Fire Within

  Ari pushed the button, the security camera flashed green, and the gray-haired woman on the desk buzzed her in. Most of the staff knew Ari from her frequent orientation visits. She stopped by once a week to introduce herself to new residents, mostly werecreatures and vampires, and let them know that the Magic Council’s resources were available.

  Mrs. Archer, one of the shelter’s dedicated retiree volunteers, greeted her with a smile. Short and solid, with salt and pepper hair, she was a no-nonsense human with a warm heart who always smelled like lilacs in Spring.

  “It’s been a while since we’ve run into each other,” Ari said. “How are the grandchildren?”

  “Oh, my goodness, they’re growing so fast. I have a new one.” The woman’s whole face twinkled. “That’s why I haven’t been around lately. I was there for the birth, and I have pictures. Would you like to see?”

  How could Ari say no? It only took a couple minutes to ooh and aah. When the photos were put away, Ari asked about Vanessa and the shelter’s old records.

  “Oh my, we got everything. Irene never lets us throw away a thing. Has this girl done something wrong?”

  “No. It’s worse than that. She’s dead. Murdered.”

  “That’s dreadful! Was she one of those poor victims on the news? I always hope our charges will do well, but I know it doesn’t always happen. How can I help?”

  “An address. Her name’s Vanessa or Vani. We’re trying to locate her home, employer, or friends.”

  “Well, let me see what I can find.” Mrs. Archer rummaged through the file cabinets and finally retrieved a slender brown folder. “It says here she stayed about three weeks.” The older woman leafed through the pages. “And then left to stay with a friend. But, oh, dear, it doesn’t list the friend’s name or address. Not even a phone. The ‘no contact’ box is checked, which means she refused any follow-up.” She handed Ari the file. “Just lists the classes she took, how much blood she got, an assessment of her risk level. Hers was low.”

  Ari thumbed through the documents and handed the file back. “Do you remember her? Tall, long brown hair.” Ari showed her a copy of the photo.

  “No, doesn’t look familiar. Pretty. We get so many.” She returned the file to the cabinet. “But Daniel’s in back. I’ll get him. He remembers all the pretty girls.”

  Mrs. Archer was gone so long, Ari began to think she’d been forgotten. She was checking her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, when she heard the older woman’s voice. Looking toward the hallway, Ari saw the volunteer encouraging an aging gentleman beside her to hurry his steps. Daniel’s once tall, thin frame had given into age, now slightly stooped and frail. His head was shiny bald, except for the brown age spots and a sprinkling of white hairs that Ari could have counted on her toes. He peered at Ari with a myopic look. A real lothario.

  “This is Daniel,” Mrs. Archer announced loudly. She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t hear so good.” Then, she turned up the volume up again. “Says he remembers Vanessa. Tell her, Daniel.”

  “You just did.” The elderly man’s voice was gravelly, his manner still brusque. “And you don’t have to talk so loud. Not completely deaf.” He turned his whole body to face Ari. “You’re that Guardian gal. Seen you here before.”

  “I come quite often, but I don’t think I’ve met you.”

  “They keep me in the back. Sorting things. These old bones are still good enough for that.” He scowled. “This getting old stuff’s no fun. But as they say, better than the alternative.” He tee-heed at his timeworn joke. “So you want to know about Vani. Now that one could’ve been a movie star. Sorry to hear she died. Real pretty gal. Wasn’t here long, but I always remember the babes. That’s why I remember you.” He twinkled at Ari.

  She smiled at the old man’s flirting. “The records say she left with a friend. Do you know who that was?”

  “Well, now.” Daniel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “A young gal came several times to see her, if I remember the right person. Could have been a volunteer or social worker.”

  “Can you describe her?”

  “Human. Brown hair, I think. Average. Not one of the beauties, but real pleasant. Can’t really picture her face.” He squinted at Ari. “Myrtle says Vani was murdered. You be careful now. A little gal like you shouldn’t be chasing criminals.”

