Blood Red

A dream…when all else was a nightmare.

12

M ark headed to Jackson Square. He had noticed Susan the woman Lauren had sketched, when he had first come back to the city and had wandered through the Square, seeing what had changed, what had remained the same.

It always amazed him. Take away a few signs, add a few cosmetic details, and the Square was just as it always had been.

There were a few musicians out, a few artists, and one tarot card reader. There was no sign of Susan.

He walked on to the police station, where, with little difficulty, he was ushered in to see Sean. Canady, who was at his desk, bent over some paperwork.

He studied Mark as he came in. “You look refreshed,” he said.

“You got a minute?”

Canady indicated a chair.

“Was there anything unusual about the autopsy?” Mark asked, cutting right to the chase.

“Would you call it unusual to find three headless bodies in the Mississippi in three days? Because I would,” Sean said. “It’s obviously the same killer. You can only see one puncture mark on the latest victim—the other went with the head when it was severed. I don’t know if Stephan is leaving the marks on purpose—to let those who know in on what he’s up to—or if he’s just being careless. Thankfully, the ME says they were all dead prior to the decapitations. The state police have set up a task force extending up and down the river.”

“They having any luck?”

“There’s nothing to go on. No prints, nothing left behind, and the water is doing a number on any evidence that might have been left on the bodies. They brought in a profiler, who believes we’re looking for a man in his mid to late twenties, maybe early thirties, someone with feelings of inadequacy, and a menial day job. May or may not have a wife at home. Everyone is baffled by his ability to decapitate his victims and hide the heads, although it’s likely they’re in the Mississippi, as well—it can be merciless. Everyone agrees it will be a major breakthrough if we can discover where the crimes are taking place. They’re looking for something like an abandoned slaughterhouse, since the victims have been practically bloodless.”

“Did you make any suggestions?” Mark asked him.

“Of course. I suggested we were looking for a vampire.”

Mark arched a brow. “And you’re still employed.”

Sean smiled ruefully. “I’ve spent many years now knowing that what we’re up against doesn’t always fit the normal expectations. Sorting out the crazed human from the crazed in human. Since we’ve had cultist activity here before, sometimes people listen to me. I’ve told them that I’m personally convinced we’re up against a cult, and that they should think as if they were up against real vampires, because that’s what this group thinks they are.”

“Good call,” Mark said. “What about your own men?”

Sean shrugged, his smile deepening. “The non-believers have thought for years that I’m a little bit crazy— worse, they believe I can think like a deranged killer. But they’ve seen things come to a satisfactory conclusion before by thinking my way, so…The men I put in the hospital to watch over Deanna…they’ve been on similar duty before. They believe.”

“What’s your take on Jonas?” Mark asked him.

“Like I said before, seems like he’s on the right side. But I don’t personally know him.”

“Neither do I.”

“Truthfully, I don’t know you, either,” Sean said.

Mark almost said, Your wife knew me, but he refrained. She had really only known of him, and that had been a long time ago.

“Stephan is holed up somewhere. The problem is, I don’t think it’s in your jurisdiction. He’s got to be out of the Quarter somewhere, maybe even out of the city and the parish. I was thinking of taking a closer look down Plantation Row, out past your place. I already took a quick ride out that way, and I didn’t see anything that looked empty—that looked like some cultist group was sneaking in and out of it.”

“Maybe it won’t look empty,” Sean suggested. “Maybe Stephan made a few contacts before he came here. Maybe, by day, it looks like any other house.”

“Have your guys keep their eyes and ears open, huh?”

Sean just stared at him.

“They’re already doing that, huh?” Mark said.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Mark assured him, rising.

“By the way, we’ve got IDs on all the girls. They all have records for prostitution. One from Baton Rouge, one of them from Lafayette, and one from Poughkeepsie.”

“Poughkeepsie?”

“New York state. Maybe she was relocating. She didn’t have a known address down here, anyway.”

Mark shrugged. “Working girls will always go off alone with a man,” he said. “It makes sense.”

“Yes,” Sean said simply, then drew a deep breath. “I’ve got men watching the bars and strip clubs. But I don’t think you’ll find Stephan that way. He’s more subtle. If he’s committing the murders himself, I think he’s having the women brought to him.”