Trail of Dead (7 page)

Runa gave him a funny look, but she turned back to the Jeep.

“Go crazy?” Glory said, the second Runa was out of earshot.

“Shut up.”

“That’s the girl you’re dating?” Glory’s eyebrows were raised to her hairline. “She’s pretty.”

“How did you—never mind. Stupid office grapevine.”

“Hey. We’re the cops. We’re nosy by nature. Do you think she overheard us?”

“I’ll find out later. What were you going to say?”

“Oh, right.” Glory straightened her back, drawing up to her full five foot one. “When I saw the car and the blood”—she tilted her head to the writing on the windshield—“I called you first, but then I…did something.”

“Spit it out, Glory.”

She sighed. “He gave me this number, for emergencies. I called it.”

“Who ga—”

But before he even finished the word, Jesse saw the black Bentley parked on the hill across from the crime scene; a blandly handsome fortyish man stepped out from the driver’s side and sauntered toward the Jeep. His suit was expensive and fit like it had come into existence only for him, but there was something not
quite modern about it too. The closest uniformed cop jogged toward him, waving a hand, but the driver just smiled, touching the cop’s shoulder and looking straight into his eyes. Jesse watched as the driver spoke a few words and continued walking toward the Jeep, while the uniform stood slack and staring forward, like a marionette hung on a peg. The driver approached the little knot of witnesses and the other uniform, speaking to them in the same calm, reassuring manner. Jesse looked away, an icy thrill of fear spreading through his chest. This was Dashiell, the master vampire of Los Angeles, and he was pressing the minds of everyone on site. Jesse had never been near him without Scarlett around for protection. He felt a flare of irritation at Glory for calling the vampire, but at the same time he could hardly blame her—Dashiell had threatened her kids. He himself wouldn’t have done any different, under the circumstances.

“Look down,” he muttered to Glory. The vampire could probably hear him, but that was a risk Jesse had to take. “When he comes close, don’t look him directly in the eyes, understand?” She nodded, hugging her clipboard even tighter.

Jesse looked around for Runa, but the photographer was on the far side of the Jeep, shielded from Dashiell. He couldn’t call to her without exposing her position, so Jesse just prayed she’d stay put.

When he was done speaking to the witnesses, Dashiell continued toward Jesse, the smile still tacked onto his face. The couple turned at a ninety-degree angle and marched back toward their home in eerie synch. The uniformed cop who had been interviewing them strode to his partner, herding him toward the patrol car. By then Dashiell was in earshot, fifteen feet away by the Jeep. “Excuse me,” he said to Benson, who looked up, surprised. Jesse had to tear his eyes away from what Dashiell was doing. He clenched his fists, but there was nothing he could do to stop the vampire, short of emptying his clip into Dashiell’s chest. Even if Jesse did succeed
in destroying the vampire heart with a gun, though, he would have been left with a lot of explaining to do.

Beside him, Jesse felt Glory shiver. “This was a simple car accident,” Dashiell was saying, his voice warm and practically visible, it was so potent. With his peripheral vision Jesse saw Benson nodding mechanically. “There was nothing unusual about the bodies. You will take them directly to the morgue, where you will begin the paperwork to have them cremated.” He named a crematorium on the West Side. Dashiell paused, maybe to make sure the command had hit home, and then concluded, “You may go now.”

Jesse thought of his threat to Scarlett earlier that night. Would he really have gone through with knocking on this creature’s door? Suddenly he doubted it. As Benson stumbled away, Dashiell finally made it to Jesse.

“Detective Cruz,” Dashiell said cordially. “How nice to see you again.”

Jesse swallowed. He could have sworn he felt waves of power radiating off Dashiell, but that was probably his imagination. “Wish I could say the same,” he said, eyes on Dashiell’s loafers. He had been to enough Hollywood parties to recognize Prada. “But it does seem like there are more dead bodies when you’re around.”

There was a little surprise in Dashiell’s laugh. “Think of it as job security. Thank you for your call, Ms. Sherman.” Glory nodded again, keeping her eyes down.

“You suspect Olivia?” Dashiell asked Jesse, as though he were leading the detective toward the obvious answer.

