“No,” Cole replied cautiously.
When he held his hand out to show Alvin the scars on his palms, the Nymar glanced down and grumbled, “You probably shouldn’t shake hands with me. There ain’t no more soap in the Porta-John.”
“Are there a lot of you around here?”
“Some other folks live in this park. Times is hard.”
“No. I mean…Nymar.”
While Alvin had been tentative at first, he now took a cautious step back.
“You know,” Cole insisted. When it was obvious that Alvin didn’t know, he bared his teeth and tapped the spots where the upper two sets of fangs would be. “Others like you. Vampires.”
It felt strange to say that word to a Nymar and not catch hell for it, but Alvin’s face lit up and he rushed forward as if to wrap both arms around him. He stopped before running into the spear and asked, “How’d you know about that?”
“I just know.” It was a lame response, but seemed to be enough for Alvin. When the Nymar quietly nodded, Cole said, “You know about the things sleeping in this hole?”
“Sure I do. I seen ’em dig it.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Few days,” Alvin replied without hesitation.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded vigorously. “Only time I stepped away from here was to talk to the cops. They didn’t believe me when I told ’em I saw those things come runnin’ through this park and they didn’t believe me when I showed ’em that hole. ’Course it was empty when the cops was here. They said they’d come by to take another look, but they never did.”
“Has anything else been running through here?” Cole asked.
Alvin shook his head. “Just them sorry lookin’ dogs, but they mostly sleep.”
In the time that had passed since Alvin started talking, the scents of cheap wine and beer permeated the air. “How do you feed?” Cole asked. “Do you hunt people that walk through this park?”
“No! I eat whatever I can get. I ain’t no killer!”
Judging by the Nymar’s sunken features, bony body, and pasty skin, he hadn’t drained enough blood from anyone to do much damage. Even the tendrils under his skin were shriveled and faded. “Do the others like you in town help you out?”
“Others? There are others like me?”
“Never mind. Just make sure not to hurt anyone, all right? If I find out you’re hunting people in this park, I may have to do something about it.”
“I ain’t no killer,” Alvin insisted. Lowering his voice to a haggard whisper, he added, “I mostly bite the drunks or potheads that fall asleep aroun’ here. Even then, I can’t take much before they wake up an’ take a swing at me. I used to go after joggers, but they’re…you know…fast.”
“Yeah. I guess they would be. Thanks for the help, Alvin.”
Chapter 14
It was past eleven-thirty by the time Officer Stanze drove past the last crime scene and brought Paige to the Police Station on Locust Street. The building was a typical government brick: fairly clean outside, more than a little cluttered inside, and filled with the ringing phones and muted conversations of any office.
Stanze grinned and paused with his hand resting upon the handle of a door. He’d led her down a few halls as if he was in a race, but now stopped to announce, “Here’s the final stop on our gruesome tour.” With that, he pushed open the door to reveal a stairwell. They only went down one floor, but the hallway on the other side of that door seemed to have led them into another building entirely. Unlike the bustling, somewhat organized upper floor, this one was obviously not meant for the public. It had the rumpled, lived-in quality of a break room except without as many vending machines.
Even though he was wearing a uniform, Stanze had to pause and sign in before getting all the way to the room at the end of the hall. “When I actually got a reply from those ghost guys, I thought it was a joke,” he said as he shouldered open a door that led back outside. “Half the calls I got after I posted those pictures were cranks, and the other half were from crazies. You don’t even wanna know what kind of people are bidding to buy the thing I found.”
“I can imagine,” Paige chuckled.
The door they’d just used had deposited them into something of a dugout. The main entrance was on the opposite side of the building, which had been built into the slope of a hill. That way, both the entrance and exit they used opened to ground level. Paige looked around to see a long row of metal tables, a few dirty basketballs lying around the perimeter of a patch of cracked concrete, and some water coolers. “So, that thing you found,” she said. “You keep it out here?”
“I brought it inside to stay out of the heat, but it got booted out here. It’s a good thing you came out today or it might’ve been gone altogether.” As he’d been talking, Stanze walked over to an upside-down cooler that was big enough to hold several pizza boxes, a few six-packs, and plenty of chips. Judging by the smell that filled the air at the moment, it wasn’t holding anything so inviting. “You ready?”
“And waiting.”
Reaching down to the cooler, Stanze pulled in a deep breath and then lifted it to reveal a large, dark green garbage bag. The odor Paige had smelled before was just a trickle. Once the garbage bag was open, the real flow began.
This wasn’t the first time she had been around a Half Breed carcass. Compared to how they smelled once they were cut open and salvaged for parts, this one wasn’t all that bad. Even so, she placed her hand over her mouth to at least play the part of a normal person.
“Ever seen anything like that before?” Stanze asked.
“No,” Paige lied. “Can I take some pictures?”
“Go right ahead. I took plenty already.”
The Half Breed carcass inside the bag was twisted up like a meaty, bony, rancid pretzel. Its head was turned around at an odd angle and all four of its legs were practically knotted into a bow. Its torso wasn’t much more than a mass of flesh marred by ribs jutting out at odd angles. Paige removed her cell phone and took a few pictures. “Has anyone tested it?” she asked while reaching in to push aside some of the wiry fur from its upper forepaw.
“Tested?” Stanze asked.
“You know, like its blood or hair. DNA? That sort of thing.”
Stanze laughed and swatted one of the dozens of flies that had found their way to the exotic carrion feast. “Oh, hell no. I wanted to, but it was all I could do to keep from having Animal Control cart it off with the rest of the road kill. Some more people were attacked after I hauled this one in, so they figure it isn’t the one we’re after. Even if this one did hurt someone, one science boy told me it’s just some big dead dog. I tried to call in a few favors, but I don’t know anyone who owes me enough to cover the cost of a DNA test.”
“Where did you find it?”
“I shot it,” Stanze corrected her proudly. Just then the door opened and a pair of cops in plainclothes stepped outside carrying bottles of water. They looked over at Stanze and immediately started to laugh. Before the comments could start to fly, Stanze muttered, “Well, I hit it with my car and then shot it. Damn thing messed up my vehicle so bad, I may be forced to cover the cost myself. I sure won’t hear the end of it from the rest of these clowns.”
“And where did you hit it?”
“Right across the ribs and the side of the head,” Stanze said without cracking a smile. He maintained his composure for another few seconds before removing his cap and nervously patting down a section of his hair. “Oh. I was on an access road off of westbound I-70. It was a few days after that first guy was declared missing. Rothbard was his name.”
