Alexandra Sabian 2 - Blood Secrets Read online

  “The coffee shop on Jefferson Boulevard—Mug Shots.”

  “And you don’t know what she and her cousin were talking about?”

  “No, and there was someone with them. A boy. As I said, I was running late for a meeting. I ran in, grabbed a cup of coffee, saw Mindy and Piper sitting in the back, and waved. They must not have seen me because they kept talking.”

  “If you didn’t hear the conversation, what makes you think there was anything wrong?”

  “Mindy looked as though she’d been crying.”

  “Did you recognize the boy with them?” Tasha asked as she quickly scribbled notes.

  “No, but I think he may have been Piper’s boyfriend. The two of them were sitting beside each other, and he had his arm draped over her shoulders.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  Allen took a deep breath and tilted his head, staring out the window behind her. “I only saw his profile, but he had sort of longish brown hair, wore one of those knit caps with the brim, flannel shirt over a white T-shirt, jeans. There was a denim jacket hanging on the back of his chair.”

  “And you’d never seen him with either Mindy or Piper before that day?”

  He shook his head.

  The cell phone clipped to the waistband of her slacks vibrated, and Tasha checked the text message that showed up on the screen.

  SUSPICIOUS VEHICLE AT COONE’S AUTO SALVAGE. PROPERTY OWNER REPORTS STRANGE ODOR EMANATING FROM TRUNK.

  Tasha added the last of the description that Allen had provided to her notebook and rose. “I’m sorry to cut this short but I have an urgent call. I have to go.”

  Allen stood with her and shook her hand. “You’ll let us know the moment you hear something, won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  He escorted her to the entrance and thanked her for stopping by.

  Tasha heard the door close behind her as she hurried to her car. Backing out of the drive, she thought she saw Leah staring out from one of the second-story windows. The vision was gone almost as soon as she spotted it, leaving only shadows backing the windows, and she couldn’t help but wonder if those windows reflected a darkness growing within.

  five

  ALEX LEANED AGAINST THE TRUNK OF VARIK’S CORVETTE and hugged herself as she watched the flatbed tow truck winch Mindy Johnson’s car into place. It was being transported to Jefferson Police Department’s impound yard and its contents would go with Freddy and Reyes for further forensic processing.

  Other Enforcers and uniformed Jefferson police were dispersing in separate vehicles, returning to patrols and assignments. She envied them. Less than two hours back on the job and she was already feeling the pressure of Damian’s scrutiny.

  “Tell me again about this vision,” he said, shifting his stance to block her view of the tow truck.

  The vision she’d received when she picked up the doll flickered through her mind and she shuddered. “We’ve been through this once. Do we really need to go over it a second time?”

  “We’ll discuss it as many times as I think necessary. Now start talking.”

  She sighed and jammed her hands in her jacket pockets. “I saw a room lit by candles. There was a circle drawn on the floor with some kind of weird writing around it.”

  “Would you recognize the writing if you saw it again?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t really get a good look at it because that’s when I saw the girl.” Alex glanced at Varik as he joined Damian. “She was lying in the center of the circle. Her throat was slit.”

  “Describe her.”

  “Dark hair and eyes, about my height.”

  “Did she look like the doll?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. Annoyance gave her words a sharp edge. “Aside from being naked and dead, she looked exactly like the damn doll.”

  Damian growled a warning.

  Varik’s mind brushed hers. Behave yourself.

  She met his stern gaze and dropped hers, sighing. “Yes, the girl looked like the doll. No, I don’t know a name or a location, but I saw someone moving in the shadows beyond the candlelight.”

  “Could you see who it was?” Varik asked.

  “I never saw his face.”

  “But you’re certain the person was male?” Damian asked.

  “I could hear him chanting. I think it was Latin, but I couldn’t understand it.” The memory of the scene that played out before her turned her stomach. Her eyes closed in a futile attempt to block it.

  An arm snaked around her shoulders, and Varik’s natural scent filled her senses, giving her a renewed feeling of security.

  “The chanting got louder.” Alex forced her voice to remain level. “Then it was as though I was no longer watching this … ritual from across the room. It was like I became the girl in the circle.” She opened her eyes to stare up at Damian’s impassive face. “I felt like my soul was trapped in that girl’s body.”

  Varik gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  “This is the part where it gets really fucked up. I couldn’t see the room anymore but I could still hear the chanting. I tasted blood, lots of blood. Then it felt like someone was pulling me up.” A lingering cold chilled her blood, turning it to an icy sludge, and she shivered.

  “Take your time,” Varik said softly.

  “I felt pressure, like someone was sitting on my chest, and then pain.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I can only describe it as being ripped into a thousand tiny pieces. All I could see was darkness. All I heard was that fucking chanting.”

  Varik pulled her closer to him.

  Damian cleared his throat before speaking. “Is there anything else you can tell us about this unseen person? The room? The girl?”

  Alex swiped at her tears with shaking hands. “Only that before the vision changed, when I was still observing from across the room, I felt …” She hesitated and felt heat coloring her cheeks. “Incredibly aroused,” she murmured.

