Death of an Immortal (26 page)

There was a knock at the door. Cam Patterson pushed it open a few inches and stuck his head in. He frowned when he saw Brosterhouse, then decided to ignore him.

“Sylvie Hardaway is outside. She says she has information about her sister’s murder.”

“Show her in.”

Sylvie Hardaway was a beautiful girl, Brosterhouse thought.
No,
he corrected himself after looking into her serious eyes.
A beautiful
woman
.

“There is something you need to know,” she said, without preamble. “Richard Carlan made a porn video of my sister. He posted it on Girlfriend Hanky Panky.”

Anderson stared at her with his mouth open for a moment. Then he swung toward his computer on the other side of the desk. He turned it on and fiddled with it as if he wasn’t familiar with it. “I can do Google at least,” he muttered. Within seconds, he had the site up. “I hope my computer doesn’t get sick from this.”

Brosterhouse stood up and leaned over the desk. There it was, in all its sick glory.

“How do we know that’s Carlan?” Anderson said, looking away in disgust.

“Of course it is. He’s got the same spare tire around the middle, and check it out––there’s a birthmark on his thigh.”

“I don’t know,” Anderson said. “Asking him to show his parts is really pushing it.”

Brosterhouse threw up his hands. But Sylvie wasn’t done.

“He’s been harassing me,” she said. “He won’t leave me alone; he’s ingratiated himself with my parents so he’s always hanging around. I intend to go for a restraining order tomorrow.”

That seemed to be the final straw for Captain Anderson. Apparently sexual harassment was his trigger.

“Arrest Richard Carlan,” he said. “I’ll clear it with the DA. We’ll drop the charges for this Mr. Terrill and the other two vagrants.”

#

Brosterhouse found Carlan drinking coffee with a couple of his pals. He had a victorious smirk on his face when the Portland detective walked up to him.

“Richard Carlan, you’re under arrest.”

“What! What for?” Carlan turned pale. He had that guilty look that Brosterhouse recognized from a thousand arrests, the look that said “They finally found me out.”

Brosterhouse found himself spouting off charges, some of which he knew wouldn’t stick, but he’d ask for forgiveness later. Meanwhile, the list of felonies was very satisfying. “Tampering with evidence. False arrest. Sexual harassment. And the murder of Jamie Lee Howe.”

“What the…?” The dirty cop had winced at each of the first three charges, but seemed totally mystified by the last accusation. Unless Brosterhouse was mistaken, the man didn’t think he was guilty of murder.

It didn’t matter. Murderers often convinced themselves that it hadn’t really been murder. Sometimes they maintained their innocence for so long that they started to believe it themselves.

Perhaps the evidence wouldn’t convict Carlan, but his career was done. The lesser charges were enough to get him booted off the force, at the very least.

#

The parade was reversed. The squad room fell silent as Brosterhouse led Carlan, handcuffed, through the crowded space.

To fill the silence, he said, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police…”

The words echoed through the room like a prayer.

Chapter 43

The cops put Perry and Grime in the cell next to Terrill. “I’m sure they’ll let you go,” he said. “As soon as I tell them you didn’t know…”

“Never mind about us!” Perry interrupted. “We’ll get a couple of free meals out of it, and I always try to get a dental checkup. But what about you, Terrill? You did it! You’re human!”

Somehow, hearing Perry say it and Grime agree with a grunt was confirmation that it had really happened. Just being alive should have been proof, but the walk through the sunlight seemed like a dream to Terrill now. But he could feel it. He was mortal. Each minute that passed was a minute closer to his death, but he didn’t care.

How ironic that he’d spend the rest of his human life imprisoned. For some reason, the prospect didn’t faze him. It was a prison of the flesh, after all, not of the spirit.

As if in answer to that thought, the door at the end of the corridor opened and Father Harry Donovan was ushered in by one of the guards.

“Stay back from the bars,” the guard warned.

Father Harry nodded his head solemnly, and then, the minute the guard left, he was sticking his hands through the bars, shaking hands with Perry and Grime, and then Terrill.

