33
BRADLEY LED ME to a door that had been half-torn out of its hinges. Something big had pushed through here. Bradley had to use both hands to get the door to one side. It seemed to have settled into the carpet, wedging itself. He jerked back, and I jumped, pulse in my throat.
"Damn splinters." He held up the palm of his gloved hand and there was a small crimson spot on the plastic. He jerked the glove off. The splinter seemed to have come off with the glove, but it was bleeding freely.
"Some splinter," I said.
"Dammit." Bradley looked at me.
"You better let somebody look at it."
He nodded, but didn't turn to go. "Don't be insulted, but not everyone is happy with me forcing you back on this case. I can't leave you alone in here with evidence. If there were ever questions raised, it would be hard to explain."
"I've never pocketed evidence from a crime scene in my life."
"I'm sorry, Anita, but I can't take the chance. Will you follow me out to the ambulance?"
He was having to cup one hand under the other to catch the blood so it didn't reach the carpet. I frowned, but nodded. "Fine."
He started to say something, then turned and walked back to the living room. We were about a fourth of the way through the room when Edward asked, "Otto wants to open the table cloth and see what's inside."
"I'll send the photographer and Agent Franklin in to oversee it." Bradley kept going for the door having to hurry a little to keep his own blood from contaminating the scene.
Neither Edward nor Olaf nor the uniform that had magically appeared to watch them fondle the evidence, asked how he'd hurt his hand. Maybe no one cared.
I followed Bradley across the gravel turn-around to the ambulance. There I were still too many people mulling around outside. Shouldn't they be out searching for the creature? It wasn't my job to tell them their job, but this was the freshest crime scene yet, and there just didn't seem to be enough frantic activity to suit me.
Bradley sat down at the end of the ambulance and let the techs treat his wound. Because it was a wound. Splinter, my ass. He'd stabbed himself. I tried to be a good girl and just stand there, but I think my impatience showed, because Bradley started talking.
"We did send people out to search when we arrived, and we arrived damn quick."
"I didn't say anything."
He smiled, then grimaced as the EMT did something to his hand that hurt. "Walk far enough away from the house to give a 360 look. Then come back and tell me what you see."
I looked at him. He motioned me off with his good hand. I shrugged and started walking. The heat was like a weight across my shoulders, but without humidity it just wasn't as bad. The gravel crunched under my feet, louder than it should have been. I walked in the opposite direction from the horse corral. The horses were still running in their endless chase like a maniac merry-go-round. I threaded my way through the cars, marked and unmarked. The fire truck had driven away. I wasn't sure why it had been here in the first place. Though sometimes when you call 911, you get more emergency vehicles than you need, especially if the caller panics and isn't specific enough.
I stopped beside the silent revolving lights of a car. Who had called the police? Did we actually have a witness? If we did, why hadn't anyone mentioned it? If we didn't, then who had called for help?
I walked until the hot dry wind rustling through the clumps of grass was louder than the electric squawk of radios. I stopped and turned back towards the house. The cars were small enough that I could have covered one of them with my hand. I'd probably walked farther out than I needed to go. Far enough out that if I yelled for help, they might not hear me. Not bright. I should walk further in, but I needed to be clear of it for awhile. I needed to be out in the wind alone. I compromised. I drew the Browning and put off the safety, pointing the barrel at the ground, one-handed. Now I could enjoy the solitude and still be safe. Though, truthfully, I wasn't sure if what we were chasing gave a damn about bullets, silver or otherwise.
Bradley had said to look. I looked. The ranch lay in a large round valley or maybe a plateau, since we'd had to drive up some hills to get here. Whichever, the land stretched flat and smooth for miles to the rim of distant hills. Of course, I'd been surprised by distances here, so maybe the hills were really mountains, and the land stretched for a very long way in every direction. There were no trees. There was almost no vegetation above thigh height to me. Whatever had taken that door out had been big, bigger than a man, though not by much. I turned in a slow circle, scanning the ground, and there was nowhere for something that large to hide. They'd walked this ground when they first arrived, full of confidence that the creature couldn't have gotten far. They marched out, and out, and out, and found nothing. The helicopter buzzed overhead, high enough that it didn't disturb the wind, but low enough that I was pretty sure it was looking at me. They were looking for anything unusual, and I was standing out here by myself, unusual enough.
