Blood of Eden (27 page)

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Authors: Tami Dane

BOOK: Blood of Eden
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“Good thing they didn't.” Gabe pointed at a long corridor, lined with empty gurneys. “This way. She's been isolated in an area where we can protect her.”
“Who?”
“Your witness.” He turned down a narrower, quiet corridor, lined with doors. The man had long legs and was using them to full advantage, which left me to jog to keep up.
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Eden Eckert.” He stopped at a door, which was guarded by a federal agent. “This is Sloan Skye, the other intern SSA Peyton told you about.”
The agent nodded, and in we went. I whispered, “Why the guard?” as we stepped through the door.
“I'll tell you later.”
Our little friend looked even smaller lying in that big hospital bed, monitors blinking, tangled tubes dangling over the side of the bed. But she looked a lot better than she had in the garage. A woman, whom I hadn't noticed right away, was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. She stood as Gabe and I moved closer.
Gabe motioned to me. “This is Sloan Skye. She was the one who found your daughter this morning. Sloan, this is Mrs. Eckert, Eden's mother.”
“Thank you for finding my baby. I can't ...” The woman sniffled. “I was so worried.”
“It wasn't technically me who found her, but I'm glad she was found, and I'm relieved to hear she'll be okay.” I glanced at the little girl, who was eagerly shoveling vanilla ice cream into her mouth. “I see she's hungry. That's always a good sign.”
Mrs. Eckert did a little half sob, half laugh. “Yes, it is.”
Biting back a sarcastic comment, I said, “If it's okay, we need to ask Eden some questions.” We needed the mother's cooperation. Now was not the time to talk about any suspicions of neglect.
Mrs. Eckert thumbed a tear from her eye. “Sure. Anything that'll help you catch the woman who did this. If you don't, I won't be able to let her play outside without being terrified she'll vanish again.”
“The woman?” I echoed.
Gabe nodded. He looked at little Eden, who had just polished off the last drop of ice cream in the bowl and was licking her lips. “Okay, Eden. Now that you've had your treat, can we talk about what happened?”
“Sure.” Eden beamed at Gabe.
Gabe returned her smile. “Go ahead and tell Ms. Skye what you told me and the other agents today.”
“It was Mrs. Bishop,” the little girl said.
“Who is Mrs. Bishop?” I asked.
“Veronica's mama. Remember? I told you Veronica is my best friend. But she was gone away at camp. And I missed her really, really bad. So I rode my bike to her house. I wanted to ask her mommy when she'd be back. Julia came back early, after her mommy died. I thought maybe Veronica would come back with her. Mrs. Bishop asked if I wanted some ice cream.” She slid a glance at her own mother and tipped her head down. “Mommy always told me not to go into other people's houses without telling her first. I should've gone home and asked, but I didn't. Because it was Mrs. Bishop. Mommy knows Mrs. Bishop.”
“What happened next?” I asked.
“I ate the ice cream. It tasted kinda funny. Then I got real sleepy, even though it wasn't nap time. Mrs. Bishop told me I could sleep in Veronica's room. So I went up and took a nap. When I woke up, the door was locked, and Mrs. Bishop wouldn't let me out. The window was covered too. With boards. I couldn't get out. I was really scared. She came back later, to give me something to eat and drink. She also brought in a baby toilet. I told her I wanted to go home, but she said I couldn't. I asked her why not, and she said it was because she missed Veronica so much. That I was helping her not feel so sad.”
This was a terrible story, but I still didn't see the connection to our case yet. I glanced at Gabe.
He nodded to Eden. “Tell her what happened later that night, Eden.”
The little girl's expression changed. She suddenly looked small and vulnerable and horribly frightened. “Do I hafta?”
“I know it's scary, but we need to hear. We need to stop Mrs. Bishop from hurting you, and other children. This is the only way we can stop her.”
The little girl didn't speak for a full minute. She just stared down at her hands, now clasped in her lap, fingers tightly curled into fists. “It's hard to say.”
“It's okay.” Gabe took the child's hand into his. “There are a lot of people here to protect you. She won't get near you again.”