The priest stared at Terrill as if he was a revelation. “I still can’t believe it. Are you real? Were those really vampires?”

“Yes,” Terrill said. “There are such things as vampires. I was one of them. As to whether I am one now, I’m still not sure myself.”

“…e’s …eal,” Grime said firmly.

Father Harry and Terrill laughed.

Once the laughter died down, the priest seemed a little uncomfortable. “I, uh… I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I turned you in.”

Terrill shrugged. “You had to.”

“No… you tried to confess to me, but I was more worried about a little stolen meat than I was about really listening. Please forgive me for that. I should have taken your words in confidence.”

“I am not Catholic,” Terrill said. “I’m not sure I was even all that religious, until this afternoon.”

Father Harry laughed. “Me neither.” He hesitated, then said, “If you’re willing, I’d like to listen to your confession now.”

“Father, it would take your whole lifetime to hear all my sins. I’ve got hundreds of years of them.”

The priest looked shocked, as if he understood, for the first time, the extent of Terrill’s crimes. “How about we do a general amnesty, so to speak,” he said. “I’ll absolve you as best I can.”

“I ask forgiveness, of course,” Terrill said. “But you can’t grant me that. Only God can.”

“I am God’s rep––” Father Harry started to say.

Then the doorway at the end of the hallway opened again. “I don’t know if I should,” the guard was saying.

“They’re going to be released anyway,” Sylvie said. “What difference does it make?”

The guard looked at Terrill with suspicion, but it appeared that what Sylvie was saying was true, because he nodded reluctantly.

Sylvie came toward them with a smile and was greeted by Grime and Perry as if she was their long-lost girlfriend. Terrill smiled shyly.

“They’ve arrested Richard Carlan for the murder of my sister,” she said.

Everyone else was delighted, but Terrill froze. That wasn’t right. As bad as this Richard Carlan was, he hadn’t killed Jamie. “I can’t let him take the fall for that,” he said, breaking through the sounds of celebration.

“You must!” Sylvie exclaimed. “It was Richard who drove her away from here. As far as I’m concerned, he’s guilty, guiltier than you.”

“I killed her, Sylvie. I killed your sister.”

“No you didn’t,” Perry said. “A vampire killed her, that’s what I heard. Sucked her blood right out of her. Are you a vampire, Terrill?”

Terrill wasn’t going to have any of that. He’d spent too many years making excuses for his actions, unwilling to pay for them. How could he start his life as a mortal with a lie?

“Can my sister be saved?” Sylvie asked.

“I think perhaps, given enough time,” he answered. Best not to tell her that with Michael and him, it had taken centuries. He thought, perhaps, that Horsham had been nearing that point––until Terrill had taken away all hope by Turning Mary.

He looked around at the bare walls, at his future. He deserved this fate, and he would accept it. He had so many crimes and sins to pay for.

#

The door to the jail opened one more time, and this time it was Richard Carlan who was led in in handcuffs. A large, bald-headed cop was escorting him. He glanced curiously at the group by the bars. “Having a party?” he asked.

Richard glared at them all, but the sight of Sylvie enraged him. “You bitch!” he screamed. “You told them, didn’t you?”

“Told them what?” she asked mildly.

Carlan had enough self-possession left to realize he was on the verge of incriminating himself. “I’ll get you for this!” he screamed. “You lying, scheming bitch!”

“I’d say that is confirmation of your harassment charge, Ms. Hardaway.” Brosterhouse looked toward the guard at the door. “You heard that, Simmons?”

“Yes, sir. Sounded like a threat.”

Carlan sputtered and seethed, but didn’t say anything more. They took him to the last cell, where they left him. From the sound of it, he was throwing things around in there, shouting incoherently.

“I still have to confess,” Terrill said.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Perry exclaimed. “What are you, a saint now? From vampire to saint in one day?”

Brosterhouse came back down the corridor after slamming the door on Richard Carlan. He looked satisfied, like a man who had done his job. He started to walk by them with a nod, then stopped.

