Sophia (13 page)

“My
name
,” she said. “Is Cynthia Leighton. Cyn, if you prefer.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Leighton,” he drawled, letting every ounce of his Georgian upbringing play with the syllables. He found most Northerners assumed anyone with a drawl was dimwitted, and he wasn’t above using it to his advantage.

The Leighton woman’s mouth curved up slightly. “Don’t bother, Murphy,” she said dryly. “I’ve got friends in the South. Good friends. And besides, I know who you are.”

Colin looked her up and down, narrowing his eyes. She probably played that killer body the same way he played his accent, and to a hell of a lot better effect, too. So who the hell was she? “What can I do for you, Leighton?” he asked bluntly, his accent still present, but considerably less so.

“I’m a private investigator. Very private. In fact, I have only one client, and he’s sleeping at a compound not far from here.”

Colin let his surprise show on his face. “You’re with the vampires?”

“I am. And I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

“I know a whole bunch of trucks drove through this town two nights ago.”

“And you were there when Mariane was attacked.”

“Afterward,” he amended sharply. “By the time I arrived, whoever had attacked her was gone.”

“Forgive me,” she said, and seemed to mean it. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. Wei Chen and Loren have both vouched for you and your honesty.”

“Is Mariane okay? I wanted to call an ambulance, but Jeremy—”

“Mariane’s doing well, considering. Jeremy taking her to the compound really was the best course, Mister Murphy.”

“Colin,” he said. “No need for formality between us, is there?”

She grinned, the first honest, uncalculated thing she’d done so far. “Formalities aside, then. I’m here because I need to see the crime scenes—all three of them—in daylight.”

Colin frowned. “Crime scenes?”

She tilted her head at him. “I thought we’d moved past this, Murphy.”

He shook his head, puzzled. “No, I mean, I understand you want to see Jeremy’s place. I don’t think he’s been back there since it happened, but, crime scenes, as in plural?”

She studied him intently. “You don’t know,” she said, making it a statement not a question.

“Know what?” he snapped.

“About Marco and
Preston
.”

“Marco? What about Marco?”

“You knew him?”

“
Knew
him? Why are you talking in past tense? Has something happened to Marco?”

He saw a flash of sympathy in her eyes. “Marco’s dead,” she said quietly. “And so’s
Preston
. Both of them murdered, presumably by the same people who attacked Mariane the other night.”

Colin felt a hard stab of grief, his jaw tightening as he stared at her. “When?”

“Two days before Mariane was attacked. Both Marco and
Preston
on the same night. I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“No.” He inhaled deeply, looking away from her too perceptive gaze.

“You were friends?”

“With Marco, not
Preston
. He had horses and my dad’s a trainer back in
Georgia
. Marco ordered some equipment from a tack shop a while back, and I saw him loading the stuff into his truck. We rode together sometimes.” He shook his head. “Dammit. Are you sure he’s dead?”

“Very,” she said, nodding once. “There’s no mistaking something like this.”

“Fuck.”

“What about
Preston
?”

“I didn’t know him,” he repeated. “Marco mentioned him once or twice, but that’s it.”

“Did you know where they lived?”

“Marco, for sure. Like I said, we rode together—his horses, I don’t have any here. Wait, what happened to the horses? He loved those animals.”

“They’ve been taken care of. They were sent to a ranch in
Wyoming
,” she added at his skeptical look. “Vampires have no interest in horse flesh or blood.”

Colin shrugged unapologetically. “What I know about vampires wouldn’t fill a single page, Leighton.”

She gave him a half smile. “My knowledge is somewhat more extensive. I’d like to see all three crime scenes. Can you take me there?”

“Sure. I’ve got a roster inside. Let me look up
Preston
’s address and we’ll get going.”

“A roster? It lists everyone?”

“Everyone I know of,” he said over his shoulder as he strode into the small office.

“Who has access to something like that?”

Colin stopped and looked at her. “No one but me, I guess. It’s on a computer, a laptop I take home with me every night. Why?”

“From what Jeremy’s said, the two of them were pretty open about where they lived. They were new to the area, and Mariane even shopped here in town. But Marco and
Preston
shouldn’t have been that easy to find. If someone got hold of your roster there—”

“Darlin’, this is a small town. Everyone knows everything,” he muttered, not looking at her as he brought up the file on his computer.

“Apparently not,
stud
, since
you
didn’t even know Marco and
Preston
were dead.”

Colin looked up, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “You’re right,” he agreed finally. “And I’m sorry about the
darlin.
It’s a habit.”

“Yeah, okay. Truce. We’ve got bigger fish to fry anyway.”

Colin stood and grabbed his windbreaker from the back of the chair. “Damn right. There’s something going on in this town, and I intend to find out what it is.”

