At first, there was only silence as they crept up on the ramshackle house. This wasn’t the first time Anatoly had been in poor neighborhoods, but before, he had been a priest there to offer solace. Now, his significant other was in harm’s way and that didn’t sit right with him. If Jack Richards really was their killer, he had every reason to resist arrest and that meant Maggie might be hurt.
He shoved the thought out of his mind and instead focused on praying that everything would work out as it was meant to. All he could really do was leave it in God’s hands and that was exactly what he was going to do.
The radio remained frustratingly silent save for the command to breach the door. After that, it was quiet again, the minutes stretching out, his mouth dry and spine uncomfortably straight. Anatoly wished he was with her in the thick of it, but knew that wasn’t his place, and so he waited on the literal edge of his seat.
“Clear. Suspect in custody,” Maggie’s voice washed over him, releasing him from the tension that had built up in the dark, quiet car. “You can come in now,” she said the words directly to him and he shot out of the vehicle the second she did.
It took him no time at all to walk down the street. He was just in time to see a bedraggled man being stuffed into the back seat of a police cruiser. A dark feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he made eye contact with the suspect through the window. That was the gaze of a man who had seen too much, done too much, and had no regrets. It made Anatoly shiver.
Maggie was standing on the porch speaking to another officer when he came up.
She smiled at him. “Found him hiding out in the upstairs bedroom. Come take a look, I’d like your input,” she told Anatoly when he stopped beside her.
They moved inside together and the vampire’s eyes scanned the messy living space with a frown. Nothing was clean; there was trash littered across every surface and stacks of papers, likely bills, cluttering the kitchen table. Flies and gnats hovered over half-eaten food containers and a general, foul odor permeated the air.
Anatoly didn’t understand how anyone could live like this, but he kept the thought to himself.
“Up here,” Maggie said, guiding him into the kitchen where a door lead up a flight of creaky stairs. She went first, flashlight in hand, and Anatoly followed without hesitation.
What they found when they got to the top would have stopped his heart cold if it weren’t already dead. The wall between the two bedrooms had been haphazardly torn down, creating an open space with a pair of large folding tables set up in the middle. There were no beds, no other furniture. When he looked closer, Anatoly could see the boxes of supplies and who knew what else cluttering the space.
Then Anatoly’s gaze caught the back wall where there were dozens of photographs pinned to the flaking drywall in a haphazard array.
“We got our copycat,” Maggie said, her voice belying the smile on her face. “We’re searching the house and yard, but this floor is incriminating enough.”
“Maggie, your picture is on wall,” Anatoly pointed out as though she couldn’t see it for herself plain as day.
She nodded, seeming entirely too unbothered by this reality. “So is Father Abrams’s and Jean Thomas’s,” she countered. “I’ve got an officer confirming, but we think the last person, possibly the next target, is the judge who tried Richards’s first case.” She indicated the picture of an older man.
None of it made Anatoly feel any better. The only thing that would satisfy him was finding out that Jack Richards would be spending a very long time behind bars where he couldn’t enact whatever scheme he’d been planning against Maggie.
“What is next move?” he asked instead, trying not to look too hard at a photo of Maggie that he recognized. She was dressed up, wearing a pink sweater, and stepping into a familiar church. He shuddered again and resisted the urge to grasp her hand.
“Paperwork.” She grinned. “A lot of paperwork.”
He grunted at that. “You act as though case is closed…”
Maggie put a hand on his arm and squeezed. Her touch was reassuring, but he still felt very uneasy. Something wasn’t adding up for him.
“Because it is. We got our guy and with the evidence we uncovered just in this room, he’ll be going away for a double homicide at the very least.” She dropped her hand as they heard boots on the stairs.
He wasn’t convinced. “How was Richards draining blood from victims?” His confusion was genuine as he asked.
Maggie indicated the boxes. “Medical supplies. Everything one might need to run a port on a drugged victim. It lines up with both autopsy reports.” She might have said more to comfort him, it looked as though she wanted to speak further, but they were joined by an officer then.
“Detective, Lieutenant Martin is here. He’d like a word,” the officer called.
“I’ll be right down,” she returned, then smiled again at Anatoly. “When I’m done, we’ll go celebrate, okay?”
He nodded, even though celebrating was the last thing on his mind. They may have found who had killed Father Abrams, but Anatoly knew Jack Richards was no vampire.
The serial killer was still out there.
Chapter Fifty
“Detective Boone, good work as usual.” Lieutenant Martin said the second he saw Maggie. There was an almost charming grin on his face as he stopped in the kitchen, hands on his hips. “I knew you’d get it eventually.”
Maggie tried not to roll her eyes and instead offered a tight smile. “I’m surprised you came down,” she said, aware of Anatoly at her back. “Usually, you’re reticent to leave your office.”
