon as I have a better idea of when I’ll be arriving, I’ll let you know.”

  She paused before continuing softly. “Stephen, I know Varik’s in Jefferson, because I’ve already spoken with him. I know how you feel about him, but I want you to trust me when I say that right now, he’s the best person to watch over Alex.”

  Lightning flashed across the western sky, and the first big drops of rain began to pelt the window.

  “I’m not saying you aren’t capable of protecting your sister, but this—” She paused to search for the correct words. “Whatever is going on in Jefferson, I feel—well, I’m not sure what I feel, honestly. Just be careful, sweetheart, and I’ll see you soon.”

  Emily closed her phone and stared at the blank screen for a moment before slipping it back in her bag. Settling into her seat, she sipped her coffee and watched the rapidly approaching storm darken the outside world.

  eight

  THE JEFFERSON POLICE DEPARTMENT’S IMPOUND YARD was little more than a bare dirt lot surrounded by a razor wire–topped chain-link fence. A large metal building had been erected to one side of the lot and served as the office for the yard manager and a garage where vehicles could be taken apart, inspected, and processed for evidence.

  Harvey’s gaze roamed the lot, searching for his target. The forensic techs were all inside the garage. Even if one of them came out and saw him, he was leading the investigation into the shooting. He had a right to examine the evidence and doubted that any of them would challenge him. In a far corner reserved for cars impounded by his department, he found the vehicle he’d been seeking.

  Sabian’s green Jeep Grand Cherokee looked forlorn with its missing back glass and tailgate riddled with bullet holes.

  He sidled up to the driver’s-side door and cast another cursory glance across the lot to be certain he was indeed alone. Satisfied, he pulled a white cotton handkerchief from his pocket and used it to cover the door handle as he lifted it. The last thing he wanted was for someone to find his fingerprints where they shouldn’t be.

  The door opened, and he checked the lot again. Still he saw no one.

  Using the handkerchief, he opened the center console and dropped a small zip-top Baggie containing a small amber vial among the various receipts and wadded napkins.

  Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip. His mission was almost over. Now he just had to leave without—

  “Sheriff Manser?” a woman’s voice asked from behind him.

  Harvey’s heart kicked into high gear. He jumped, and the back of his head struck the metal frame of the open door. “Ah, damn it!” Clutching his head and blinking rapidly to clear the stars bursting in his field of vision, he whirled to face the new arrival.

  A petite woman in a white jumpsuit, blue foot coverings, and latex gloves stood at the rear of the Jeep. “Oh, my God,” she said, and came toward him. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

  Harvey waved her away. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. My head’s a lot harder than it looks.”

  “I am so sorry. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be back here.”

  “That’s all right.” He checked his head and was pleased to see that there was no blood. “I wanted to look things over for myself, just a quick look,” he lied, when she opened her mouth to ask a question.

  “Well, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she said. “We haven’t even started processing yet, and—”

  He spread his hands, palms up. “Say no more. I understand. Like I said, I just wanted a quick look.” He nodded as he passed her. “I’ll be on my way.”

  Harvey wanted to run but forced himself to maintain a steady stroll, pausing beside a bullet-riddled car once in a while and making a show of inspecting som
e small detail. He used those moments to look back at the tech.

  She wore a puzzled frown, but she’d closed the Jeep’s door without looking inside.

  When he reached the exit gate he checked again, and she was gone. He heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed the knot rising on the back of his head. His mission hadn’t gone according to plan, but at least it’d been accomplished.

  He lit a cigarette and then whistled a tune between puffs as he proudly walked toward the Municipal Center and dreamt of his hero’s destiny.

  Alex sat in the morgue’s employee lounge and waited for Doc Hancock to render his final judgment.

  He nodded to himself before ripping the blood pressure cuff from her arm. “You seem to be recovered from your little fainting spell. How do you feel?”

  “Fine,” she said hoarsely, and Varik handed her a half-empty bottle of water. Ever since she’d awakened screaming nearly an hour ago, her voice had been playing hide-and-seek. It alternated between normal, hoarse, and nonexistent. Doc Hancock had forced her to remain on the paisley sofa, sipping water and nibbling crackers.

