'How do we find the body?' Hatfield asked.

'I'm going to question Little Henry at the hospital and Deputy Gutterman about the sheriff's attack and see if I can get a clue to a location.'

'Can't you just ask the vampires in custody tonight?'

'Yeah, but once night falls this rogue is going to be even stronger and harder to find and kill than he was earlier today, so I'd really like to find the original body and take care of things before the sun goes down.'

Nicky picked up a pocket-sized .308 pistol from the bed. He made some soft remark, but I knew that it was some remark on size and implying penis size comparison in some way. It was a guy thing. I knew that Domino had nothing to be ashamed of in that area. He got his Beretta .45 out of the holster at his side and made some soft remark back, probably belittling Nicky's size since he carried a nine-millimeter as his main gun.

Hatfield had been quiet while I watched the men. She finally said, 'Okay, agreed. What can I do to help?'

'Ted is on his way to you guys to see what we learned from all the new crime scenes we found.'

'I'll call him and be waiting. What do I tell the brass who want to declare the danger over?'

'Tell them to wait until after tonight. From the time the sun goes down until it rises again will be the test. If nothing happens, then maybe we got him, but I think it will be worse tonight.'

'Why?' she asked.

'What do serial killers do when they're cornered?' I asked.

'Suicide, or kill more people faster, usually.'

'Yeah,' I said.

'Oh,' she said. 'Damn, that is not a good thought.'

'If you want unicorns and rainbows, you're in the wrong line of work,' I said.

She gave a small, not entirely happy laugh. 'Well, that's the God's honest truth.'

'Yep,' I said.

Domino had his weapons in place. He slipped his lined leather jacket over it all. It didn't close enough to hide the vest, or his own nine-millimeter Glock in a MOLLE-rigged strap on the front of the vest, but as long as he was with me he could flaunt the guns and still not be charged with brandishing a weapon in public. What constituted brandishing differed depending on which police officer charged you with it and basically meant that they thought you were scaring the civilians by carrying openly. They bitched at civilians if they carried concealed, and they bitched if they carried openly; sometimes I thought the gun laws were designed to be confusing. But my badge, my warrant of execution, and the way the law was currently written covered them, and suddenly they didn't have to play by civilian rules.

'I'll call Forrester,' Hatfield said.

'We're headed to the hospital,' I said.

'Give my best to Sheriff Callahan and your fiance.'

'Will do, and thanks.'

'Callahan is a good man and a better sheriff. He was one of those old-fashioned ones who would go out and visit with the people in his township. You know, he has to be voted in for sheriff every time.'

'No, I didn't know that, actually.'

'He really cares about his people, and he makes sure they know it. He's been sheriff up there at least ten years now.'

It sounded like Micah and the Coalition. 'I didn't know that either,' I said.

Nicky held the door; Domino went first, doing the bodyguard look-see, and then nodded. I went through, Nicky closed the door behind us, and we headed for the elevators.

'We're about to get in the elevator, so I may lose you,' I said.

'Bye then, and I hope we find the body before sundown,' she said.

'Me, too,' I said.

We hung up. The elevator doors opened. We got in and went out to hunt vampires. Sometimes you do it with a gun, sometimes by talking to the people they leave behind. We call them survivors, but once the vampires get you, the person you were dies, like any traumatized part of you never leaves that room, that car, that moment, and you walk forward a ghost of your former self. You rebuild yourself over the years, but the person you were isn't the person you become. The great bad thing happens, and you become a ghost in your own life, and then you become flesh and blood and remake your life, but the ghosts of what happened don't go away completely. They wait for you in low moments, and then they wail at you, shaking their chains in your face and trying to strangle you with them.

I'd see Micah first and try to help him untangle the chains of guilt and love he felt for his father. Then I'd talk to Henry. He was a combat vet, special forces; he knew trauma before the vampires took him, but this trauma had killed his father. Did anything that came before prepare him for that? Somehow I doubted that even special forces training could really prepare you for losing someone like this, and the survivor guilt, which had probably been part of the ghost he brought back from combat, had gained a brand-new shiny link to its rattling chain.

Real ghosts are so much easier to deal with than the kind we carry around in our heads. Most people haunt themselves more effectively than any spirit.

CHAPTER 67

Micah's mom was in the hallway being comforted by Gonzales. She was crying, and for a second I feared the worst. My stomach tightened with dread, but I squared my shoulders and kept walking forward; no retreat, no surrender.

Domino spoke low beside me. 'Who is that?'

I answered, sort of under my breath, 'Micah's mom.'

'Really?' he said.

I glanced up at him but couldn't read his expression with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He didn't exactly look happy, though; I hadn't thought about the whole mixed-race thing being an issue for anyone. If anyone was going to have an issue it would be the clan weretigers, but Domino with his own mixed heritage hadn't been my pick for being bothered by it.

Bea's face brightened when she saw me, even through the tears, and I knew just by the relief that it wasn't her 'husband' dead, but something she thought I could help with. I had had people want me to raise their deceased loved ones before, but I thought Beatrice was saner than that.

She hugged me way tighter than I liked and didn't hesitate with having to work around all the weapons. She'd been a cop's wife for a long time; it probably wasn't the first time that she'd had to work around guns for a hug.

I did the only thing I could; I hugged her back, which made her hug me tighter. Talk about being punished for competency, but I ended up more holding her than hugging her. I realized that her legs were weak. I braced and held her up. The moment she felt my strength her legs collapsed. She had me by at least fifty pounds, probably closer to seventy, but lucky for both of us I didn't have a problem supporting her. It was just sort of unexpected.

Nicky asked, 'You need help?'

'Not yet.'

She hadn't exactly fainted, because she was still holding on, it was more like she was sinking in some emotional water I couldn't see and she'd decided to hold on to me. To her I said, 'Beatrice, Bea, can you hear me?'

Gonzales was there, sort of hovering. 'Bea, you okay?'

She started to sag more, and I said, 'Nicky, help me get her to a chair.' I could support her weight, but a body isn't balanced like a barbell. Bodies are much harder to lift, especially if you don't want to accidentally hurt the person, or they're wearing a dress, like Bea, and you don't want to flash the room, which I didn't.

A chair just suddenly appeared behind her with a uniformed officer holding it. Nicky and Gonzales both tried to help me ease her into it, so that it was too much help and we all got in each other's way. She looked pale, her eyes not focusing.