“It’s lost,” she lied, not wanting to explain how she didn’t feel right wearing it anymore. It belonged to the old Dawn who’d never hacked at a vamp in cold, vengeful fury.
The sound of the 4Runner’s horn blaring made both of them startle. In the car, Breisi made an “oops” face and pointed to the wheel as if it’d been the horn’s fault. Matt backed away from Dawn, hands up, respecting Breisi’s rules.
“You know,” Dawn said, grateful for the reprieve, “I really do need to go.”
“Okay.” Slowly, he tilted his head, like he was reading whether or not he’d scared her off again by showing up randomly in the dead of night. “I suppose I’ll see you in some alley or during some kind of emergency again.”
It was a tease, but it fell flat, underlining all the reasons she really
couldn’t
feel comfortable around him. Until he was honest with her, there was no way she would ever come clean with him, either.
A hesitation tore the air in half. She realized the cadence of her breathing was pacing his own. Heartbeats from the last time she’d seen him echoed over from the past, reminding her of uncontrolled kisses, caresses that’d grown rougher and more needful by the second.
“Alleys and emergencies,” she said. “You need to step out of the house more. Get some variety in your life. It’ll give you some better ideas about where we
could
be meeting.”
“You’re right—I don’t get out much.” He glanced at her from beneath lowered brows. “But you just might like where I at least
imagine
meeting you…and how.”
The innuendo made her melt just a touch. Boy, what she’d give to make him back up that comment right now—
The start-up of the SUV’s engine headed off any emerging fantasies. Breisi revved the gas, somehow making the car into a strange version of the chastity belt Dawn so sorely needed.
“That’s my cue,” she said, holding up the daisies. She started to move away but stopped, wondering what he’d do if she pressed up to him, ran her mouth over his, just for a hint of what she’d been missing.
But she didn’t do it. Especially not with Breisi here. Damn girl would throw a fit if Dawn didn’t get her butt into that car right now.
With a slight wave, she sent him a smile that said she was anticipating a normal meeting, someday, then tucked herself into the vehicle. She slammed the door and rolled down the window, stretching out every last opportunity to be with him.
“Before you go…” He sauntered over, footsteps so stealthy she couldn’t even hear them. “There’s one more thing.”
The engine purred. Dawn raised a finger to Breisi before she could take off.
Matt came even closer. “When you’re ready to admit that we have more in common than you realize, I’ll be around.”
Apparently disgusted, Breisi sighed, taking off.
“Jessica Reese!” he said, holding up his hands in a you-should’ve-stayed-to-listen gesture as they pulled away.
Then he motioned to his throat.
Crap. Jessica Reese, tonight’s victim. Was he saying she was connected to Klara Monaghan, who’d been the victim at the crime scene where Dawn had seen Matt sneaking around?
Did he know something about both murders?
“Go back!” Dawn told Breisi, but her driver had already gunned down the street with nowhere to maneuver at the moment.
“Why?” Breisi asked.
“Do it!”
Yet, two minutes later, when they returned to their parking space, Matt had already left.
Disappearing like he always did.
T
HE
next morning, after getting a secretive up-close and way-too-personal look at Jessica Reese’s body at the coroner’s, Dawn took a break for sleep, only to be woken up by a call.
The blast of a Def-Leppard-guitar-lick ringtone set her heart to thudding. She fumbled for her cell, almost tumbling off the sheet-covered couch where she slept. “Mmmm?”
“Get up,” Breisi said without preamble. “The Voice assigned our Friends to trail a few people, and one of them is Milton Crockett.”
Even though Dawn didn’t need more than a few hours of shut-eye per night, she was a little lagged right now. Maybe it was because of the mental hangover Jessica Reese’s body had caused. “Our Friends are out of their portraits bright and early, huh?”