  “Thanks for the concern, but I’m tougher than I look. If you think of anything else, please call.” She gave each of them a business card and left.

  Although the social service agencies would be closed tonight, Ari planned to follow Daniel’s suggestion and start with them first thing in the morning.

  With the evening still young, she decided to stop at the club, check in with the werelions, see if everything was secure. OK, so maybe she really wanted to see Andreas. If he was talking to her. She hadn’t intended to start a fight last night. Ari sighed. Maybe she should take that as an omen. And yet, here she was.

  Club Dintero was busy. Marcus was manning the front door.

  Ari looked around but didn’t see Andreas. “Where is he?”

  “You mean, Andreas?”

  “Of course. Is he around?”

  “I think he’s in his office, but…” Marcus looked uncertain. “Did he know you were coming? Someone’s with him right now. Let me find you a table. I’ll send him in as soon as he’s free. I’m sure he won’t be long.”

  Something in Marcus’s voice made her ask, “Who’s he with?”

  “Uh, why don’t I tell him you’re here?”

  Ari frowned. What was wrong with Marcus? She’d never seen him so ill at ease. She’d begun to suspect something was wrong, when feminine laughter erupted from the direction of the office. As she turned to look, Andreas and Ms. Slinky from the charity auction exited into the hallway. Both were smiling. The vampiress was draped on his arm.

  Ari’s first thought was to leave, but she decided not to let him off the hook so easy. She stepped forward with a bright smile on her face.

  “Ah, there you are,” she said. “Marcus has been telling me you were busy, and I shouldn’t interrupt.” Ari turned to Ms. Slinky and took a deliberate look. White tube top, black leather skirt, long legs. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Arianna Calin.”

  Andreas’s companion returned the scrutiny, making Ari very aware of her faded jeans. “Glorius,” the vamp responded coolly.

  Glorious! Give me a break, thought Ari. Who had a name like that and admitted it?

  Andreas displayed an instant of hesitation, then watched their exchange with a smile tugging at his mouth.

  Ari had a sudden urge to remove his smug look. “Since I was working late, I dropped in to report the latest developments.” She looked pointedly at Ms. Slinky and smiled. “But I see you’re otherwise occupied. Lt. Foster can bring you up to date. Tomorrow or the next day, whenever you’re available.” She turned to leave, but Andreas deftly caught her arm.

  “Glorius and I are finished, for the moment, and I always have time for you.” Still holding her arm in a firm grasp, he spoke to his companion, “Glori, I will get back to you as soon as I know more. Please, have a drink, enjoy the show. Marcus can find you a table.”

  “I appreciate the invitation,” she purred. “But I never drink alone. Conduct your business, darling. I’ll be back another time.” She gave him a sizzling smile and tossed a half-hearted nod in Ari’s direction before departing.

  Darling? Huh. Good riddance. Ari yanked her arm away from Andreas and marched toward his office. Once inside, Andreas closed the door and stepped back, as if he expected her to take a swing. She regarded him with a bland face.

  “Seems like a nice, sweet girl,” Ari said.

  “Pleasant enough.”

  “I’ll just bet. She was your date at the auction.”

  He grinned. “You noticed.”

  Ari bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t admitted that, and pretended interest in a modern wall abstract. “You two seemed quite chummy, darling,” she said, k
eeping her voice neutral but not looking at him.

  He said nothing. The silence grew louder.

  “No comment?” Ari turned around and gave him cop eyes.

  “What do you want me to say, Arianna? You were not around for many months. Life went on.”

  “So, who is she?” When he hesitated, Ari wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. A casual lover? Something more? Ari feared they were moving onto thin ice. She’d come to set things right with him, and this wasn’t a good start. Maybe she should stick to business, always safer ground for them. “Never mind. Your business. I shouldn’t have asked. So, tell me about last night, did you find any trace of Vanessa?”

  Andreas lifted a brow but accepted the shift in the conversation. “No, she seems to have been a true loner. No friends I can find within the vampire community.”

