Undead and Unreturnable (8 page)

But not to Nick, who was blinking fast and, I could tell, about to ask Jessica just what the hell her problem was. And never mind that she was the richest person in the state.

"It's late," I said. "She's tired. We're all tired. Long day."

"Uh… yeah." He checked his watch. "After ten already."

"I'm so sorry," Jessica said quickly. "I wasn't laughing at you, and I wasn't laughing at those poor girls."

"No," Nick lied, "I didn't think so." He turned back to me. "Anyway, Betsy, I'm sorry about it being so late, but I know about the hours you've been keeping lately, so I took a chance and swung by."

"You're welcome anytime, Detective," Sinclair said from the doorway.

Nick, in the act of picking up his cup, spilled his coffee… just a bit, but enough to wreck last month's issue of
Lucky
. I sure couldn't blame him; Sinclair was about as noisy as a dead cat.

"Jesus! You scared me. Which is not something we hotshot
Minneapolis detectives like to admit," he joked, trying to cover the fact that his pulse had gone from
ba
-DUMP…
ba
-DUMP…
ba
-dump to BADUMP BA-DUMP BADUMP
BADUMP
!

"I apologize. It's Nicholas Berry, right?"

"Nick. Yeah."

Jessica gave me a look while they shook hands and sized up each other. Nick was built like a swimmer—lanky, with lean lines and big feet. His hair was bleached by the sun—he liked to save up and go diving on
Little Cayman—and he had adorable laugh lines in the corners of his eyes.

Sinclair was broader and taller, and much older, but Nick had a gun, not to mention youth on his side. So you never knew.

The problem with the polite hand-shaking and "How do you do's" was that they had met before. In fact, Nick had come to me right after I'd risen as a vampire. In a moment of
extreme
weakness, I'd gotten (nearly) naked with him and it had sort of driven him out of his mind.

Sinclair had had to step in and make things right, and had used his vampire
mojo
to make Nick forget everything about that night. That I was dead, that Nick and I had seen each other (almost) naked, that he'd been a wreck when I wouldn't bite him again, wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. Everything.

The problem was (one of the problems), Nick kept popping back into my life at the weirdest times. Tina suspected he knew more than he was telling. And I honestly didn't know either way. But it wasn't exactly something we could come out and ask him.

So we sat around and pretended he didn't know we were vampires. And we didn't know if we were all pretending. Usually Sinclair and Tina could smell a lie from a hundred miles away, but Nick was a cop. He lied for a living.

"I'm Betsy's fiancé," Sinclair was explaining. "Eric Sinclair."

"Oh." Nick's face fell a bit, and Jessica shot me another look. I felt like throwing my tea in my face, just for an actual
physical
problem.

"We're getting married on July 4th."

"September 15th," I said quickly.

"As I said," Sinclair continued smoothly, "September 15. We do hope you can join us."

"Uh, thanks. I'll—thanks." He looked down at his hands for a minute and then back at me. "Anyway. The reason I stopped by. This killer—he's targeting your type."

"He is?" I was beyond appalled. A type? Gross!

"Tall blondes," Sinclair said. "With blue or green eyes." When we all looked at him, he said, "Some of us read the paper."

"Not that they're hard to come by in
Minnesota
," Nick added, "and maybe it's just a, you know, coincidence of geographical type, but still."

"What does VICAP say about it?" Sinclair asked.

Nick shrugged. "The feds won't catch this guy, no matter how many forms we feed into the computer. He'll get nailed by good old-fashioned cops."

I hoped
Vicap
, whoever he was, didn't hear Nick running down the FBI. Besides, that's what they did, right? Catch psychos? Not that I doubted Nick's ability. But I was glad he had help on this one. And really
really
glad I wasn't involved.

"And I just wanted to tell you to watch your ass," Nick was saying to, uh-oh, me. Time to tune back in. "Don't get out of the car until you've got your keys organized. Don't linger in the driveway, messing with groceries and stuff.
Watch
the driveway. Check the hedges when you pull in. This guy, I'm sure he's snatching them while they're distracted. They don't even have time to hit the horn. Half the time, there were people in the house, waiting for her. So be alert. Pay attention."

"Okay, Nick," I said obediently. It was, of course, ridiculous and sweet at the same time. The last thing I had to worry about was a serial killer. But it was adorable that he'd come by to give me a heads-up.

Unless he was fucking with us because he knew…

No, no. That was the way Sinclair looked at the world, like it was a big ball of mean out to get him. I swore that no matter how old I got, I wouldn't always assume the worst of people. I'd try, anyway.

"Are there any leads?"

