Night Realm (20 page)

Marks shook his head in bewilderment. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It appears to be some sort of a hybrid pattern,” Jenkins explained. “You see, pure human DNA consists of forty six chromosomes, or twenty three pairs. Our subject in question has a count of fifty.”

“And can you explain that?”

“Frankly, no. Not yet, anyway. The only way he could have a different chromosome count is if he is either a hybrid, or he isn’t human at all.”

“Are we back to the vampire theory again?”

“I never put that forth as a theory at all, Detective.”

“So, are you basically, in layman’s terms, telling me that the perpetrator I’m looking for is not a person at all?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m telling you. I’m just giving you the results of our studies. I did warn you on the phone earlier that this case was highly unusual.”

Marks nodded. “Okay, thank you, Doctor. Can you arrange copies of your information?” He stood up. “And can you also give me contact details for this Dr Becker? I may want to get in touch with him myself.”

“Will do.” Jenkins printed off copies for Marks of everything he requested. “Thanks for coming up.”

They shook hands.

“Let me know if you come up with anything else,” Marks said and left the room.

*  *  *

The drive back to the Gold Coast was uneventful. The thunderstorms, although building rapidly, were still quite a distance off and there was no immediate th
reat. The humidity, however, had risen markedly. If that were possible. Marks had the windows closed and the air con up full again. With the afternoon sun beating down on the car, the climate control struggled to keep things all that comfortable inside the cabin.

Marks had the radio on at a low volume, his mind going over everything he’d just discussed with Dr Jenkins. None of it made any real sense. In fact, nothing about these cases made logical sense at all. He didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere, and the results he’d just received weren’t going to really help him any. There was no point running a DNA profile match through the national database when the profile didn’t even match up to that of a person in the first place.
And this virus, disease, whatever, what was that all about?

Could it be that someone, some freak, was masquerading as a vampire and committing these murders? But that didn’t add up either, not with the forensic evidence he had now.

His mind thought back to the camp site where Toby Matthews’ headless body was found, the cranium ripped off in such a violent manner. That feat didn’t match the abilities of a human being either.

He sighed and turned off the M1.

Maybe he would get in touch with this Dr Becker himself and see what the man had to say. Just possibly he could shed some light on things.

Ryan was in his room sitting in front of the computer. Chelsea was out somewhere, probably hanging out with Emma. Emma had proven fruitless when it came to his plea for her to convince his sister to stay in school. That didn’t look like it was going to happen now.

To take a break from the glare of the screen for a moment, he looked out through the open doors
and stared at the nightscape of Surfers Paradise. He had all the lights off and the only light source in his room was coming from the computer monitor.

He raised his arms and stretched, yawning at the same time, then refocused his eyes on the Google
search results page he’d been looking over.

He clicked on a promising link and scanned the page that opened, finding something useful at last. It was a mobile phone number for Dr Marlon Becker. Ryan scribbled it down on a notepad and sat back to contemplate it. What should he do? Call the number and say what? Hi, I’m a private detective and I’ve been hired to learn what you’re currently researching or working on. Could you please fill me in with all the details.

That wasn’t going to work.

Ryan opened another page that gave some details on Becker when he was in Germany. Thankfully the page was written in English and didn’t require translation. The gist of it was that Becker was brilliant in his chosen fields of science from an early age. He was at the forefront of some groundbreaking research into some common blood diseases in the 1990s and had received many accolades for his work. It mentioned his emigration to Australia a decade ago, but failed to offer any reasons as to why he left his home country to relocate here.

Twenty minutes later Ryan stumbled across another snippet of information that may be helpful. Apparently the good doctor was currently working out of the Melbourne branch of the Research Institute for Blood Disorders.

Ryan made a note of that on his pad
, including the address. It looked like a trip to Melbourne might be on the cards. He wasn’t sure if that was where he’d find the information Selena wanted, but better to start where the man was currently located, he figured.

Somehow he would need to get an appointment with Dr Becker so he could at least meet the man and work out his next move from there. What were the chances he could just call up the Institute and request some face time with the guy? Probably pretty slim without a credible premise for such a request.

He’d have to come up with one and set the wheels in motion tomorrow morning when his money was cleared.

*  *  *

Chelsea was sitting down on the beach with Emma. She’d just finished work and the pair were chilling out with some Vodka Cruisers - purchased legally by Emma now that she was eighteen - and cigarettes. Drinking alcohol on the beach was outlawed and attracted hefty on-the-spot fines if caught, so they sat in the darkness of the dunes away from the Cavill Mall spotlights. Out to sea lightning flashed intermittently.

“Have you spoken to John today?” Chelsea asked. “Was he a
t school?”

“He wasn’t at school, but I called him this afternoon to check on him.”

“How is he?”

“He’s fine and will probably be back at school tomorrow.” Emma puffed on her cigarette and washed it down with Vodka Cruiser. She looked at her friend in the darkness and grinned. “Just ask what you wanna ask, Chelsea.”

Chelsea puffed on her own smoke. “Has he heard from Travis?”

“No, he hasn’t. As soon as he does he’ll pass on your phone number to him.”

“It seems like weeks since your party,” Chelsea mused. “Not three days ago.”

“I know what you mean. That night seems so surreal now. Did your brother give you the third degree about it?”

