Blood Drive Read online

  Bradley’s posture stiffens, the playful mannerisms drop. “You are not helping yourself, Ms. Strong.”

  “I didn’t know I needed help, Mr. Bradley.”

  The two exchange the same kind of meaningful look they exchanged in Williams’s office a few hours ago. Donovan gives his head a shake and turns to look up at me.

  “Do you have any idea what he’s involved in?”

  When I don’t respond, he continues. “Do you know how many kids are victims of sexual exploitation every year? How many are raped, sodomized, forced into prostitution, beaten, strangled, and shot? We find their bodies in garbage cans and alleyways, on the bottoms of lakes and rivers, and in the middle of nowhere. Like the place they found Barbara Franco. Daniel Frey is a monster. And he has access to children everyday. He has to be stopped. Your mother is a school principal, for god’s sake. I can’t believe you wouldn’t want to help us bring him to justice.”

  I think of what I just saw on Ryan’s computer. No one wants to get the men who did that to Trish more than I do. And if they are also responsible for Barbara’s death, I want them to pay for that, too.

  But Daniel Frey is not the monster. I look into Donovan’s face and know there is nothing I can say to convince him or his partner. The only way I will ever do that is to find those responsible myself.

  The silence lengthens between the three of us, broken finally when Bradley hauls himself to his feet. “We haven’t made an impression on you, have we, Ms. Strong?”

  Donovan rises, too, but pauses for a parting shot. His curt tone rakes me with contempt. “If we find out that you harbor the slightest suspicion that we are right about Frey and you don’t help us, we’ll arrest you as an accessory. And just so I’m clear, that is an accessory to child endangerment, aggravated assault, pimping a child, and murder.” He watches as his partner starts for the door.

  “Better think about that.” He takes a business card out of the pocket of his jacket and flips it onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “By the time you get out of jail, you’ll be an old lady.”

  Well, not quite.

  I watch the two of them let themselves out the same way they let themselves in. If I thought for one minute telling them about Carolyn or giving them the videos would change their minds about Frey, I’d call them back. But the videos don’t prove a thing. They have it in their heads that Frey is behind the ring and the only way I’m going to fix that is to produce the ones who are.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I lock the door before calling Ryan out of the bedroom.

  “Who were those guys?” he asks. “And why were they saying those things about Mr. Frey?”

  He looks confused and a little frightened. “They’re federal agents. They think Mr. Frey has something to do with what’s happened to Trish’s mother and to Barbara.”

  He frowns. “Why would they think that?”

  “It’s a long story, Ryan. And not important because you and I know he isn’t involved in any of it. The trick is going to be proving it.”

  There’s another trick, too. Getting Ryan home without those two following us. “I’d better get you home. We’ll have to take the stairs. They’ll be watching the elevator and the front door, I’m sure.”

  “But your car is parked out front.”

  I smile at him. “I have another car. One I use for work, mostly. It’s in the garage downstairs. I think we can scrunch you down in the back seat and get out without them knowing.”

  He slips the laptop into his backpack and slings it over his shoulder while I grab a denim jacket from the coat closet and slip it on over my’t-shirt.

  “I wish I could talk to Trish,” he says softly.

  I pick up my purse and fish car keys out of its depths. “You will, Ryan. Soon. I promise. Now I’m going to take you home and call my friend on the police force. He’ll tell us what we need to do to find out who owns that computer. He may need you to bring it in. Will you be okay with that?”

  Ryan’s mouth draws into a firm resolute line. “If it will get Trish back, yes. But I won’t let him keep it. I won’t let anybody keep it. When we get these guys, I’m going to destroy it so no one will ever again see what they made Trish do.”

  His naiveté touches me. I don’t have the heart to remind him that the videos are already out there. The best we can hope for is that they will get lost in the sea of porno available on the Net and eventually fade away.

  The hallway is empty when we leave the apartment. I lead Ryan to the stairway at the end of the hall. We make it to the garage without incident.

  My “other” car is a Ford Crown Vic. It’s the same model most cops use. Ryan climbs into the back and I throw an old blanket over him. I keep a few tricks of the trade in the trunk, a long brown wig, a pair of oversized glasses with tinted frames, a straw sun hat. I put them all on. Instant disguise.

  When we exit the garage, the Blues Brothers are parked right across from the Jag in that same old Fairlane. I should have asked them what kind of budget their department has to make them drive an old car like that. Or maybe driving something so unorthodox is their clever idea of concealment. It certainly isn’t your typical cop car.

  I’ll have to ask them the next time we run into each other. This time, however, the car is the only clever thing they have going. They don’t give me more than a passing glance when I cruise by.

  When we’re safely away from the apartment, I ask Ryan for his address. He doesn’t live very far from the cottage. In fact, he lives on the bay side of Mission, maybe two miles away. I drop him off about a block from home, in front of the Mission Cafe.

  When he scuttles out from under the blanket, he does a double take at the way I look. Then he grins. “Pretty good disguise. You must have to sneak away from guys a lot.”

  Since I’m not sure what he means, and I’m very sure I don’t want to, I let it pass.