The helicopter circled a few times, then buzzed off to search somewhere-else. I looked out at the empty land. There was nowhere to hide. Where had it gone? Where could it have gone?
Underground, maybe, or it flew away. If it flew away, I couldn't help them find it, but if it went underground ... Caves, or an old well, maybe. I'd suggest it to Bradley, and probably be told that they'd checked it. But hey, I was here to offer suggestions, wasn't I?
I heard someone behind me and whirled. I had the gun halfway up when I recognized Detective Ramirez. He had his hands up and to each side, away from his gun. I let out the breath I'd been holding and holstered the gun "Sorry."
"That's okay," he said. He was wearing another white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled back over dark, strong forearms. The tie was a different color but it still hung loose like a necklace, and the top two buttons of his shirt were open so that you could see the smooth hollow of his throat.
"No it's not. I'm not usually this jumpy." I hugged myself, not because I was cold. Far from it. But because I badly wanted someone to hold me. I wanted to be comforted. Edward had many uses. Comfort was not one of them.
Ramirez came up beside me. He didn't try and touch me, just stood very close and looked out over the land where I was looking. He spoke still staring out in the distance. "The case getting to you?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I don't know why."
He gave a sharp laugh and turned to me, face halfway between astonishment and humor. "You don't know why?"
I frowned at him. "No, I don't."
He shook his head, smiling, but his eyes were gentle. "Anita, this is an awful case. I've never seen anything this bad."
"I've seen things as bad as the vivisected victims, the ones that died."
His face sobered. "You've seen things that bad before?"
I nodded.
"What about the mutilations?" he asked. His face was very serious now, His smooth nearly black-brown eyes watched my face.
I shook my head. "I've never seen anything like the survivors." I laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "If survivor is the word for them. What kind of life are they going to have, if they live?" I hugged myself tighter, staring at the ground, trying not to think.
"I've been having nightmares," Ramirez said.
I looked up at him. Police don't admit things like that often, especially not to civilian consultants that they've just met. We looked at each other, and his eyes were so gentle, so genuine. Unless he was a much better actor than I thought he was, Ramirez was letting me see the real him. I appreciated it, but didn't know how to say it out loud. You don't verbalize something like that. The best you can do is return the favor. The trouble was, I wasn't sure what the real me was anymore. I didn't know what to put in my eyes. I didn't know what to let him see. I finally stopped trying to pick and choose, and think I settled for confused, bordering on scared.
He touched my shoulder lightly. When I didn't say anything, he moved into me, wrapping his arms across my back, holding me against him. I stayed stiff in his arms for a second or two, but didn't pull away. I relaxed against him in inches, until my head rested in the curve of his neck, my arms tentatively, around his waist. Hewhispered, "It will be all right, Anita."
I shook my head against his shoulder. "I don't think so."
He tried to see my face but I was standing too close, at too awkward an angle. I pulled back so he could see my face, and suddenly I felt awkward standing there with my arms around a stranger. I pulled away, and he let me go, only keeping the fingers of one hand grasped in his. He gave my hand a little shake. "Talk to me, Anita, please."
"I've been doing cases like this for about five years. When I'm not looking at the messily dead, I'm hunting vampires, rogue shapeshifters, you name it."
His was holding my hand solidly now, wrapped in the warmth of his skin. I didn't pull away. I needed something human to hold onto. I tried to put into words what I'd been thinking for awhile now. "A lot of cops never use their guns, not in thirty years. I've lost count of how many people I've killed." His hand tightened on mine, but he didn't interrupt. "When I started out, I thought vampires were monsters. I really believed it. But lately I'm not so sure. And regardless of what they are, they look very human. I could get a call tomorrow that would send me down to the morgue to put a stake through the heart of a body that looks every bit as human as you and me. Once I've got a court order of execution, I am legally sanctioned to shoot and kill the Vampire or vampires in question, and anyone that stands in my way. That includes human servants or people with just a bite on them. One bite, two bites, they can be healed, cured. But I've killed them to save myself, to save others."