“Oops. That’s not good. What did she do?”
“Hmm… Looks like she promised something like an appearance at a local festival. Névé had already refused. It ended up causing a rift that took a lot of smoothing over. Apparently it was the last in a long string of events where Astrana took it upon herself to speak for the throne without permission. She had already been reprimanded three or four times for pulling a similar stunt. She was on probation and dismissed from Névé’s service after making a full apology to the mayor and explaining that she hadn’t had the authority to make any such promise. She left in disgrace, and she was pissed as hell from what I can see here.”
That Astrana was willing to speak for the Queen without permission indicated an egotistical personality. Either that, or she thought she’d manage to get away with something. Or she might have been deliberately trying to cause trouble.
“No matter what the reason, she’s a risk taker.” I thought for a moment. “Can you find any evidence that she’s a gambler? I doubt if money would be the focus, but the addictive nature of raising the stakes might be. She could be an adrenaline junkie.”
Viktor spent another couple minutes tapping away at his tablet. All of a sudden he stopped, staring at a page on the screen. “Well, lookie here.”
“What did you find?”
“Just a notation that our fair sheriff took out an extensive loan for her house. And we’re talking massive. As in the realm of four million dollars. She’s living well above her means, therefore she has to find a way to pay that mortgage every month.”
“Can we be sure she didn’t pay cash for it? Remember, the Fae are very long-lived. She could have been saving for most of her lifetime.”
“Not this time. There’s a mortgage holder listed for her property. And her mortgage company is VN Worldwide Bank, Washington state branch.” Viktor flashed me a smug smile. He nodded. “Mmm. As I thought.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.”
“VN—the Vampire Nation Worldwide Bank. The vampires own her to the tune of over three and a half million dollars.”
I almost swerved into the other lane. Owing the vampires that much money felt like a death sentence. Or at least, it would throw her into the realm of indentured servitude.
“But why would they give her such an enormous loan? Especially on her salary?” It seemed ridiculous. Even if she had already paid over five hundred thousand dollars back to them, which it sounded like.
“Think. The Fae are extremely long-lived. So are vampires. What better than a long-term investment? If they had lent a human that amount, you can bet the interest would be sky high, or they probably figured that person might be coming into a massive fortune. But a loan to the Fae? Over the years, the interest makes it worth the chance. She’ll be alive a long time, and by the time she pays the loan back, the interest will double, if not triple the amount. We know that the vamps are all about money.”
I blinked. Viktor was right. “So she has to figure out some way to pay the vampires back if she doesn’t want to be in their debt forever.”
“You can bet Blackthorn has more money than she’ll ever need. So if she can dig up some dirt on him and blackmail him, bingo. She’ll probably have the vamps paid back in ten years and then be counting on the rest of the blackmail to set her up for life.” Viktor shrugged. “It seems out there, but I can see it.”
“So, you think that either Blackthorn—or someone he’s connected with—started killing off people and Astrana found out about it. She blackmails him, looking the other way when the murders take place and making certain that the victims’ families do, too. But why doesn’t Blackthorn just kill her and be done with it?”
“Because the next sheriff might not be so willing to overlook a string of murders.”
A few moments later, we pulled up in front of the Douglases’ house. I tried to clear my thoughts. We needed to be focused. As we headed up the walkway, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
A MAID LET us in and told us to wait in the foyer. From the outside, the house looked modest and old, but once we were guided inside the foyer, it looked like the entire place had been updated and redone. The floor was travertine tile, the walls were creamy white, and the staircase leading upstairs was highly polished. Everything gleamed and looked new.
As she came sweeping down the hallway, Naomi Douglas also looked exceptionally poised and manicured. She was wearing a linen pantsuit. Her nails were perfectly manicured, and every hair on her hair cascaded gently into place in a long euro bob, slightly longer in front than it was in back. Her hair was that golden blond that you often see on children, but rarely on adults unless it was from a bottle. She carried a designer bag over her arm, and all in all, looked ready for an afternoon luncheon or a charity function or some other society affair.
“May I help you?” she asked, her gaze traveling over us with a puzzled air. “I was about to go out. Teresa said you wanted to talk to me?”
“I’m sorry, but we won’t delay you long,” I said with an apologetic tone. “We just need a few moments of your time.”
“If you’re looking for charity donations, I already contribute to a variety of shelters.” But by her tone, it was obvious she knew we weren’t there to ask for donations.
“We’d like to ask you a couple questions about your daughter, Rebecca.” Viktor lowered his voice, trying to be gentle. “It’s rather important.”
The blood drained from her face, and she leaned back against the wall.
“I’m afraid that I’m already late. Who are you?” The politeness vanished. I could feel the barricades going up even as we stood there.
“We’re investigating a series of deaths, of which your daughter’s was one. We hate to bring up old wounds, but it’s really important.” Viktor was firm, but insistent.
Mrs. Douglas tried to stare him down, but after a moment she looked away. “I don’t have much time to answer questions.” She gestured to a bench near the door. “If you’ll have a seat.”
