To Love and Serve (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-two

Jesus had killed the lights and sirens as soon as they pulled onto Jay Street, and raced the last few blocks to The Lair. Diana noticed two unmarked police cars parked at the corner, and they’d passed a foot patrol about a half block away—probably their backup.

“Over there.” She motioned to where Daly was getting out of one of the unmarked cars.

Jesus pulled their sedan to the curb and cut the engine. They went to meet the detective and the two officers on foot joined them at the curb. Daly inclined his head in the direction of The Lair. “Tell me what’s going on, Reyes.”

“The killer who slashed that homeless guy’s throat.”

Diana handed them a picture of the brothers she’d snagged during their visit to Benjamin’s home, and pointed. “This one. He’s either in the club, or will be sometime tonight. White male, approximately thirty years of age. Brown eyes. He’s dyed his hair brown, but it’s normally sandy-colored. Last seen wearing black jeans and hiking boots. Black T-shirt and a black leather duster. He’s likely to be wearing a ball cap or beanie.”

“That describes a lot of the Goths and hipsters that frequent The Lair,” Daly said with a disgusted shake of his head.

Diana continued, “He bolted last time he thought he’d been spotted, but I think he’ll make his stand tonight. Stay alert. He’s psychotic, armed, and dangerous.”

“What do you want from us?” Daly asked.

“You look too much like cops to blend. ADIC Hernandez and I’ll make a sweep of the interior. Flush our suspect onto the street,” Diana said.

Jesus tipped his head at the entrance to The Lair. “I’ll stick by the front door, although I doubt he’ll try to make his escape that way.”

Daly nodded. “I’ve got two uniforms on the side alleys. I’ll go with these two to the back entrance. If I remember, that alley opens onto the nearby streets, so we’ve got to contain him if he comes out that way. I’ve called for additional backup.”

“That’ll be a big help,” Diana said.

“You got radios?” Daly asked her and Jesus.

“Not on us.”

Daly lifted his chin at the uniforms. “One of you lend the feebs your radio.”

An officer unclipped the radio from his shoulder and handed it to Jesus, who passed it to Diana. “Reyes is taking lead for us tonight,” he said, surprising her.

Her friend obviously realized he was too personally involved to make rational decisions. She’d always had great respect for him, and this only confirmed she hadn’t been wrong in her judgment.

“Okay,” Daly said. “No radio chatter, people. Listen for my instructions, especially if our suspect makes a run for it.”

She and Jesus went to the front door, and after Daly and his men slipped into the side alley, they entered the club. With a quick nod, they separated, Jesus covering the entrance and Diana working her way toward the back. It was another busy night, although not as crowded as the evening she and Ryder had their date. A smattering of patrons rocked out on the dance floor, but otherwise it was relatively easy to sift through the crowd, searching for Bartholomew.

She reached the other end of the dance floor without spotting their suspect. She hoped her profile hadn’t been wrong. Her gut told her someone with his kind of ego would enjoy challenging them by returning to the same place, especially after they’d messed up his hunt the other night. Being able to take someone now, when the police knew who he was and where he might go, upped the excitement level for him.

He probably had trouble sexually without the added rush.

The club widened beyond the dance floor. With the erratic beams of light shooting from above, and the dimness created by the cavern-like walls, Bartholomew would be hard to spot. Unless…

“I’m going up on the catwalks,” she said into the radio, and peered at the walkways that ran every which way high above the main level of the club.

“Roger,” Daly replied over the radio. For good measure, she called Jesus and reported to him as well. She headed back toward the stage and the stairs up to the non-public spaces, all the while keeping her eye out for their suspect. But no luck.

A bouncer stood at the door to the private area stairs. At her approach, he bobbed his head in recognition.

“Evening, Ms. Reyes.”

“Evening, Mike. See anything unusual tonight?”

“Same ol’, same ol’,” he said as he held the door open for her.

“Thanks, Mike.” She jogged up the stairs. At the top, she stopped in the security area containing a wall of monitors for the cameras that were trained on the public areas inside as well as outside the club.

“I see something’s up,” said Charlie, the retired policeman Ryder had hired to head up security.

