Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) (3 page)

The sheriff knew Forensics had taken specimens of the surrounding tissue,
but waiting on them could take longer than watching ice melt in the Arctic, he wouldn’t hold his breath. The whole process dragged out even more with the shuffling of paperwork between the crime lab and the investigative offices. He just hoped that when the results did arrive, he would have a little more than supposition to go on.

Just one scream.
He thought back to the Jaffler’s claim of having heard a single scream. People had different reactions to fear, but he couldn’t help question why, in a moment of terror, she’d cried out only once. However, he did have a hypothesis, which had led him to prompt Dr. Berg to check for any sign of head injury or chloroform use, thinking the killer might have knocked her out by striking her over the head or by administering an anesthetic to sedate her. He’d hoped something might come of his conjecture, but according to the report sitting in front of him, the doctor had found no sign of head trauma or traces of chemical use.

He cursed to himself,
his theory shot down. “Maybe she froze in shock…fainted,” he speculated, trying to imagine all possible scenarios of what might have occurred that terrible night. He just prayed she was unconscious when the blood was drained from her body. To be conscious would have been torture of the worst kind. A torment fit for hell.

Sheriff Pierson massaged the back of his neck to loosen the tense muscles
giving rise to a migraine. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and rooted around until he found a bottle of aspirin. Popping the top, he shook out two tablets and tossed them back with a swig of black coffee that had turned cold after sitting too long, wrinkling his face at the awful taste. He took a deep breath and tried to expel his frustration. This case was impossible!
What purpose could the killer have had for draining the victim’s blood?

“O positive,” he said. Someone might have needed that particular blood type
for some critical reason, possibly emergency surgery.

He’d always been a “keep your feet planted firmly on the ground and your
head out of the clouds” kind of man. However, he delved yet further into the pit of absurdity as he considered the possibility that Hixton might have even become an abode for a cult. Could Louisa Jaffler have fallen victim to ritualistic murder? It might be improbable, but not unheard of. He’d read about such occurrences happening in small, out-of-the-way places.

Releasing another groan, he lit a Marlboro
,
took a long, deep drag and slowly let it out. The smoke lingered in front of him for several seconds before dispersing. He rubbed at the twitch in his left ear, a signal that always alerted him something wasn’t quite right. An inner alarm that, to date, had never failed him.

There hadn’t been a murder in the
Jackson County area for more than thirty years, and news of the killing had the community stirred. Bigger than anything he’d ever faced during his career in law enforcement, the pressure to supply answers weighed heavily on his shoulders. His small force consisted of good, honest people, but they had no experience when it came to handling a homicide investigation. They normally dealt with less severe crimes, more along the lines of shoplifting, breaking up domestic disputes, or running down speeders. But like him, his team was dedicated, and would never veer off a road just because it got a little rocky. They had a job to do, and with him personally overseeing the case, they would absolutely get it done. This was his county, and he was determined to do everything in his power to keep the residents here safe.

He wanted to believe this murder would be a one time incident, but that
nagging spasm just wouldn’t let up, smothering him with an intense fear that more killing would follow.

Someone needing the victim’s specific blood type for emergency surgery was a
far-reaching scenario, but one he couldn’t rule out. He refused to dismiss any possibility without at least some minor consideration. With that in mind, he grabbed his hat from the stand next to his door and set a course for Black River Falls Memorial Hospital.

* * * *

The sheriff approached the information desk and stated his position.

“I’m conducting an investigation and I’d like to speak to someone in charge,
anyone having the authority to relinquish information.” He removed his hat revealing his reddish-blond, recently trimmed, hair.

“I’ll see if our hospital administrator, Patricia Watson, is available,” the
receptionist reached for her phone handset and tapped several digits on the dial pad.

Thanking her,
Pierson took a seat, waiting no more than a minute, when a tall, shapely brunette woman appeared in a doorway to his right. He held an unflinching gaze on her as she strode toward him, loving a woman with a strong mind and self-assurance to match, and by the way this woman moved—shoulders squared and head held high—she appeared to possess both qualities in droves.

“Sheriff, hello. I’m Patricia Watson, Hospital Administrator.”

“Sheriff Pierson.” He politely extended his right hand.

She shook it in return and proceeded to inquire on the purpose of his visit.

“I’m investigating a murder that occurred in Hixton two nights ago and I need to ask you a few questions.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with the hospital, or with me.”

“Oh no, this has nothing to do with you personally, ma’am, not at all. Or with the hospital. I guess you could say I’m here on a hunch.”

“A hunch?”

“Yes. I should explain.”

“Please.”

“Well, first, I was hoping to find out if the hospital might be in short supply of ‘O positive’ blood, and in addition, whether you might have had—in the past two days—a patient in desperate need of that specific blood type.”

“I don’t think so. We should have plenty of O positive on hand, but I
can contact the blood bank to make sure. Although, you must know, Sheriff, I can’t divulge any confidential patient information without consent, or a court ordered subpoena,” she informed him. “No matter how charming an official you might be,” she surprisingly added.

“Oh, I’m aware of that Ms. Watson, and if necessary, I could have a subpoena
here within the hour.”

“
One hour. You must have some clout.”

“I
am
the sheriff.”

Ms. Watson laughed.

“So, would it be possible to find out if someone made a deposit of O positive blood since the night before last?” Sheriff Pierson asked.

