Stella rewound to the part where Jane emerged from the bathroom. “She looks a lot younger like that. Even her body language changed. Before she was so sure of herself—now she looks almost timid.”
“Part of the disguise?”
“Maybe.” Stella watched to the end again, shut it off, and announced, “I’m getting hungry.”
They decided not to risk returning to the lakeside park from the previous night and instead went to the North Carolina State Fair, which was in full swing. After Mark won a stuffed version of Seasame Street’s Count from the milk bottle throw, they started looking for a likely target.
“There,” Stella said, nudging Mark in the side. A group of women who looked like college students was discussing what ride to go on next, and when they decided on the Ferris wheel, one of them begged off, saying she wanted to get something to drink. The others kidded her for being afraid of heights and joined the long line for the ride.
“Perfect,” Mark said. They followed the acrophobic girl for a few minutes, then flanked her, and Stella made eye contact to bespell her instantly. It took only a few minutes to find a secluded spot between trailers, and Stella fed while Mark kept watch. Then they escorted the girl back, Mark bought her a Coke, and Stella implanted the idea that a very attractive man had flirted with her.
They were halfway back to the hotel when Stella said, “That’s it!”
“That’s what?”
“Why did we pick that girl to feed on?”
“Because she was temporarily alone.”
“Because she was vulnerable. Now think about how Jane looked. Before she changed clothes, she looked tough and streetwise. People stared at her but nobody messed with her. Afterward, she looked vulnerable.”
“Okay.”
“Norcomb thought she changed clothes as a disguise, and that may be it, but maybe that’s not why she was killed. What if she was killed because she was vulnerable? What if somebody saw that and marked her as his prey?”
“Another vampire?”
“No—the autopsy report had nothing about her being drained. But we’re not the only predators around.”
“Meaning what?” Mark said, thinking uncomfortably of those other things Stella had referred to before. “Werewolves? Zombies? Ghouls?”
“I’d have smelled any of them at the graves we found,” Stella said matter-of-factly, and Mark didn’t know if she was kidding or not. “I’m talking about a human monster.”
“A serial killer,” Mark said, momentarily relieved, “with a penchant for young girls.”
Stella nodded. “We know Jane was at Benny’s before she went to Wal-Mart, but we don’t know where she went next. If she was passing through, wouldn’t she go back to the truck stop to look for a ride? And if you lived in Allenville and wanted a steady supply of victims, wouldn’t you hang around Benny’s to find them?”
“May I point out that Benny’s isn’t far from where Jane’s body was found and from where the other bodies still are.”
“Right you are, Ned.”
“Ned?”
“Ned Nickerson. Nancy Drew’s boyfriend.”
“So what would Nancy and Ned do in a case like this?”
“Set a trap for the killer.”
“A trap requires bait.”
“Who do we know who looks younger and more vulnerable than she really is?” Stella said, batting her eyelashes.
Despite his teasing before, Stella really did look older than the eighteen she’d been before making the Choice. Mark didn’t understand how—something about the way she moved, or her clothes and makeup—but she looked like a woman, not a girl. At least, she always had until retreating into the bathroom with the bag of stuff she’d bought at Target on the way back to the hotel.
Mark was watching CNN when he heard, “Excuse me?” in a timid voice.
He looked up to see a girl in khaki crop pants with a peacock blue cami that did nothing to hide the pink bra strap beneath or her generous bosom. Her soft brown hair was held off from her face with a glittery headband, and her makeup was frosted pastels. Her necklace said “Princess,” with a heart dotting the i.
“Stella?” he said wonderingly.
“How do I look?” She spun around.
“Like jailbait. If you were my daughter, I would order barbed wire for the fence and a chastity belt for you.”
She dimpled—he hadn’t known she could dimple—and said, “Do you think you could, you know, let me use your car?”
“Dear Lord, you even speak young! I’ll drive—you don’t look old enough to have a license.”
Damned if she didn’t dimple again.
Mark was still a bit unnerved when, halfway to Allenville, Stella reached over and stroked his thigh. “Do you want to, like, park somewhere before we go in?”
“God, no!”
“I beg your pardon?” she said as she drew her hand back, sounding like her old self.
“No offense, but I never cared for Lolita, and you’re just too damned convincing.”
“I thought all men fantasized about young girls.”
“I prefer women.”
“I see,” she said, sounding more thoughtful than offended.
“Were you like this when you were eighteen?”
“Well, I probably would have dressed in comparable fashion, given the choice, but for one, we didn’t have the money, and for another, Mama would never have allowed it.”
“Good for her,” Mark said self-righteously. “Now, if you could make yourself up as a coed, maybe midtwenties…”
“Pervert,” she said amiably.
Mark exited at a rest area they’d seen a mile before the Allenville exit, and parked around back. Stella got out and, after checking to see that nobody was watching, slipped into the bushes to make her way to Benny’s over land. Mark returned to the highway to drive the rest of the way.
The truck stop was bustling with vacationers, locals, and truckers. Mark snagged the last open booth and ordered a cheeseburger with no onions, fries, and a beer. Then he pulled out his laptop and a stack of paperwork so it wouldn’t look suspicious if he stayed around for a while.
Mark knew Stella had arrived before he saw her, thanks to their sire-vampire, or dam-vampire, relationship. But he tried not to watch as she found a seat at the counter, made a show of counting out how little money she had, and asked for a burger and a small Coke. When he finally risked a glance in her direction, he saw that she’d let herself get a touch grubby during her trip through the woods, making the illusion of a runaway that much more convincing.
For the next hour and a half, Mark ate, sipped his beer, fiddled with papers, and watched as people wandered past Stella. She made eye contact with every lone man she saw, and some of the women, but while reactions included delight, disgust, and lust, nobody reacted like the predator they were looking for. She even asked a couple of the men for rides, but nobody took her up on it.
The crowd thinned, Mark was running out of things to do, and Stella had been nursing the last quarter inch of her Coke for half an hour when Mark decided that their quarry hadn’t come in that night. They might well have to stake out the place for weeks, especially if the killer was a trucker or commuter. Stella’s repeated presence would be noticed, even if she changed her look, so he’d started considering other young-looking vampires they could enlist to play bait when he saw the cook coming out of the kitchen.
The man looked like he was in his midthirties, stocky, with greasy hair Mark hoped was caused by his own body chemistry and not the food he prepared. He slipped an order of fries in front of Stella along with another glass of Coke.
She tried to thank him, but he scurried away before the waitress could see him.
Stella, still in character as a hungry runaway, scarfed the fries down. Mark was impressed. She could still eat regular food, but her body gained no nutrition from it, and since her senses were so refined, she rarely enjoyed the taste. Eating the burger must have been a strain, and to add fries on top showed how seriously she was taking their investigation.