"So in the process of researching for the article, she discovered something that teased her instincts?"
"No. It actually happened after the article was published. The owners were pleased with what she wrote, and gave her an invitation into the Executive Room—which is a private dance area for special guests. We were coming out of there when we ran into someone coming out of the private room opposite." She paused, and blinked away the sudden spark of moisture in her eyes. "Adrienne had a talent that went beyond the pack's clairvoyance. She could sense things about people. Catch glimpses of their thoughts or their actions through touch. When she bumped into that man, she uncovered something that had her excited."
"You didn't ask what she discovered?"
She snorted softly "Of course I did. Wouldn't you? She just said that she'd hit the story jackpot, and would tell me more when she was certain."
"She obviously never did?"
"No."
"And you have no idea why Adrienne went to Monitor Island?" No.
"Did it involve the person she ran into at the club?"
"I told you, I don't know. Why do you keep asking me stupid questions when I've already told you I can't help you?"
Because I'm trying to find out what happened to her. Trying to prevent it from happening to anyone else. But I kept the words inside. It wasn't hard to guess that Jodie was speaking out of anguish more than any desire to be unhelpful.
"What plane was Adrienne supposed to arrive home on?" I'd need to check if she ever actually boarded it.
"A five PM Qantas flight."
"And there's nothing else you can tell me? Nothing she said or did that seemed odd to you?"
"Nothing at all." She looked at me then, eyes red rimmed and brimming with tears, "Just go away, and leave me alone."
I hesitated, wanting to ask more, but also not wanting-to alienate her completely. I might need to question her again later. So I simply said, "Thanks for your help, Jodie."
She didn't answer, just went back to looking out the window. I headed out of the hospital and into the fresh air as quickly as I could. After sucking in several deep breaths to wash away the lingering aroma of antiseptic, pain, and hopelessness that always seemed to haunt hospitals, I began the long walk back to where I'd parked my car. As I walked, I took my phone out, hit the vid-button, and dialed the cow.
She was as happy as ever to sec my smiling face.
"Now what the hell are you after?" she said, voice flat and annoyed.
I restrained my grin. I really did like this woman's flat-out bitchiness. "Want you to check out a club for me. I need background and trouble reports."
"What club?"
"Mirror Image."
She raised perfectly plucked eyebrows. "That's the weird one that allows humans and nonhumans to mix, isn't it?"
"Yep."
"Is it connected to the murders?"
"I don't know."
"I'm not going to pull reports on a club just because you're curious about it," she said, in that snotty way of hers.
"It may be connected to a missing persons case I'm investigating. I'm just covering all the bases."
"Oh, I'm sure you're doing more than that, wolf girl." She sniffed. "I'll send whatever I can find."
"You're such a darling, Sal."
She all but snarled at me. I chuckled and hung up. In that instant, I felt it again. The cold chill of evil. An evil that hungered to kill, and rent, and tear, not talk.
I swung around, and saw it. Not the thing I was sensing, but the car. It had veered across several lanes of traffic and was coming straight at me. I had a brief glimpse of dark hair, thin features, and a grin of sheer delight before I was diving out of the way. I hit the concrete hard, rolled to my feet, and ran for the nearest street pole, my heart racing quicker than my feet. The roar of the car engine didn't get any closer. Instead, the car bounced off another and continued on, scattering pedestrians as it continued down the footpath before swerving back out into the traffic. I didn't bother chasing it. I might have vampire speed, but that car was moving way faster than I ever could, the driver weaving in and out of traffic like a madman.
I dusted the dirt off my hands and knees, then got out my phone again.
"This really has to stop," Sal said. "You might enjoy hearing my dulcet tones, but I have better things—"
"Fucking shut up and put me through to Jack," I said.
"He's in a meeting—"
"I don't care. Put me through."
She muttered something under her breath, then the phone made odd noises as she patched me through.
"This had better be important, Riley," Jack said. "I was in a meeting with the director—"
"Someone just tried to run me over," I snapped. "And I think whatever is killing these people might be following me."
I heard a chair slide back, then footsteps as Jack walked out of whatever room he was in. "Okay, explain."
"Remember the truck yesterday? Well, today it was a car. I caught a glimpse of the driver and I didn't recognize him. It wasn't accidental—he was aiming for me. I got the plate number."
"Give me it, and I'll do a check."
I gave him the number, then said, "It'll probably be stolen."
"No doubt Now tell me about this thing following you."
I blew out a breath, and leaned against the street pole. "When I went to the first murder yesterday, there was a sense of evil lingering there. A gloating sort of evil, if that makes sense. It faded, so I figured maybe it was either my imagination or some leftover emotion I was sensing. But I felt it today at the second murder, and again now, just before that car tried to mash me between its wheels."
"Do you think we're dealing with a vampire?"
I hesitated. "I don't know. In some ways, it feels like I'm sensing emotions rather than anything real or solid."
"And you felt it before the car came at you?"
"But not before the truck. I don't think whatever it is I'm sensing is connected to the run-over attempts, if that's what you're thinking."
"Can you feel it now?"
I hesitated, and looked around. The air was rich with exhaust fumes, gas, humans, and eucalyptus—not my favorite scents, but better than death any day.
"No."
"So you can't positively say it's not connected, then."
"Other than the feeling that it's not, no I can't."
He grunted. "I'll talk to Cole, see if he noticed anything unusual that didn't make his report. In the meantime, you be careful."
"Don't worry," I said dryly, "I have no intention of damaging the Directorate's investment."
"Good," he said, and hung up.
So much for concern over said investment. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, and continued on to my car.
It took me half an hour to drive over to Callie Harris's parents' place, only to discover they weren't actually there. But Callie's sister, Jenny, was.
"So how can I help you?" she said, tucking a long strand of brown hair behind her ear with fingers that shook.
I sat down on the chair opposite hers, and said, as gently as I could, "I need to question you about Liam and Callie's relationship."
"There's nothing to know. They were in love and getting married."
"So they had no problems? Never fought?"
Tears glittered briefly in her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. "Everyone argues. Even people in love."
"Do you know if they argued over anything recently?"
She looked away. "No."
"If you know anything," I said quietly, "even something small, it may just help track down their killers."