* * * *

They took his Tahoe and headed for Jeremy’s place first. It was closest to town and they passed right by Colin’s house on the way, which meant he had the chance to stop and grab some more firepower.

“Planning to invade a small country there, Murphy?” Leighton asked, eyeing the Benelli as he laid it on the backseat. He’d invited her into his house, but she’d chosen to wait by the car, muttering something about “throwing fuel on the fire.” Whatever the hell that meant.

“I don’t know about you, Leighton.” He closed the back door of the truck and opened the front. “But when I’m dealing with vamps, I like to go armed for bear.”

“No argument from me,” she said easily. “Although my personal choice of weapon focuses more on the load rather than the delivery system.”

He gave her a puzzled look as he slid back into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition key. “I thought you worked with these guys.”

“I do.”

“Yeah, so?” He whipped into a fast 180 turn and headed up his driveway to the main road.

She gave him a sideways smile. “Not all vampires are created equal, Murphy. There are all different kinds, just like the rest of us.”

Colin shrugged and turned onto the highway toward Jeremy’s. “Makes sense, I suppose, since they all
started
the same way as the rest of us, right?”

“That’s very enlightened of you.”

“Yeah, well, I do what I can, ma’am,” he said with an exaggerated drawl.

She laughed, but sobered almost immediately, fingers tapping nervously on the door frame next to her. “Vamps didn’t do this, though,” she said thoughtfully. “It happened in daylight, for beginners. You have any idea which of your fellow citizens might be a little less enlightened than you are?”

Colin shook his head, frowning. “When this thing with Mariane happened, I figured it had to be someone from outside. We get a lot of people passing through—tourists, people looking to commune with nature, loggers. This is a small town and it just doesn’t sit right that someone I know could have done what was done to that little girl. Besides, judging by what I saw in that house and . . . well, Mariane’s condition, I’m pretty sure there was more than one of them there that day. To my way of thinking, that makes it even less likely that it was locals. People around here know Mariane and they like her.” He slowed slightly, making the turn onto Jeremy’s drive. “But now you tell me that Marco and this other guy
Preston
were killed, and it makes me wonder how well I really know the folks I live with.”

“This is a pretty wild area,” Leighton offered. “Could be all sorts of people hanging around in the woods and you’d never know it.”

He gave her a sharp look as he pulled up in front of Jeremy’s house. “You know something I don’t?

She scoffed lightly and gave him a toothy grin. “Probably all sorts of things.” She showed him both hands and said, “I’m going to check my weapon. Don’t panic, okay?”

It was his turn to scoff as she pulled a Glock 17 from her shoulder rig, checked the magazine and worked the slide before securing it back beneath her jacket.

“Panic isn’t a word in my vocabulary, dar’ … Leighton,” he said with a shit-eating grin of his own.

“Good to know,” she said, opening her door. “That might come in handy in the next few days.”

Walking around to the back of the house, he saw that someone had boarded up the broken windows and replaced the shattered door with a makeshift replacement and a heavy padlock. Leighton produced a key to the lock, which told him it was probably Jeremy who’d arranged the temporary repairs, or at least someone who cared about him and Mariane.

Inside, she barely looked at the room where Mariane had been savaged, heading instead for Jeremy’s office, where she looked around, carefully examining what to his eye was the utter destruction left behind. Furniture had been tossed or tipped over, computers smashed and paper was strewn everywhere.

“You looking for something in particular?” he asked finally.

She gave him an absent look. “Hmm? No, just looking. More curiosity than anything else.” She turned her hands over, scowling at the grime clinging to them. “Let me wash my hands, and then I’m done here, if you are.”

Colin watched as she washed at the kitchen sink. “Jeremy’s daytime hiding place, right?”

She turned off the water and grabbed some paper towels before turning to give him a careful look. “What?”

He smiled knowingly. “Whoever did this tore the house apart. There was equipment they could have fenced for good money, but instead they trashed everything. And Mariane—” His lip curled. “I found her, Leighton. She wasn’t just raped; she was tortured. They wanted something from her, and I’m guessing that something was Jeremy. They didn’t find him, even though he was close enough to scare the shit out of me within minutes of sundown. Now, we’re either working together, or we’re not. I’m not asking for any deep vampire secrets, but I like to know I can trust the person I’m working with.”

Leighton stared at him for a long minute, then drew a thoughtful breath and exhaled noisily. “You have a point,” she said slowly. “So, yes, Jeremy’s daytime resting place is under that floor. I’m guessing the vamps who boarded up the house moved some stuff around to conceal its location, since the house isn’t really secure anymore. But, truthfully, even knowing where it was, I can’t get inside. Which is why Jeremy’s still alive.”

“What about Marco?” he asked, as they locked the door once again and headed for his truck.

“He and
Preston
both built their houses a while ago, and I’m betting neither one of them had updated their security.”