Blood Secrets (3 page)

Alex silently chided herself as they passed the vacant front desk. She had an opportunity to make up for some of her mistakes and was allowing the events of recent weeks to get to her. She was back in the field, where she wanted to be, and she needed to get her head in the right place.

And yet when she stepped into the rainy dawn, the sense that some unseen menace lay in wait, watching her from the darkness, made her reach for Varik’s hand.

He shot her a questioning look, but he never broke stride, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Once surrounded by the security of his sleek black Corvette and heading into the morning in silence, Alex pushed aside the anxiety that still swirled around her like a palpable cloud, determined not to squander the opportunity she’d been given.

And even more determined to stop jumping at shadows.

Basements weren’t possible in southern Mississippi for two reasons: a high water table and a layer of shifting clay within the ground. That was why so many old houses had immense attic space to compensate.

Above- or belowground didn’t matter to Peter. All he needed was privacy and the attic offered it. It had taken him nearly a year to perfect the space, tailoring it to his needs. The time had been wisely spent.

A door in the second-floor hall opened to stairs that led to one section of the attic. A very small portion used for actual storage.

The doorway to the remainder was well hidden. He’d made certain it wouldn’t be noticed by the casual observer. Not that he had any visitors.

A false panel concealed behind an oversized print of Marcel Duchamp’s
Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2
hid another set of narrow stairs. The Cubist painting depicted both a woman and a staircase consisting of blocks and overlapping angles with little separating the moving nude figure from the irregular background.

The irony was too much. He laughed every time he opened the panel and climbed the hidden stairs, as he did now. Reaching the top step, he entered the wide expanse that was his private heaven.

Shelves containing his most precious collection lined the walls. Bins filled with all the bits needed to create his masterpieces were arranged in a neat row on his workstation. Lamps hung overhead and bathed the table in soft light.

As Peter crossed the time-worn wooden flooring, he felt a rush of power filtering up from the archaic sigils he’d carefully carved into the boards. Each held meaning and purpose, and all were designed to bring him the one thing he most desired.

He pulled a rolling stool from under the table and sat down with a sigh. It felt good to be returning to work. He pushed a button on a remote control and the opening overture for
Carmen
filtered through concealed speakers. His eyes slipped shut. The music surrounded him, caressed him, and lulled his senses into a peaceful calm.

Last night had been a very good night. He’d seen
her
. It had been a brief glimpse only, but it had been enough to rekindle his desire, to assure him that his work was not in vain.

He’d even heard her voice. Her sweet, angelic voice calling to him, seeking him out. He’d wanted to answer, to go to her, but he abstained. She wasn’t ready, and he had to be patient. She would come to him soon enough.

Opening his eyes, he removed the protective drape from his current work. It was crude but the subtle features were taking shape in the face. Each doll he created was perfect, an exact copy of his models. However, this one was a replica of a very special model, and like the others, it would be imbued with a vital essence that would bring her to him.

His gaze flickered across the attic to his latest acquisition.

She stared at him, eyes wide and full of wonder. She hadn’t struggled in the same manner as her predecessor so the bindings were minimal. Bands across her forehead and throat kept her head immobile. Her arms lay naturally along her sides with black straps holding them securely in place at the elbows and wrists. A special harness crossed over her shoulders and then over her stomach. More straps held her thighs and shins in place.

Her mouth remained uncovered, however, and she said nothing. The drugs kept her pliant.

Peter smiled and picked up the new doll’s head from the table.

This
one was special.

This
was the one that would finally bring Alexandra to him.

This
was the one that would make her his.

Forever.

LIEUTENANT TASHA LOCKWOOD STARED AT THE LETTER
on her kitchen table. Beside it, a teacup sat ignored, the water long since grown cold and murky with over-brewed tea. Instead, she cradled a glass of golden liquid and slowly melting ice cubes.

The letter was printed on heavy linen paper. Balanced scales of justice dominated the neatly printed header for Barnes, Butler, Lockwood, & Associates, the Baton Rouge law firm in which her ex-husband was a partner. Her eyes scanned the letter but her brain still refused to believe the words.

Ten years after their divorce, Caleb was suing her for sole custody of their daughter.

She hadn’t argued when he was granted primary custody and she only received visitation rights. She hadn’t even argued when he filed a relocation petition with the court after he was offered the partnership in the law firm. However, she wasn’t going to let him take Maya completely away.

She lifted her glass and drained the golden liquid. Its slightly smoky taste was mellowed by the ice, just the
way she liked it. Although the bourbon was chilled, it still burned as it slid down her throat. She shuddered and set the glass on the table with a soft
thump
.

Her phone rang and she automatically reached for her cell before she realized it was her personal home line. She frowned. Who would be calling her this early in the morning?

Pushing herself up from the table, Tasha picked up the cordless receiver. “Hello?”

“Judging from the angry message you left in my voice mail, I’m assuming you got my letter.”

“What the hell is going on, Caleb?” She backed against the wall for support. “Is something wrong with Maya?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Maya.”

“Then why are you trying to change the custody agreement?”

Caleb sighed and the familiar
squeak-pop
of his favorite reclining chair sounded over the line. “Maya doesn’t want to come to Jefferson anymore, Tasha. She says she’s happy here with her friends, me, and Shantee, and doesn’t want to leave anymore.”

A knife lodged in Tasha’s stomach, cold, hard, and painful. “I don’t believe that, and who the hell is Shantee?”

“Believe what you want, but I’m telling you exactly what Maya’s told me.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Shantee is my wife.”

The knife in Tasha’s stomach slowly twisted. “Your wife? You got remarried and didn’t tell me?”

“I sent you an invitation.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Not my problem.”

“You could’ve at least called.”