“They’re also watching Lee Tomlinson while he’s in custody. Looks like he’s not talking to anyone but his family and legal team, so that means no interviews for us. There’s speculation that he’s hiding himself away because he wants to give an exclusive to Katie Couric. Accepting a lot of visitors takes away his mystique, I suppose. I wonder if Lawyer Crockett had anything to do with that.” On the other end of the line, she huffed. “I’m betting he warned Lee about us. Bleeping jerk.”
Bleeping. God, Breisi slayed Dawn.
She sat up, stretched. “If Crockett was the one who sheltered Marla Pennybaker after she got back from her vamp-napping, he’d do the same with Lee. Secrecy for the Underground, remember?”
“Technically, Crockett is not associated with the Tomlinson defense team. Not on paper, but he
has
to have his hand in this mess.”
“Chances are.”
“You know what I love the most?” Breisi didn’t even stop for an answer. “That he has no idea our Friends are watching his client in jail. The surveillance could help if Lee decides to share tales with anyone else while he’s locked up.”
Her coworker laughed confidently, telling Dawn just how much she got off on this detective crap. It was further proof of The Voice’s expertise in hiring just the right kind of person who wouldn’t ask too many questions about his agenda. In fact, Kiko had once revealed that, upon recruiting them, the boss had told his underlings that they probably would never get answers. But they were fighting for capital-G “Good,” and that was motivation enough.
For them.
“And here’s more good news,” Breisi added. “Thanks to the Friends, I think we might be able to corner Crockett today to ask a few questions and maybe get a reading through Kiko.”
“In person?” Dawn frowned. “Can’t we just sneak into the man’s house to maul his clothes or something?”
“The boss thought of that, but he believes if Kik can touch Crockett’s skin, he’ll get more immediate information out of him. That’s preferable to a secondhand reading, the kind that clothing would provide for Kiko.”
“So Kiko’s going with us.” Dawn still couldn’t believe The Voice had changed his mind about keeping their psychic safely indoors. Kik had probably talked the boss into it, just like he’d done when she’d first shown up and Limpet had resisted sending her out, too.
“Yes, and the boss already gave Kiko the news. As for you: be ready in an hour. And wear a dress.”
A…what? Uh-uh. Dawn didn’t do dresses. “Don’t have any.”
“Dawn.”
Okay, she did have one, but just for emergencies. It was still in a suitcase, crumpled into a ball.
“The Friends have reported that Crockett is headed toward Beverly Hills,” Breisi added, “so we want to blend.
Comprendes?
”
Dawn knew by now that she never won an argument with these people—not yet, anyway. Besides, Breisi was right. If Dawn walked into posh BH in her street clothes, she’d stick out like a good-morning boner.
“All right. I’ll wear the damned dress if it means we’ll get some information from this guy.”
“Thank you.”
“So,
Kiko’s
going?” she asked, fishing for more of an explanation about The Voice’s turnabout.
“We’ll be in public, daylight, and in the past we’ve had no creature troubles then. Besides, early this morning, the boss arranged for Kik to visit Jessica Reese’s crime scene with a few Friends. The body had been removed and the scene had been processed, but he managed to get a few readings.”
Dawn got to her feet. “Really? Like what—?”
A click sounded from Breisi’s connection. Call-waiting.
“The boss,” she said. “Ask Kiko about it?”
Before Dawn could respond, Breisi signed off. Typical.
Last night’s details slowly flickered back on in Dawn’s mind, just like an old light clinking to life after being turned off for years. She snatched that damned dress from the corner of her suitcase and passed Kiko’s closed bedroom door. Might as well grab the single bathroom shower before he might need it.
After taking care of business, she came back out to the common room to find him spry and ready, sitting back-brace upright on the couch and dressed in a navy mini–business suit. He was watching a soap opera while munching on a thick, turkey-laden sandwich.
Surrounded by Foxy Brown posters and the minimalist décor of a single guy who just likes his movies, music, and girls, Kiko spotted Dawn in her tan jersey dress with the matching low-heeled sandals. Once upon a time, she’d worn it to a fellow stunt double’s wedding but she hadn’t needed it since, thank God. In the shower, she’d steamed out most of the wrinkles, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like a moron in it.