  “Remember to be careful, Ryan,” I tell him as he gets out of the car. “Keep those dogs of yours close.”

  The grin vanishes. “Don’t worry. I’ll be home all night. With the dogs. Be sure to call after you talk with your friend.”

  I nod that I will and watch until he’s turned the corner. Then I reach for my phone.

  When I try to contact Williams at his office, I’m told he’s already left for the day. Probably tired of being hounded by reporters after Mrs. Bernard’s press conference. There’s no answer at Frey’s, either.

  I’m debating whether I should check in with my mother when the phone rings. I glance at the caller ID.

  “Good timing, Mom. I was just about to call you.”

  “I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. Your phone has been off. The police were here, Anna.”

  Her tone is accusatory and her speech clipped, as if she’s biting off each word to control her anger.

  I try to diffuse the hostility with curiosity. “About Barbara?”

  “And about Carolyn. Why didn’t you tell me Trish’s mother was killed?”

  I close my eyes in exasperation. “I should have, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  “The police think you are involved. You and Daniel Frey. And a teacher told me he saw you and Frey leave school together this afternoon. Was he right?”

  There’s something about my mother’s disapproving tone that makes it impossible for me to lie to her-at least to lie to her about this. “Yes, I was with Frey this afternoon.”

  She sucks in a breath. “Does he know where Trish is? Do you?”

  God, now what? If I tell her the truth, she’ll make me go to the police. If I don’t, she’ll detect it with her mother’s intuition and I’ll be in worse shit with her than I am now.

  “Mom, I can’t answer that. Not yet. You have to give me a little time to work this out.”

  “Workwhat out?”

  “Please. Just trust me. You know I would never put a child’s life at risk. I’ve talked to the police. They don’t believe I’m involved anymore.” A half-truth. The Feds think
I’m involved big time. Which makes me add, “You may hear from a couple of Federal Agents.”

  Another quick intake of breath. “You mean the two from the FBI?” She says it more like a statement than a question.

  I grit my teeth. “They’ve already been in touch with you?”

  “Oh yes. Agents Donovan and Bradley visited me at school. They have the impression that you and Frey are lovers. Want to clarify that for me?”

  I rub a hand over my face. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “I’m sorry, too, Anna. I’m beginning to regret letting you get involved in this at all.”

  The disappointment in her voice makes me cringe. There’s a long moment of silence before she speaks again.

  “I’m giving you twenty-four hours. Get Trish back by then, Anna. I don’t care how you do it. But I want to see that child safe and in our home where she belongs. Do I make myself clear?”

  She doesn’t wait for an answer. She doesn’t have to. She breaks the connection and leaves me scalded by the heat of her command.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  My life has been reduced to a string of deadlines, the latest imposed by my own mother. The fact that she didn’t ask about whether or not I started the DNA testing attests to how angry she is with me.

  It’s a little after six, and foot traffic is picking up on Mission. From my parking space, I watch people drift into the Mission Café, mostly couples holding hands and smiling at each other in quiet contentment. Loneliness settles around me like the shadows from the dying sun. I’ve never had a typical boy-girl relationship. When I was younger, I never wanted one. And being around David and Gloria and seeing how crazy they make each other confirms that I certainly don’t need that kind of aggravation now. My motto has always been when you have the itch, find a guy and scratch it. Max fills the bill. He drops in, we fuck like bunnies for a day or two, and he’s gone.

  Perfect for both of us.

  Or so I thought.

  When did Max start wanting more? What did I miss?

  The blare of a horn snaps me back. I glance over my shoulder and a guy in a FedEx van holds up two hands in a “what gives?” pantomime. I’d forgotten that I’d pulled into a loading zone.

  Good timing, I say to myself, steering away from the curb. These are not thoughts I need to be having.

  Time to weigh my options. I could go back to the apartment and call it a night. God knows I’m weary enough. Or I could go to a bar for a beer. But that would mean getting hit on, or worse,not getting hit on. I couldn’t handle it either way.

  That leaves only one other choice. I hang a U and head for the office. I’ll check telephone messages and mail and pretend I still have a day job. If I’m lucky, there’ll be beer in the fridge and I can sit on the little deck outside our office and watch the sunset. If I try hard, I might be able to remember how it was when all I had to contend with were human concerns.

  David’s Hummer is not parked in his designated space. I didn’t expect that it would be at six thirty, and yet I feel a pinprick of disappointment. I can’t believe it’s only been a couple of days since I’ve seen him. It feels much longer than that.

  I lock the Ford and pocket the keys, slinging my purse over my shoulder. At the horizon, low clouds hover just over the water. There are a lot of people on the boardwalk, normal, human, strolling south toward Seaport Village, the lilt of music and the rich smell of grilling fish and barbecue drawing them as powerfully as the promise of a spectacular sunset.

  For an instant, I’m tempted to join them, to lose myself in the crowd and pretend I’m one of them. But only for an instant. I’m not one of them and it’s no use to pretend. I heave a sigh and head for the door.

  I have the key out and ready. Since our office is located on the water side, I make my way around to the back, steps muffled by rubber soles on the wooden deck. As I round the corner, an electric jolt of warning brings me to an abrupt stop. The door to our office yawns open.