“You’ve still got a cop’s eyes,” Diana said, and hugged the older man. “Can you keep an eye out for this one? His hair is darker now and he may be wearing a baseball cap or beanie.”

Charlie peered at the photo and nodded. “Will do, Ms. Reyes. I’ll call your cell if I see anything.”

She headed down the hall to the door that opened onto the maze of catwalks that were used to access the spotlights and sound equipment tucked up close to the ceiling. Stepping onto the first catwalk, she was hit by a wave of dizziness and nausea.

Whoa
. Dragging in a deep breath to stop the falling sensation, she hung onto the railing and carefully made her way onto the narrow metal bridge. With her keen night vision she could pick out a lot more detail, being high above the crowd and away from the jarring lights that played over the sea of people. Pausing about a quarter of the way across, she scoped out the area below. A few dozen people were dancing. Several couples were standing close to the faux cave walls where rock-like outcroppings created nooks for privacy. Nothing unusual in that. Hell, even she and Ryder had enjoyed a passionate moment or two in those concealed places.

At the edge of the dance floor, she spotted a pretty redheaded woman talking to someone hidden in the shadows. She sensed the redhead was a vampire. She thought about the quick rundown Jesus and Ryder had provided her on the way to Benjamin’s. The young woman fit the unsub’s pattern. Vampire pale, red-haired, slender and pretty, she matched the description of the second victim perfectly. She’d have to keep tabs on her.

Diana shifted to get a better view of the lone figure lurking deep in the shadows along the dark perimeter of the club, talking to the redhead. A man, judging from the boots. The very large boots. Diana pulled out her cell phone and called Jesus. “I think I spotted him. He’s standing near the stage door talking with a redheaded vampiress. He may grab her and break out of the stage door into the side alley.”

She radioed Daly to let him know, then hurried back to reach the stairs leading down to the ground floor. Her footsteps sounded loudly on the metal grating and she hoped it would not be audible above the sound of the live band. Her quick pace also sent the catwalks swaying to and fro. It felt like being on a boat in a storm.

A second, more powerful wave of nausea suddenly hit her. She got so dizzy her head spun, and she slammed into the wall by the stairs. Breathing heavily, fighting the desire to throw up, she felt a sickly, oozing sweat pop out on her skin.

At the foot of the stairs, the stage door flew open, and light from outside spotlighted the figure standing there.

Bartholomew
. The man looked too much like the dead slayer not to be his brother.

She must have made a noise. He looked up, spotted her, and bolted out the door. She raced down the stairs, her knees wobbly from the vertigo.

Shouts came from outside, warning him to stop, but the heavy clomp of footsteps rushing past told her Bartholomew had not halted.

She dashed outside, chasing after Daly and the two uniforms in pursuit. Bartholomew was way ahead of them. Thankfully, he hadn’t grabbed the vampiress as a hostage. Halfway down the alley he made a sharp turn onto one of the side streets, and slipped on a piece of garbage. His feet skidded out from under him.

As he scrambled up, two uniforms tore around the next corner, charging up the street toward him.

Boxed in from both ends, he spun back around the corner and sped the other way down the long, narrow alley, ducking around trash bins and jumping potholes. If he reached the end of the alley he could escape onto a main street.

Diana heard Daly order a cruiser to go around and head him off at the other end. He also barked out instructions to any unengaged cops in the area to move in.

“Proceed with caution,” Diana warned over the radio. “He’s armed and dangerous.”

By the time Diana reached Daly, Jesus had also heard the chatter on the radio and raced around from the front to join them.

“The three of us go together down the alley,” she said, breathless. “Stay tight to the walls or the doorways.”

Daly drew his weapon. “There are some small pockets and another couple of gaps between the buildings where he might be able to hide,” he said. “Also a couple of blind alleys.”

Jesus glanced at her as he pulled his gun. “We’ll go. You stay here, Reyes. This one time, please don’t argue with me.”

“You’re the bigger target, Jesus. I don’t think—”

“That’s a fucking order.”

