Authors: D B Reynolds
Rajmund (22 page)
"Really?” she said in a thin voice.
"You, on the other hand . . .” He couldn't help himself. He closed the distance between them and reached out to twirl a lock of her blond hair around his finger. “You're apple pie and Sunday school. People probably come up to you on the street and tell you their secrets. Small children seek you out in a crowd when they've lost their mothers."
Sarah scowled at him, clearly not knowing if she should be flattered or insulted by his description.
Raj laughed, feeling the sexual tension drain away.
She gave him a little half smile. “What the hell,” she said. “When do we start?"
"Tomorrow night, if you're available."
"Sure, why not? Who needs sleep?"
"I want to begin with Dr. Edwards's husband. He's a man
and
an academic so your presence should be particularly useful."
"Gosh, thanks. I love being
useful
. Who's Dr. Edwards?"
"Estelle Edwards. A medical researcher and the first woman to disappear. She doesn't fit the profile and I'd like to know why."
She shrugged. “Okay."
Raj smiled. “I'll let you get some sleep then,” he said. He strode down the hall, pleased to have made a clean get away, already thinking of ways to get out of meeting her tomorrow night. God knew he wanted to spend time with her. But he wanted it too much and that wasn't healthy for either of them. He reached the front door and turned around to call a good-bye, but Sarah was right behind him.
She stood there looking up at him, her hands behind her back like a well-behaved child. She drew a deep breath that did nothing for his newfound restraint, and said, “Don't you want to kiss me good night?"
He froze. “What?"
"A good night kiss,” she persisted.
He frowned. “Sarah . . ."
She gave him an impatient look. “What's the problem, Raj? You kissed me last night, didn't you? And the night before that. Have I suddenly grown a second head or something?” She patted her shoulders, as if searching for the new growth.
"Fine.” He bent down, intending to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, but Sarah had other plans. She turned her head at the last minute so that their lips met. And he was lost.
Her lips were soft and warm, melting beneath his as her mouth opened with a breathy little moan. He picked her up with an arm around her waist and spun around, trapping her against the wall, pressing his body to hers as he explored her sweet mouth. Their tongues tangled, her slender arms coming around his neck and pulling him closer until he thought they'd fuse into a single entity, trapped forever in a searing embrace. And surely there were worse ways to end one's life?
She cried out as his fangs nicked her lip and he pulled back, lost in his first taste of her blood, the dizzying spell of it as it raced through his system. He held her a moment longer, relishing the feel of her warm, willing body, the image of her arousal, her cheeks flushed and her eyes foggy with desire, and then he let her slide down until her feet touched the floor.
"Be careful, little one,” he whispered roughly. “Don't tease unless you're prepared to deal with the consequences.” He held her until she could stand on her own, permitting himself one tender kiss against her hungry little mouth before he pulled away. “I'll call you tomorrow,” he said, and then he left, her frustrated protest echoing down an empty sidewalk behind him.
Raj secured his private vault door and went directly to the bar, pouring a shot of vodka and tossing it down his throat. But nothing could wash away the lingering taste of Sarah's blood. Maybe if he'd never tasted her beyond the sweetness of her skin, he could have stayed away from her. But now . . . That tiny sip of her blood had sealed his fate. He could still leave her behind, could run back to Manhattan on the fastest jet he owned, but he would never erase the memory, the need. She was his, and he'd be damned if he'd let anyone else, human or vampire, have her. But would Sarah be damned instead if he took her?
He slammed the empty glass back onto the bar and tore off his clothes, aware of the sun rising, draining away his energy. When he fell at last into his bed, he welcomed the sweet oblivion of daytime sleep. For a few hours at least, he would be free.
When he awoke that night, there was a message from Tony Scavetti waiting for him on his voice mail asking him to call. It was hardly expected, but it was nice to know his business cards hadn't gone to waste.
Raj showered and dressed before punching in the detective's direct number.
"Scavetti."
"Raymond Gregor, Detective. You called."
"Yeah,” Scavetti said, sounding as if he'd rather have pulled every one of his own teeth than to have made that call. “I understand you'd like to talk to some of the witnesses."
