“It’s okay,” she told Turner, and Andre knew she wasslightly amused by Turner’s declaration regarding his own sexuality. “Really,it’s okay. I’ve heard far worse, and I understand what you’re trying to tellus.”
“Uh, yes. Thank you.”
“Did you tell the detectives on the case about this?”Cheyenne asked.
“I did.”
“And?” Andre asked.
“Apparently, Mark Bower had an alibi for the night Sheiladisappeared.” He stopped speaking and frowned. “Weird.”
“What?” Cheyenne asked.
Turner stood suddenly, going for a notebook that lay open ona coffee table across the room by his entertainment center.
“Weird,” he repeated.
“So you said. How so?” Cheyenne asked.
“Well, Sheila was taken…she left her friends’ place at thenew apartments at about nine at night. And she was found on the doorstep atabout seven the following morning.”
“Right,” Andre said, studying their host. “I know whatyou’re probably wondering about. The other victims were reported missingseveral days before their bodies were found.”
“Exactly. But Sheila disappeared at night, and was found thefollowing morning,” Turner said. He looked at them. “Does that mean anything?”
“It might,” Andre said.
Turner stared at him as if he didn’t want to hear someoneecho his own thought. “Two killers? Draining bodies of blood?”
“Maybe, but unlikely. Sheila, like the other two women, wasfound drained of blood, with no pools or even droplets of it anywhere near her.The killer is holding his victims somewhere,” Andre said, and then hesitatedbefore adding, “torturing them emotionally through fear, at the very least,before draining them of their blood. In every case, from the crime scenereports and medical examiner statements we’ve been able to read, it seems theyare quickly exsanguinated once the process begins. The puncture wounds, made toappear like the fanged bite of a vampire, are directly in the carotid, and…” Hehesitated again. For all the creepy gore Benjamin Turner made use of in hisInternet show, he was looking a little nauseous.
The red that had filled his face after his sex talk was nowgone, replaced by a pasty white color.
“I believe he’s hanging them up like animals in aslaughterhouse, draining the blood that way,” Andre said. “I’m sorry.”
Turner sat again, his notebook still in his hand. “Theyhaven’t said,” he told them glumly. “Were they…sexually assaulted?”
“No,” Andre told him.
Benjamin Turner looked away for a moment. “Well, I don’t knowwhat that means. I still think that prim and proper banker, Mark Bower, the onewho turns kinky and becomes a weirdo by the light of the full moon, might beyour man. I just hope—”
“Yes?” Cheyenne asked softly.
“There’s another girl missing. I hope that…”
“So do we,” Andre said, rising. Cheyenne came to her feet,as well, thanking Turner for his time.
“Mr. Turner, may wecall on you again?” Cheyenne rummaged in her purse. “We’ll give you ournumbers. Feel free to call either of us.”
She offered him her card, and Andre did the same.
“I’m going to put these right into my speed-dial,” BenjaminTurner assured them. “And, thank you. I will. Please, I don’t know what else Icould say or do, but…call me anytime.”
“We’ll do that,” Andre promised, and they left at last.
* * * *
Andre put through another call to their home office whenthey left. When he finished, he was frowning.
“You don’t mind me doing the talking to the home office, doyou?”
She smiled at him. “Andre, we’ve both been FBI. But I’mbrand new to the Krewe of Hunters. Yes, I am fine with you doing the talking.Anything?”
“Well, let’s see. We have the cops thinking Eric wanted toget rid of Sheila. But in the meantime, we have this lovely InspectorBirmingham running around telling people that they shouldn’t be talking to us.Luckily, two of those people have their own agendas and talked to us anyway.Then, there could still be a random killer not on anyone’s radar out there. Idon’t like Mark Bower. I do like both our Benjamin Turner and Clark Brighton—evenif Brighton is a little bit flaky. Doesn’t mean a damned thing, as we’ve said.We need to get information on the other victims, see if anything matches up.And I want to meet Inspector Birmingham.”
“I meant from Angela. Did you get anything from Angela?”Cheyenne asked him.
“Just that she tried to reach Birmingham for me. And he’sconveniently out of the office today, which Angela should understand since hehas a lot to investigate.”
“You’re just angry that he wants to solve the case himself.”
“I don’t want to solve the damned thing for him. I want tohelp so it can be solved,” Andre said. He glanced at his watch again.“Let’s head in. I’d like to see the street, the strip club, and everything elsebefore we head in to watch for action tonight. It’s also getting late, and thatcoffee we had, and even Eric’s English breakfast is fading…food would be good.”
“I’m going to check in with Emily. Make sure they have theircameras up and running. I‘m worried about them, Andre.”
“If they lock up and stay vigilant, they’ll be fine.”
Cheyenne thought about their house on the high end ofSwain’s Lane. Near the ultra-modern apartments and businesses but close toHighgate Cemetery, too. By night, that area was dark. And on either side of thelane, the trees and foliage grew lushly, shadows reigned, and the tombs of thedead could hide many a sin.
Andre was heading to the car, focused and determined.
She smiled and followed, calling her cousin as she slid intothe passenger seat and buckled her belt.
Emily was fine.
Eric was thrilled with the cameras and system they hadbought. He was happily playing with his computer and making sure all angles ofthe house were covered.
“Everything okay?” Andre asked her when she ended the call.
“Yep. They’re good. So, driving here is okay, huh?” sheasked.
He cast her a glance and smiled. “Still don’t trust me onthis side of the road?”
“No, I always trust you.”
His smile deepened, but he kept his eyes on the road.
“And I trust you. With everything. I was going to say ‘my life,’but you are my life, you know.”
She
