“Slow down, Shel. You will kill-” He stopped when the phone went dead again.
She was a good two miles north of his location. West of her could mean anything up to three or four miles. Six to eight square miles of city. Twenty minutes. Nick dug a Rolaids out of his pocket and popped two. Frustration was simmering away in his gut like a rancid witch’s brew. They would not find him. Not yet. It was all just part of the game, but one Nick could not afford to stop playing, because somewhere out there, another person was almost dead, and if Drake stuck to his routine, a fifteen-year-old young man had just about succumbed to a decades-long plot of revenge.
Nick veered east and headed for the freeway. The eerie call of death had started to fade. Reluctantly, he punched in Shelby’s number. “Go home, Shel. He’s done for now.”
“I could have had blood in five minutes, Nick.” Her voice was choking up. Nick swore silently to himself. “I could’ve tracked him, goddamn you!”
He didn’t bother saying good-bye and dropped the cell on the seat beside him. He knew she would not go home, not yet. She would ride around the rest of the evening, hoping to pick up the scent, something beyond that usual faint whiff of foulness one smelled when another one of them was within twenty-odd miles of you. She would yell more at him later, cursing his weakness, demanding he have the courage to drink, to be like Drake. But he could not. It was a promise he refused to break. It was the only one he had left, and God help him if he defiled Gwen’s memory for the sake of revenge.
Pulling into his garage, Nick got out and watched the rain whip across the driveway until the door had closed. He felt tired, beyond even the thirst for blood. The synthetic would give him his energy back, but this tired went beyond bone deep and sapped at his soul. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, hon. I just can’t do it,” he whispered.
Chapter 14
For the first time in six months, Nick sat on his back deck watching the sun burn its way through the morning shroud of fog, a handrolled cigarette burning down between his fingers. He could no longer remember the number of times he had quit smoking. At this point, it really didn’t matter. He took a long drag off the sweet tobacco and flicked the remainder out into the wet grass.
“Enjoy it while you can, Sheriff.”
Down the gentle slope of his backyard, a whiter, more solid shape of fog shifted and danced across the still waters of a reed-encircled pond, taking on a more recognizable shape as it approached the house. Nick picked up the cold cup of blood-spiked coffee sitting on the small table next to the lounge chair and winced down the cold dregs. Hot or cold, it always tasted like shit. The familiar, overall-clad form walked up through the rail and stopped next to him on the deck.
“Morning, Reg.”
He grinned at Nick, an indifferent sort of twist of his mouth that Reggie had whether the news was good or bad. The dead had a slightly skewed sense of humor when it came to the living. “Mornin’, boss. Good a time as any to take up smokin’ again.”
Nick gave him a hint of a smile. “I suppose. Things went as planned?”
Reggie held out a fist so intensely white it looked nearly corporeal and dropped something into Nick’s hand. “I’m guessin’ so.”
“Ah, thanks.” Nick turned the small square of clear plastic around in his hand a couple times before finally holding it up for a better look. “You know, I hadn’t even realized Drake had this. I thought it gone when I burned the cabin down.”
He nodded slowly. “How would you’ve known, boss? We owe that bastard something big.”
Nick studied the penny, the year 1862 standing out clear as the day he had bought it for his son those many decades ago. “The prick has had it all this time. Joshua never even had the chance to put it with his collection.”
“Do you suppose Drake has other things?”
Nick figured as much. He nodded at Reggie, rage bubbling up in his throat so acidic he was afraid he might spit fire if he spoke at that moment. He slid the coin into his pocket and closed his eyes, taking in a deep, cool draught of air. A poor kid was dead, unfortunate to have a passing resemblance to another boy dead for 144 years. Who else in Chicago resembled his dead family? Who was about to find themselves on the wrong end of a twisted vampire’s vengeance? The familiar game was afoot, and Nick did not feel ready to play. Where to begin? The chance for saving the next victim was already gone.
“Did you find anything else?”
The never-ending smile stretched a hair. “Little evidence that I saw other than the coin.”
“Anything from the police?”
“No. They seem to be washing their hands of it.” Reggie’s hands disappeared into the pockets of the overalls. “The blond woman is going to be trouble.”
“The medium?”
Reggie nodded.
“Yeah, no doubt about that. She knows we’re not what we seem.”
Laughter bubbled up out of Reggie-a soft, maniacal cackle. “Oh, I spooked her good this morning. She’s a keen one though. Had to get the penny from their evidence room. Her house is warded something fierce against spirits. I’d have set off alarms all over if I’d tried. She could tell when I picked it up though. Had to practically cross back over to avoid being seen.”
Nick shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. We’ll be hearing from them again soon, I expect. They’ll be gathering more intel on me, and after showing me the penny yesterday, that Agent Rutledge is going to be all over us. We’ll be lucky to avoid their involvement in this.”
Reggie gave him a wry, sad smile. “That didn’t go too well the last time, boss.”
“Agreed,” Nick said. “We may have little choice in the matter, however, if they try to pin anything on me or drag my ass in.”
“They have no evidence yet.”
“Circumstantial. I was at the scene. They know I’m connected somehow, and technology is going to be to our disadvantage now. They can find out things too fast these days.”
“It’s a strange world. Some days it’s good to be dead.”
Nick almost laughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. I’ll call Shel and Cyn to let them know to expect another visit from the feds. Things are going to get complicated real quick, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll be around if you need me, boss.”
He motioned with the penny to his old friend. “Thanks, Reg. As always, it’s much appreciated.”
“We’re going to take him down this time, Mr. Anderson. You’ll see.”
Nick watched him dissipate into the air. “Yes, we certainly will, Reg.”
It was going to be a lovely day. He got up from the chair, hands going into his pockets, and rubbed at the plastic case between his fingers. Unwanted memories stirred like the wisps of fog down on the pond, ghostly tendrils rising up from the murk below.
Chapter 15
It was still dark when the phone rang. Jackie startled awake, still propped against the pillows, and watched her laptop slide off the burgundy comforter to the floor. Bickerstaff, who was perched on the end of the bed below her feet, looked down at the computer and then back at her. He appeared to have been waiting for that precise moment all night and now had a very catlike smirk upon his face. She kicked at him from beneath the covers while reaching for the phone on the nightstand and then watched him indignantly jump to the floor. The number was Laurel’s.
“Hey, it’s six thirty in the morning. Think I’m bringing you a custard doughnut now?” It was not much of a threat, but with sleep still fogging her brain, it was all she could come up with.
“Get your tiny little butt down here, and I’ll take two of Annabelle’s custardy delights, thank you very much.”
Jackie sat up, one hand rubbing at the sleep in her eyes. It was against the laws of nature to sound that functional before the sun came up. “Okay, I’m up, more or less. What’s going on?”