“Woo-woo,” Kiko said, giving her a canary-eating grin. “Mama’s on the prowl.”
“Meh.” Dawn plopped onto the plaid couch next to him.
He snapped off the TV, putting down his lunch, blue eyes aglow as he faced her. The stiff movement forced a slight grunt out of him. “So our busy boss said you’d tell me about Jessica’s body. What’d you guys find?”
Far be it from her to get ecstatic about a murder, but Kiko was almost manic. Maybe it was because he was now back in the loop and his manhood had been restored.
For her part, Dawn fought the image of Jessica: bled-out pale, throat a mass of pulp. The colors wavered in front of her, refusing to settle into a palatable picture.
Come on,
she thought.
Stop hiding from it. You’ve hidden for too many years already.
Resolutely, she allowed the mental portrait to sink in, but that didn’t mean she let it affect her. No emotion: it was the only way to deal.
“Breisi took pictures of Jessica for a better look later,” Dawn said, “but the visit didn’t tell us much more than we already knew. It looked like an animal tore into the woman, just like with Klara.” The first vampire murder. Lee Tomlinson’s murder. “But there was something interesting: they found one cut on the left side of Jessica’s neck that the bites didn’t cover. A knife cut, they think, and they say her throat could’ve been sliced before the murderer laid chompers to her. That’s something we didn’t see with Klara, unless Lee Tomlinson covered the cuts with his own mutilations. And they found hints of longer…” What did they call those teeth? “…
lateral incisors
. So maybe we’ve got a weaker vamp—a real one?—who had to subdue the victim before feasting….”
“Valid theory, but…” Kiko raised his eyebrows, obviously knowing something that trumped the morgue stories. “I didn’t get back from Jessica’s crime scene until about an hour ago, and I found something that definitely makes me think we’re not dealing with what we think we are.”
“Spill, please.”
“Well, mostly I got residual readings, memories, from Jessica. Dates she’d brought to her bedroom, upsetting phone calls she’d made to her mom, who was getting her second divorce, things like that. But then…”
Kiko took a dramatic pause.
Acting!
He was like that Jon Lovitz character from
Saturday Night Live
, but for real.
“What?” Dawn said. “Tell me before the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse arrive.”
“You have zero patience, you know that?” He angled forward, becoming Serious Kiko. “I kept getting vibes from the closet. I was touching everything inside, and when I came to the carpet, it was obvious. The killer had been waiting there for Jessica to come home from work.”
Oh, damn. Just…
damn
. Suddenly, Dawn never wanted to be alone in a room again. Shit, shit, shit.
Containing a shiver, she managed to ask, “So you were with the killer? Do you know who it is?”
“No, no, don’t I wish. There weren’t a lot of clues about this…thing. Human, nonhuman, I’m still not sure.”
“You’ve admitted yourself that you’re not very good at reading vamps, like, you’re not sure when they’re going to show up and all that.”
“But it’s always just been a suspicion, not something I entirely believe. Definitely only a theory.” Kiko shifted, then touched his back. Sending a testing glance at Dawn, he quickly looked away. “Vamps aren’t supposed to have souls, or so we think. But what about the human Servants? I’d be able to read one of them. I did it with Lee Tomlinson in Bava.”
Dawn watched him squirm around, not liking the tension on his face at all. Had he worked too hard during the beanbag simulation yesterday? “What did you get from the killer, Kik?”
“Nightmares.” He removed his hand from his back, his eyes going dark. “The images, the feelings were like stabs. I couldn’t hang on for long. But what I saw was…God, you know those old Nine Inch Nails music videos? Flashes of hell?”
Concerned, Dawn put her hand on his knee. She couldn’t imagine having to live with a mind that was a portal to another dimension. Seeing Eva’s grisly murder photos over and over was enough. Maybe too much.
“Any details?” she asked.
He nodded, his gaze straying from hers, as if seeking cover. He came to stare at the coffee table, where a pill bottle was resting on its side. Next to the filled water glass where she’d put Matt’s already-wilting daisies, it made for an inexplicably disturbing picture.
