Into the Light (The Admiral's Elite Book 2) (8 page)

Unfamiliar with snow and any differences in acoustics it lent, Becca was curious. “Sound travels differently in the winter?”

“Not from a snow state?” He smirked, liking having one up on her.

She smiled warmly back. “Nope, California born and raised.”

Shaking his head and grinning, he launched into an explanation for her benefit. “No leaves, no grass. All the soft surfaces that would normally absorb sound are hard. They carry a lot farther. And out where Tyler’s farm is they’re way off the beaten path. No cars or anything for that good old background hum we get used to in the city.”

Becca considered altering her image of the staggering zombie-like vampire to one of a much more frightening, and stealthier, version. “That’s a lot like the desert so it’s not an
entirely
foreign concept to me.” She dropped her chin to give him a look of mock disdain. “Do you have a theory?”

He slid a tanned hand up the doorjamb, taking a step further in, his expression going dark. “Oh sure, I have a few. But are you sure you want to hear ‘em? After all, a small town detective’s opinion isn’t worth much. Not to one of you big city Feds.” The first undercurrent of distrust rippled into the room. “You guys are so much smarter than us out here I figured I’d just wait at my desk until you asked me to drive you somewhere. Maybe a crime scene or something?”

Uncooperative didn’t bother Becca. It annoyed her, but it didn’t get under her skin like it did other people. She’d forgotten what it felt like though, her old partner Danny was a pro at soothing pissed off sailors and marines. A pain went through her chest when she thought of him, burned to death in the middle of the desert. And Michele, his widow, who would forever wonder what really killed her husband miles from the base where he should have been working. The explanation of a “training accident” rang hollow to everyone with half a clue.

Seeing the shadow fall over her face, Detective Salvo’s demeanor changed abruptly. “I’m sorry, that was an asshole thing to say. I don’t know why I did.” He took a step further, resting a hand on the desktop. “We’ve never had a big enough case come through to bring the Feds but I know other guys in Madison who did and they said once the Feds are in, locals are left holding their hats and if anything goes wrong, we get the blame.”

“We’re not like that, Detective. You have my word.” Becca assured him, hoping she could keep that mostly true. He seemed sharp and was going about the investigation the right way from what she’d read in his files. His cooperation and knowledge of local details could help them tremendously. “Although I
would
like to see those crime scenes if you don’t mind, and you do know the roads better.” She smiled warmly. “That wouldn’t be an asshole thing of me to ask, would it?”

His answer froze in his throat when he heard the cold voice from the doorway he’d just vacated.

“Yes Detective, if you wouldn’t mind acting as tour guide.” Michael eyed him coldly. “I’d like to get out of the office for a little while.” His dark gaze turned to Becca, ignoring the hostile stare of the young detective. “You, Captain Sauter?”

“Sure.” She set down the cup, reluctant to lose its warmth. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Detective, I think visiting the crime scenes would be very helpful.” 

Recognizing the vibe in the office as having officially changed to unwelcoming, Detective Salvo gave each a slight nod, his gaze remaining on Michael as he brushed past him to exit. “I’ll go tell the chief.”

***

Michael stepped in and took a seat at one of the black fabric chairs in front of her borrowed desk. Becca tipped her head and aimed a severe look his way. “Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

He didn’t even try to pretend his abruptness had been accidental. The vampire inside him clamored for release, demanding to follow the overly friendly detective and squeeze the life out of him.
Mine
, it hissed. Shrugging, he kept his voice low. “I stopped over to give you a break. Have you found anything? Signs of where this thing came from?” He indicated the computer with a hand.

Leaning back in her chair again, Becca yawned and ran a hand over her eyes. “Nothing. This thing came out of nowhere.” She raised both hands and clasped them over her head, stretching her stiff back.

Pulling his eyes from the purple shadows showing under her freckles, Michael nodded. “I was afraid of that.”

“Tell me you found something in the files.” Her shoulders sagged for a minute before she sat up enough to grab her coffee.

It was difficult to hide his frustration. Michael was distracted by Becca’s declining condition. When he’d heard her heartbeat accelerating he’d barely kept his pace human as he came to evict the forward young detective who had upset her. He couldn’t step on too many toes without jeopardizing the cooperation they needed for the investigation. Still, Becca was suffering in ways he didn’t understand and there was nothing he could do about it. The nagging worry that somehow giving her an unprecedented amount of blood had caused her harm gained momentum. He needed to bring Black into the loop. His fear of losing her outweighed his concern that Black would wield it over her, or him.

“Michael?” She was looking at him. “Want to let me in on whatever you’re thinking?”

“Is that decaf?” He nodded at the cup in her hand. “You should watch how much caffeine you take, it isn’t good for you.”

She screwed up her face. “Of all the things I do and see in a day, I don’t fear my coffee.”

Letting go of the argument for the time being, he filled her in on what he’d seen in the boxes upon boxes of evidence collected at the scenes. “There wasn’t anything new in the files.” Reluctantly, he added, “I think the detective is right, it’s time to visit the crime scenes. We might notice something they haven’t. Something that will point to a location.”

“I was thinking about that. If something’s controlling it and we know it’s here because it’s only attacking locally, and Ryan and Gabrielle didn’t find anything last night, do you think it’s living indoors?” She tossed back the last of her hot beverage, lifting an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to comment. The corner of her mouth lifted when he didn’t. “I’m thinking whatever is using this thing is hiding it as well.”

