Forbidden Passion (9 page)

“Not yet, but I’ll get to them.”

Edmund Raysen loped in, quiet and awkward as usual, and Marlena’s heart squeezed for him. Dr. Sneed already overshadowed him with hi-s youth and accomplishments.

“Did you lose your glasses again, Edmund?” Marlena asked.

He gave a dismissive shrug and patted his pocket, then slipped the big, dark frames on, washed his hands, and loped back out.

Marlena’s cell phone rang. Her heartbeat instantly accelerated as she saw Dante’s number.

A second later, her stomach clenched. He wasn’t calling for personal reasons—he was probably calling about Jordie’s murder. Maybe he’d caught the killer…

She excused herself, then connected the call. “Marlena Bender.”

“Marlena, I just wanted to call and see if you were all right.”

Her heart fluttered again. “Yes, I’m fine. Any news?”

A pause. “The cause of death was not smoke inhalation nor was it a result of the fire.”
-

Marlena tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What?”

“Jordie McEnroe bled to death.”

Marlena frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Dante’s breath rattled out. “The killer bit her neck and punctured her carotid artery.”

Marlena sank into her chair. “Oh, God. How horrible.”

“I’m going to organize a search party to search the mountains for Daumer.”

She swallowed hard, the scene playing out in front of her like a horror novel. “Call me if you find him, Dante. I’d like to be there. Maybe I can help.”

A heartbeat of silence. “All right.”

“Dante?”
-

“What?”

“I’m going to talk to the sheriff who investigated my family’s murder. I have to know what he did to find the killer.”

A tense second passed, then Dante hissed. “Marlena, don’t,” Dante said in a gruff voice. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I have to do this and no one can stop me.”

Without waiting for a response, she ended the call. Her phone buzzed automatically, and she checked the number. Dante.

But she ignored it. She needed to get to the mental hospital to see patients, not listen to a lecture or another warning.

Then she would pay a visit to Sheriff Sam Larson and find out exactly what he had done to find her mother’s and sister’s killers.

Dante drove by the crime lab and spoke with the CSI in charge.

“Did you find anything at the McEnroe apartment? Fingerprints? Forensics?”

“We’re still sorting through the prints. So far, the only ones we’ve identified belong to the girl and her mother.”

“How about hairs or fibers?”

“We did find cat hairs,” he said. “But we questioned the neighbors and one of them said the cat was a stray. The victim could have let the animal inside and fed it, but we didn’t find the cat.”

“Anything else?”

“Hair from the victim,” the CSI said. “And a couple of short, dark, wiry hairs. We’ll keep them on file. If you bring in a suspect, we can compare for a match.”
-

“Any footprints?”

“No. This guy obviously knew what he was doing and covered his tracks.”

Dante gave a clipped nod. Of course a demon wouldn’t have fingerprints. He would also cover his tracks, especially if he had the ability to orb or fly.

A thin, balding CSI tech with red sideburns approached him. “I found something odd.”
-

Dante checked the man’s nametag: Horace Ford. “What is it, Ford?”

He crooked a thumb for Dante to follow him to the lab. When they arrived at his station, Ford indicated a computer printout. “The victim’s blood type is AB positive. But when the killer bit her, he also left DNA in his saliva.”

“DNA? That’s good news.”

Ford rubbed a hand over the top of his slick head. “Yeah, but that’s what’s so odd. The DNA is human, but there are also genetic markers that indicate an animal’s DNA. In all my years of study, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Dante cursed beneath his breath. “You’re sure? Maybe an animal smelled blood after the killer left and came up and licked her?”

Ford’s look was skeptical. “I suppose that’s possible, but I ran several tests and the properties appear to be from the same saliva.” Ford leaned against the counter with his arms folded. “Tell me, Sheriff, what in the hell are we dealing with?”

“I don’t know,” Dante said matter-of-factly. “Let me know if you find anything else. And don’t share this information with anyone, especially the press. We don’t want to create panic.”
-

Suspicion flared in Ford’s eyes, but he nodded.

Unfortunately, the lab results had just confirmed his own fears, that the killer wasn’t totally human. Now he just had to figure out what kind of demon he was.

Then he’d track him down and destroy him.

Marlena studied her newest patient, Prudence Puckett, a twenty-seven-year-old brunette who obviously suffered from low self-esteem triggered by childhood trauma. She’d also complained of hearing voices, which disturbed her even more. “Tell me about your childhood, Prudence.”

Prudence touched the scar on her left cheek. “My mother threw a pot of hot water on me when I was ten.”

Marlena swallowed, determined not to react. She couldn’t imagine a mother hurting her own child in such a cruel manner.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “That must have been very painful.”

Prudence twisted her hands together. “She said I had the devil in me, that I was a bad girl and had to be punished.”

“No child deserves that kind of punishment.”

Prudence chewed on her bottom lip. “I played in her makeup. I just wanted to be pretty like her, but she said I’d never be pretty.” Prudence angled her head sideways, then lowered her voice. “And she made sure of it.”

Compassion swelled in Marlena’s chest. “You’re not ugly, Prudence,” Marlena said softly. “You have beauty and strength inside you.”

Prudence shook her head, her tone suddenly brittle. “I have bad thoughts, Dr. Bender. Evil thoughts about hurting others.”

Marlena frowned. “Hurting others? Who do you want to hurt?”

Prudence looked down into her hands as if she was staring into a mirror. “Men,” she whispered hoarsely. “The men who don’t want me.”

Marlena crossed one leg over the other. “Everyone gets rejected, Prudence.”

