Lisa Jackson's Bentz & Montoya Bundle: Hot Blooded, Cold Blooded, Shiver, Absolute Fear, Lost Souls, Malice, & an Exclusive Extended Excerpt From Devious (198 page)

CHAPTER 15

K
risti, damn her tight little ass and sassy in-your-face attitude, had gotten to him.

No two ways about it, Jay thought, disgusted with himself.

Maybe Gayle had been right all along.

Maybe he’d never gotten over Kristi Bentz.

“Fool,” he muttered as he sat in his desk chair in the lab in New Orleans. Ever since leaving her apartment last night, he’d been thinking about her, worried that she was getting into something dangerous. So he’d had to do something.

Instead of tearing out the old bathtub and starting to fix the plumbing at Aunt Colleen’s house, Jay had rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn Saturday and, with Bruno at his side in the pickup, had driven like a bat out of hell back to his house in New Orleans. Once he’d dropped the dog off, he’d driven to the crime lab and the computer at his desk, where he’d sifted through all of the police databases he could, accessing information on the missing coeds.

And he hadn’t stopped there.

Over the course of the day, he’d called a couple of friends who worked for the Baton Rouge Police, a sheriff for the parish of East Baton Rouge, and even an old college buddy who was working for the Louisiana State Police. If they were off duty, he then tracked them down by their cell phones, interrupting their days. He figured it didn’t matter. He was going to get to the bottom of Kristi’s obsession come hell or high water.

Because she’s yours,
his mind taunted.
You’ve been obsessed with that woman from the first time you set eyes on her, and if you think you’re doing this for any reason other than to score points with her, guess again.

His jaw tightened and he pushed the thought aside. Besides, it wasn’t true. He would have checked into any of his students’ concerns. Maybe not with quite so much fervor, or he might have passed the information along to the proper authorities and then stepped back, but he would have taken some action.

Face it, McKnight, you’re pussy-whipped.

He refused to listen to the voice as he worked in his office, which was not much more than a closet with a window, but it had a computer terminal and access to all of the police databases. “All I need is here,” he said aloud, though it was a lie. What he’d like was a beer. Instead, he settled for a semi-chilled can of iced tea from the vending machine and snacked on peanut butter cups and red licorice.

At least it was quiet here, the weekend shift busy in other areas of the building, away from his small office.

Everyone he’d phoned was willing to talk to him and all agreed to call him back if they found any information on the four girls, but so far no one had offered up anything he didn’t already know.

To a one, the police officers believed Dionne Harmon, Monique DesCartes, Tara Atwater, and most recently Rylee Ames were troubled girls who had just taken off. If their credit or debit cards hadn’t been used, it was surmised that they’d found a different money source. Probably dealing drugs or prostituting themselves for cash. Maybe gambling? Mooching off some low-life friends?

The only glimmer of hope Jay received was from his friend Raymond “Sonny” Crawley, with whom he’d gone to college and who now worked in the Homicide Department at Baton Rouge.

“Jeeeezus, McKnight,” Sonny had said when he’d answered his cell phone. “What happened? You been talkin’ to Laurent or somethin’? That’s the trouble with that damned woman, she won’t let this thing go, I’m tellin’ ya. No bodies. No crime scene, but she seems to think the girls were abducted or killed or God only knows what. Trust me, we got all the work up here we need without creatin’ any more, but she’s not convinced. Pissin’ everyone off.”

“Who’s Laurent?” Jay asked, scribbling a note to himself as he stared at the computer screen with the picture of Rylee Ames, the girl who was supposed to have been in his class this term.

“Portia Laurent’s a junior detective with the department who has a bug up her butt about those girls. Hell, we all want to find them, but sheeeit, there just isn’t a case. Not yet. But you know how those newbies are. They tend to get fired up about any little thing. Not that I’m makin’ light of the situation, but there just isn’t much we can do about it until we come up with a body, murder weapon, suspect, or witness. So why the hell are you interested?”

“Just curious,” Jay hedged. He’d already decided to keep Kristi’s name out of it, unless he determined that she was in any kind of danger. The fact that she lived at the address of one of the missing girls bothered him. “I work up there, part-time, teach a class on forensics, and there’s been a lot of talk about what happened to the girls.”