  “She didn’t like vampires, didn’t want to be one, according to Rita. But she had a human friend. Female. Someone who checked her out of the New World shelter about eighteen months ago.”

  “A friend or a romantic attachment?”

  Ari frowned, realizing she hadn’t considered that. “Don’t know. But from what her clients said, either is possible.” She filled him in on the sparse information she’d learned.

  While she talked, he leaned against the edge of his desk and watched her with a hooded expression. “Where does that get us?” he asked when she finished.

  “Nowhere yet,” Ari admitted, flopping down on the couch. “But it’s a new lead.”

  “So, this was the latest news you stopped by to report?” He made it a question.

  “No, not really. I thought maybe we could declare a truce.”

  “I was not aware we were at war.”

  “Don’t give me that innocent tone. As I recall, you implied you weren’t talking to me until, and I quote, ‘figured it out.’”

  “Have you?”

  “What?”

  “Have you figured it out?”

  “No.” Ari looked away to avoid meeting his gaze. “I don’t have time to think about us. I’m not even sure what the ‘it’ is I’m supposed to figure out. I can’t have a personal crisis right now. I have three murders to solve.” When pushed, Ari tended to push back.

  “As do I,” he reminded her.

  “You didn’t seem to be worrying about the murders when I arrived,” she shot back. “You acted pretty relaxed, happy with your company.”

  “Ah, so we are back to that.” Andreas’s expression darkened. “Are you looking for a fight?”

  “No,” she muttered crossly. “I didn’t want that.” She started to add something, but he spoke first.

  “Glorius is Daron’s new lieutenant. We were lovers for a month or two. It was over before the night of the auction.” He stopped and waited until she looked up. “I did not owe you an explanation. You should not expect me to indulge you again. As for my hope you would figure it out, that referred to our personal relationship, not our working arrangements.” He swept back the black curl that had a tendency to fall over his forehead. “As it is, the personal will have to wait.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s all good, I guess.” Ari couldn’t think of anything adequate to say. She’d sounded like a jealous bitch. How do you laugh that off?

  His lips twitched. Ari frowned. For some unfathomable reason he’d found her response amusing. She let it go. “So, any ideas how we find Vanessa’s friend? An old guy at the shelter suggested social service agencies.”

  “Which seems to make Shale & Associates the logical place to start. But before I forget to mention it, your Lt. Foster called earlier this evening. They located two witnesses who saw the vehicle used in the drive-by. Two blocks from here a dark blue Buick sedan nearly ran them down. The man got a partial plate number, which the lieutenant is trying to trace.”

  “You might have told me sooner,” Ari said.

  “I could have, but I told you now.”

  She gave him a hard stare. He smiled. Not the reaction she’d hoped for, but better than the invisible tension they’d been generating. “You’re impossible.”

  “I think you have mentioned that before.” Still giving her that lazy smile, he stood and opened the door. “Let me redeem myself. Say, over dinner and wine?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following afternoon Ryan called Ari from his duty car to say they had an address for the owner of the drive-by vehicle. He was on his way to the residence.

  “Do you need help?” she asked. He'd caught her in the middle of writing up her notes on her morning visits to the social service agencies, and any interruption was welcome.

  “No, it’s a human residential area. Better let the uniforms handle it. I’ll call if we pick someone up, and you can meet us at the station.”

  “OK. Take care.” Damn, human residential area. That was unwelcome news. If humans were behind the attacks, it wasn’t going to help the growing resentment in the vampire community. She’d almost decided a halfling demon was the culprit, but she couldn’t imagine a halfling blending into a human district undetected or gaining neighborhood acceptance. They were weird looking folks—scrawny; orange skin coloring; coarse, straight hair; and they didn’t touch meat or other human food until it was rotten and moldy. Not the least bit human-like.