“No, not really. I’ve hardly even seen Ryan this past week anyway. Which is probably just as well. I don’t wanna hear any more about why I’m not going to school and all that bullshit. I’m an adult now. I’ve got my own life and he just has to accept that I can make my own decisions. Right or wrong they’re mine to make. He should focus on fixing his own crummy life. He’s got nothing and is nothing.”

“Well,” Emma said and lay back on the sand. It was still damp from this afternoon’s storm. “There’s certainly no love lost between you two then.”

“Absolutely none.”

Chelsea’s phone rang and she couldn’t pull it from her pocket
fast enough.

“Hello?” she said tentatively, not recognizing the phone number that flashed up on screen.

“Hi. Is this Chelsea?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Travis. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met the other night at your friend’s birthday party.”

“Of course I remember you!”

“Well, I was wondering, if you’re not too busy tonight, whether we could meet up and, I don’t know, hang out?”

“Sure. I’m in Surfers now if you want to meet me here.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you outside McDonald’s at nine.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Chelsea grinned and said to Emma, “That was Travis.”

“No kidding,” Emma retorted. “And you played so hard to get.”

“Do you think I should have put him off?”

“No. You go for it, girlfriend.” She checked the time on her
phone. “That’s only half an hour away. I’ll hang out with you ‘til then, then I’ll be off.”

They both lay back and watched the light show over the ocean, drinking vodka and smoking cigarettes until five minutes to nine. After dusting the sand from each others’ backs, the pair left the beach and Emma walked with Chelsea to
McDonald’s
.

“Have fun,” Emma said and shot Chelsea a wink. Then she was off, walking quickly down the mall.

Chelsea sensed, rather than heard, someone come up behind her. She turned and looked up into the smiling face of Travis. Immediately she felt herself start to melt. It was exactly the same as it had been on Friday night. It wasn’t a one-off. He still had that affect on her. His face was unblemished, the pale skin showing no signs of bruising at all from Friday night’s battle.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She felt her voice catch in her throat and feared if she said something more just now that it would come out sounding like a croak.

“Let’s take a walk,” he suggested and led the way across The Esplanade and onto the boardwalk.

They headed south at a slow, leisurely pace.

“I’m glad you called,” Chelsea said. “I really wanted to see you again.”

“Me too. Lucky John had your number.”

“Why did you disappear the other night?” Chelsea wanted to know.

He shrugged. “Too many police. I just didn’t want to get involved.”

“You looked pretty involved to me. Thanks for looking out for me, though.”

Travis turned to her and smiled. “Anytime, Chelsea. I couldn’t stand by and let someone hurt that pretty face of yours.”

She returned his smile. “Charmer.”

“I’m trying to be.”

“Is that what you’re like with all the girls? Lay on the charm to win them over?”

“Not all the girls, no. Only the ones that mean something to me. I save it for the special ones.”

“Oh, yeah. And how many of those have you got on tap at the moment?”

“None that I know of, but hopefully one soon.”

“If you’re lucky you might be able to charm me,” she said rather cockily.

They paused and stood leaning against a railing, looking out over the dark water. Lightning still flashed occasionally way off on the distant horizon. More and more stars were appearing as the belt of cloud gradually receded out to sea.

“So, what have you been up to the last few days?” Chelsea asked him. “Anything exciting?”

Travis shook his head, his dark eyes somehow gleaming in the shadows of night. “Not really. Just been lying low and taking it easy.”

“How did you do what you did?”

He turned to look at her, resting his right elbow on the rail. “What do you mean?”

“The other night at the party, taking out all those guys so...easily. You’re incredibly strong, and fast.”

“I don’t know. Technique. The speed’s a gift, but I think the strength is just technique.”

“No, I think it was a little more than
just good technique. That was pure strength from what I saw. And I saw it all.”

He shrugged and said rather obliquely, “I am what I am.”

“What does that mean?” She took her cigarettes from her bag and extracted one from the packet. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“I don’t mind.” He stared into her eyes a moment, then looked back out to sea. “I like you, Chelsea, but if you really knew me you may not like me.”

“As much as I enjoy a mystery,” she said, exhaling smoke into the night, “what are you really talking about?”

“Nothing. Forget about it.”

Chelsea sensed a sadness within him then and wondered what it was about. Did he have some dark secret he wasn’t yet willing to share? He sure talked and acted like he did. She decided not to push it just yet, even though curiosity was getting the better of her and nagging her to ask questions. She finished her cigarette in silence and flicked the butt over the fence, where it disappeared amid a thatch of sea grass.

“Want to take a walk down there?” Travis nodded toward the waterline.

“Sure.” Chelsea took her shoes off and carried them in her left hand as she followed Travis down onto the soft sand. When they reached the hard sand near the water’s edge, she asked, “Do you like the ocean?”

“It’s okay. I’m not big on the beach in the daytime. I prefer it at night.”

“Why?”

“It’s cooler. I don’t like the sun.”

Why did she constantly get the feeling he was trying to tell her something without actually coming right out and saying what it was? She was being surprisingly open with him, but felt she wasn’t getting the same in return.

They waded through ankle-deep water, heading north now. Chelsea really wanted to reach out and hold his hand as they walked, but refrained f
rom doing so.

“I usually try to keep away from girls,” he told her.

Chelsea frowned in the darkness. “Why would you want to do that? You’re not gay, are you?”