He took off, hugging one side of the alley, and Daly went in on the other. Itching to follow, she took cover and watched them move stealthily down between the buildings. But a full moon and wind-driven clouds sent bursts of city lights into the alley in spots where the buildings were not tall enough to block the neon jungle.

As Jesus raced across one bright patch, a shot rang out. The brick wall just above his head exploded in a starburst of grit and brick shards. He jumped into a doorway and flattened himself against the wall.

“Crap. Whatever happened to stakes and crossbows?” she muttered, trying to place where the shot had come from. But Bartholomew was too smart to give himself away by firing again.

Daly and Jesus continued to inch along the sides of the alley, but Bartholomew had either already fled the alley or was being incredibly patient, staying hidden and silent in one of the many hidey-holes along the way.

Suddenly, Jesus dashed out and sprinted ahead. Diana dropped to one knee and covered him, her aim low enough to disable, but not kill. She wanted Bartholomew alive for punishment. Especially after what he’d done to Benjamin and Michaela.

Jesus slipped into a doorway, and Daly started running along the opposite side, leapfrogging. But again, silence greeted them.

Diana could no longer wait and watch as the two men neared the other end. She slipped into the alley and sneaked ahead, keeping close to the walls until she could tuck herself into one of the doorways. Her stomach rebelled and did another topsy-turvy move. Her body shook and her breathing got heavy.

At one of his rest stops, Jesus squinted back and saw her running. He scowled, clearly upset she’d ignored his command to stay back. There was still no sign of Bartholomew.

She hoped he hadn’t somehow managed to escape.

She swallowed nausea and darted out to slink past a shallow gap between buildings. All at once, she sensed two conflicting beats of power. One familiar, and the other—

“Don’t move, bitch.”

The hard, hot barrel of a gun pressed to the base of her skull. Thick clouds obscured the moon, painting the alley around her black in darkness. But for the space of a heartbeat the wind cleared away the shadows and moonlight glimmered brightly. She caught a brief glimpse of Ryder on the roof of the building across from her and saw the fear on his face as he realized what was happening. Then the clouds cloaked the area in darkness once more.

“Drop your weapon,” Bartholomew ordered as he banded an arm tight around her waist.

Do as he says, darlin’. It’ll be okay
. The sound of Ryder’s voice in her head, borne of their unique connection, happened so rarely it startled her. She obeyed without thinking and dropped the Glock. The clatter of metal on the cobblestones had Jesus and Daly whirling toward her, guns drawn. They both froze when they saw Bartholomew’s gun at her neck.

She fought back the only way she could. “Now you’re pissing me off. Not to mention the fifty cops surrounding this place. You’re not going to get away from here alive. You know that, right?”

A loud, braying laugh echoed down the alley. A lunatic’s laugh that deepened the iciness in her body.

His gun shifted to rest against her temple. “Brave words for a dead woman walking.”

He didn’t know how true his words were. Either way, she was a dead woman. But she would be the master of her own fate.

“You want to live, right?” she taunted, and the gun barrel shook against her head. Bartholomew huffed out a laugh tinged with disbelief. “Do you
know
who I am?
What
I am?”

“A murderer,” she said matter of factly. “Though one count is all we can pin on you. Hell, you’re a crazy motherfucker. Plead insanity and you’ll be out in no time.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder move closer to the ledge of the building, preparing to jump. With his speed, he might just be able to reach her in time.

Might
being the operative word.

“Insane?” Bartholomew accused. “You think I’m
insane
?” His agitation and volume increased with each word, and the barrel pointed at her head grew ever shakier.

Inserting a note of pleading, trying to calm him, she said, “Prove to everyone you’re
not
crazy. Drop the gun, Bartholomew. Please?”

As his body relaxed against hers, she thought he might actually relent. But then tension coiled his whole body, and she knew it was too late for talk or surrender.

She met Ryder’s gaze across the distance separating them. In the space of a heartbeat, he flew down and landed inches from them. Bartholomew jerked in surprise. The pistol at her head slipped. Instantly, she clamped his wrist and twisted the gun around.

Just as he pulled the trigger.

She leaped forward, right into Ryder’s arms, her ears ringing from the gunshot.