We sat down with her, and I decided to let Viktor handle things, while I kept an eye on her for any telltale signs that she might be lying.
“We understand that the police never caught her killer. Can you tell us about her last night?”
“I want to see some identification first. I have no clue who you are, and I’m not going to discuss my daughter’s death with strangers.”
Viktor and I pulled out our identification badges, showing them to her. She took mine, looking it over carefully, before handing it back.
“I’ve never heard of the Wild Hunt Agency before. Are you aligned with the FBI?”
Viktor shook his head. “No, but we are licensed to investigate. We stumbled onto the news of your daughter’s murder while investigating a more recent homicide. We think that they might be connected.”
Mrs. Douglas blinked, and I could feel her struggling. Her lips pursed, she stared at the entryway floor, the confidence sagging out of her.
“It’s been sixteen years since Rebecca died,” she whispered. “Can’t we just let it be? Nothing’s going to bring her back. I’ve finally accepted that.”
“We’re looking to catch a serial murderer,” I said, leaning forward. “Mrs. Douglas, what did the police tell you about her death?”
After a moment, she looked up. “Call me Naomi. The police said she was killed by a vampire. They said it would be no use to look for whoever did it because they would be long gone.”
After a moment, Viktor said, “You know that’s not true, don’t you? You are her mother—you have intuition.”
Naomi’s taciturn façade began to crack, and she squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip.
“I know my little girl wasn’t killed by a vampire. But…”
“But?” I prompted.
She paused for a moment, then whispered, “I have a son. He’s twenty-four now, but he was only eight then. Someone called me, suggesting that I let Re
becca’s death be. They implied that if I didn’t, my son’s life would be in danger. I told the sheriff, and she shrugged it off as a prank. She said that I should just accept the fact that a vampire had killed my daughter. I was frightened. My husband and I had recently broken up, and he had moved to Seattle. He came back for a short time when Rebecca died, but he didn’t want to deal with it. He was an angry man, and Rebecca’s death only made him angrier. So I decided to do what they said. To focus on my son and keep him safe.”
“You seemed to have a stroke of good fortune shortly afterward. Can you tell us about that?” Viktor asked.
As reticent as Naomi had been when we first arrived, it was as if the dam had broken open.
“I don’t know how it happened, but I received a letter a few weeks after that phone call. It was from an insurance company that I had never heard of, and it included a check for $300,000. It said Rebecca had been covered by a policy that she had purchased a few days after she turned eighteen, and the money was guaranteed if we didn’t hold up the investigation.”
“Meaning if you didn’t push the cops?”
She nodded. “That’s the way I understood it. I had never heard Rebecca talk about insurance. She was only nineteen when she died. But the check was certified, and the letter looked official. I called the number on the letter, and some woman reassured me that it was legitimate. So I called the cops. The sheriff advised me to just accept it as serendipity. So…finally…I cashed it.”
“Did you ever hear from them again?”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “And there’s always been some part of me that felt like something was wrong, but what else was I going to do? The police didn’t want to hear from me. Every time I called them to see if they had made any progress, they told me that the case was cold and that they would call me if there were ever any leads. And after that phone call threatening my son, well, I finally decided that it was better just to keep my mouth shut.”
“Do you still have that letter anywhere?” I asked.
Naomi shook her head. “No. It’s odd, you know? I thought I had filed it away, but one day I went to look for it, and all I found was a blank piece of paper. I must have been mistaken.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about the day Rebecca disappeared? She was missing for a week, I gather.” Viktor was jotting down notes as she spoke.
“Not much. Rebecca was on her way to meet a new beau. She told me he was charming, and she used the words ‘almost princely.’ She said he seemed rather old world, and she wanted me to meet him. She told me that the day before she disappeared. But she didn’t tell me what his name was.” Naomi stared at her hands, shaking her head. “I wish I’d had a chance to meet him. My daughter didn’t make friends easily. She seldom dated.”
I glanced over at Viktor, wondering if he was thinking the same thing I was. “Old world” could mean many things, one of them being someone who was old. Perhaps someone who was ancient. I wondered if Blackthorn was engaging and “charming”?
“That’s all I can think of,” Naomi said. “I’m not certain if whoever it was who warned me against talking about Rebecca’s death is still around, but now that my son is grown and on his own, I don’t really care. A part of my heart died when Rebecca was murdered. The fact that I wasn’t allowed to talk about it made it worse. I’ve never gotten over the grief. I just buried it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry we had to bring this up.”
She shook her head. “It helps, in a way. It helps to know that Rebecca isn’t forgotten. That her existence hasn’t just been wiped off the face of the earth. Do me a favor,” she said. “If you find her killer, let me know. I’d like some sort of closure.”
And with that, she picked up her purse, indicating the interview was over. As Viktor and I went back to the car, I glanced back and watched as she got into her midsize SUV. She looked very much alone. I had the feeling that Naomi Douglas had very few friends.
