Out of the Night (8 page)

He saw by her expression that this was serious. "Okay."

"Are you coming?" Dirk called back to them.

Mac, who'd been staring down into Lanie's face, looked over at him. "I forgot my shoes. You go on; I'll be right behind you."

Dirk nodded and, along with Dr. Sanchez, left the lab. Mac turned to Lanie, looking at her expectantly. Suddenly she seemed unsure of herself, so to give her time to collect her thoughts, he located his shoes and socks and put them on. When he finished, he found her watching him.

"Well?"

She looked at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I thought we already went over that." He started to feel irritated. "I'm fine. Now, can I go?"

"Mac, wait. I wondered if you felt, well, different somehow?"

He shook his head. "Yeah, it was a life-changing experience for me." His tone dripped sarcasm. "I'm not the man I was."

"Stop it," Lanie snapped. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what the hell do you mean, Lanie?"

She ran her fingers through her hair, clearly worried. "I found my father's journal. In it, he talks about the work he was doing here. He was studying a creature—El Chupacabra. Have you ever heard of it?"

"No."

"It's kind of like a vampire, but whereas a vampire is human, the origins of El Chupacabra are speculative. Some believe they are aliens stranded on Earth from some earlier visit. Others think they are the result of a NASA alien/animal experiment gone awry. Still another theory is that they are transdimensional spirits or dark angels that manifest into physical form while in our dimension, children of Lucifer—"

Mac held up his hand to stop her. "Save me the lecture and get to the point."

She huffed out a breath. "Okay. Based on what I read, I believe my father and that other man—Burton?—were killed by the chupacabra they were studying. And I think the chupacabra was that thing in the cage—the gargoyle."

"So you're saying that I was attacked and almost killed by a statue?"

"No, no. It's only a statue during the day, while the sun is up. It comes to life when darkness falls, which, if you recall, is when we went inside the cage."

Mac stared at her. "I'm willing to believe that whatever attacked me is the same animal that killed your father and Burton—and probably those other men as well."

Lanie shook her head. "The chupacabra didn't kill those men," she said quietly. "Remember the handprint we saw?"

"So what, exactly, are you saying?"

"I think that when the chupacabra killed my father and Burton, it somehow turned them into vampires and
they
killed those men."

Mac stared at her. "Are you hearing yourself?"

She shook her head in resignation. "I know it doesn't sound sane, but I think there's a connection."

"Look, all of this is speculation. I want to see what's on the tape."

He started for the door, but stopped when she didn't follow.

"That creature also attacked you," she pointed out softly.

He smiled, touched that she cared. "And as you can see, I'm fine."

"That's what worries me."

He rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

"Mac," she called after him, "the bodies of my father and Burton are missing."

He stopped. "Missing? How?"

"They're gone. According to Lieutenant Davis, they're nowhere on the premises."

She looked at him expectantly and he snorted. "Honey, all that proves is that son of a bitch Burton has gotten away with murder, faked his own death, and disappeared—all so he won't have to face a prison term. Now, I'm going to watch this tape, and I think you should stay here. I suspect it'll get pretty gruesome."

He left the room and headed for the front of the building, finding that not even his bad leg bothered him as much as usual. A few seconds later he heard Lanie's footsteps as she rushed to catch up to him, but neither spoke as they continued through the hallways and made their way through the double doors to the front desk.

Mac was glad to see that the bodies had been removed and the area cleaned. Dirk stood with Sanchez and two others behind a man seated in a chair at the security desk. All attention was focused on the monitor before them. At the sound of their approach, Dirk looked back. Then his eyes fell on Lanie.

"Ms. Weber, I don't—"

Mac held up his hand to stop Dirk midsentence. "I already told her not to come. Let her stay."

Dirk studied his face and then Lanie's, perhaps wondering how hard Mac had tried to convince her. Then he nodded. "Suit yourself."

Mac put a hand at the small of Lanie's back to guide her to the front of the group. Awareness prickled through him at the contact, but he tried to ignore it. His focus needed to be on the monitor.