"Just between us?"

"Well, us and the
Pioneer Press
."

He didn't smile at my
sucky
joke. "We've got shit. No witnesses, nobody even out walking his dog. He's really lucky, the
asswipe
."

"You'll get him," I said helpfully. Rah
rah
, the cops!

"Yeah, we will, unless he moves on. But he's going to have to slip up first." Nick's laugh lines suddenly doubled, and he stared at the stained magazine on the table. "And for him to slip up…"

"You'll get him," I said again. "And it was, I have to say, it was so nice of you to stop by. I appreciate the warning, and I'll be careful."

"Yes," Sinclair said, walking to the doorway in an obvious gesture for Nick to leave. Awkward! "It was very kind of you to stop by and warn my fiancée. I can assure you I'll look after her very carefully."

Now, if anybody else in the world said that, it'd seem loving and concerned. When Sinclair said it, it sounded vaguely like a threat. Certainly it was weird enough for Nick to give him the 'raised-eyebrows tough-cop' look.

Then he got up (reluctantly, it seemed to me) and said, "You just moved to the area, right, Mr. Sinclair?"

"No," Eric replied. I noticed he didn't ask Nick to call him Eric. But then, except for my roomies, nobody ever did. "I've been here a long time."

"Oh, okay. Remember what I said, Betsy."

"I will, Nick. Thank you again for stopping by."

"Jess, walk me out?"

She looked startled but gamely jumped to her feet. "Sure. You can check the driveway for us."

"Already did," he said, smiling at me, "on my way in."

I had my ear jammed so tightly against the door between the parlor and the hall, I probably had splinters in my cochlea. (It was weird how things like my tenth-grade biology report on the inner ear stayed with me for, like, ever.)

"Thanks again for coming over," Jessica said, sounding resigned. I figure I knew why. Nick was about to hit her up for a contribution to the Policeman's Ball, or whatever. I felt bad—Nick's devotion to me
was
a little on the obvious side—but what could I do? What could she do?

"I was really glad to see you were up this late, too," Nick said. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a couple of weeks, but things—you know. Work."

"Sure," Jess said. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, the captain mentioned he saw you at the new
Walker exhibit, and I know you're into that stuff. I don't know if you heard, but—you probably heard—there's a new Matthew Barney exhibit opening this weekend, and I was wondering if you'd want to go.

That'd be really
mmm
hmmm
hmmm
bmmm
.

"Quite rude," Sinclair commented.

"
Shhhh
!"

"
Bmmm
mmm
hmmm
mmm
?" Shit! They were walking through the house. There were about eight doors between me and the front door.

"Darling, whatever it is, she'll tell you about it the second she returns."

"Yeah, yeah." I turned. Sinclair was in my personal bubble, as usual, looking amused, also as usual. "I was just curious, that's all."

"Nosy."

"Probing," I insisted. "Like a reporter."

He put his hands on my shoulders and picked me up for a smooch. My feet were dangling a good six inches off the floor as I kissed him back, more a distracted peck because I was wondering what the other two were talking about. He nuzzled into the base of my throat but didn't bite, which is about as loving a gesture a vampire can make.

I guess that sounds romantic and all, and it kind of was, but it was hard to just, you know, dangle there. So I
oomphed
and
umphed
and climbed him until my ankles were crossed behind his back and my arms were looped around his neck.

"How delightful," he said. "This is bringing something more interesting than current events to mind."

"
Perv
. Can you believe Nick just stopping by like that?"

Sinclair's mouth went thin. "Yes."

"Wasn't that nice?"

"Yes. Nice."

"Oh, take it easy. Threatened much? Dude, take a break, go look in the mirror, and then relax, okay?"

"I didn't win you only to have you be distracted by some living meat with a shiny badge."

I gaped at him. Okay, I knew Sinclair generally felt vampires were superior to regular guys, but… living meat with a shiny badge?

"You didn't exactly win me," was the best I could come up with. "I'm not a Lotto ticket."

At my expression, he added, "You know you're attracted to shiny things. If you were a raven, you'd snatch that badge and go put it in your nest."

"
Wh
—uh—" Okay. One thing at a time. "Okay, listen, the reason I was trying to hear is, I just—Jessica said the dumbest thing on the way here. How sometimes she felt invisible next to me."

"Who said what?"

"Very funny. Don't you think that's dumb? I thought that was dumb."

"Dumb," he agreed.

I tried to kick him, but my feet were, of course, behind him. "This is serious! A) it's so not true, and b) it's terrible that she thinks that. But I think I know why she's got such a silly idea in her head."