  Varik shifted next to her so she could see his face. “Aroused? You mean—”

  “Yes, sexually.” The heat in her cheeks spread to her entire face. She sucked in a deep breath and released it in a huff. “Whoever this guy is and whatever he’s doing to these girls, he really gets off on it.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “And I hope I never experience anything like that again.”

  “Baudelaire,” Damian said as he turned and indicated for Varik to follow him.

  Varik gave her a sideways hug and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Alex watched them walk several feet away and stop when they were certain she was out of hearing range. Even though the sun was now above the trees and gradually bathing the parking lot in its light, it did little to chase away the shadows in her mind. The vision had drained her emotionally and physically, leaving her feeling cold and numb.

  She pried at a protruding rock in the pavement with the toe of her boot. She’d inherited her powers of psychometry—the ability to have visions and gain information from objects as well as her gift to part the Veil and access the Hall of Records—from her father. Unfortunately he’d been killed before he could teach her how to control either of them. Support groups for vampires with psychic abilities didn’t exist so most of the control she possessed was from years of trial and error.

  “How are you holding up?” Varik asked as he rejoined her.

  “I can’t get that vision out of my head.” The pavement cracked around the rock she was pushing with her foot.

  “It was just a vision. It can’t hurt you.”

  “I know but …” She tapped the rock back into place.

  His hand slipped beneath her chin, gently encouraging her to raise her head and look him in the eye. “But what?”

  “There’s something I didn’t tell Damian about the vision.”

  “You withheld information?”

  She nodded.

  “Damn it, Alex.” Varik raked a hand through his hair. “You can’t keep secrets from
Damian—”

  “You don’t understand. There was someone—”

  “—not when you’re facing a Tribunal inquiry.”

  “He tried to force himself into my mind!”

  Varik quieted and they stared at each other for a moment. Finally, he broke the silence. “What do you mean?”

  “When everything was black and it seemed like I was being ripped apart, it felt as though someone was trying to force his way into my mind. It only lasted a few seconds, but I definitely felt it.”

  He clasped her shoulders, bending slightly to ensure eye contact. “You’re absolutely certain the connection was with a male?”

  She nodded.

  Under vampiric law, forcing one’s way into another’s mind was tantamount to rape. The invasion and fear she’d experienced had left her shaken.

  “Listen to me.” Varik gently placed both hands to the sides of her face. Tightly controlled anger made his body vibrate against hers and the blood-bond buzzed in the back of her mind like a swarm of angry bees. “I will find the son of a bitch who did this, and I’ll rip his fucking head off.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’m not even sure it’s part of the vision. It doesn’t make sense, but just before I woke up, I saw my father.”

  “You saw Bernard?”

  “Yes.” Alex took a deep breath before continuing. “He was with a woman and they were kissing. I couldn’t see her face but it was definitely not my mother.”

  Varik released her but remained silent.

  “Like I said, it doesn’t make sense.”

  He wrapped her in his arms and held her. “No, it doesn’t, but we’ll figure it out.”

  She nodded against his chest, unable to speak past the maelstrom of emotions that swirled within her.

  He pulled back and his lips found hers while his voice whispered in her mind. I love you, and I won’t let anything happen to you.

  She broke the kiss and stroked his cheek with her hand. “I know,” she murmured. “But you shouldn’t promise something you can’t deliver.”

  “Alex—”

  “We should follow Freddy and Reyes to the lab.” She moved away. “We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to catch this Dollmaker of yours.”

  Varik looked for a moment as if he would protest, and then simply nodded and pressed the button on his key ring to unlock the Corvette’s doors.

  Alex sank into the cool interior and was grateful when he started the engine and turned on the heater. Her thoughts ran in circles—recalling images of the dead girl, bits of the strange chants she’d heard, and the sensation of being pulled apart.

  Anxiety gnawed at her spine. But was the source of her anxiety what she’d experienced or the brief glimpse of her father kissing another woman?

  As Varik sped down the highway and into the heart of Jefferson, Alex watched trees give way to houses and single-story commercial buildings and realized she didn’t know.

  Tasha eased her sedan through the minefield of dry potholes and ruts that comprised the driveway of Coone’s Pull-n-Go Salvage Yard. A chain-link fence topped with rows of barbed wire enclosed the yard but didn’t hide away the hundreds of derelict cars, trucks, motorcycles, and farm equipment scattered across what had once been several acres of pastureland. She parked beside a small single-wide mobile home that had seen better days and tried not to twist her ankle among the many ruts when she stepped from the vehicle.

  “You the police?” an older man with a bushy gray beard asked from the mobile home’s porch. He adjusted the band on a grease-stained cap before using it to cover an equally unruly patch of matching hair on his head.

  She flashed her badge as she rounded the front of her sedan. “Lieutenant Tasha Lockwood.” The edge of a deep pothole gave way and she had to catch herself on the hood of her car to keep from falling.

  “Watch your step there,” the man said. “Some of them holes could break a leg if you fell right.”

  “You should do something about that.”

  The man shrugged. “Don’t do no good. First gulley washer that comes through and they’re back.”