Standing behind Lanie, looking over her shoulder, he saw that the screen was split into quarters, with a different part of the building appearing in each of the four sections.

The picture was a blur with figures flickering in and out of view as it fast-forwarded through the days.

Periodically, the man operating the controls would slow the recording enough that Mac could see the date and time stamp in the lower right-hand corner. When it read 11:56 in the evening on the day before yesterday, the recording was allowed to proceed.

"Okay," the tech at the desk announced. "This is it."

Thankfully, there was no noise, but what they saw was bad enough. The double doors flew open as four workers, clearly terrified, burst through. Two dark forms, moving so fast that they appeared almost as shadows, followed them.

Mac watched as the shadow-figures caught each man in turn, brought him close, and held him in a macabre embrace, mouth pressed to their victim's neck. When they finished with one, the attackers flung the lifeless body away and grabbed another.

Mac saw the security guard, moving too slowly to be effective, pull his gun and fire. The dark forms did not falter, but when the last of the four workers lay dead, one of the two forms attacked the guard, whose face was turned toward the camera. His expression of stark terror was undeniable, and when his mouth opened, Mac was again grateful that they couldn't hear the man's primal scream.

After discarding the guard's body, the dark forms lingered for the briefest of moments before disappearing through the double doors.

Within seconds, the grisly images replayed in the lab. This time, when the bodies were discarded and the dark forms left, they did not reappear elsewhere—they simply disappeared.

The monitor went black as the group stood in stunned silence. Mac spared a glance at Lanie to make sure she was okay. Her jaw was clinched tight, and he thought her breathing sounded erratic, but she was tough, he decided, and would be okay.

"I'd like to see it again," he said to the technician. "But can we watch it in real time?" He wanted to get a better look at the two dark figures.

The tech glanced over his shoulder. "That
was
real time."

Damn. A
bad feeling stole over him, but he refused to focus on it. "Can you slow it down, then?"

The tech nodded and, turning back to the desk, typed in commands at the keyboard. A second later, the entire horrifying scene replayed in slow motion, but this time when the dark forms came into view, it was evident that they were human. Mac watched closely.

"Stop the recording," he ordered after a second. "Can ; you rewind a bit? Okay, now go forward, but slow it way down." The tech typed in the commands to comply, and Mac studied the action on the screen. "Freeze."

The image froze and the two attackers' faces were almost facing the camera.

"Can you zoom in?" Dirk asked.

The faces seemed to jump out at the group, fuzzy but identifiable, and he felt his own blood run cold. Beside him, Lanie gasped. On the screen, bloodied yet smiling, was Lance Burton. Standing next to him was an older man who Mac assumed was Dr. Weber.

He'd seen enough. Turning, he gently guided Lanie away from the group. She might have been in shock because she allowed him to steer her outside where the bright afternoon sun could warm them and chase away the chills still racing along his spine.

"Now do you believe me?"

It wasn't the first thing he'd expected her to say, or do, in reaction to what they'd seen. He gave her a speculative look before letting his gaze drift off to stare sightlessly at the trees.

"Honey, I already knew Burton was psycho—and this isn't the first time he's murdered innocent people to get what he wants. However, it's the first time we caught him on tape."

Eyeing her skeptically, he considered how much to tell her. "Burton and I served together in the Navy; specifically, we were members of the same SEAL team. Burton was good, but not the best. He was promoted several times to a higher rank, but never as high as
he
felt he deserved. After a while, I think it got harder for him to accept that he wasn't leadership material in the military's eyes.

"We started out as equals—friends—but when I became his commanding officer, he didn't like it. The 'accidents' started out small, and frankly, it never occurred to me that they were due to anything other than bad luck." Mac traveled back in his mind to those earlier days. "I should have paid closer attention. Maybe I would have recognized the symptoms, before…"

He took a deep breath, aware that Lanie was listening and grateful that she didn't rush him or ask a lot of questions. "We were on assignment in Iraq. In and out—that's all we had to do, but the mission was compromised from the start. The loyalties of the men in my unit were severely tested by Burton, who seemed bent on running the show his way. He managed to divide the group.