  Ari returned to her reports. Including Shale’s center, she’d found five social agencies that had some contact with Otherworld clients. None had been acquainted with Vanessa and her female friend’s description was too vague to elicit any positive responses. This was looking like another dead end.

  She glanced at her watch. It had been forty-five minutes with no call from Ryan. Any address in Riverdale could be reached in thirty. Had something gone wrong? Maybe the suspect wasn’t at home. She turned her attention back to the computer screen.

  The big clock hand made another complete sweep before her phone rang. Ryan sounded out of breath. “We’re headed for the station with one suspect in custody. The other is on his way to the hospital with a bullet in his gut. Don’t think he’ll make it.”

  Ari clutched the phone. “Are you OK? What happened?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. A little hyped,” he admitted. “One of the suspects opened up with a pistol, and we fired back. None of our officers were hurt, but we sure stirred up the neighborhood. And they lit up the PD phone circuits. Then the press arrived. What a brouhaha. I’ll tell you all about it later. See you in fifteen.”

  Ari abandoned her reports and dashed from the office. The PD would be in an uproar following a shooting, and Ryan would be impatient for answers. This was one suspect interview she didn’t want to miss.

  * * *

  The air in the cop shop sizzled with tension. When officers were at risk, everyone on the force felt the adrenaline surge. Next time it might be their lives on the line. Ryan’s office was crowded with uniforms and excited voices. Ari smelled the testosterone in the air, and the high levels of energy—even of the human variety—raised the hairs on her arms. As soon as Ryan spotted her, he started waving the crowd toward the door.

  “OK, go on, you slackers. Out of here. Some of us still have work to do.”

  After more backslaps, the crowd began to move and finally filed out into the hallway. Ari closed the door, silence descended, and Ryan sank into his desk chair.

  “What an afternoon.” He raked his fingers through his curly hair. “It might have been one of us.”

  Ari nodded in comprehension. The aftermath of an energy rush was setting in, that moment after a close call when a cop realizes he’s survived, but it could have gone either way. Ryan aimlessly shuffled the papers on his desk, straightening, restacking. Ari waited, giving him time to regroup. The suspect would still be in booking. They had plenty of time.

  Ari dropped into a chair and let her gaze wander around the room, stopping on a sparrow sitting on the outside windowsill. It was pecking at something, dead bugs or debris.

  “What do sparrows eat?” she asked. “Worms? No, I guess that??
?s robins.”

  Ryan looked at her with a startled frown, followed her gaze to the window and grinned, settling back in his chair. “Seeds, I think. Maybe insects.”

  “You want to tell me what happened?” she asked, bringing her focus back to his face. “It’s not every day you get into a shootout.”

  Ryan took a deep breath. “Not much to tell. We knocked on the door, and someone inside opened fire. Thank God for protocol and bulletproof vests. An officer coming through the back door got the shooter. The other suspect surrendered. He wasn’t armed.”

  That was the short version, Ari thought. The long would include the mind-numbing sounds of gunfire and the shouting and boots running and the fear. They didn’t need to mention those.

  “What’s the status of the shooter?”

  “DOA at the hospital. Knew he wouldn’t make it. Gut shots are lethal.” Ryan glanced at his wall clock. “Booking should be done. Let’s go do this.”

  Ari followed him down the hall.

  When Ryan opened the door of the interrogation room, the mid-twenties suspect sat slumped forward, an untidy head of mouse-brown hair propped up by one elbow. As soon as he heard the door, he jerked up straight, his body stiff with alarm. Henry “Hank” Philby knew he was in big trouble. “What’s gonna happen to me?” he asked, his voice high, uncertain, clearly not feeling much like a badass right now.

  “Well, that depends,” Ryan responded. “You’re in deep shit, Hank.” He pulled up a chair, taking his time, sat down and waited until Ari was settled. “Your buddy died on the way to the hospital. And you’ll be lucky to see the outside of a prison before you need the old folks’ home.”

  Philby’s face visibly paled. “Wasn’t my buddy,” he muttered. “Just a dude.”