  The hackles at the back of my neck stand straight up and I’m instantly alert. The vampire swallows up the human side of my nature in one gulp. With a low growl, I give the door a gentle push and let it swing open.

  There are no lights on inside. In the half twilight, I see a solitary figure standing at the slider on the far side of the office. His back to me, he seems lost in the play of light on water. The glare from the sun on the window blurs his image. Soundlessly, I approach, mind probing gently to determine who or what he is. I get no response.

  Human? The vampire side of my nature draws back a little. I can easily overpower a human without resorting to fangs. I cast no reflection in the window so I’m at his side before his quiet voice breaks the silence.

  “Hello, Anna. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Frey?” I grit my teeth and scowl at him. “Are you crazy? I almost-”

  “What? Bit me? Been there, done that.”

  He turns to look at me and starts to laugh. “You look like Malibu Barbie.”

  I snatch off the glasses and hat with one hand and peel off the wig with the other. “What are you doing here?”

  He has a can of beer in his right hand and he waves it at the window. “Enjoying the view. You must do very well to be able to afford an office here.”

  “We get a break on the rent.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

  “No. Father. Any other questions?”

  He takes a last swig from the can and tosses it into the wastebasket beside the desk. “No.”

  I let my shoulders slump and try to ease the knots out of the muscles in my neck. Adrenaline pumps with unrelenting force through my veins. “Why didn’t you say something? You must have known I was here. You know, with this-” I lay a finger along side my nose.

  He smiles. “It was more fun to see what you’d do.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “Your partner. He was just leaving when I arrived.”

  “And he said you could wait? Alone in our office?” It didn’t sound like David.

  Frey shrugs. “I told him you were meeting me. That you were supposed to have left him a message. He seemed irritated but not surprised that you hadn’t. Mumbled something like, it figures, and left.”

  Great. Something else to explain to my partner. If I have one. I drop into the chair on my side of the desk. “How is Trish? I thought you’d be staying close to her tonight.”

  He lowers himself into David’s chair. “She’s got Sorrel to look after her.”

  “So, you haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

  Frey leans back and tents his fingers. “Where else would I go? The Feds are watching my place. Probably yours, too. I took a chance they wouldn’t be watching the office. At least not tonight.”

  I nod that I, too, suspect he’s right. “I hope you’ve arranged a substitute for school tomorrow. Mom is up in arms about everything that’s happened. She’s already had a visit from the Feds.”

  “No surprise there. Those jackals leave no stone unturned.”

  He has a peculiar inflection in his voice. In the gathering dusk, his eyes glow. He turns those eyes on me and a shiver runs up my spine.

  “What’s going on, Frey? You look-weird.”

  He holds a hand up and turns the palm back to front. “I thought you might want company. Did you know that there is a full moon tonight?”

  I give my head a shake. “No. Am I supposed to?”

  “I suppose not. The moon doesn’t affect you.”

  “I thought it didn’t affect you, either.”

  He pushes himself out of the chair and begins pacing in front of the sliding glass door. He seems restless, agitated.

  “Frey?”

  He stops abruptly and whirls to face me. “Did you find out anything today?”

  “Nothing we can use.” A video image flashes in my head and I pass a hand over my face to erase it.

  “Nothing?” He starts pacing again. “Where did you go after you lef
t the park?”

  I’d forgotten that he doesn’t know about Ryan and the computer. “Has Trish told you anything about her friend?”

  But he doesn’t seem to be listening. He’s pulling at the neck of his’t-shirt, as if the collar is too tight. Sweat glistens on his face.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

  He grimaces. “I didn’t tell you the entire truth about the moon. The moon, the tides, and the alignment of certain planets, all have an effect on me. I can change anytime I want. But there are certain nights when I don’t have a choice. Under normal circumstances, I’d lock myself inside my condo and ride it out. But these aren’t normal circumstances, are they?”

  He says it as though it’s taking every bit of effort to keep some terrible primal urge in check. Maybe it is. I’m glad I’m no longer privy to his thoughts.

  “You’re creeping me out,” I say. “Should I leave you alone? I could lock you in.”

  He jabs a thumb toward the slider. “Except for that.”

  “Yeah, but that leads to a deck over the water. Panthers can’t swim, can they?”

  “Ican swim,” he says.

  Good point.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  His answer is to resume pacing. The shadow of night has swallowed up any remaining daylight, and the office is plunged into darkness. Though I can see as well in the dark as I can in the light, the idea of being alone with him like this is unsettling. I reach to turn on a desk lamp.

  I’m stopped by a low growl.

  “Don’t.”

  The voice doesn’t sound like Frey’s. I pull my hand back and peer at him. He’s standing upright, but his face is changing. The features blunt, the nose flattens, and the ears elongate and shift to the top of his head. His eyes become sullen yellow orbs, the pupils split into onyx diamonds that flash silver with the movement of his head.

  Those eyes watch me now with an intensity that sends fear skittering along my spine.

  When he opens his mouth to speak again, it’s with a guttural hiss. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”