“Yes, it’s possible. But if anything comes of it, I’ll need that subpoena before
releasing any files to you.”

“Understood.”

“Blood is usually drawn here, but sometimes it’s sent in by an outside source. If you don’t mind my asking, how does this relate to your murder investigation?”

“Well, it appears the victim was intentionally
drained of blood, and this might sound absurd to you, but I was thinking that the killer might have been desperate to save the life of a loved one, in urgent need of her specific type blood. Crazy as it sounds, you get where I’m going with this. Who knows the lengths desperation might drive someone to, and for a person without a conscience, it could easily spell murder.”

“I don’t know, Sheriff,” Ms. Watson said. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,
but O positive blood is a rather common type. I don’t see there being any trouble acquiring it.”

“Too preposterous, huh?” Sheriff Pierson sighed, feeling a little foolish.

“I wouldn’t say that. Nowadays, more and more strange things happen than I would ever care to know about. But you’ve got me thinking. You still may be on to something. Maybe it’s not so much the blood type, but rather something unique about the blood.”

“There were some imbalances mentioned.” He was relieved she hadn’t
laughed at his theory.

“Since you’re here, Sheriff, there is something I should probably mention.”

“What’s that?”

“We’ve had a problem arise in our blood bank, not with deposits, but with
unauthorized withdrawals. Someone’s been slipping in and taking bags.”

“Stealing blood?”

“That’s right. Over the years, we’ve had bags go missing from time to time, but never so much as what’s been taken over this past week. I have security working on it, but we just can’t seem to catch the culprit. Yesterday, I took even further measures and had a surveillance camera installed in the blood storage room.”

“Do you suspect an employee?”

“I know most everyone working in the hospital, and I just can’t imagine it being any of them.”

“Who on earth would steal blood, and what would they be doing with so much
of it?” He mulled over the act.

“
Seems we have a similar problem on our hands, except, you’re after a killer, and I’m after a thief.”

“Let’s just hope they’re not one and the same.”

“That thought just crossed my mind as well.”

“About the information…?”

“Follow me and I’ll get that report for you.” Ms Watson led him to her office, motioning toward two chairs in front of her desk. She took her seat, reached for the phone, and placed a call to the blood storage department, asking the recipient of the call to check on the matter and get back to her “stat.”

They continued talking while waiting for the information. The sheriff was not
one for idle chitchat, but Ms. Watson had no problem keeping the conversation rolling.

“I was just reading about the murder in the morning paper,” she told him.
“Big news around here. I couldn’t believe how the writer compared the killing to the myth of the vampire. They’ll grasp at just about anything, won’t they?”

“I’ve been so wrapped up in the case I haven’t had time to look at the paper
today.”

“I have it right here, if you’d like to take a look.”

She retrieved the paper from her trashcan and held it up so the article faced him. “Front page news, and your picture’s here too…down the page a bit.” She placed a finger next to it.

He leaned forward, laid his hat on the desk, and took it from her.

“Wonderful,” he remarked with annoyance. “Man or monster?” He read the title of the article and followed with a sarcastic laugh. “This is worse than yesterday’s. These reporters sure come up with some real doozies.”

“They do embellish. But the hype sells papers.”

Her phone rang and she answered, signaling it was the information they were waiting for. “Great. Just fax it to me,” she instructed and hung up. “It’ll take a minute for it to come over the machine.”

He nodded and continued skimming the article, noticing that her eyes never
averted.

“How do you feel about the way Terry Phillips used the vampire angle?” she
asked.

“It’s ridiculous. Do you know anything about this guy?”

“No, I can’t say I do. Why?”

“He seems to know an awful lot about the case. Too much, in fact. And I don’t
care for the way he portrays my department—making us look like a bunch of buffoons.”

“Oh, he’s just exaggerating a bit to create
interest…draw in readers. Besides, you can’t go arresting Mr. Phillips just for writing something you don’t care for. He has a little thing called ‘freedom of speech’ on his side. ‘Freedom of press’ backing him.”

“Maybe so. But he’s a poor reporter in my opinion. I don’t hold much regard
for someone who grabs his moments of fame at the expense of others.”

“If it helps any, Sheriff, I know you’re no buffoon. And you have to keep in
mind, this is probably the biggest story they’ve had to report on in years. You can bet they’re going to exploit the situation…play it for all its worth. You’d best brace yourself for more.”

“Oh, I know. The media can be
a nightmare.” He slapped the paper down in front of him. “The whole lot…they give me hives.”

“You have an allergy to them, huh?” Ms. Watson laughed.

“I guess I do, especially this joker.” He couldn’t help but think she was flirting with him.

Ms. Watson laughed again and this time there was no mistaking her flirtatious
response. She reached his way and lightly placed a hand on his sleeve. “You’re not at all what I would have expected, Sheriff Pierson,” she remarked.

Her fingertips grazed his wrist, generating a surge that caused him to shift in
his seat. It had been a long time since he’d been so captivated. The information came rattling over the fax machine and she got up to retrieve it, breaking the mounting tension.

“Well, we have plenty of type O blood.” She glanced over the pages. “And just
as I suspected, I’m afraid there’s not much to report. You can take this.” She handed him one of two sheets. “It shows the deposits we had yesterday…not many. They all came from our outpatient facility in preparation for upcoming surgery and none match that blood type.”