“The killer might’ve been having sex with Lee Tomlinson,” Kiko said. “Rough sex, too. Brutal. That’s what I saw.”
“They knew each other?”
“Either that or the killer fantasizes about him.”
“And that would make sense if this were a copycat. Wouldn’t there be some kind of worship and desire to
be
him?”
“Right, right.” He moved around again. “You should’ve seen the morning news. They’re all over this story. Jessica’s murder is casting suspicion on Lee’s guilt now—”
Dawn couldn’t stand to watch him anymore. “Man, are you okay?”
His only answer was to look annoyed, which wasn’t a surprise.
Her cell rang and, dragging her gaze away from Injured Kiko, she checked the call screen. “Breisi. She’s probably in front of the apartment complex.”
Kiko stood stiffly.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” Dawn said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t worry like a squawking hen. I’ll meet you out there.”
She glanced at the pill bottle, then at him.
He scowled. “I said I’ll meet you there.”
Something leaden weighed in her chest as she went outside.
Happy Kiko, Serious Kiko, Hurting Kiko…
She wasn’t so sure which one would be coming with her and Breisi to their surprise meeting with Milton Crockett.
I
T
didn’t take Kiko long to stuff his sunglasses into a front pocket for later use, do whatever else he was doing, and come outside. Ready and raring, they headed toward Beverly Hills, where the Friends had tracked Milton Crockett, Esquire, to a power lunch at the Grill on the Alley, or “The Grill” to those who spoke L.A.
Even though they were in the dog days of summer, the team all wore coats of different sorts, the better to cover and hold weapons with. The SUV’s air-conditioning and Dawn’s light jacket over her sleeveless dress helped a little, but they didn’t completely erase the heat.
Sipping from an iced water bottle, she stretched out in the front seat, which she’d grabbed since Kiko hadn’t been there to do it first. And because there was no Dodgers game right this minute, Breisi wasn’t wearing her usual earpiece to block out any and all conversation. Instead, she was decked out in a white pantsuit, a filmy long robe coat, and sunglasses. A faux Greek heiress, if Dawn said so herself.
“The plan is to get Kiko near enough to Milton Crockett for a touch reading, and that’s all,” Breisi was saying as she turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard.
“Easy as pie,” Kiko mumbled from the backseat.
Dawn turned around to glance at him. He was as relaxed as someone with a back brace could be, staring out the window. Even from here she could tell his eyes were bleary.
“How many pills did you take?” Dawn asked.
“Just…one.”
“One.” Breisi was confirming, not actually asking. “Because if you’re off in dreamland, Kik, you’ll do us no good. Maybe we should take you into the doctor today—”
“No, Breez, just drive. I’m on full power, baby.”
He closed his eyes, conversation over.
Dawn turned to Breisi, but neither of them commented.
It wasn’t until a full minute later that Breisi said, “I wonder if we should make contact with Crockett another day, when Kiko’s at his best.”
“And when will that happen?”
Did Dawn ever sound pushy. But why shouldn’t she be? Frank needed her, needed all of them. A while ago, Kiko had discovered he could divine occasional vibes from her dad’s clothing—like the T-shirts Dawn wore to keep him close to her. Since the readings proved that Frank was still alive somewhere, they checked on him several times per night. Yet, lately, Kiko hadn’t been picking up anything. Yeah, sometimes there’d be flashes of Frank in what had to be either physical or mental pain, just like the ones they’d gotten before, but nothing that led them onward. But, hey, why expect more? Not even Breisi’s tracking inventions—locators—had produced any results.
“Hey.” Breisi’s smooth voice reflected a woman who had everything under control in her own world. “You keep saying it yourself, Dawn—we’re going to find him. Never doubt it.”
She wanted to believe that, because Breisi made it seem so possible with her rationality. But Dawn wanted to find him
now
. Wanted this all to be over, damn it, so she could know her dad was okay, so she could go back to normal. Whatever that was.