  “How’s the throat?” he asked. His fingertips were cool against the soft flesh of her neck as he lightly probed for swelling.

  She shrugged with her good shoulder because she could tell her voice had disappeared once again. Her wounded arm had been immobilized in a sling after Doc Hancock had taken it upon himself to not only redress the seeping wound but also suture it closed.

  “Any pain?”

  She shook her head.

  “Humph,” he grunted. “Darnedest thing I’ve ever seen.” His eyes flicked to Varik perched on the arm of the sofa beside Alex. “You ever heard of a vampire losing their voice after fainting?”

  “I assure you, Doctor, this is new to me as well as to you,” Varik answered. He smiled down at her when she put down the water bottle and met his gaze. “But I think I kind of like her this way. Less arguing.”

  Alex smacked his thigh with her empty bottle. “Fuck you,” she mouthed wordlessly.

  Varik laughed.

  Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony filled the room, and Alex pulled her cell phone out from where she’d tucked it inside her sling. Checking the caller ID, she frowned and handed it to Varik, mouthing, “Tasha.”

  He walked a few feet away before answering.

  “Alex,” Doc Hancock said, as he began gently examining her arm. “What happened to you during my report? I’ve never seen you react that way.”

  She sighed and rolled her good shoulder in a silent “I don’t know.” She remembered being in the autopsy room, listening to him present his findings, and then everything turned hazy until she’d woken up screaming on the sofa.

  An uneasy feeling gnawed at her. She knew she’d been dreaming, but whenever she tried to summon the dream, to examine it, it skittered away, leaving her frustrated and on edge. She pulled Varik’s denim jacket higher beneath her chin, finding comfort in his scent of sandalwood and cinnamon.

  Varik returned, and she could feel his excitement beating against her. “Tasha has a lead on a missing vampire.”

  “Missing?” Alex croaked.

  “A foreman at Morrison Distribution says one of his forklift operators hasn’t shown up for work in over a week. He opened the guy’s locker and found a vial of Midnight.”

  “Ah, shit,” she mumbled.

  Doc Hancock cleared his throat. “Well, that’s my cue to leave the two of you alone.” He began gathering his medical supplies. “Call me if that arm bothers you or if you start feeling light-headed. Otherwise, try to take it easy.”

  Alex gave him a lopsided salute. “Aye, Captain.”

  He patted her head and shuffled for the door.

  Once the door had closed behind the doctor, Varik picked up where he’d left off. “In addition to leaving Midnight behind in his locker, our missing vampire, Gary Lipscomb, listed Eric Stromheimer as an emergency contact.”

  Alex gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Tasha’s having Lipscomb’s car towed to the JPD impound lot as we speak.”

  She struggled to gain her feet and scowled when he extended a hand to help her. Rather than flail about the sofa because she was minus one arm, she clasped his hand, and he pulled her effortlessly to her feet and into his arms. His warmth surrounded her, offering her shelter from the chaos swirling in her mind.

  The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon mingled with jasmine and vanilla, made her heart race, and brought on a flood of memories. She remembered how her skin burned from the heat of his hands as he carried her to bed for the first time. He sat beside her at a restaurant, laughing at a shared joke. Morning sunlight danced along the edge of the diamond ring she’d woken to find on her finger.

  She saw the heat in his eyes and knew he was also thinking of the past. The blood-bond pulsed with life. It would be so easy to lift her mental shields, to allow him access to her most intimate thoughts. “Varik,” she murmured, “I—”

  His finger settled on her lips, quieting her.

  She shuddered as he traced the outline of her mouth. Suddenly she wanted to recapture those memories, make them come alive once again. Fear and expectation shivered her spine and weakened her legs. She leaned forward, rising up on the tips of her toes as his head bent down to meet her, and held her breath.

  His lips brushed hers, soft, tender, uncertain. His fingertips trailed over her scar.