“Yes,” Jesse said, fighting to keep an automatic “sir” out of his voice. However scary Dashiell was, Jesse still didn’t have to answer to him. At least, he hoped not. “Aside from the message, the victim’s first names were the same as Scarlett’s parents’. And the Jeep was flipped by hand.” He pointed to the dents. He was burning to look at Runa, to make sure she stayed back, but didn’t want to give her away, either. Surely Dashiell had heard her moving
around the far side of the Jeep? Or were the traffic sounds enough to drown out any noise? He prayed that she wasn’t about to use the camera’s flash.

“I see,” Dashiell said thoughtfully. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and began tapping the screen so quickly that Jesse half expected it to start smoking. He risked a glance over at Runa, now visible on the far side of the Jeep. She had been packing up her gear. She hoisted her camera bag onto her shoulder and glanced his way. She must have figured he was interviewing a witness, because she just mouthed, “Anything else?” He shook his head, fast and tight. She smiled and gave a little wave and a head tilt to say
see you at the station
.

As Runa stood, Jesse tried to think of something to say to mask the sound of her footsteps. “What happens now?” he blurted. “I mean, do we investigate the crime as usual, or what do you want me to do? I’m guessing I probably can’t just file a regular report, right?”

Dashiell looked up with a bemused expression, and Jesse dropped his eyes back down. “No,” Dashiell said mildly. He pocketed the phone. “It’s all arranged. This file is being closed as a simple car accident.” He turned back to Glory. “I assume you can file any additional paperwork? You’ll receive full cooperation with the medical examiner’s office.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“Wonderful.” He held out a business card. “My tow services will take care of the vehicle personally. They’ll be here within the hour.” Glory took the card. “Thank you, Ms. Sherman. If you would give me a moment with Detective Cruz?”

Without another word, the forensics specialist scurried toward her department-issued van, and Jesse risked a look at where Runa had been. The photographer was gone. “And Olivia?” Jesse prodded.

“Yes. Olivia. I’m afraid you’ve suffered quite a loss, Detective.”

“
What?
”

Dashiell stepped over to the car, examining the dents on the window. He placed one hand in either corner of the window and pulled outward, snapping the handprint out of the metal with a flick of his wrists. “Your grandmother in San Bernardino has just passed away,” he continued, and Jesse relaxed an inch. His last surviving grandparent had died in Mexico three years earlier. “You’ve been given a week of bereavement leave with full pay. A little generous for the department, I admit, but your supervisors were feeling quite sympathetic.”

“Oh,” Jesse said lamely. He felt suddenly like Dashiell was pitching baseballs at his chest, and Jesse was dropping every one.

“Use the week to find Olivia. Whether you destroy her personally or call me to destroy her is up to you, but I suggest you bring Scarlett Bernard along. She can help protect you, and she knows Olivia better than anyone.”

“I’m not just going to
destroy
her—” Jesse began.

There was a deep chuckle. “Please. You plan to, what, arrest her politely? Have Scarlett stand next to her while Olivia is tried, convicted, and imprisoned? Maybe they could share a cell.”

“I—I hadn’t really gotten that far,” Jesse sputtered.

Another white card appeared in Dashiell’s hand, which was suddenly extended toward Jesse. “My number. If you don’t have the stomach to kill her, just call.” He raised a bemused eyebrow. “You do
know
how to kill a vampire?”

Goddammit
, Jesse thought. Cardinal vampire or not, why was he letting this guy fluster him? “Scarlett…explained it to me,” Jesse said finally.

“Wonderful. I’ll be expecting your call, either way. I will also be expecting you and Scarlett at the mansion tomorrow evening at six. We’re all going to discuss what has been happening.” Jesse understood that “we” meant the Old World leaders: Kirsten, Dashiell, and Will.

“I know Scarlett works for you, but I don’t,” Jesse said, trying to sound firm. “You can’t just summon me places.”

Dashiell just arched an eyebrow, and Jesse had to look away from his eyes as quickly as he could. “Can’t I?”

Jesse couldn’t think of a thing to say, so he just shoved the card in his jeans pocket. “Look, I’m on another case right now, anyway—”

Dashiell’s voice hardened. “The witch in Studio City, yes, I know. This comes first.”

Witch.
Erin was a witch? But Jesse couldn’t follow that thought very far, because he was working to keep a grip on his temper. He reminded himself that without Scarlett here he was outclassed: Dashiell had just taken control of an LAPD-run murder scene with
one text message
. Disappearing a homicide detective would be child’s play. After a breath, Jesse said, “Why me? You must have tons of vampire…lackeys, who are more powerful than Olivia.”

