2 Blood Trail (38 page)

Gloves in place, Vicki bent and carefully picked up the can. It felt nearly full. She unscrewed the cap, and paused. She needed both hands on the can but would be unable to see without her flashlight the moment she left the immediate area of the lamp. “God damn it all to. . .”

Celluci found himself looking at Henry, whose expression so clearly said,
It’s up to you,
that it took a moment before he realized it hadn’t been said out loud.
Up to me. Right. As if I had a choice.
But he walked forward and picked up the flashlight anyway.

Vicki squinted up into his face, but the light was too bad to make out nuances.
Not that Celluci tends to do nuances.
It was enough he was there; it helped.
Let’s get on with it.

She walked along the beam of light toward Mark Williams body, pouring the kerosene carefully on the packed earth floor as she went, thankful that her grip on the can hid the trembling of her fingers. The law had meant everything to her once. “As far as anyone will be able to piece together, there was a fight, probably because Carl Biehn walked in on whatever it was his nephew was doing to Peter. During the fight, Mark Williams stepped in one of his own grisly little bits of ironmongery. Out of grief, or guilt, or God knows what, Carl Biehn shot himself. Unfortunately, at some point during the fight, the can of kerosene got knocked over.”

The light slid across the body. It was evident that Mark Williams had died in great pain, the mark of Henry’s fingers still apparent on his neck. Vicki couldn’t find it in her to be sorry. The only thing she’d felt for Mark Williams in life had been contempt and his death hadn’t changed that.
As soon feel sorry for squashing a cockroach,
she thought, setting the can down beside the corpse and tipping it over.

“What about Carl Biehn?”

“Leave him alone. Let him lie where he chose.” She walked back along the light to the table and picked up the lantern. The dancing flame made patterns against the darkness that continued to dance in her vision after she looked away. “Also unfortunately, at some time during the fight, the lantern shattered.”

The force with which the lantern hit the floor eloquently expressed the emotions that lurked behind her matter-of-fact tones.

The kerosene in the shattered reservoir caught first, and then the path Vicki had poured.

“Take a good look, Mike, Stuart. This what you saw when you arrived.” She took a deep breath and peeled off the gloves, shoving them down into the depths of her bag. “Plus Peter’s body, lying naked on the table. The two of you rushed in, grabbed Peter, and got out. The flames were then too high for you to go back. Now, I suggest we get out of here, as this barn is ancient, tinder dry, and likely to go up in very little time.”

With a hungry woosh, Mark Williams’ clothes caught, the burning kerosene outlining his body in flame.

She paused at the door, her hand dropping from Celluci’s guiding arm, and looked back. A splash of orange had to be fire climbing the surface of the north wall. They couldn’t stop it now, even if they wanted to. She wondered for an instant just who
they
were, then squared her shoulders and went out to talk to Colin and Barry by their car.

“When we arrived,” she told them, “Celluci and Stuart had Peter lying out on the grass. The barn was burning. Forget everything else. You put Peter in the car, called in the fire, and headed back to town, picking Rose up on the way.”

“But what about . . .” Barry didn’t sound happy.

Vicki stood quietly, waiting. She couldn’t see his face but she had a good idea of what must be going through his mind.

She heard him sigh. “There isn’t any other way, is there? Not without exposing the wer and . . .” She heard Henry in his pause, heard him decide not to voice his suspicions. “. . . other things.”

“No, there isn’t any other way. And don’t let anyone get a good look at your boot.”

She watched their taillights pull away, saw them speed down the highway, then turned and walked back to the three men—the vampire, the werewolf, and the cop—outlined in the flickering flames from the burning building. There would be ash and not much more remaining when the fire burned out.

As though his turn had now come to read her mind, Celluci said dryly, “If they sift the ashes, any competent forensic team could poke a thousand holes in your story.”

“Why should they investigate? With you and me and two of the local city police on the scene, I think they’ll be happy to take our word for it.”

He had to admit she was likely right. Three cops and an ex-cop with nothing to gain from lying—and covering for a family of werewolves would not likely occur to anyone—they’d wrap it up and write it off and get on to something they could solve.

“Still, there are a lot of loose ends,” Stuart said thoughtfully.

Vicki snorted. “Police prefer loose ends. Wrap it up too neatly and they’ll think you’re handing them a package.” The night was sultry, without a breath of wind, and the barn was now burning brightly, but Vicki hugged her arms close. They’d won, she should feel happy, relieved, something. All she felt was empty.

“Hey.” Henry wished he could see her eyes. All he could see were the flames reflected on her glasses. “You all right?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He reached out and slid her glasses up her nose. “No reason.”

She grinned, a little shakily. “You’d better get going. I don’t know how long it’ll take the fire trucks and the OPP to get out here.”

“Will you be back to the farmhouse?”

“As soon as the police are finished with me.”

He shot a look at Celluci but managed to hold back the comment.

Vicki sighed. “Go,” she told him.

He went.

Celluci took his place.

Vicki sighed again. “Look, if you’re about to treat me to another lecture on ethics or morals, I’m not in the mood.”

“Actually, I was wondering if a grass fire was part of your plan? Maybe as a diversion? We’re starting to get some sparks and the field behind the barn is awfully dry.”

Flames were racing across the roof now, the entire structure wrapped in red and gold.

The last thing she wanted to do was more damage. “There’s a water hookup in the garden with plenty of hose. Just wet the field down.”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“You could have looked! Jesus H. Christ, do I have to do everything?”

“No, thanks. You’ve done quite enough!” He wanted to recall the words the moment he said them but to his surprise, Vicki started to laugh. It didn’t sound like hysteria, it just sounded like laughter. “What?”

It was a moment before she could speak and even then, the threat of another outbreak seemed imminent. “I was just thinking that it’s all over but the shouting .”

