decided she wasn’t the one for that job. Instead Caxton found her way out of the dark building and into the fading light of afternoon. It was three-thirty and already the sun was low in the sky, casting long sharp shadows across the snow-crusted lawn. She spent a while just walking around, checking out the wall, looking for any place a vampire could sneak through. Of course, a determined enough intruder could climb over the wall anywhere, but she thought Jameson might try for a stealthy approach. The biggest weakness she found in the wall was a brick-lined arch at either end of the property where the creek flowed through. Neither arch was more than three feet high, but Jameson could easily crawl in through them.
It would be next to impossible to guard both arches unless she had some help. She had to make some phone calls.
Caxton took out her cell phone—she didn’t want to antagonize Sister Margot again by using her office phone—and was not surprised to find that she got terrible reception even outside the ex-convent, just a single bar that flickered in and out. She tramped around the grounds until her shoes were soaked through, hunting a clearer signal. She only found it as she approached the iron gate where she’d left her car.
Immediately the phone chirped, telling her she had a message waiting.
It was from Clara. “Hey, honey, I hope you’re having a good day. I dropped by your HQ earlier so I could meet with your forensics guys. I missed them, but they left a report for me to read. There were two things in it that sounded important. One was that they couldn’t get a positive ID on the half-dead, but that they were trying to rebuild its skull so they could build up a computer-enhanced facial reconstruction. I wouldn’t hold your breath, though—they said it could take a couple days to do the rendering. The other thing was that they were able to match the fibers taken from the motel bathroom window. They found three different kinds of thread: cotton, nylon, and an aromatic polyamide, um, which they said also goes by the trade name of Twaron. I hope that helps.”
Caxton bit her lip. It didn’t help at all, of course. It was just like she’d told Fetlock. Fiber analysis was no use on this case. She called Clara, intending to thank her for her help anyway, but the number went straight to voice mail. She left a short message and hung up, then dialed Fetlock.
“I’ve got the location secured, as much as possible,” Caxton told him when he asked how she was going about protecting Raleigh. “I’ve got some ideas on how to handle him if she shows up here. Though I have to say I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Understandable,” he told her.
“The big thing worrying me right now is that I know he’s going to go after Raleigh and Simon, but I don’t know which one he’ll try to hit first. I could be in the wrong place right now, just spinning my wheels.”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Yeah.” Caxton rubbed at her eyes. She needed sleep. Well, she’d needed sleep since Arkeley took the curse. Since Gettysburg. She was learning to live on just a couple hours a night. “Did Glauer call you about checking some possible lairs?”
“Yes. I have people on it.”
Caxton closed her eyes. “How many people? Do they know how dangerous this could be? How many places can they check out before dark?”
“Let me worry about that. You have enough on your hands.”
Caxton held the phone away from her face and tried not to scream. Of course she was going to worry about it. This was her case. She wanted to say a number of things in response. Then she rethought them and instead just said, “Okay, good. Did you send a deputy up to Syracuse to collect Simon?”
“I…did,” Fetlock acknowledged.
From his tone Caxton could guess what had happened. “He refused protective custody, I take it.”
“I’m told he refused to leave his current residence. Said he had an experiment going on he couldn’t let out of his sight. Is Simon some kind of scientist?”
“He’s a college student. Probably worried about getting a B in geology or something. Not the most levelheaded guy I’ve ever met.”
Fetlock tried to sound encouraging. “I’ve detailed three units to watch his place, in shifts. We’ve got round- the-clock coverage. If Jameson shows up there we’re ready for him.”
She thought of the cops she’d sent to protect Astarte. “No. We’re probably not. If he comes for Simon tonight I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“So what do you want to do, Special Deputy?”
“I can’t be in two places at once,” Caxton said. “And I’m already here. I’ll keep in touch, Deputy Marshal.”
“Please do,” Fetlock said, and hung up.
She made a couple more phone calls, preparing for the night to come, and then headed back to the convent building—it was time for dinner.
Chapter 28.
Dinner at the convent proved simple enough, a salad of mixed greens, vegetable barley soup, and some grainy bread that Caxton chewed and chewed until it was soft enough to swallow. She was seated at a long table with twenty girls, all dressed in oversized clothes that covered them from neck to ankle.
Apparently attractive clothing was a distraction, and therefore to be avoided in the retreat. None of the girls spoke a word as they ate, but they all kept looking up at Caxton with wide eyes, clearly wondering what she was doing there. Raleigh sat on the other side of the table but didn’t make eye contact during the meal.
Tall arched windows lined one long wall. Nothing showed beyond them but blackness. If Jameson came crashing through one of them, if he chose that moment to attack his daughter, there would be little Caxton could do to stop him. In the dark she would be at a distinct disadvantage. To Caxton the dining hall was a swaying cavern of guttering light. To a vampire it would be lit up like Christmas—they could see human blood glowing with its own light even in the thickest gloom. To make matters worse, if Jameson attacked the room would be full of panicked girls running every which way. Caxton couldn’t shoot through that crowd, not if she didn’t want to hit Raleigh or one of the other inmates by mistake.
She was relieved, then, as the sisters rose one by one from the long tables and left the dining hall without a word. They stacked their soup bowls and their plates in a tall metal rack by the door and filed out individually, presumably headed for their rooms. When only a few remained, struggling with their hard bread, Caxton bused her own bowl and plate and then made her way toward where Raleigh still sat.
The girl sat alone, her arms wrapped around her chest, staring down at the rough surface of the table. No food sat before her, just a glass half full of warm water. Caxton remembered that she was fasting in honor of her uncle Angus, and maybe in honor of her mother now as well. She supposed she had to respect that kind of reverence, though she doubted a doctor would agree—Raleigh couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds, a fact even her baggy clothes couldn’t hide. Caxton touched the girl on the shoulder and she looked up and nodded, then stood and started walking toward the door. Caxton followed close behind, only turning around once when she noticed Violet following them at a discreet distance.
After dinner most of the girls headed for a common room, where they could read or talk quietly among themselves. There wasn’t a lot else they were allowed to do. They weren’t even allowed to play board games or cards; when Caxton asked why not, Raleigh pointed out a girl named Kelli, who sat alone on the opposite side of the room, just staring into space. “She’s here because she was addicted to Internet gambling. She went through a whole trust fund in six months and then she started borrowing money with no way to pay it back. If we had so much as a game of Go Fish in here, she’d be looking for somebody to bet with on who would win.”
One by one, or in small groups, the girls wandered off to bed. It was no later than eight o’clock when Raleigh announced she was tired enough to sleep, herself.
It was understood that Caxton would be sleeping in Raleigh’s room that night. Caxton had expected the girl to be suspicious when she’d heard about the arrangements—surely she must have guessed something was up. Yet Raleigh had asked no questions nor even given Caxton a quizzical look. She had simply accepted Caxton’s continued presence as a fact of life and moved on.
In the hallway Violet sat waiting for them in a massive carved wooden chair bigger than she was. The mute girl jumped up when she saw them and came racing to catch up.
“What’s her deal?” Caxton whispered to Raleigh, nodding in Violet’s direction.