Eden eventually gave a little nod. “Later I fell asleep. Something woke me up. It felt like someone was dragging something hard and cold over my skin, like a knife. And it smelled awful, like our garage in the summertime, when we leave the garbage in there too long. I opened my eyes, and she was standing there, looking at me, but it wasn't her. She was different. Her face. Her ... teeth. And then ...” Eden fingered her neck. “And then she bit me.” Tears streamed down the little girl's face. “It hurt. So bad. She did it again. And again. And again.”
Gabe and I exchanged a glance.
An image flashed in my mind. A shocking, horrifying one. Fangs flashing in the dim light. The agony of the bite. Instantly I felt sick. Dizzy. My stomach surged up my throat. I wrapped my fingers around the bed's side rail. With my other hand, I rubbed my neck, recalling all too clearly how horrific the pain had been.
It had happened to me. Not just recently. No, years ago. When I was this little girl's age. How many times had I cowered in the dark, feeling those icy fingers of dread curl around my stomach, waiting for the beast to return?
Sounds grew distant. The world narrowed to a dark, oppressive tunnel.
“I need to step outside. For just a minute.” My legs felt like half-cooked noodles, my feet heavy, as if they were encased in concrete shoes. I tried to give Eden a reassuring smile. “I'll be right back.” Then, without looking at Gabe, I turned and walked out the door. In the hallway, I leaned back against the cool wall, closed my eyes, and tried to wish away the awful feeling spreading through my body like a cancer.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asked a few moments later.
I inhaled. Exhaled. “Sorry about that. Did I scare her worse? I hope not.”
“She'll be okay. I'm more worried about you. What's wrong?”
“What she said brought back some unpleasant memories. That's all.” I fought a shudder that was quaking up my spine.
“Oh, the attack. I didn't think—”
“No, it's not that. I understand now why my dad started researching vampires, risking his career, his reputation, everything. I finally get it.” I swallowed the bile surging up my throat. “I think a vampire was attacking me. My father threw everything away to try to stop it.”
Wisdom is knowing what to do next, skill is knowing how to do it, and virtue is doing it.
—David Starr Jordan
23
Fortunately, it took me only a few minutes to pull myself together. While Gabe went back into the room to talk to Eden, I channeled all the horror and confusion that lay deep inside me into a fierce determination to solve this case.
As much as I wanted to run out of there, call JT, and tell him to head over to the Bishop house to take Mrs. Bishop into custody, I wasn't ready to do that yet. I hadn't figured out how the two cases were linked.
What did the kidnapping have to do with the killer?
I took a deep breath and went back into the room. Eden looked a little wary as her gaze found mine. I smiled. “It's okay.”
She smiled back.
“I'm sorry I left you like that. I'd like to explain why.”
Eden dug a stuffed kitten out from under the blankets and hugged it. “Okay.”
I sat on the edge of her bed. “When I was little, I had a very similar experience. And your description brought back all the terrible memories I'd pushed out of my mind. I got a little overwhelmed, but only for a minute.”
She looked at me with wide eyes, full of innocence, and petted her kitten. “Were you scared when it happened to you?”
“I was. Very.”
She blinked. Her eyes reddened. “Me too. I'm afraid she'll come back and hurt me again.”
“That's why we need to catch her. And we need you to help us do that, and make sure she'll never hurt another little girl again. You need to tell us everything you remember.”
“Okay.”
“After she bit you, what happened?” I asked.
“I got very tired. I fell asleep.”
“And when you woke up?”
“I was hungry. Really, really hungry. She brought me cereal and a banana for breakfast. And a sandwich and some chips and a cookie for lunch. I ate everything, and she was nice again, just like normal. And I asked her if I could go home, over and over.”
“What did she say?”
“She said I couldn't go home until Veronica came back from camp.”
I leaned forward. “Did she say why?”
“She said she missed Veronica a lot. And I made her feel better. That's all.”
“Okay. Did she say anything else? Anything about hurting some women?”