  Sensations raced along her skin, prickling her flesh. Alex moaned and dropped the barriers dividing their minds. Memories of their past, seen from her perspective as well as his, raced through her consciousness and fed the growing need within her.

  He groaned with a special hunger born of six years’ separation and slipped his arms around her waist.

  Not to be outdone, she pulled Varik toward her, deepening the kiss. She felt his desire melding with her own rising passions. He wanted more. She wanted more.

  Alarms clamored in her mind. Something wasn’t right. It was all happening too fast. Her mental shields slammed into place once more.

  His embrace tightened, crushing her to him, in an effort to substitute physical closeness for the sudden lack of the blood-bond.

  Her arm, trapped between them, screamed in pro-test, and she broke the kiss, gasping in pain. “I can’t … We can’t.”

  Varik sighed and rested his head on her good shoulder, panting. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “It’s the bond.” She drew in a ragged breath as he stepped back to look at her and eased the pressure on her arm. “I opened it. I’m sorry. I lost my head. I—we can’t afford to let that happen again.”

  He nodded. “You’re right,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead. “We have to focus on other matters, and then we can focus on us.”

  “There isn’t going—” Her words died when she looked up into Varik’s kaleidoscopic gold-and-brown eyes. Her stomach lurched. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Varik swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall to the women’s restroom. A couple of startled women shrieked and ran as he helped her into a stall.

  Her prediction proved correct. Everything she’d eaten since waking returned, and she continued to dry-heave for several minutes. It wasn’t until she tried to stand that she realized Varik had stayed, holding her hair back.

  He helped her to rise and then walk to a sink.

  Alex splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth. She grabbed several paper towels and patted her face dry. Her liquid-amber eyes met Varik’s in the mirror as he exited the stall. “Thanks,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “If I’d known kissing you would have that effect, I would’ve reconsidered.”

  “It wasn’t you, Varik.” She watched his reflection in the mirror. He crossed the room to stand behind her, raising his hand as if to grab her arm.

  The memory of a headless corpse reaching for her flashed
through her mind. She batted the hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “What’s wrong?” Varik took another step toward her.

  Alex closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory. “It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.” She repeated the phrase like a protective charm, but the images refused to dissipate.

  Stone monoliths. Storm clouds. Trembling earth. Headless corpses. Trapped in an unending maze. Her father standing before her.

  Hands grabbed her arms.

  She screamed.

  “Alex!” The hands shook her. “Snap out of it.”

  Her eyes opened. Varik stood in front of her, worry and fear etched on his face. Movement behind him drew her attention.

  A half-formed shadow pulsed and undulated in the far corner. It elongated, taking on a humanoid appearance, and began to solidify. Swirling dark mist lightened and turned to flesh as the shadow became the motionless visage of a headless corpse.

  Varik glanced over his shoulder. “What? What do you see?”

  “Death,” she whispered.

  Varik stared at her. “Alex—”

  “What is going on in here?” Doc Hancock’s eyes blinked behind his soda-bottle glasses as he entered the restroom.

  “A little misunderstanding, nothing more,” Varik said calmly.

  Alex watched as the vision of the corpse faded, leaving only a faint scent of decay in its wake.

  “Misunderstanding, my ass,” Doc Hancock said, pointing to Alex. “She’s scared shitless. Again.”

  Varik half turned to face the coroner. “And you think I’m to blame?”

  “If the shoe fits.”

  “Stop it,” Alex demanded, her voice once again little more than a rasp in her throat. “Varik was helping me.”

  “From where I’m standing, it looks more like hurting,” Doc Hancock responded.

  “Doctor, if I intended harm to anyone in this room, I’d have done it by now.” Varik smiled, showing his fangs fully. “And you wouldn’t have been able to stop me.”

  Doc Hancock tensed.

  “That’s enough, Varik,” Alex whispered. Her legs felt shaky, but she pushed him away. She had to defuse the tension before it spiraled out of control. Using the sink as support, she faced Doc Hancock fully. “I slipped,” she lied. “I fell and hit my shoulder on the side of the sink. That’s why I screamed. Varik was just helping me.”