“Yes.” Dashiell’s voice darkened. “But one of my
lackeys
has already been compromised. I believe you met Albert?”

“The guard?”

“Yes. He disappeared nearly a month ago, and the two of them have been seen together. I do not know if anyone else is working with Olivia, but given your feelings for our Ms. Bernard, I trust you’ll be motivated to catch her.”

“I’m also a cop, and Olivia is killing people,” Jesse pointed out, a little irritated. Had his feelings for Scarlett been that obvious?

“Well, there you have it,” Dashiell said, smiling congenially. Avoiding his eyes, Jesse stared at the vampire’s teeth. The canines weren’t exactly fang material, but was it his imagination, or were they extra pointy? “Either way, the job is yours.”

Dashiell gave a modest little bow and turned away. He was at the Bentley before Jesse could think of another thing to say.

He was still standing there like an idiot when Glory made it back, without her clipboard now. “Doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for negotiation, does he?” she said quietly.

“No, he doesn’t.” Jesse’s eyes fell on the Jeep again. “What’s going to happen to your evidence?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’ll log it as usual, but this is an accident scene now.”

“Did you find much?”

“Not really. The usual LA litter, nothing that looked fresh. The ground’s too hard for footprints. There are fingerprints everywhere, but they won’t be processed now. Even if they were, unless this Olivia was arrested when she was alive, I don’t know that they’d do any good. Best case, they’d confirm that it was her.”

He sighed. “Anything that would give me a location? Anything at all?”

She frowned. “The only weird thing was a tiny bit of mud we found on the floor of the Jeep. It doesn’t look like it was on either of the Reeds’ shoes. But the Jeep was stolen from a rental lot, so who knows how well the rental company cleaned it.”

Jesse felt like he’d just taken a shot of adrenaline. “Wait, what made it weird?”

“Two things,” she replied. “First, there was a really distinctive smell to it. Like…a factory.” She shrugged.

“And second?”

“The color. Soil analysis isn’t my area of specialization, but I’ve never seen dirt that was so…gray.”

“Get it analyzed, okay?”

Glory squinted up at him, bemused. “Well, duh.”

Jesse banged on Scarlett’s door at ten on the dot, half expecting her to answer the door in her pajamas. He felt a little guilty for pushing her so hard at Erin’s, especially in light of Olivia’s attack. But Erin’s death—and the swiftness with which the Old World had
made it disappear—ate away at him. He resolved to be a little nicer anyway.

To his surprise, though, the door was opened by Eli, wearing boxer shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. “Oh…hey…” Jesse said lamely. Of course Eli had spent the night. Jesse tried to ignore a stab of jealousy.
You have a girlfriend
, he told himself.
It’s none of your business.

“Hey,” Eli said, yawning. “She’s in the shower.” He backed up, making room for Jesse to slip past him into the house. Guy was so damned tall. “Thanks for calling last night.”

“No problem.” There was an awkward pause. Jesse and Eli had met during the La Brea Park investigation—when Scarlett had been in the hospital, unable to protect herself, the two of them had taken shifts to stay with her. Jesse was pretty sure that Eli was in love with her. Hell, maybe Scarlett was in love with him too. It irritated Jesse that this thought bothered him so much.

“How is she doing?” he asked finally.

Eli shrugged, closing the door. “Oh, you know,” he said with a small smile. “It’d take a direct hit.”

“That’s kind of what I’m worried about.”

Before Eli could respond, Scarlett trotted down the stairs, her feet bare and her hair pulled into a wet bun. She wore jeans and a green T-shirt that had damp spots where her hair had dripped, and was pulling on a jacket. “I’m ready, I’m ready,” she said breathlessly.

“Shoes?” Jesse said, raising an eyebrow.

“They’re right—oh, no, they’re not.” She scrambled back upstairs. Jesse shook his head, amused.

“You really think Olivia will come after her?” Eli said quietly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the stairs.

“Seems like it. But I never met Olivia.”

“I only saw her once or twice. She was…I don’t know. Regal. Commanding.”

“Nuts?”

“Well, yeah. But not so you’d notice right away.”

Scarlett came running down the stairs, socks and boots in her hand. “I thought you’d be dragging ass. What’s the rush?” Jesse asked.