“No. But I told Mr. Thomas that I got away from Mrs. Bishop when she was giving me a bath. I hid in the garage next door. I didn't know where else to go. And I knew you were staying there. I thought you could help me. I heard Mrs. Bishop talking to Mrs. Quinley outside. And then Mrs. Quinley screamed. I peeked out and saw Mrs. Bishop biting her, just like she did me.”
Gabe and I exchanged a look.
Kimberly Quinley had been the last victim. She had died from leishmaniasis, considered by some to be the deadliest tropical disease on the planet. But what I didn't understand was how the timing could fit. The average incubation period for leishmaniasis was ten days to several years. “How long did you stay with Mrs. Bishop? And how long were you hiding in the garage?”
“I was with Mrs. Bishop for a long time. I don't know how long. I only spent four nights in the garage. But you didn't come back. I was afraid to go home because I knew Mrs. Bishop would find me there. I didn't know where else to go.”
“So you heard Mrs. Quinley scream the first day after you escaped?”
Eden shook her head and clutched her toy tighter. “No, I heard her scream on the last day.”
“And how long were you hiding in the garage?” I asked again.
“Four whole nights. I got real hungry, but I was afraid to go home. I could hear Mrs. Bishop outside, working in her yard, talking to people, asking if anyone had seen me. She even talked to my mommy once. I was afraid she'd hurt her too.”
“Okay. I think I need to make a call.” I motioned for Gabe to join me outside. We headed out of the building together. “Have they run screens for tropical infectious diseases?”
“Everything's come back negative.”
I gnawed on my lip and touched my neck. “I wonder why. If the vampire's bite is toxic to adults, why isn't it toxic to children too?”
Gabe crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “I don't know. You're the one with the father who researched this stuff. Maybe it's in his work somewhere.”
“It probably is. I haven't gotten through all of it yet. Things have been a little crazy.”
Gabe leaned back against a brick column. “What are you going to do?”
“Does the chief know about this?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I'm going to call her and JT. I don't know if he's aware of what's going on. We need to profile this unsub before the BPD tries to take her into custody. But before we do that, I need to get home and dig through my dad's research, see if I can figure out exactly what we're dealing with. I hope my mother's disappearance has nothing to do with this. It sounds like Bishop is a spree attacker, preying upon any brunette woman who happens to cross her path at the wrong time. And somehow, Eden and Veronica play into Bishop's hunting pattern. Now I'm wondering if Veronica is really at camp, or somewhere else. We need to find out.”
Gabe shoved his hand into his pants pocket and dug out his phone. “Okay. I'll probably see you back at the academy later.”
“Thanks for calling me.”
“That's what friends are for.”
I dialed JT's number as I scrabbled into his car.
He answered on the first ring. “What's the story?”
“Our unsub is the neighbor Mrs. Bishop. We have her on kidnapping, but we don't have enough evidence to charge her with murder yet. Nor do we have a motive.”
“Did you say, Mrs. Bishop?” he whispered.
“Yes. Why? Let me guess, she's there with you?”
“She was. She left a few minutes ago, after telling me she saw someone chasing the last victim through the park last week.”
“She's lying. But how are we going to prove it?”
“DNA would be handy.”
“That's for sure. Her DNA is definitely unique. But I doubt you'll get her to agree to a swab.”
“There are other ways to get an unsub's DNA.”
“Legal?”
“Sure.”
“Well, okay. I'll leave it to you, then.”
“No problem.”
“You'll be careful, right?” Sitting in the running car, I stared out the windshield. The sky had darkened to a threatening gray and the first fat droplets of rain were smacking the glass. “I mean, the woman's brutally murdered several women, and she's kidnapped a child.”
“If I didn't know better, I'd say you're worried about me.”
I heard the laughter in his voice. “Maybe a little,” I admitted.
“Well, I'll take that as a compliment.”
“Take it any way you like.”
“Any way?” His voice had that flirtatious lilt I so enjoyed. . . and dreaded.
“Don't get too carried away,” I warned.
He laughed. Even on the phone, the sound made me all warm and soft and gooey. I was glad I was alone. He couldn't see how it affected me. After a slightly awkward moment, he said, “About your mother ...”
“No news, right?”
“Actually, I did get something, a pretty decent lead.”
