Forbidden Days (The Firsts) (12 page)

He wandered over to where he noticed a deep teal satin that looked like the dress she’d worn the night of their date.  The gown that she’d worn that night…balled up in a chair, almost completely covered by a pillow.  It looked like a small piece of fabric, so the forensic team overlooked it, but he recognized it and tugged it out.  Badly wrinkled, he brought it over to a light in the corner and switched it on.  What were those dark stains around the straps and the halter?  Was that…blood…?

Blood?  Oh, hell, no.  He’d expected, all along, that there had just been some big confusion…that she’d gone on vacation or something.  That she’d left an email or text or phone message that someone just hadn’t gotten.  He really expected that in the end, she’d been okay all along.  But this…this proved that something had really happened to her…something bad.  Blood on that beautiful gown she’d worn for their date, oh god.  What had happened to her?  He knew now, he’d move heaven and earth to find her.

Zach balled the gown up and shoved it into an inside pocket in his jacket.  Although it barely fit, bunching out and causing his jacket to stick out, it would do enough to get it back to his car without any unexpected witness knowing he took something from the house.  Now he sharpened his focus…what else might give him a clue.  Obviously, since the gown was here, she’d made it home.  He must have forced her to bring him here.  So…ah, her shoes, the ones she’d worn that night.  Where were they?  Sexy slides, high heeled, high end designer…he knew that only because his last girlfriend had a shoe fetish and preferred the ridiculously priced ones that were famous for the red soles.  That’s what they were.  It only took a moment to find them carelessly discarded in the closet.  For shoes he knew must be in the range of hundreds if not thousands of dollars, they were just thrown in, tossed upside down, like old house slippers.  He pulled them out.  Hmm.  Well that was something.  The tops were badly scarred, like they had been scraped against something, tearing the delicate satin.  A small row of rhinestones, crystals, hell, for all he knew, diamonds…formed a chain around the top, scoring the area where they would highlight the toes.  Several were missing.  Something had happened to the shoes that night.  He knew absolutely she would never have worn shoes in that condition on a date.  He had to take them too.

As he was leaving, his eyes landed on a small table with several photos displayed in pretty silver frames.  One of them of Park and her receptionist, Zach’s accuser.  He didn’t blame her, it did look bad for him.  Park looked so happy.  He took the photo, frame and all, and forced it in the other side of his jacket.

So, with a satin dress and designer heels tucked in his jacket and up under his arms, Zach hurried to his car in the darkness hoping he wasn’t seen by anyone too bored to be minding their own business, and end up back in city lockup with tonight’s collection of repeat offenders.

As he started the car, he punched his hands free mobile phone.

His secretary answered lazily, probably asleep before he called.

“Sorry, Margaret.  I just need to inform you I’ll be out of the office for a few days.  I’ll keep you apprised, but will you rearrange my appointments first thing tomorrow and split them with those two new guys my grandfather hired?  I know, I know, short notice, but something’s come up I can’t get out of.  No, I’m not back in jail again.  Thanks, Margaret.  I’ll check back in.”    He rung off to let her return to sleep.  He had to get moving just in case anyone saw him leave the house.  He made a second call, left a message when no one picked up and hit the highway.

144

Chapter Eight

It was close to morning when he pulled up next to a shabby looking classic corvette.  It had seen better days, even before it’s present owner had bought it ten years ago.  Zach knew his buddy would eventually get to the restoration.  It just took Dwayne a while to finish…well, anything.  That was because he was always so distracted.  Dwayne was the smartest man Zach had ever known…he knew a lot about a lot of things.  And was currently finishing his third doctorate.

And he was never up early.  This was going to be harsh.  Zach began knocking on the door of Dwayne’s poor-man’s Painted Lady, a row house located in San Francisco,
not
on the best street.   Several minutes later, with a strong urge to find a big rock, Zach finally heard the door locks click, one at a time, and a head appeared that looked like it had been on the receiving end of a strong electrical shock.  It didn’t appear that even one hair on Dwayne’s head went the same direction as any other one.  His eyes appeared to be glued shut until the right one split open.

“What the hell?  Zach Barkley?  What the hell are you doing here at the crack of dawn?