Rage and years of self-consciousness racked the young woman’s expression. “You don’t,” Prudence said shrilly. “You’re beautiful and can have any man you want.”

She pressed a hand over her chest, pounding it with her fist. “Men look at me like I’m some kind of freak. Some of them even pity me.” Her voice broke. “But most of them turn their heads away as if it hurts their eyes to look at me.”

Marlena let the bitter words settle before she responded. “Let’s talk about your rage and anger toward these men.”

Prudence pulled her scarf around her head, her heels clicking as she strode briskly toward the door. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Talking does no good.”

Marlena caught her before she exited, wanting to calm her before she left. “Prudence, promise me that you won’t act on any of those feelings. That you won’t hurt yourself or anyone else.”

The glacial look of hatred in Prudence’s eyes sent a frisson of fear along Marlena’s spine. But Prudence didn’t reply.

She rushed out the door, leaving the scent of her despair and rage lingering behind.

Dante strode into his Office, then the conference room to meet with the search party he’d organized. Six officers from the county and neighboring counties in all, each eager to help find the man who’d killed Jordie.

Dante knew they’d be at a disadvantage when they went out, that he couldn’t share his demon theory, but they needed a manhunt now, and he had no friends to assist him.

“Any luck with Jordie’s phone records?” Dobbs asked.

Dante shook his head. “Nothing stands out.”

“How about Daumer’s?”

“Just a couple of calls to BloodCore,”

Dante tacked the photos of the crime scene, of Jordie’s body, and of the shrine Daumer had built on the white-board in the -room. “This is what we’re dealing with, an obsessive-compulsive psychotic who will kill again if we don’t stop him.”

Rumblings of anger and outrage echoed through the room, and Dante held up his hand. “Listen, guys, we’re not here to form a lynch mob; just bring in the guy.”

In fact, he wanted him alive so he could question him, determine if he was working for someone else, a higher power.

If Father Gio was behind his crimes.

Dante turned to the county building planner, a pudgy man with a scruffy mustache named Hinkley, who’d brought maps of the area. “We can’t possibly know where all the abandoned cabins and buildings in these mountains are,” Dante said. “But this should give us a place to start.”

With a red marker, the building planner stood and divided the area into quadrants. “There are some old chicken houses to the northeast,” he said, then circled them. “Several old warehouses to the south. A group of cabins that were partially built by the river on the east, but the construction was brought to a halt when the builder discovered the land was a sacred Native American burial ground. He claims the land was haunted.”

Dante didn’t doubt it. He’d beard the spirits himself.

The door opened and, to his surprise, Sol BlackPaw entered, a gritty look in his eyes. BlackPaw was head of a werewolf clan and the last person he’d expected to show up. “I heard you need help,” he said in a deep growl.

Dante nodded, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Was he here to spy on them and make sure Dante didn’t find the demon?

“Take a seat. We’re having a briefing now?’

The chair scraped the wooden floor as BlackPaw slid it back and sank his big bulk into it.

Hinkley tapped his knuckles on the map again to get their attention. “The fourth area to check would be these hills,” he said. “There are rumors of old caves and tunnels in the area. Maybe some old mineshafts, but they’re dangerous.”
-

He and BlackPaw exchanged a knowing look. More dangerous than they realized. The underground tunnels provided safety for the demons.

“Legends say monsters roam those tunnels,” the planner said with a sardonic laugh. “Don’t know of many people who’d have the guts to go inside, but if Daumer is desperate, he might.”

“It’s a little far if he’s traveling on foot,” Dante pointed out, then gestured to the tunnels. “But I’ll search those.”

He gestured toward his deputy and the man beside him. “Let’s travel in teams. You two search the chicken houses.” He flicked his hand -to the next two deputies. “Check out the old cabins.”
-

The next deputy seated at the table drummed his fingers on the wooden surface. “I guess that means we check those warehouses.”

“Right,” Dante said. “And keep me posted if you find anything.”

The deputies filed out, but BlackPaw remained seated, his big paws clasped on the table.

“What are you really doing here?” Dante asked.

BlackPaw grunted. “Mortimer said you’ve been asking about the underground.”

Dante gritted his teeth. “Yeah. I’d like a truce, to keep the demons from feeding on the locals.”

“My pack doesn’t,” BlackPaw said. “But there’s talk about a new pack moving into town. There will be trouble?’

“You think you can handle them?”

“We’re preparing.” He paused. “There’s more. There’s rumors about Zion creating an anarchy,” BlackPaw said in a low voice. “He’s ordered his minions to create chaos across the world and was responsible for sending the god of fear to Eerie to kill those women a few months ago. He was behind those attacks on the southern cities last month. Talk is the elements will surface as major players.”

Dante cursed. So the elements would return—his old enemies. “Have you heard from Father Gio?”

“He’s here, but lying low for now.”

“Probably formulating a plan.” Dante hesitated, studying BlackPaw. “Why are you telling me this?”

BlackPaw barked a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not the welcome wagon.” He stood, his leather jacket crinkling as be moved. “But Mortimer and I and a few of the others have settled here, made cover lives in the town, and we’d like to keep it that way.”

Without another word, he turned and strode out the door. Dante watched him go with a mixture of distrust and shock. He’d been on his own for so long he hadn’t expected to have another demon on his side.

Then again, BlackPaw could have bad a secret agenda for meeting with him.

For all he knew he was working -with Father Gio, trying to throw him off by winning his trust.

But he didn’t trust anyone. Trusting meant letting down your guard.

And that could get him killed.