The big cop stared at Terrill. He seemed to be examining him, looking for something. Then he said, “We’ll be letting you go this afternoon. You may have to come back and answer some questions about why you fled, but they can’t keep you in here for fleeing from a crime you didn’t commit.”

Now is the time to confess,
Terrill thought,
if I really mean to atone for my crimes.
“I’m the one wh––” he started to say, but Sylvie interrupted, giving him a warning glance.

“When can they leave?” she asked Brosterhouse.

“Oh, it’ll be a few hours. Police officers don’t like to admit when they make mistakes, so they’ll be dragging their feet through the whole process. But don’t worry. You’ll be out of here around nightfall.”

Terrill had been ready to speak, Sylvie or no Sylvie, but the word “nightfall” brought him up short. Horsham was still out there, still looking for him. He knew who Terrill’s friends were now, and he was unlikely to show them mercy simply because Terrill was in jail. Indeed, he might decide to wreak vengeance on those he could reach instead of the real target of his anger.

Night was falling, and these humans were in great danger.
We humans
, Terrill corrected himself.
We are in great danger.
He’d have to confess later, if he was still alive, which he doubted would be the case.

Perhaps it was only right that Horsham exact his final revenge. For Mary’s sake.

He let Brosterhouse walk away.

Chapter 44

Horsham awoke as the sun dimmed. He was fully alert, as if he was being hunted, which perhaps he was. He hadn’t survived for so long by ignoring those kinds of instincts.

Jamie was draped across him. He pushed her away. Had they had sex last night? After the abysmal failure at the church? He remembered feeling so angry about her disobeying him that he had fondled her neck and began to tighten his grip, ready to rip her head off.

Now he remembered. It had turned her on. She had snuggled up to him, wanting sex, like she had every night, all night. She was insatiable. Her newfound powers of endurance and energy were draining him. But he hadn’t resisted. It had been a very long time since he’d had such a willing and eager partner.

It occurred to him that although he’d broken just about every rule on this trip, he hadn’t broken the first and most important one. He hadn’t trusted a human. Because of that, he might still make it out of this foul town. If he left now… tonight. He should take the baby vampire and run, come back another day, wait for Terrill to make another mistake.

Until last night, Horsham hadn’t left a human alive who could recognize him. They thought they had a serial killer in town, one who was a rather spectacular cannibal. It was making the national news, but they couldn’t connect any of it to him.

Until last night. That priest had been an unexpected obstacle. It was rare to run across a priest who knew the warding prayers anymore. Even more strange, it was as if, even as he bent down to kill the man, the priest’s faith had grown stronger, making Horsham hesitate for a moment, just long enough for that dirty human to come out of nowhere and throw holy water on him.

How had he known to do that? It was almost as if they had been prepared for him. The only way that could have happened was if Terrill had told them what he was––thus breaking Rule 1.

Horsham turned on the police scanner, and the stream of chatter was full of the recent spate of brutal murders. But it was the little comment at the end of one of the messages that caught his attention: “
At least we caught that murdering bastard that Carlan was after. The one who killed his girlfriend in Portland.”

Horsham was enraged. He paced the room in full vampire form; he ran his claws into the walls, tearing out chunks of plaster. He grabbed a chair and threw it across the room, breaking the mirror. That was so satisfying that he broke the rest of the mirrors. Damn the useless things!

He wanted to leave the motel, fall upon the first humans he saw, and devour them in full view of everyone. He wanted to take on the entire town, destroy it, down to the last woman and child.

All this commotion woke Jamie up and she came to him, naked, wanting to drape herself on him, as if sex would calm him down. He threw her across the room, and she crashed against the wall.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she said in a guttural voice.

He paid no attention to her. He should’ve been happy, it occurred to him. Under the control of humans, Terrill would be forced into the sunlight sooner or later. He was doomed. Unless––and this was a delicious possibility––Terrill was forced to feed. Unless Terrill gave in to his real nature.

Horsham would like that. It wouldn’t save Terrill, but it would be a last humiliation, proof that Terrill couldn’t escape his vampire nature no matter how hard he tried. A final little relapse that would make his death all the more painful.