  Tasha reached the porch’s steps and stood on the lowest, still looking up at him. “Are you Mr. Coone?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  “Are you the one who called in to report a suspicious vehicle?”

  “Nope. That was my son, Buddy.”

  “Is he here?”

  The elder Coone pointed toward the yard and the sound of an approaching vehicle.

  Tasha turned to see an all-terrain version of a golf cart speeding in their direction. The cart bounced over holes and kicked up a plume of reddish dust behind it. The morning’s rain hadn’t affected this part of the county and the dust cloud overtook the vehicle. The driver stopped beside the porch and dust settled on everything in its path: the sparse brown grass, the weather-roughened wooden steps, the hood of Tasha’s car, and Tasha herself.

  The driver hopped from the cart and retrieved a toolbox and cylinder-shaped car part from the rear flatbed. He nodded to Tasha as he set the box and part on the edge of the porch. “Are you here for the alternator?”

  Before she could answer, the elder Coone spoke. “She’s police. Here about the car.”

  Tasha showed her badge and introduced herself. “You made the call, Mr. Coone?” she asked the younger man.

  “Yes, ma’am. Found it sitting in the back this morning when I went to pull a radiator. It’s definitely not one of ours.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but how can you tell?” she asked, glancing over the rows of rusting shells and partially stripped hulks.

  The older man snorted and the younger chuckled. “We keep track of all vehicle identification numbers. When a new one comes in, we log the number into our computer system. Anytime we pull a part we enter the part into the system and which VIN number it came from. Saves us a lot of time searching for viable parts.”

  “That’s how you knew this vehicle wasn’t one of yours.”

  Buddy Coone nodded. “Plus this car stinks to high heaven. Smells like something big crawled up in it and died.”

  “Did you open the car?”

  “I didn’t touch it except to check the VIN number through the windshield. Couldn’t stand being that close to it.” He gestured to the cart. “We can take a ride out there in the Mule and you can see for yourself.”

  Tasha joined him in the cart and winced as they bounced over the poorly maintained pathways of the salvage yard.

  Buddy pointed to a sturdy grab bar attached to the cart’s metal frame near her head. “You may want to hold on to that ‘oh shit’ bar. This is going to get a little rough.”

  She barely had time to catch the bar before he guided the Mule into a shallow gully. Muddy water splashed up from the wheels, spattering her pants with brown and orange.

  He gunned the engine and spurred the vehicle up the opposite side and back onto an overgrown path. They slowed as a chain-link fence and a row of metal frames that had once been cars came into view.

  Buddy stopped beside a section of the fence sporting bright red stakes woven through the links and driven into the ground. He pointed to the stakes as he and Tasha stepped from the cart. “Before I found the car, I noticed the fence here had been cut and pulled back. See these tracks?” He waved his hand over the ground in front of them.

  Tasha noted the wide swath of grass and weeds that appeared to have been crushed. “Looks like something big was pulled through the fence.”

  “My guess is whoever dumped the car here cut the fence and either pushed or dragged it in.”

  “And the stakes in the fence?”

  “Temporary repair. I’m going to have to replace this entire section here but at least this keeps the deer from wandering through.”

  “Who owns the property on the other side?”

  “That’s part of the old Cottonwood Plantation. It used to belong to Benjamin Corman bu
t he passed away a few years ago. I’m not sure who owns it now.”

  Tasha nodded, making a mental note to visit the plantation.

  Buddy motioned for her to follow him. “After I saw the fence, I followed the tracks and found the car over here.”

  As they approached a battered dark blue Ford Focus, the slight wind that had been rustling the dried leaves of a nearby sweet gum tree picked up, carrying with it the unmistakable odor of decay.

  Tasha grabbed Buddy’s arm, halting him. “I need you to stay back here.”

  He covered his nose with his hand and nodded, his face pale.

  A gnawing sense of dread ate at her brain. She drew her sidearm, startling the salvage yard owner. Tasha picked her way through the tall grass toward the Ford, keeping her nine-millimeter Beretta pointed toward the ground but poised to swing into a firing position at any moment.

  She studied the vehicle as she carefully approached from the side. It sported heavy dents in the sides, roof, and hood. The windshield had been shattered from what appeared to be multiple impacts. A quick glance showed glass shards on the floor and backseat as well as dark stains on both front bucket seats.

  She moved to the trunk, and the stench of rot worsened, forcing her to fight against her natural reaction to gag. A breeze blew over the car, swaying the partially open trunk and driving another wave of putrid odor into Tasha’s face.

  She searched the ground for something to open the trunk without contaminating the scene with her fingerprints. She found a length of a broken oak branch, and holding it in one hand while readying her Beretta in the other, she wedged the branch into the gap between the trunk and tailgate and levered it open.

  It took her mind several seconds to piece together what she saw lying in the dark well of the trunk. Once the mosaic clicked into place, forming a complete picture, Tasha stumbled away and retched into a patch of weeds.

  “You okay, ma’am?” Buddy called to her.

  Tasha held up her hand to signal she was fine and for him to stay back. She used a spare tissue she found in her pocket to wipe her mouth and then pulled out her cell phone. She hit a button and the phone dialed a preset number.