“Hey, buddy.  Dawn hasn’t quite cracked yet.  I’m here to crack your brain, though.  I guess you didn’t get my message from late last night.  I need help, buddy.  I’m in a spot and there’s a damsel to be saved.  You up for being a hero?”

The groan was long and deep.  But he pushed back and let Zach enter the darkened, airless interior of the house.  The air almost felt like syrup.  Didn’t smell that good, though.

“Damn, when’s the last time you let some atmosphere in here?  And some stank out?”

“Do I come into your house and complain about the…anything?”

“Dude, you’ve never been to my house.  You always say you’re too busy fixing the world to visit the rich and famous.  Well, I’ve come to you.”

Dwayne disappeared down a hallway and Zach followed him into the back of the house…and into a surprisingly bright kitchen dressed in ancient yellow wallpaper that was still cheery.  Pushing a few buttons, Dwayne turned to his old college friend.

“Coffee in ten.  So, what do you need your out of town genius for?”

“A woman is missing.  A woman I just happened to have had a blind date with the night before she disappeared.”

Dwayne’s eyes opened wider.  “Dude.  That is
not
good.  They arrest you yet?”

“No.  Detained me.  Couldn’t charge me with anything, they have no real evidence.  They don’t even have any evidence of foul play.”  He pulled a small duffle bag up and put it on the table.  “But I do.  I need you to analyze this for me.”

Dwayne rubbed his hand hard against his face, smashing his uneven features.  Zach never thought his friend was bad looking, but in all their four years together, he’d never been able to get a second date for his friend.

Dwayne pulled the duffle toward him.    “What’s in here?”

Zach hesitated.  “Her clothes she wore on our date that night.”

“What!?  Zach, what are you doing with the clothes a missing woman was last seen in before her disappearance?”

“Hear me out.  Okay, the date went badly.  She has some issues or something.  We ended it early, she left.  I thought I saw her get into her car, and then I went home.  Next thing I know the following night, a detective shows up and I end up in jail overnite.  She’s still missing, they’ve checked her house, but found nothing concrete.  And so I feel guilty because maybe I should have noticed if someone abducted her after our date, so I go check out her house.  The cops didn’t know what she was wearing that night, and I found it balled up and tucked behind a pillow.  With blood on it.  Then find the shoes she had on.  And they are scuffed to holy hell.  Something definitely happened to her, and you know me, I won’t rest until I know and try to help her.  I need you to help
me
help her.  That’s the story.”

Her blood was boiling.  She needed to tear her eyes out;   they felt like they were melting in the sockets, and dripping into her brain.  But they had her chained and she couldn’t reach them.  Intense fury and pain drove her, wracked her as she tried to rip her hands off to free herself from them so she could stab herself in the heart and end the pain.  Or kill something just because it was unbearable.  There was a window across the room and although it was shuttered, she could use the broken glass to slit her wrists.  Or the face of that blonde giant that was her jailer.  Fuck, she’d like to slash his pretty face that smiled knowingly at her from across the room.

“Yeah, you’d better stay out of my reach, you motherfucker!!” she had just yelled at him a few moments ago, and he’d left with a grin and a fucking Oreo cookie.  It struck her briefly in the furthest corner of her mind, somewhere deep she couldn’t really access any more, that it wasn’t like her to be that rude.  And she really would like a cookie, too.  But then the hot burn would come back and she became something else, something different than anything she knew.   In moments of lucidity, she remembered…something…someone sweet…it would be alright…she would live.  But then the hot flames would swell inside her body, like every cell was set on fire, and she wouldn’t know the creature she became.  That creature was loud, angry and vicious.  And a real bitch.

The blonde grinning motherfucker showed back up, seated himself on a concrete bench on the far wall away from her.  Fuck!  He had a whole bag of double stuf Oreos! It struck her that she was ravenous.

“Hey blondie, think you could share a fucking cookie!?” she called out, jerking against the chains to their farthest limit, still several feet from him.  She realized she was spitting too, but couldn’t stop it.

He just grinned and killed another cookie.  “Sorry, love, your body cannot digest food right now.  It’s kind of busy digesting itself.  Your meal is on the way.”