My heart started pounding. I curled my fingers around the phone and smooshed it against my ear. “Yeah?”
“A woman who lives in the house nearest your mother's car saw a woman who matches your mom's description get into a late-model blue sedan, either a Chrysler or a Dodge. We have a partial plate. I got Brittany running it. Hopefully, she'll find a match.”
It wasn't the best news, but it was something. “God, I hope it doesn't take too long to track down the vehicle. Thank you.”
“You're welcome. Now, about your dad's research, I think we need to go over some of it. If we can figure out exactly what Mrs. Bishop is, we might be able to find a vulnerability, and a way to connect her to the crime, outside of DNA. I'm going to call my connection at the BPD and let them know who we're looking at. They can keep an eye on her until we come up with something more solid for them.”
“Sounds good.”
“How about we meet over at your place?” he suggested. “You have the majority of the notes there.”
I glanced at the clock on the dash. “I can be there in a half hour.”
“Have you eaten lunch yet?” He asked.
“ No.”
“Good. I'll bring food. What are you in the mood for?”
I smiled. “Surprise me. And, JT?”
“Yeah?” he responded.
“How're you going to get there? I have your car.”
“Don't worry about it. I'll catch a ride from someone.”
 
 
My roommate was playing with chemicals again. Could it be that my out-of-control life was finally returning to normal?
Oh, please say it's so!
A cloud of gray smoke rolled through the doorway as I opened the door. It was a beautiful sight. Crazy, I'd never thought I'd be so happy to be standing in a thick, noxious haze. “Katie? What are you cooking up now?”
“Lunch.” Katie, whom I expected to find in a rubber apron, thick gloves, and a gas mask, came bouncing to the door in a bright yellow dress, covered by a white apron printed with red cherries. The colors nearly blinded me. So did her smile. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“A surprise? For what?”
Katie flung her arms around me and gave me an exuberant hug. “A thank-you gift. From me to you.”
“Well ... okay. Uh, you're welcome?” I followed my energetic roommate into the kitchen, eyes watering, not because I was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, but because the smoke was burning my corneas. On the top of the stove sat a cookie sheet with some little black blobs on it. I didn't ask. “What, exactly, did I do to deserve this?”
Katie gave me another violently happy hug. “I'm feeling so much better, thanks to you.”
“You are? That's great!”
“I got a call from that doctor's office you recommended.”
I didn't recommend any doctor, but I didn't want to tell her that. She looked so healthy and happy and alive, it was hard to believe this was the same Katie I'd been living with the past week or so. “And?”
“I'm not going crazy!” She jumped up and down like a five-year-old who'd been set loose in a toy store.
Not crazy. I knew how it felt to hear that news. It was no wonder she was so happy. I threw my arms around her and gave her a hug. “That's great! For what it's worth, I never believed it was anxiety either. So what was it? You look like you're feeling so much better.”
“You're going to laugh your ass off when I tell you.”
“No, I promise I won't.” I had my own suspicions about what might have been wrong.
“Okay ... I”—she giggled—“poisoned myself.”
“Of course you did. Look at what you play with.” I motioned to the burned blobs.
“No, that's just it. Here I am, working in a lab day and night, and that wasn't what made me sick. The damn bug bomb did.”
“The what?”
“Remember when we had all those fireflies in the apartment?”
“Sure.”
“Well, the doctor told me I used too many bombs, and the chemicals are toxic to humans, if we're exposed to a high enough concentration of them. Which I was.”
“And I wasn't?”
“You didn't stay in the apartment that first night. I did.”
Head smack. “Of course. Your symptoms were classic signs of neurotoxicity. Shit. I should've figured that out.”
“I don't blame you. You've been dealing with enough stuff.” She dumped the crispy contents of the pan into the trash. “It doesn't matter now. The doctor is treating me for the exposure.”
“I'm so glad you'll be okay. I was really worried about you.”
“I'm just thankful you didn't get tired of me being such a bitch, and a slob.” Katie tossed the pan into the sink and cranked on the faucet. “So much for the chicken Cordon Bleu. I am a pathetic cook. Can't even warm frozen chicken without turning it to charcoal.”

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