“And he sent you here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My thoughts turn to Dexter. Is this the time to tell them, to tell Isabella, why she is here?
“Wait a minute,” Amy interrupts before I can speak. “Barakov? I know that name.”
“So do I,” adds Isabella. “And I know Alan Pierce. Are you sure they aren’t all in on this together?”
Zack steps forward. “We’re positive. She had help, obviously.” He’s choosing his words carefully. “But her husband wasn’t involved in your kidnappings. Neither was Alan.”
“You will find out who was, though, right?” Amy asks Zack, her green eyes flashing.
“We’ll do what we can. Now that you’re safe, that’s the priority,” he replies. He hears the threat in Amy’s tone, too. And he’s already seen Isabella in action.
Amy and Isabella seem to have recovered completely. Recovered enough in fact for Amy to fix Zack and me with a steely gaze and ask, “Who are you?”
Zack extends a hand. “I’m Special Agent Zack Armstrong. This is Special Agent Emma Monroe. FBI.”
She shakes both of our hands in turn, then looks at us from beneath lowered eyebrows. “What are you? Agents of the FBI’s X-Files Bureau?”
“I didn’t know they let the furry into the Bureau these days,” snorts Owen.
Zack glares at the vampire he’s just saved. “Even a young pup knows not to bite the hand that feeds it,” he growls.
Owen looks appropriately contrite. “Sorry, Agent Armstrong. That was out of line. I owe you both. Big- time.”
Evan looks around the lab. “Is anyone else here?”
Zack and I exchange a quick look. His neutral expression and small shrug throw the question to me. He’s going to let me decide if we should tell them about Dexter. Tell Isabella that she was to be his donor. I don’t know if she was aware that he was sick. Or if Dexter is aware of anything that happened since Alan drugged him the night before. I don’t know how to begin.
Zack picks up on my hesitation and comes to my rescue, smoothly waving away Evan’s question by a skillful change of subject.
“Amy, Ms. Haskell is going to be very relieved to see you. She’s been worried sick.”
Amy’s eyes widen in surprise. “How long have I been gone?”
“A little over two weeks.”
She passes a hand over her face. “My show in New York . . .”
Zack and I look at each other. That’s the least of it. We have to come up with explanations—cover stories— for Amy, Isabella, and Owen.
And for our superiors. We certainly can’t report any of
I look from Amy to Isabella. “You two need to come up with a story to explain why you’ve been gone. Particularly you, Amy. Your disappearance hit the papers and there’s been a lot of speculation, especially since you missed the opening of your own show. Haskell has done a good job deflecting the press, but you’re going to have to come up with an explanation the public will buy.”
Amy nods. She shoots the others a look of resignation. “I’ll have to give it some thought. You’d think as a vampire, I’d be used to lying, wouldn’t you?”
There’s a general murmur of agreement.
I turn to Isabella. “Any ideas? You’ve been gone the longest, a little over two months.”
“Two months!” Her expression darkens. “That bitch stole two months of my life? How on earth am I going to catch up with school? Never mind my internship.”
She’s on the verge of tears, so I give her a minute. “You should know, Michael never gave up hope.”
Isabella’s face clears and her eyes brighten. “He wouldn’t. No matter what, Michael always seems to be there for me.”
“He knows you best,” I say. “He’ll be wanting an explanation and could be the hardest to convince.”
Isabella nods. “I’ll tell him I had to get away to clear my head. He knows how conflicted I’ve been about this whole vampire thing. He’ll yell and carry on, but he’ll accept it. That’s what best friends do.” She frowns. “What am I going to say to the people at school? They’ve probably dropped me by now.”
“I can pay the dean an unofficial visit and explain you were under our protection,” Zack says. “A witness to something we can’t discuss, but that it’s over now. I’ll flash my badge, be vague but officious. I can be very convincing.”
Isabella’s eyes sweep Zack, head to feet. “I’m sure you can be. Especially since the dean’s a she.” Isabella is smiling again. “I’m confident you’ll wrap her around your finger in no time flat.”
“I’m not sure I can do anything about your internship, though,” he continues. “Michael mentioned they couldn’t hold the position.”
She sighs, then steps closer to me, lowers her voice. “How is Michael?”
Her question jolts me back into facing the predicament I dodged before.
Her friend is in the next room, awaiting a transplant that isn’t going to happen. Should I tell her? How will she feel knowing her freedom may be his death warrant?
She’s wringing her hands. “His health had been failing.”
Once again, I’m torn between telling her the truth—all of it—and leaving it to Dexter to explain the gravity of his condition when they’re together.
I shrug noncommittally. “You’ll see him soon enough. He’ll be thrilled to have you home.”
Owen’s laugh makes Isabella turn away from me. Another reprieve. Zack has been questioning Owen, asking if he has a story ready. Owen’s response is a burst of laughter.
“I don’t need a story,” he says, grinning. “I’ve never been part of the mainstream. I’m forever disappearing, going off on binges. My sire seems to have infinite patience for my bullshit and accepts my comings and goings. I’ve only been gone a couple of days, right? I doubt anyone’s missed me. Evan, if you give me a lift to the nearest Emporium, I can take it from there. If I’m going to stay on the wagon, I’m going to need a good supply.”
Amy glances down at the scrubs. “There’s one problem. I can’t go home like this.”
“Me, either,” chimes in Isabella. “We’ll need clothes to make our stories stick.”
Evan holds out a hand to me. “Can I borrow your car? I’ll bring Amy and Isabella to Liz. She’ll be able to take care of the clothes.”
I drop my keys in his hand. “Leave the car in your guest spot and the keys in the glove box. I have a spare. When we’re finished here, Zack will drive me over to get it.” I lower my voice. “Don’t rush to get Isabella and Amy home. We’ll need some time to sort this mess out.”
“No kidding.” Evan smiles in sympathy, looking around. “I’ll drop Owen off first. You know Liz. She’ll want to know every detail of what happened. That should buy you a couple of hours at least.” His voice softens. “I can’t thank you enough, Emma. You’ve gone above and beyond. I hope you don’t get in trouble with your boss. I’m not sure how you’re going to explain—”
I interrupt with a wave of a hand. “Don’t worry about that, just get home. Liz has some news I think you’ll like.” I cast my own skeptical eye around the room. “But you’re right, Zack and I have a lot of cleaning up to do.”
Evan shepherds everyone out, the vampires leaving with repeated offerings of thanks.
Then Zack and I are alone. I take stock of the mess we’re in. We have a secret lab in downtown San Diego filled with custom-made silver-lined coffins. We have one very dead transplant surgeon. And last, but not least, we have a sedated and critically ill famous artist. I walk over to where Dr. Barbara Pierce’s body is lying on the floor. She’s looking up at me, her face drained of color, her eyes empty, her neck grotesquely twisted, mangled by a dozen frenzied bite marks.
It’s one thing for Isabella and Amy to come up with plausible cover stories. How are Zack and I ever going to come up with ours? I look over at Zack. “Got any bright ideas, Mr. Handyman?”
He’s at the sink. He’s just finished rinsing off his burned hands and is wrapping gauze around them. “Now that we have a body to get rid of, she appreciates me.”
“We don’t have much time. We can’t leave Alan sitting in his office forever. Somebody from the foundation might come in and find him.”