“I did.” His voice adopted an irritated edge. “If you weren’t so busy playing a vampire’s bitch—”

“I am
not
a vampire’s bitch! I’m the fucking liaison officer for Jefferson PD, Nassau County Sheriff’s Department, and the FBPI. It’s my
job
to work with vampires.”

“And given your fear of them, how’s that working out for you?”

“Don’t be a dick, Caleb, and stop trying to change the subject.” She moved to the table and poured another round of bourbon. “I’m not going to let you take Maya.”

“I’m not taking her, Tasha. I’ve already got her. This is her decision. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her.”

“What’s best is for her to spend time with her mother.” She gulped down the bourbon. “Not some wannabe stepmother floozy she barely knows.”

Silence consumed the line, and Tasha quietly cursed herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have—”

“I have to get ready for work,” he interjected.

“Caleb—”

“Good-bye, Tasha.”

The line clicked closed before she could respond. She returned the cordless handset to its cradle and sucked in a deep breath.

Caleb had been her first love. She was a high-school junior and he was a college freshman. After dating for three years, they married, and she joined the Jefferson Police Department while he worked full-time on his law degree. She enrolled in night classes and studied criminal justice. Maya was born a few years later. Life had been hard but good.

For a while.

Tasha first began drinking to relax from the rigors of working as a patrol officer. It was no big deal to have a few beers with her fellow officers after a shift. However, Tasha soon found herself sneaking shots before
her shifts and then during. She told herself it wasn’t a problem, that everyone had their ways of coping. She rationalized it by saying she risked her life and deserved a little liquid compensation once in a while. No harm and no foul so long as no one saw her and the bad guys were going to jail.

Then Tasha’s drinking caught up with her a few months after she earned her detective’s badge. She failed to report for an important court date. The police chief wanted her fired on the spot. Caleb convinced the chief to place her on administrative leave, and she entered a treatment program.

When she returned from rehab, Caleb and three-year-old Maya were gone and divorce papers left in their stead. Tasha was devastated but didn’t fight Caleb’s demands for primary custody of their daughter. She was newly out of treatment, struggling to deal with her addiction and still maintain her job as a police officer. Maya was happy and well cared for with Caleb. The court awarded Tasha visitations once a month, every other major holiday, and four weeks during the summer.

That was ten years ago. Why was Caleb now seeking sole custody? Tasha glanced at the empty bourbon glass on the table. Did he know about her relapse? About her violating the chain of evidence?

The phone rang again and she jumped. She picked up the receiver.

“Listen very carefully,” a familiar distorted electronic voice droned. “We will say this only once.”

“Who is this?”

“We know you are in danger of losing your daughter.”

Tasha glanced at the cordless phone base and then to the narrow window overlooking a small backyard. “How do you know that?”

“That is unimportant. We can assist you.”

“Help me? How? Why?”

“Again, that is unimportant. If you want to see your daughter, you will follow our instructions.”

She hesitated and then sighed, slumping against the kitchen wall. “What do you want from me?”

“You are assisting the vampires in their search for Mindy Johnson.”

“I’m assigned to the task force, yes.”

“You will gather information on the one called Sabian.”

“Alex? But she’s on suspension.”

“Vampire Sabian was reinstated to full active duty status as of oh-six-twenty-seven this morning.”

Tasha’s head spun. “You want me to spy on a federal agent?”

“You will gather information on Sabian. Observe her behavior. Make a record of what she says and does.”

“I don’t understand why—”

“Understanding is not required. You will also retrieve Mindy Johnson’s journal and keep it safe until further notice.”

“Why do you want Mindy’s journal?”

“We will be in touch.”

“Wait!”

The line clicked three times and then switched to the monotone hum of a dial tone.

“Damn it!” Tasha jammed the handset into the cradle and it beeped in annoyance. She knew better than to check the caller ID logs. It would only show an unnamed caller and no number.

The same was true of trying to trace the call. She’d had similar calls during the Darryl Black investigation, including one instructing her to compromise the chain of evidence. Her conscience had eventually gotten the better of her, and she’d confessed her transgression to Varik. She could still hear his threat in her mind as clear as if he stood in the room with her.

If anything happens to Alex as a result of your actions, there will be nowhere on this earth you can hide from me
.

Tasha believed if anyone could make good on a threat, it was Varik Baudelaire. She’d been checking into his past, and the little information she was able to unearth frightened her. Born in 1833, the only son of an aristocratic Parisian family, Varik had turned his back on his family’s wealth at the age of twenty-three. She found no mention of him after he walked away from the Baudelaire fortune until he surfaced in Louisville, Kentucky, in 1968, immediately following Bernard Sabian’s murder. She could only imagine what he may have been doing in that missing century.

Her gaze fell to Caleb’s letter and then shifted to the half-empty bourbon bottle. Hate and anger, fear and self-loathing warred for control of her emotions. She picked up the bottle and tossed it in the trash.

“I will
not
be intimidated,” she said to the last vestiges of night outside her window. “I will
not
succumb to my fears.”

Spinning on her heel, Tasha grabbed her cell phone and headed for her bedroom to dress for the long day of work ahead of her.

A nagging little voice in her mind laughed at her and made her pause in the threshold between the kitchen and hallway.
Caleb’s right. They own you
, the voice whispered.
You fucked up. The vamps covered it up
.

After confessing to Varik that she’d broken the chain of evidence, he and Alex had omitted Tasha’s violation from their official reports. If she was discovered tampering with evidence again, she felt certain neither vampire would be so forgiving.

Now they own you
, her inner tormentor teased.
They’re never going to let you go
.

Fear overwhelmed Tasha and rooted her to the floor.

If Caleb finds out what you’re doing, you’ll never see Maya again
.