“Don’t I know it?” Sonny agreed. “Every time it’s a slow news day around here, I get some reporter nosin’ around, tryin’ to stir up trouble, make news if there isn’t any. Take that Belinda Del Ray from WMTA…what a pain in the ass she is. Good-lookin’, I’ll grant you that. And she uses it, let me tell you. But she’s like a damned pitbull with a bone, don’t ya know? Won’t take no for an answer and keeps pokin’ around even when we try to steer her to the PIO. But she’s not interested in the official statement from the Public Information Officer, no siree, not Belinda. She wants more than we’re willing to give. As far as the department’s concerned: no bodies, no case. But some reporters don’t know how to butt out.”

“Just doing their jobs,” Jay said, playing devil’s advocate. He was ambivalent about the press. A necessary evil. Often useful. Sometimes a real pain. Especially the aggressive reporters hungry to make a name for themselves.

“Humph,” Sonny snorted. “Obviously you haven’t dealt with too many reporters.”

This was going nowhere. “So tell me about Detective Laurent. Why isn’t she buying the company line?”

“Fuck, I don’t know what the hell Laurent thinks. You’d have to ask her. Oh, hell, I got another call comin’ in.”

He clicked off and Jay stared at the notepad on his desk. Portia Laurent. He definitely wanted to hear what she had to say. He circled her name, tore off the sheet, stuffed it into a pocket of his jeans, and settled in to work.

By the end of the day, chewing on his last brittle rope of red licorice, he didn’t know a whole helluva lot more than he had last night. Just enough, though, that he was starting to believe that Kristi was onto something. As for the whole vampire thing, he was surprised how many people bought into it. Not only books, movies, television, online gaming, but there was an entire Internet culture, linked, he was certain, to real people.

A cult?

Maybe.

Centered at All Saints?

He hoped to hell not.

He thought about all the missing girls and Dr. Grotto’s class. He’d heard from a few members of the staff he’d met about the guy’s theatrical way of presenting the class, the fake fangs and contacts that covered his irises and made his eyes appear flat and black. Without a soul. Inhuman. But no one was worried about it. It was drama. Flair. And the students loved it. The fact that he was taller than most with thick dark hair and penetrating eyes didn’t hurt the image either.

Jay rubbed the back of his neck and rotated his head to relieve the tension, all the while staring at the computer screen, where the face of Rylee Ames met his gaze. Young. Beautiful. Vibrant. At least in the head shot. But obviously messed up.

Runaway? Or abduction? Possible murder victim…?

Had she been a part of some private cult?

Was Grotto into it? Hell, if so, he was flaunting his part, wasn’t he? Really out in the open with this vampire crap. How stupid would that be, to point a finger at himself? Or was it Grotto’s ego? Did he really think he was invincible? If so, the intense teacher wouldn’t be the first. Jay chewed hard on the tasteless candy, then tossed the wrapper into his trash can, all the while thinking about his colleague at the school. Maybe it was time for a background check on Grotto, a deeper check than the university had made. For that matter, what about some of the other professors and department heads? Or members of the administration? From what he knew about cults, they crossed all sorts of social barriers. He had the resources, he decided, and there was no reason not to use them. All he had to do was cross reference names and addresses. Some of the information would be public, other private. He’d go as far as he could without breaking the law.

And then what?

What if you need to dig deeper?

“Hell,” he muttered. He would damned well cross that slippery bridge when he came to it.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

Shifting on his chair, Jay retrieved the phone and saw Gayle’s home phone number flash onto his screen. Inwardly groaning, he considered not answering, but knew that was only postponing the inevitable.

He had tried to be kind.

It hadn’t worked.

The woman wasn’t taking the hint.

“Hey,” he answered, hating the upbeat sound of his voice. It sounded as phony as his feelings.

“How are you?” Her voice too was sunny, a little breathless.

“Busy.”

“Always.” She sighed and he imagined her face turning petulant. God, how had he ever thought it was cute? “I suppose you’re in Baton Rouge and don’t have time for a drink or anything?”

“Afraid not, Gayle.”

“I could head up that way.”

He didn’t tell her he was in New Orleans. He didn’t intend to spend the night here, anyway, and he definitely didn’t intend to spend it with Gayle. “I’m working.”