“That’s a good guess.” He was fascinated by her deductions once again.

“So what are we looking for? Is there a specific ‘type’ of thing that would be using it? Any precedent we can use to go on?” She yawned again.

“We’re going to drop you at the motel. I’m going to look at the crime scenes with the detective while you get some rest.” Michael knew she wouldn’t agree. He was right.

Her features clouded, eyes flicking up to the open room full of River Falls’ finest behind him. He could guess they were being watched from the way she carefully controlled her anger. “We have a killer out there only we can understand, only we can stop. I’m not going back to take a nap while you take a civilian into danger.”

“He’s not a civilian, he’s a police officer. They’re trained.”

A rough laugh erupted from her mouth. “Yeah, not for this.”

His eyes narrowed. Her stubbornness was not what he loved about her. That word stopped him. He couldn’t think like that. Creatures like him didn’t get to be in love. Having her in his arms, even briefly, had been a blessed reprieve from his isolation and its time was coming to a close.

The detective reappeared before they could go any further into their discussion. A brief rap of knuckles on wood announced him, although both already knew he was there. “Ready to roll?” he asked tightly, possibly sensing the tension between them. “We’re gonna be hard pressed to see ‘em all before we run out of daylight.”

Chapter 9

They were on the second to last crime scene when dusk began to cast long shadows across the snow. The bearing of the towering trees shifted from sentinel to stockade, silently threatening to reach down and touch one of them as they wandered about the quiet yard.

Susan Borchert had been a forty-two year old mother of three coming home from working the second shift when the windigo struck. Her husband found her upon waking to strange screams around one o’clock and finding her not in their bed.

It had been two and a half weeks since the murder and fresh snow covered all traces of what had transpired there. The detective had called ahead to ask permission of the grieving widower to view the scene. He took the kids out to dinner and the site was theirs for an hour.

Nothing unusual jumped out at Becca. She would have noticed too. Her senses were so hyper alert her skin was tingling. Snow covered everything, changes in its elevation marking where the body had lain and where she assumed someone had shoveled the soiled snow away before more of the white stuff came to take its place. A path had been shoveled from the detached brown garage leading to the back porch of the matching house. Burlap wrapped shrubs and straw covered gardens stood on either side of the walkway. Susan had been an avid gardener by the number of such spots on the property. Becca thought of her father, Ed.

Ed Sauter and Susan Borchert would have had much to talk about. Ed’s years in the Marines had given him a need for routine and precision. After retiring he’d been able to fill that need with cultivating an enviable garden.  It was hard not to imagine what it would have done to her mother to find her husband butchered in their yard, feet from the safety of their home. Her stomach turned and her eyes stung.

Sensing her upset, Michael crossed the yard to stand beside her, offering her what comfort he could. Detective Salvo caught the gesture and glanced up so he limited his contact to a hand on her shoulder. It wouldn’t do them any good to be seen as intimate in front of the hostile allies. It would only give them cause to question their professionalism.

“The detective says the husband asked the police to keep the sirens quiet while he got the kids handed off to his sister through the front door. He’s the only one who saw her,” he told her in a low voice.

“I know, but it’s just so pointless.” When she forced her eyes from the depression visible in the snow where the evidence had all been dug up, tears glittered on her long brown lashes. “This thing is pure evil.” She sniffed. Her mind’s eye painted the sterile white with the puddles and splashes of red in the file.

Hard expression softening at her distress, Michael rubbed a thumb over her shoulder and appeared torn between keeping their relationship quiet and giving her the consolation she so desperately needed.

“I’m fine.” She sniffed again, blinking away the offending wetness behind her lids and wiping the few strays away with the sleeve of her black coat. Seeing that he wasn’t convinced, she forced her lips into a quick grin and took a step away.

“Hey, you guys see what you needed?” Salvo’s impatient voice cut across the quiet of the late afternoon.

“I think so.” Becca watched Michael close himself off before he turned to face the interloper. 

The sound of an engine brought all three heads around to see a late model silver Impala charging up the drive to stop in front of the garage. Detective Salvo muttered something that sounded tired and unhappy before striding past them to head off the gray-haired man stalking angrily toward them. Michael and Becca looked on curiously.

“Mr. Nowak, we were just leaving.” Salvo waved a hand in a friendly gesture.

“What the hell are you people doing here? You’ve been here enough already.” The large man was not so easily appeased. “You shouldn’t be wasting your time here, you should be out catching the animal that killed my daughter.”

“We are, Mr. Nowak,” Salvo held up both palms in a peaceful gesture. “These two are from a special task force assigned to help us do just that.” An expectant look over his shoulder told them this was the story and not to argue, even if they wouldn’t tell him where they were really from.

Not surprisingly, the victim’s father turned his anger on them. “What do you think you’re gonna see here that this guy didn’t, huh?” He gestured heatedly toward Salvo standing patiently by. Hands loosely in his pocket and a carefully measured amount of cool on his face said he’d endured this sort of thing before. “My grandkids haven’t been able to sleep or play outside since it happened. Between the newspapers and the cops, this place is crawling with people day and night, rehashing the details when they should be out looking for new clues before someone else dies.” His fury mostly burned out, the grieving man finished with a quivering chin.