numbers?”
I can’t believe this is happening. If he pursues this, I’m screwed.
“I threw them away.” I threw them away al right, into a drawer in my desk. I figured I’d fol ow up with the girls and see how much they remembered about their weekend at vampire central. I haven’t gotten around to it. Now I think I’d better just burn the fucking things.
David is not happy at the answer. He blows out an impatient breath and slams a hand down on the table. “Then I guess that leaves Judith Wiliams, doesn’t it?” He stands abruptly and takes his mug to the sink.
I fol ow, pat his arm and steer him to the door. “First things first, David. Take care of those tests. In the meantime, I’l cal Detective Harris and see what he knows about raves being held in the area.”
No reaction so I plow ahead. “And David, forget about Judith Wiliams. For now. She’s too smart and too wel connected to let herself become implicated in a crime. The factaid what she said today proves that. It’s your word against hers and you can bet she won’t repeat it again in front of witnesses.”
David gives no indication whether he intends to fol ow my advice or not. He leaves looking as dejected now as he looked angry when he came in.
My fault. Why didn’t it occur to me that there might be greater physical consequences to his sexcapades that weekend? Al I was concerned about was his remembering that Judith told him we were both vampires. At least she didn’t throw out that nugget when she saw him this morning.
I wonder why. What is the bitch up to now?
Fuck. Just when I thought I was at a point when I could look ahead for once, I get hit with three titanic reminders of my past. Al compliments of humans in my life: Detective Harris, Max and David.
Wel, can’t do anything about Detective Harris and for al I know, David might be off chasing down his girlfriend in spite of our conversation. The only one I can do something about now is Max.
Should I cal him?
I’m right back where I started.
I look around the cottage. Usual y this place is my oasis of tranquil ity. This morning it’s been invaded by a suspicious detective, an angry business partner and, by way of a note, an ex I never intended to see again.
My life was never so complicated when I was human.
CHAPTER 4
I’VE BEEN SITTING ON THE BED STARING AT THE telephone in my hand for fifteen minutes. Max’s number is up on the screen, just waiting for my finger to press Send. I’m not sure why I’m so hesitant. There’s only one reason I’d cal him, and the only thing I have to decide is the number of expletives to insert before I tel him to fuck off.
So what’s the problem?
I suck it up and punch Send.
He picks up so fast, it takes me a second to realize he’s on the line.
“Max?”
“Anna.” There’s relief in his voice. “Thanks for cal ing. I need to see you.”
“Why?”
“I can’t talk about it on the phone. Can I come in?”
My grip on the phone tightens. “What do you mean, come in? Where are you?”
“Outside. On the boardwalk.”
I cross the bedroom to the deck, look toward the ocean.
The boardwalk is crowded. It takes me a second to locate him. Max is leaning against the seawal, staring up toward the cottage. He waves when he sees me. But it’s not a cheery wave and he’s not smiling.
I’m not smiling, either. “What are you doing here? How did you know I’d cal?”
“I didn’t, but Culebra told me you’d picked up the note.”
“Did he also tel you I don’t want to talk to you?”
“Yes. I’m glad to see he was wrong.”
“He wasn’t wrong. There’s only one reason I’d cal you. To tel you to fuck off—”
“Anna, please.” I see Max cup his hand around the phone.
“If there was anyone else I could go to about this, I would. You are the only one who can help.”
“Jesus, Max. Could you be any more dramatic? You sound like a druggie jonesing for a fix. God. Is that what this is about? You want me to bite you? You get tired of screwing anonymous vamps? You remembering what a good thing you threw away?”
“No. Anna.” His words are short, clipped, his anger burning through even over the phone. “Everything isn’t about
He snaps his cel phone shut, ending the conversation before I can respond. He doesn’t look my way again, but heads up the boardwalk toward the parking lot. He shoulders are drawn up, his strides long, fast, stiff with fury.
Shit. A vampire? It takes me about a heartbeat to decide.
I’m probably going to regret this but I’m down the stairs, have grabbed up my purse and keys and reached the end of the boardwalk before he does.
Max isn’t startled when I appear in front of him like a genie sprung from a bottle. He knows what I can do. But he doesn’t look relieved or pleased, either. He stares down at me from his six-foot-three-inch vantage point and waits for me to speak first.
“What do you mean you’re
His shoulders hunch up even more. The lines of his face draw down, as if weighted. He looks tired. He looks stressed. The Max I knew — the one with lively blue eyes, a quick smile and sun-burnished Latino good looks — has been swal owed up by this sal ow-faced, sober, weary doppelganger.
“Are you sure you want to hear this? Or are you waiting for another opportunity to tel me what a screwup I’ve been?”
I close the distance between us and jab a finger into his chest. “Oh, I’m sure there wil be plenty of opportunities to do that. Right now, I want to know what you meant on the telephone.”
He looks around. “Let’s walk. I don’t want to risk being overheard.”
The boardwalk teems with people. Skateboarders, cyclists, Rol erbladers, joggers. If we walk here, we’l spend most of our time dodging incoming. I’m not going to invite him to the cottage, either. I don’t want him invading my personal space. I’ve had enough of that today.
“Let’s cross to the bay side.”
He doesn’t object. Neither of us speaks until we’ve crossed Mission and head for the sidewalk that runs along the harbor. Here the view spans the San Diego skyline on one side, row on row of condos and apartments on the other.
There’s a marina and a smal park. We head for the benches in the middle of the park. We choose the one that faces a playground. The water is at our backs and we have a clear view of the sidewalk. It’s much quieter here.
“So talk.”
Max looks toward the sidewalk, eyes restlessly scanning the faces of the people moving at a Sunday- afternoon, warm-summer’s-day pace. I look, too. But I know I’m not seeing the same things he is. He’s looking at them with cop eyes.
“I’ve been working a joint task force with the Mexican border patrol,” he says at last. “Drugs mostly. But in the last few weeks, we’ve been finding something else on our patrols. Bodies drainedf blood. Entire families kil ed and dumped in the desert. No clue as to who is doing it. At first we thought it was some local drug lord’s new and vicious way to intimidate.”