"We were on our way in when all hell broke loose and we were ambushed. I lost seven men—ironically, the seven whose loyalty happened to be to me, not to Burton. I took a bullet in the leg. It shattered my femur and subsequently ended my military career. Only two men knew our route—me and my second in command." He shook his head, wondering exactly why he was sharing this with her. They'd only met—how long ago? Twenty-four hours?

"And Burton was your second in command." The softly spoken statement drifted to him above the sound of hundreds of insects buzzing in the trees.

"Yeah." He hadn't realized she'd come to stand so close to him until he felt her hand lightly touch his arm. Normally, he wasn't the touchy-feely type, but he didn't find her nearness intrusive.

"Are you sure it was Burton who betrayed you?"

He gave a humorless laugh. "I've asked myself that a million times over the past year. Until recently, I had no proof. Then a month ago, Rogers, one of the survivors, came forward, supposedly in a fit of conscience, and admitted that he'd overheard Burton planning the whole thing and hadn't tried to stop him. Unfortunately, Rogers died in a car wreck before anything could be proved, but his statement was enough to warrant a formal inquiry, which happens to be scheduled for next week. That's why I found Burton's death so timely." The story was more complicated than that, but he didn't feel like going into it.

"If Burton was under investigation, then what was he doing down here in the first place?"

Mac gave a rueful smile. "You have to understand, things had not progressed so far that Burton was being accused of anything. The first step was the upcoming inquiry. All the surviving members of the team were being brought in—including Burton. His backup would have flown down any day to relieve him of duty so he could fly to D.C."

Mac saw the genuine concern in her eyes—her sympathy and understanding—and hated himself for what he had to do next. "What I don't know is the extent to which your father is involved in Burton's scheme."

His words were clearly unexpected, and for a moment she simply stared at him. "How dare you," she finally said, her voice filling with indignation. "My father is—was—a good, honest man. He's a victim of whatever is going on here, and I'll thank you not to forget it." Then she stormed off.

Lanie needed a chance to think—a chance to absorb everything Mac had told her, and a chance to cool down. She kept reminding herself that he didn't know her father and therefore, his accusation was to be expected, but that fine of logic wasn't comforting. His suspicions hurt and left her feeling betrayed, which, if she was honest with herself, was a projection of her own guilt. In the privacy of her own thoughts, hadn't she also wondered about the extent of her father's involvement? Because he
was
involved. She had seen him on the tape. He
had
killed. The only question that remained was, had he gotten mixed up in Burton's scheme voluntarily?

No—absolutely not. Burton might be psychotic, but her father wasn't. He would never fake his own death or voluntarily participate in the murder of others. Yet, how could she explain his appearance on the film? The two forms had moved across the room too fast for human speed, killed innocent victims, and drank their blood. It made no sense. If Burton was hoping to quietly disappear to avoid the investigation, he was certainly doing everything he could to draw attention to himself.

Which brought her back to her earlier theory.

Lanie turned to pace the length of the building and saw that while she'd been lost in thought, Lieutenant Davis had appeared. Mac had probably sent him to keep an eye on her and make sure she was safe. Irritation flitted through her. She didn't need a babysitter. She'd never needed a babysitter.

When she was growing up, her father hadn't believed in babysitters, opting, instead, to drag her across the country with him, enlisting her help with his research when it became apparent that she was more computer literate than he. She'd grown to love her hours of digging on the Internet for obscure facts and information regarding various cryptids, the animals her father sought to find. She enjoyed the challenge of proving they existed, which was the reason why the idea that vampires existed wasn't that far-fetched to her. Especially now. If the chupacabra—believed by most to be as fictitious as the Yeti, Big Foot, or even the Loch Ness monster—was real, then why couldn't vampires be real as well?