“Well,” she said, and he imagined her walking across the plush carpet of her home, probably standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows to stare out at the night. The suggestion wasn’t unexpected. “You won’t be working all the damned night, now will you? I could stay over….”

If it wasn’t so damned sad, it would be funny. Gayle, living in the lap of luxury, spending the night in Aunt Colleen’s torn-up bungalow without any hot water or much else.

“Conditions are rustic. I sleep in a sleeping bag on a cot, Gayle.”

“Cozy,” she said, deliberately misreading what he meant. “I could get a hotel. You could stay in something a little less primitive for a night.”

“I don’t think so.” He leaned back in his desk chair again, his weight making it squeak in protest as he placed a foot on his desk. He thought of Kristi, the difference between the two women, and the fact that he’d never really felt the same way about Gayle. Not even close. Gayle had been right about that, her feminine instincts honed.

“You’re avoiding me,” she said with a little pout in her voice.

Jay steeled himself. There was just no way to sugarcoat this. “I can’t make time for you right now.”

He heard her swift intake of breath. “Wow. I guess I didn’t expect that. I thought we were going to be friends.”

Outside the door of his office, he heard footsteps and soft conversation as two colleagues passed. Further away a phone rang.

“I think we have a different opinion on just what being friends is.”

She charged, “You don’t want me to come up there.”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea.” There was a pause. He didn’t really know how to do this without hurting her, then decided he had to be cruel to be kind. “Gayle, I don’t think we should see each other again. Not even as friends.”

“Why’re you doing this?” she cried, appalled.

“We both agreed it’s over.”

“Your idea. Not mine!”

“You weren’t happy.”

“I could be.”

“Oh hell, Gayle. It would never have worked. We both know it.”

“
You
wouldn’t let it.”

“I’m not going to fight about it.”

“You bastard,” she said, her voice switching tones. “It’s Kristi Bentz again, isn’t it? I knew it. That’s why you went up there in the first place. Because she was going to school up there—surprised I know that?”

No, he wasn’t. That was the problem. “It’s over, Gayle.”

“For the love of God, Jay, will you never learn?” Her voice rose and once again he heard someone walk past his door as the phone momentarily cut out, heralding an incoming call.

“I gotta go. Another call.”

“You’re seeing her! Goddamn it, Jay, I was right, wasn’t I? The least you could do is admit it. You’re still in love with her!”

“Good-bye, Gayle,” he said, and clicked off, but her accusation rang through his head, echoing and sharp:
You’re still in love with her.

“Damned straight,” he said to himself. Okay, there it was. He was still fascinated as all get-out with Kristi. More than ever. “Shit.”

He clicked to the other call. “Hello?”

“McKnight?” Rick Bentz’s voice caught him off guard.

“Yeah.”

“I need a favor.” No beating around the bush with Bentz.

“What?”

“Kristi needs her bike. If I run it up there she’ll accuse me of butting into her personal life. I know you’re teaching a class at All Saints and that you’ve got a truck. Maybe you could run it up to her.”

Sometimes fate had a funny sense of humor, Jay thought. “Sure.” He considered confiding in the detective; after all, Bentz was Kristi’s father and she seemed poised to get herself into trouble. Thinking of her, he held his tongue. For the moment.

They made arrangements for Jay to pick up Kristi’s fifteen-speed at the station later in the day and Jay didn’t mention anything about the fact that Kristi was his student, that she’d confided in him, that she was digging into vampire cults, or that Jay intended to see more of her.

He hung up and wondered if he’d made the right choice. What would he tell Bentz if Kristi got herself into real trouble? Danger? What if she ended up abducted? How would he feel then?

He swore under his breath. Kristi would kill him if she found out he confided in her father and that would be the final straw. They would never reconcile.

“Shit.” So that’s where all this was going. What a mess! He clicked off the computer and got to his feet. Maybe it was time to head back to Baton Rouge.

Nothing!

Kristi didn’t find one damned thing in Tara’s belongings that helped her figure out what had happened to the girl.

“Damn it all to hell.” Rocking back on her heels, Kristi studied Tara’s things, all of which were strewn over the tarp she’d laid across the floor. If she’d hoped the jewelry box had contained a necklace with a vial of blood attached to it, she’d been sorely disappointed. If she’d thought she’d find a treasure map leading to a secret meeting place of a vampire cult, she’d been wrong there, too.