The other motherfucker.  The dark haired devil.  Deep in that lost recess she thought she liked him, but now he was the unholy demon that ripped his own flesh and fed her that foul blood that tasted like death and heaven.  Still…

“Come on…you can’t spare one motherfucking cookie!”

“Yes, I can.  But I’m not wasting it.  It’ll come right back out as soon as you try it. And it won’t taste good to you.  Soon.  I know…”

She let loose with every four letter word and epithet she could recall from her years as a waitress and being raised by six drug dealing brothers and an alcoholic father.  Vaz noted that her favorite seemed to be cocksucker, because it came in as every other word.  What a mouth on that girl.  He understood.  He’d been through it himself a few hundred years ago, but he remembered every moment.  So would she.

The triple reinforced door shrieked open and Bas came in.  Vaz thought he looked awful, as exhausted as he’d ever seen him.  Siring a new vamp wasn’t easy.  Then there was the whole new war with an unknown enemy.  Vaz trusted Bas more than anyone he’d ever met, and didn’t doubt that in the end, they would be the victors.

The language flying out of the girl halted when Bas came through the door.  Her face was burgundy with anger, her mouth covered with drool.  Her eyes opened wide.

She was hungry and it wasn’t for chocolate and icing.   She dropped her head, couldn’t stop her tongue from snaking out, licking the air in anticipation.

“Here to feed the baby?”  Vaz asked, knowing the answer.

Bas drew a long breath.  “Yes, and then collapse until night as soon as I can.  How’s she doing, Vaz?”

“Okay.  Good.  Like usual.  I’m a motherfucking cocksucker who enjoys sheep, apparently.  And I have a standing invitation to stick my tongue up her ass.”

Bas smiled.  “As long as she’s keeping you entertained.  Let’s get this over with.”

After all the vitriolic screaming, Bernie’s pain level must have eased because she laid down quietly and accepted her blood meal eagerly, and when it was done, she didn’t say a word as Bas disappeared behind the big door.  She wouldn’t sleep and neither would Vaz.

Dwayne came down from upstairs dressed in the latest in dweeb duds.  Tight fitting worn tee with an obscure scientific equation on the front and back, loose fitting sweat pants that had left the manufacturing floor no more recent than last decade, a bandana around his hair and forehead that didn’t match anything on earth.  Zach glanced up and shielded his eyes.

“Didn’t we go over how to
not
repel women that last year in college?”

“Shut up.  I’m doing
you
the favor.  Anyway, I’ll be in the lab for most of the day.  Believe me, there’s no one in there that gives a crap if I look like I slept in an alley every night.  Beside, with you around, and that pretty boy face, no one will notice I exist.”  He groaned as he tucked Zach’s bag in his pack.  “I’d never get laid again if you stayed around.  I don’t bear comparisons well.”

Zach laughed.  “I’ll buy you ten pretty girls if you do this for me.”

“Well, good thing I have Lucky’s Corral on speed dial.  Come on, traffics a bitch this time of day.”

“We’ll take my car.”

“Good. Mine’s out of gas.”

Park was adjusting to her new schedule, sleep days, wake after dark.  She didn’t need a lot of hours of sleep, never had, so she got up to enjoy the lovely evening in the gardens that surrounded the manor house.  They were spectacular, landscaped with an amazing variety of foliage and blooming plants.  Many of the flowers bloomed all night or only at night.  Waiting for her night dwelling companions to awaken, Park wandered through the lovely spaces outside.

She found a huge water fountain with concrete park benches all around it and sat on one that faced the west, where the setting sun was leaving streaks of watercolors in the fading blue above her head.  Eugene had packed her a small basket with strawberries and a tub of real whipped cream.  The combination of the lush environment, the departing sun, and the waterfalls from the fountain combined to create perhaps the most serene place on earth.  At least to her.  She popped a whip cream covered strawberry into her mouth and leaned back, closed her eyes for a moment and just listened to the trickling water and summer nighttime insects just beginning their serenades.   For that moment in time, she never wanted to move again.  If nothing else, she would remember what bliss felt like and carry that memory through her life.