ONCE WE WERE back in the car, Viktor and I didn’t say much for a moment.
“Naomi’s pain is still so raw. I feel like a heel for intruding on her personal grief.” I stared at the dashboard, trying to find some way of reconciling my guilt.
“We gave her the chance to talk. Something she hasn’t had until now.” Viktor gave me a bleak look. “Interviewing victims’ families never gets any easier. You might as well accept that now. At least we know something about the ‘stroke of good fortune.’ There was never any insurance company mentioned in any of the articles.”
“Ten to one, there isn’t any such insurance company. I wish she could have found that piece of paper.” I started the car.
“Oh, I wager she did. It just didn’t have anything on it. There are vanishing inks, and spells that can make writing disappear. My guess is that whoever sent the letter and check to Naomi decided to make sure that she wouldn’t have a record of it.”
Viktor paused, chewing on his lip. After a moment he added, “I wonder if we can hack into her bank account. There has to be some record of who gave her that check. A check for that large would have been recorded on her account. I’m not sure how banks work.”
“Given that it’s been over ten years, there’s a good chance the records are gone. But if anybody else we interview has received a similar payout, we might be in luck.” I glanced at the name and address on the next line. In addition to Naomi Douglas, we were interviewing a man named Robert Chance. His wife had vanished eighteen years ago, and had been found a week later. Two years before Rebecca.
“Let’s head over to see if he’s home.” Viktor took the tablet back from me, staring at the screen as I backed out of the driveway, heading to our second destination.
ROBERT CHANCE’S HOUSE was on the other side of Seacrest Cove, on South Seashore Avenue. Although it had private access to the beach, the house was small and weathered. If he had gotten some payout, it didn’t look like he had used it to keep up his property.
“Do the notes indicate whether he received a financial windfall as well?” I asked, parking across the street, on the side of the road.
To our left was a strip of Puget Sound, and across the patch of water that filtered in from the sound were two long narrow fingers of land with boat moorings bordering the edges. It was as though someone had carved out channels for the water in order to provide boat access. Chance’s house was on our right, across the road.
“He did, although like the others, there’s no notation of where it came from. It just says that he received a sizable amount of money about five months after his wife’s death.” Viktor glanced at me. “Want to make a bet it’s another insurance payment?”
“Maybe he’ll remember the name of the insurance company.”
We hopped out of the car. Given the road ended just behind us, it wasn’t likely that anybody was going to come speeding along and rear-end us. As we walked across the road, I noticed that there was a pickup in the driveway. It too looked worn down.
Viktor rang the bell, but there was no resulting chime that we could tell, so he knocked on the door. A moment later, the door opened.
“Yeah, what do you want?” The man didn’t even try for a false politeness. He clearly looked annoyed. He was wearing a stained undershirt and a pair of baggy jeans held up by a worn leather belt. His hair was thinning, and he had a five-o’clock shadow. He leaned against the door jamb, folding his arms across his chest.
“Are you Robert Chance?”
He stared at me for a moment. “Who wants to know?”
“We’d like to ask you some questions about your wife’s death, if you have a moment.”
He didn’t move, but the muscles in his cheek twitched, and his eyes narrowed.
“I’ve got plenty of time, but I’m not interested in talking about that bitch.” The anger behind his words slammed into me as strong as if he had reached out and punched me.
I blinked, instinctively taking a step back.
I wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed.
Viktor cleared his throat, drawing the man’s attention to himself. “This won’t take long, but it’s important. If you cooperate, we will get out of here as soon as possible.”
Robert’s gaze traveled up Viktor’s long torso, resting on his face. “You the cops? You finally figure out who killed her?”
“Not exactly,” Viktor said, handing him his identification. “We’re working on a case that may tie into your wife’s death. If you could help us, we’d appreciate it.”
Robert glanced over the ID, finally handing it back. Then he begrudgingly stood back, opening the door for us to enter. Viktor stepped across the threshold before he could change his mind, motioning for me to follow.
“I suppose you aren’t offering a payout for my cooperation, huh?”
We ignored the question.
We were obviously in a living room, although it was difficult to tell given the number of boxes and stacks of paper sitting around. There was a mildewed scent to the air, as if the mold had settled in and was breeding. Overhead, the lamp was covered with cobwebs, and I wondered how hot it had to be before they caught fire.
The entire room was covered in dark, dingy paneling and the carpet had seen better days. The house felt bogged down under the weight of dirt and neglect. The only thing that looked even relatively new was a sofa, nestled in between some of the boxes. The TV was on, so he was obviously using the room.
Robert Chance crossed to the television and turned it down. There was a baseball game on, and he paused to watch the action before turning back to us.
“All right. You get ten minutes. Ask your questions and get on with it.”
Since Viktor seemed to have better luck with him, I let him take the lead.
“Were you contacted by anyone after your wife was found, asking you to keep her murder under wraps?” Apparently, Viktor had decided to go straight for the jugular. “And did you receive a payout from an insurance company for her death?”