"Wait, we got one more bet," Merlioni said, "who was the chickie on the phone when Zerbrowski woke you?"
I was about to let loose a scathing comment, when a voice from the door stopped me. "Haven't seen anything this bad since New Mexico?"
I turned to find my favorite FBI agent in the doorway. Special Agent Bradley Bradford smiled and offered me his hand.
55
Bradley was with the Special Research Section; it was a new division set up to handle preternatural crime. We'd last worked together on some very gruesome murders in New Mexico.
I took his firm handshake and gave one of my own. He smiled, and I think we were both actually glad to see each other. But his gaze swept the room until he found Zerbrowski. "Sergeant Zerbrowski, you must be living right."
Zerbrowski moved towards us. "What do you mean, Agent Bradford?"
He held up a slender manila folder. "There's a store across the street from the club where the two women went to last night. The store got robbed last year and put in a very nice surveillance system."
All the joking was gone; Zerbrowski was very serious all of a sudden. "And?"
"They caught a picture of a man matching the neighbor's description with the two women last night. They walked right past the store window." He opened the folder. "I took the liberty of getting a still made."
"And passed it to all of your men," Merlioni said.
"No, detective, this is the only copy, and I brought it here first."
Merlioni looked like he would have argued, but Zerbrowski cut him off. "I don't care who solves this, as long as we get this guy."
"I feel the same way," Bradley said.
I didn't exactly believe Bradley. Last time we'd talked, his little division had been in jeopardy of being disbanded, and their cases given back to the Investigative Support-read Serial Killer-Unit. Bradley was one of the good guys, he really did care more about solving crimes than career advancement, but he also cared about his new unit. He felt strongly that the feds needed one. I agreed with him. So why was he handing over the only copy of the picture? Sharing made sense, simply giving it to us didn't.
"What do you think, Anita?" he asked me.
I glanced down at the photo. It was black and white, pretty good quality actually. Two women were laughing up at the tall man in between them. The brunette on the left matched some of the pictures downstairs. I hadn't asked the name of the woman who owned the house. I hadn't wanted to know. Not knowing had made it easier to go into that bathroom and paw through the remains.
The other woman looked vaguely familiar. "Wasn't the woman in a group picture downstairs? It looked like it was taken at a party."
"We'll check," Zerbrowski said.
"What about the man?" Bradley asked.
I looked at the man in the picture. The man that might be our killer or might be at the bottom of the pile of bones in the bathtub was tall, broad-shouldered. Straight brown hair was pulled back into a long ponytail that one of the women was tugging on, playing with. The face was high cheek-boned, handsome. He wasn't like Richard handsome, but they reminded me oddly of each other, both tall, both broad-shouldered, both classically handsome. But there was something in this man's face even through the film that creeped me out.
It was probably knowing that the two women were only hours away from being butchered. It was probably my imagination, but I didn't like the look on the man's face when he glanced up and spotted the camera. I realized that that was what the look was, why it looked strange.
"He spotted the camera," I said.
"What do you mean?" Zerbrowski asked.
"Look at his face, he didn't like being on film."
"He probably knew what he was going to do to them," Merlioni said, "don't want to be seen with the vies before the murder."
"Maybe, probably." I kept looking at his face, and I thought it was familiar.
"Do you recognize him?" Bradley asked.
I stared up at him. His face was empty, guileless, but I didn't believe the innocent look. "Why would I?"
"Well, he is a shape-shifter, if he's our man, I thought you might have seen him around."
Bradley was lying, I could feel it. Even I wasn't tactless enough to accuse him of it to his face, but I was saved from having to come up with something to say by my cell phone ringing. I'd kept it with me today, hooked on the back of my belt, just in case Musette and company didn't go quietly out of town. Call me silly, but I just didn't trust them.
"Hello."
"Is this Anita Blake?" It was a woman. I didn't recognize the voice.
"Yeah."
"This is Detective O'Brien."
Strangely, with all the vampire politics and the new murder I hadn't given much thought to the internationally wanted terrorist Leopold Heinrick. "Detective O'Brien, good to hear from you, what's up?"
"We identified the two pictures you pulled."
"Really, I'm impressed, the photos weren't that good."
"Lieutenant Nicols, you met him once, he picked them out."
It took me a second to place the name. "The lieutenant that was in charge at Lindel Cemetery."
"Yeah, that's the one. He picked out the same two pictures that you did, and since the two of you have only met once..."
Before she could finish, I said, "The bodyguards, the freaking bodyguards. Canducci and..."
She said, "Balfour."
"Yeah, that's right. I can't believe I didn't remember them."
"You saw them once at night, Blake, and from what Nicols says, the widow was putting on quite a show."
"Yeah, but still. Did you bring them in for questioning?"
"No one knows where they are. They quit their job at the security agency the day after you saw them. They'd only worked there for about two weeks. All the references they gave are leading to dead ends."
"Shit," I said. I glanced down at the picture that Bradley was still holding down where I could see it. I suddenly knew why that picture looked vaguely familiar. He was another of Heinrick's known associates. Or he looked amazingly like one of them. But I just didn't believe that coincidence would stretch that far.
I looked up at Bradley. He was still patiently holding the picture down where I could see it, lower than either of the other two men needed it. Maybe he was being polite, or maybe not. He met my gaze, and he gave me blank face. Cop face.
"What if I told you that I'm looking at a picture of one of the other known associates of Heinrick, and he's in town, too?"
Bradley's face never changed. Zerbrowski's and Merlioni's did. They looked surprised. Bradley didn't.
"How did you get the picture?"
"Long story, but he's wanted in connection with some murders here in town."
"Which man?"
"I think he was the only one with longer hair. I don't think it was back in a ponytail like it is here, but it was definitely shoulder length."
I heard papers rustling. "I've got it." I heard more papers rustling, then a soft whistle. "Roy Van Anders. He is a very bad man, Blake."
"How bad?"
"Strangely, we got files just today about Mr. Van Anders. Crime scene photos that would turn your stomach."
"A lot of blood, not a lot of body left?" I asked.
I could feel Zerbrowski tense beside me.
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"I think I'm at a crime scene right now that's Van Anders's work."
"You're on that lycanthrope murder, right?"
"Yeah."
"There's nothing in his record that says he's anything but human. He's just a sick son of a bitch, who likes to rape and kill women."