I set my brush on the bathroom sink and messily braid my hair, then go back into the living room and poke at the fire in an attempt to put it out. Thomas must have put another log on before he had to go take his place on the porch in the morning. The fireplace is large, with a wide stone hearth, but leaving with a fire burning isn’t something I want to risk.
Once I’m dressed, I go into the kitchen to throw away the leftovers, but discover there is nothing left. Making a mental note to get even more food tonight, I bag up all the empty containers to take with me and toss in the recycling at work. I gather up the rest of my stuff and put it on the couch in the two-story living room.
As I’m leaving, I seeEmmaon the coffee table in the front sitting room. I stop, thinking of Jacques.
And Thomas and Gilbert.
And Hasan.
The more I get to know them, the less I see them as monsters and the more I see them as the men they used to be. The men they want to be again. I move into the foyer, taking one last look around the house before stepping out onto the porch.
“I’ll see you guys tonight.” I put my hand over Thomas’s. Turned to stone, his handsome features have taken on a monstrous appearance once again. The sun is glowing behind hazy clouds, and the air is humid. I get in the car and fiddle with the air conditioning before taking off. I watch the house disappear in my rearview mirror, missing the estate already.
Obviously, I can’t sell the place. But I can’t pay rent on my small apartment and cover the cost of owning such a large piece of property. The utilities alone will be a lot, and the property tax is pretty insane. I’m locked into three more months at my current dwelling, though there might be a chance I can get out with at least one month’s fee given back.
I’ve lived in the same place for the last seven years and have never been late on rent. I’ve never had an issue. No one has complained about me. It’s worth a shot to at least ask. Though the estate is far from livable for every day.
My head starts to spin. Moving into an old house is a big enough project on its own, and I’m going to have to wait on it. Vampires first. Curse-breaking second.
Streaming 4K Netflix will be my reward.
I get drive-thru coffee and breakfast again and arrive at the office a few minutes before I need to be there. We have a meeting this morning, and it’s afternoon before I’m able to call Gavin’s girlfriend, who’s the one who reported him missing. I leave a message, go down to the lab to go over DNA evidence with Sam, and then fill out reports as I eat my lunch at my desk.
Gavin’s girlfriend calls back, and I arrange to meet her at her house once she’s home from class at three-thirty. She lives on the other side of town, and I have the guy coming to look at the furnace at five.
Shit. I don’t know how I’m going to fit this all in. Whatever. I’ll make it work. I have to.
“Checking out another lead?”
I turn, following the sound of Beasley’s voice. He eyes the folded missing person’s report in my hand. “Oh, uh, yeah.”
“What ever happened to the one from yesterday?”
“Dead end,” I lie. It’s not like me to not check in with everyone working on the case. I’d been in such a rush to get out of the office I forgot. “No sign of foul play, but no sign of him running away either.” What I said is true to an extent, but I still feel like the world’s biggest ass. “I got another one to follow up on, and I’m trying to catch her as she leaves work.”
Officer Beasley smiles, eyes lingering on my face too long for comfort. “All right. See you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah. See you.”
* * *
I getto Francine DeBoy’s house at three-fifteen. I’m early and was hoping she’d be early, too. The sooner we talk, the sooner I can get to the estate. I have no idea how long it will take to fix the furnace, and I can’t have the guy there once the sun sets.
Twenty-five minutes later, a car parks in front of the house and a twenty-something-year-old girl gets out. I’m leaning against the door of my car, scrolling through social media again trying to find something—anything—to tie the vampires together.
“Are you Detective Bisset?” the woman asks.
“Yes. Francine?”
She nods. “That’s me.”
I push off the car and follow her into the garage. “My roommate’s not home yet,” she starts. “She gets home around four.”
She doesn’t have to tell me she’s hoping I’ll be gone by then. A fast interview works for both of us.
“Did you find him?” Her voice shakes as she unlocks the door. “He’s not dead, is he?”
“No,” I flat-out lie. Yes, I found him, and yes, the man I cuddled myself to sleep with last night ripped your boyfriend apart and enjoyed it, called it “fun,” actually. “I have just a few questions for you.”