Since this was about the last thing Raj expected the man to say, it took him a minute to respond. “I would,” he said finally.
"Yeah, well. I've made some calls. Dr. Edwards will be home tonight if you want to see him."
"I'll be there close to nine,” Raj said. “Why the change of heart, Detective?"
"I don't know what—"
"Let's not play games, Tony. Not between us,” Raj added dryly. “Why the sudden courtesy?"
He heard Scavetti's harsh breathing and then something that sounded like a chair hitting a wall. “You've got friends, Gregor. I'll give you that. Friends with a lot of fucking money. And money talks, even when it should keep its fucking mouth shut."
And the real Scavetti returns
, Raj thought. It was almost reassuring.
"William Cowens called the Commissioner and
requested
our cooperation,” Scavetti added. “Requested, my fucking ass. Captain came down on us hard. So you got your fucking interviews. That good enough?"
"It is, and thank you."
"Yeah, whatever. Hey, Gregor, since we're being all buddies and everything, why are you here?"
"Excuse me?"
"I mean your usual territory's Manhattan, right?"
Raj hadn't told him that, and it shouldn't have been easy for anyone to dig out information about him and his businesses. Maybe the cops had someone inside Krystof's circle.
"There must be more than a few local guys who could handle something like this,” Scavetti was saying. “So why bring a ringer like you all the way from the big city? What're you guys trying to hide?"
Raj wished he had the answer to that question, but all he said was, “You'd have to ask Lord Krystof that question. Like you, I only do what I'm told."
"Right,” Scavetti said, clearly not believing a word. “Just like I'm sure you'll let me know if you find out anything about those missing girls."
"You and I have the same goal, Detective. I'm sorry you don't believe that."
"Yeah. Whatever."
The phone went dead against Raj's ear. He disconnected and punched Sarah's number by heart.
"Hello?"
He didn't announce himself. “We've got an appointment with Dr. Edwards at nine tonight. Can you make it?"
"Well, good evening to you too, Raj."
He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Sarah."
"Yes."
"Can you make it or not?"
"Yes, my lord."
He frowned.
Damn Emelie
. “Don't call me that."
"But Emelie—"
"Emelie likes to play games."
He could hear the slight tap of computer keys and realized she was continuing to work on something else while talking to him. “Am I interrupting something?” he growled.
"Well, someone certainly got up on the wrong side of the coffin tonight. So are you picking me up, or what?"
Raj had a fleeting thought about the “or what” portion of that sentence, but he said, “I'll be there before nine."
"See you then."
"Yes, you will,” he said and hung up, determined to get the last word.
His phone rang almost immediately. It was Sarah. He mashed the button with his thumb, and before he could say anything, she said, “Good-bye, Raj,” and hung up.
"We'll go by the University after we meet with Edwards,” Raj said, when Sarah answered his impatient knock on her front door. She'd made a point of locking it, and he'd made his irritation plain when she finally let him in. “I want to talk to Trish's roommate, too,” he continued. “You can call ahead and make sure she's there."
Sarah gave him a dark look. “Who put you in charge of this partnership? Maybe I had something else in mind."
"Did you?” he asked curiously.
She pursed her lips in annoyance and stomped over to pick up her coat from the back of the couch where she'd thrown it earlier. “No,” she snapped and began yanking the coat up her arms. She was surprised when Raj took it from her, sliding it over her arms gracefully, his hands remaining on her shoulders a few seconds too long.
She shivered and he lifted his hands immediately.
"We'll take my car,” he said, holding the door open. He cocked one eyebrow. “That is, unless you have another plan?"
She stuck out her tongue as she walked past him, startling a short bark of real laughter from him. Apparently even Raj could be surprised. Good to know.
It was a half hour drive to the Edwards's house, which was a sprawling ranch-style on a big double lot out in one of Buffalo's many suburbs. This particular suburb had a faux-country theme, with white rail fences and wide stretches of lawn that would hold six houses in other parts of the county.
"Do the Edwards have children?” Sarah asked as they pulled into the U-shaped driveway.
"No. They have careers.” He glanced over to find her eying the house doubtfully. “You don't approve?"