“Yeah? So?”

“So?” She waved one hand helplessly in the air as she went off again. “So, now it’s over.”

 

“You will come back and see us again? When you need to get out of the city?”

“I will.” Vicki grinned. “But right at the moment, the peace and quiet of the city seems pretty inviting.”

Nadine snorted. “I don’t know how you stand it. Bad smells and too many strangers on your territory. . . .” Although she still bore the mark of her twin’s loss, in the last twenty-four hours the wound had visibly healed. Whether it was due to the deaths of Mark Williams and Carl Biehn or the saving of Peter’s life, Vicki wasn’t sure. Neither did she want to know.

Rose had also changed, with less of the child she’d been and more of the woman she was becoming showing in her face. Nadine kept her close, snarling when any of the males approached.

Vicki moved toward the door where Henry stood waiting for her, tension stretching between him and Stuart in almost a visible line.

Shadow, his black fur marked with dust, crawled out from under the wood stove, his jaws straining around a huge soup bone. He trotted to the door and dropped it at Vicki’s feet.

“It’s my best bone,” Daniel told her solemnly. “I want you to have it so you don’t forget me.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” The bone disappeared into the depths of Vicki’s bag. She reached out and picked a bit of fluff from the top of his head. “I think that I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll never, ever forget you.”

Daniel squirmed, then Shadow threw himself at her knees, barking excitedly.

Oh, what the hell,
Vicki thought, crouched down and did what she’d done to Storm way back in the beginning, digging her fingers deep into the thick, soft fur of his ruff and giving him a good scratch.

It was hard to say which of them enjoyed it more.

 

Celluci leaned against the car and tossed the keys from hand to hand. It was an hour and a half after sunset and he wanted to get going; after the last two days, plain, old, big city crime would be a welcome relief.

He still wasn’t certain why he’d offered Vicki and Henry a ride back to Toronto. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew why he’d offered Vicki a lift, he just wasn’t sure why he’d included Henry in the package. Granted, the man’s BMW would be another week in the shop, at least, but that wasn’t really much of a reason.

 

“What the hell is taking them so long?” he muttered.

As if in answer, the back door opened and Shadow bounded out, tail beating the air. Vicki and Henry followed, accompanied by all the rest of the family except Peter, who had remained at Dr. Dixon’s.

Vicki had been right about the police investigation. The whole thing was just so weird and the witnesses so credible that the OPP had jumped to pretty much exactly the conclusions Vicki had outlined and were willing to write off the rest. Mark Williams’ police record hadn’t hurt either, especially when a report of his latest business venture had come in from Vancouver.

Celluci braced himself as Shadow leapt up on his chest, licked his face twice, then raced off to run noisy circles around the group approaching across the lawn. Werewolves. He’d never be able to look at anyone quite the same way again. If werewolves existed, who knew what other mythical creatures might turn up.

Vicki seemed to have taken the whole thing in stride, but then, he’d always known she was a remarkable woman. An obnoxious, arrogant, opinionated woman much of the time, but still, remarkable. On the other hand, he thought as he closed his fist around the keys, Vicki had known Henry since Easter so maybe none of this was new to her. Who knew what the two of them had been involved with?

During the gratitude and the good-byes, Stuart approached, hand held out. “Thank you for your help.”

The tone wasn’t exactly gracious, but Celluci understood about pride. He smiled, careful to keep his teeth covered, and took the offered hand. “You’re welcome.”

The grip started firmly enough but soon progressed so that the veins in both forearms were standing out against the muscle and Celluci, in spite of being nearly ten inches taller and proportionally heavier, began to worry about his knuckles popping.

Nadine, having caught scent of the competition, nudged Vicki and they both turned to watch.

“Do they keep this up until one of them breaks a hand?” Vicki wondered dryly, squinting at the joined silhouette straining in the fan of light from the car.

“Hard to tell with males,” Nadine told her in much the same tone. “Their bodies seem to be able to go on for hours once their brains have shut off.”

Vicki nodded. “I’ve noticed that.”

If the sudden release came with any visible signals passing between the two men, Vicki didn’t see them. One moment they were locked in stylized hand-to-hand combat, the next they were clapping each other on the shoulders like the best of friends. She figured that the correct internal pressure had finally been reached, tripping a switch and allowing life to go on—but she wasn’t going to ask because she really didn’t want to know.

While Stuart demanded to know what his mate was laughing at, Celluci found himself unexpectedly preoccupied by a logistics problem; who was going to sit beside him in the front seat on the way home. It seemed a childish thing to worry about but although the seat should by rights go to Vicki—she was the taller and entitled to the greater leg room—he didn’t want Henry Fitzroy sitting behind him in the dark for the three hour drive.

Vicki took the decision away from him. Running her fingers along the car until she found the rear door handle, she opened it, tossed her bag in and climbed in after it, carefully removing Shadow—who’d been trying to get a few more licks in—before she closed the door. She’d known Mike Celluci for eight years and she had a pretty good idea of what was going through his head concerning this. If he thought she was going to run interference between him and Henry, he could think again.

Henry kept his face expressionless as he slid into the front seat and buckled his seat belt.

Shadow chased the car to the end of the lane then sat by the mailbox barking until they were out of sight.

By the time they reached the 401, Celluci couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “are all your cases that
interesting?”

Vicki grinned. She knew he’d break first. “Not all of them,” she said, “but then I have a pretty exclusive clientele.”

“That’s one word for it,” Celluci grunted. “What’s going to happen with Rose and Peter, did they say?”

“As soon as Peter’s better, Stuart’s sending him to stay with his family in Vermont. Rose is pretty broken up about it.”

“At least he’s alive to send away.”

“True enough.”