"I don't really care either way, as long as they're happy. It's just, I look at this huge house and try to imagine the two of them roaming around inside. They could probably go days without seeing each other."
"Maybe that's what's happened. Maybe Estelle's actually working somewhere inside the house and Dr. Edwards doesn't even know it.” He turned off the engine. “Let's go."
The house was all lit up, both inside and out. It was a single story, probably with a basement, but the ceilings were high and the windows took advantage of that, reaching from close to the ground to nearly the roof line. Tall double doors were flanked by clouded cut glass panes, and they could see someone moving around inside when they rang the doorbell.
"I'll take the lead,” Sarah said. “He's probably upset, and a woman—"
Raj snorted. “For all you know this guy killed his wife. The husband's always the prime suspect in cases like this."
She eyed him thoughtfully. “You're either a big fan of cop shows . . .” Raj rolled his eyes. “Or you haven't told me all of your secrets."
He gave her a dry look.
"Okay, so you haven't told me
any
of your secrets. But you will,” she said confidently. “People always—"
The front door opened, interrupting whatever it was that people always did in Sarah's world. Donald Edwards was only a bit shorter than Raj, but looked half his weight. Brown corduroy slacks, a white shirt and a gray wool cardigan hung loosely on a heavy-boned frame, as if he'd either been ill or lost weight recently. His hair was black and cut close to his head, liberally sprinkled with strands of silver.
"Doctor Edwards?” Sarah said. “I'm Sarah Stratton. I believe you're expecting us?” She held out a hand, which Edwards stared at blankly, as if he didn't know quite what to do with it. When he finally responded, it was slow and methodical, a loose grip that he released almost immediately.
Sarah gave Raj a troubled glance.
"Raymond Gregor,” Raj said, holding out his hand in turn. Edwards's handshake came faster this time, as if having done it already with Sarah, he was reminded of the proper response. Long thin fingers wrapped around Raj's and he could feel the heat and pulse beneath the man's skin.
They waited for Edwards to say something, to invite them in or maybe send them away. “Detective Scavetti told us he'd called you?” Raj reminded him.
The man's brown eyes shifted to him and he nodded. “Yes, of course. Come in,” he said. He walked away from the door, giving them room to enter. His voice was dry with disuse. This was either a man in deep mourning for his missing wife, or one who was hitting the pharmaceuticals a little too hard.
They followed him into a sitting area just beyond the foyer. It was an odd room, big and high-ceilinged, with a sunken center that featured an L-shaped couch and several chairs, as well as a fireplace. A wide screen television sat to one side, positioned so that it was inconvenient to almost every seat in the room. Edwards sat in a chair far too small for his height and gestured toward the adjacent couch.
Sarah sat on the edge of the cushion, radiating concern, her knees together, hands clasped, body leaning slightly forward. Raj sat on the arm of the couch close to her. He wasn't getting a clear vibe from Edwards and it made him nervous.
"Is she dead?” Edwards's face held no expression. He didn't even glance at Raj, but stared at Sarah, as if knowing she was the one who would deliver the bad news.
"No! Oh, no, Dr. Edwards.” Sarah reached out one hand to touch his knobby, corduroy-clothed knee. Raj had to restrain himself from snatching her hand back when it lingered long enough for her to say, “I'm so sorry. We're not here for that."
Edwards's whole body seemed to collapse. Raj smelled the tears before he saw them leaking from beneath the man's closed eyelids. Scavetti had been wrong about this half of the Edwards marriage. This man loved his wife.
"I'm so sorry. Detective Scavetti should have told you,” Sarah added grimly. “We don't—"
"We're part of a new investigation,” Raj interrupted. “Certain information has come to our attention that leads us to believe your wife's case may be part of a larger pattern. Our purpose in being here is to collect whatever new details we can in the hope of drawing a clearer picture of the crime."
Sarah frowned up at him, but Edwards responded to the businesslike tone. He straightened visibly, sitting up in the chair and drawing in a stabilizing breath. He looked at Raj directly. “Of course,” he said, seeming alert for the first time since they'd arrived. “Although the police have been here several times already. I don't—"