"Not really."

"You know where she lives, where she works, you know her travel plans, you know her friends..." Nunez said.

"I gave her a ride home once."

Nunez and Buchanan exchanged looks.

After a pause, Buchanan nodded. "You're with us," he said to me. "We'll need a statement down at the station."

"Okay, my car's outside," I said. I didn't want to end up back at the station without a car.

"Give me a lift," Buchanan said.

It wasn't a request.

I'd showed up out of nowhere, knew the victim well enough to decide to kick her door down and I discovered a murder that was linked to two more. Just those details were enough to make me a person of interest. Add the possibility of press speculation on top, and the pressure on Homicide would be mounting. They'd want a detailed statement from me and I wouldn't be able to tell them enough to satisfy them.

As we walked out to the cars, I felt a mounting anger at everything. Why couldn't the colonel have gotten here sooner? Why did this investigation have to land on Buchanan's desk? Why did I have to be the d.a.m.n fuse point all the time?

Not helpful at the moment. I needed to be thinking clearly. I pushed the anger back down.

Buchanan slid into the pa.s.senger seat and I pulled out of the parking lot, Nunez following close behind us.

Buchanan let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't gotten to bed either, by the look of it.

"You did okay," he said finally.

Huh? What the h.e.l.l?

"Thanks," I replied cautiously.

"Knight said you lit out like your tail was on fire."

"There was a chance she was alive."

And my partner was reporting on me. Frigging fantastic. All those questions on patrol last night. Knight talks to Homicide and all of a sudden he's interested in what I did on Friday. Yeah.

Buchanan's shoulders slumped.

"We need more resources," he said. "You're half in anyway. We're going to need you to come on board. Who's in charge of your duty rosters?"

"Sergeant Carver." I was having trouble keeping up with him. He wanted me on his team? Yeah. My bulls.h.i.t meter went into the red zone.

"Okay. I'll talk to him." He looked out the window. "The team needs to keep our story straight here. If we start talking about serial killers, the press will be all over us. It won't look good, and believe me, this case is being watched all the way to the top. If we screw it up, they'll know who to blame."

And so convenient for Detective Buchanan if he could redirect the blame downwards.

But I needed to get every last fact out of Buchanan for the colonel. The easiest way would be to pretend I was taken in by his invitation to join his team.

"You transferring me from patrol to your investigation team?"

"Yeah. We'll sort the details out later. You don't want to stay in patrol, do you? It'd be a waste."

"No, I don't want to stay in patrol," I said.

But I don't believe your bulls.h.i.t that you can shift me around just like that. Or that you've suddenly realized I've got something to contribute.

"So what's the official story about these killings?" I asked.

"Gangs. Gangs fighting a turf war over clubs. It'll make the newspapers happy. They can have plenty to say, and the pictures they'll be able to use will sell newspapers for a month. The difference is, it's all infighting between freaks. Normal people won't get upset. No one gives the mayor much of a hard time over gangs killing each other. "

"But these last two...they're not gang members. They're not freaks, either."

"In that club?" Buchanan snorted. "People won't believe that."

I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything that I felt I could say. Buchanan was trying to lump everything under a convenient heading.

The trouble was, he didn't really believe it. He'd obviously started to put together enough information to figure out there was something seriously screwy here. Whatever I might think of him, he wasn't stupid.

The colonel had said he didn't want lots of people to know about vampires, he wanted one contact. It couldn't be Buchanan. He wasn't senior enough.

And I didn't want to be on this team. Or any team with Buchanan in it. I was going to have a h.e.l.l of a day until the colonel arrived.

Buchanan wasn't finished. As we were parking at the station he started speaking again. "As a team, we'll need to be real close. We'll need to know everything you know about this case." He ran a hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter if you've kinda stepped outside the bounds, huh? You're new at this. Everyone drops a ball or two. The team will look out for you. I'll look out for you."

"Of course," I said. "Nothing matters more than a quick resolution."

How dumb did he think I was? He was trying to tease information out of me. Would he and Nunez try the good cop, bad cop routine as well?

We got out and walked into the station.

"You probably don't even realize it, but something in what you know will crack this case," he went on. "I'll make sure they know it was your lead." His hand waved vaguely upstairs where the higher ranks of the police had their offices while he guided me over to his. "Use my system," he said. "I don't want anybody reading over your shoulder. I don't want anybody outside the team in on this."

I nodded and logged in on his computer to enter my statement.

"I'll get us some coffee," he said and went out.

I put my head in my hands. I was so screwed. How the h.e.l.l was I going swing this? I sighed. I couldn't lie, but I couldn't be truthful either.

In the end, my statement was simply a fuller detail version of what I'd already sketched out to Buchanan and Nunez. I owned up to the sc.r.a.p of paper with my number on it. Forensics would find that out anyway. Nothing about the army and vampires. I wasn't going to put anything else in a report with being ordered to by the colonel. I glanced at the clock on the screen. Another four or five hours and he would be here. I would gladly pa.s.s this mess on to him, but where was that going to leave me?

And more importantly, how many more people were going to die?

Buchanan never brought the coffee.

I'd barely finished logging off when he came back in with my report already printed. He'd probably been following me from another terminal, reading as I typed.

"Come on," he said, and jerked his head down the corridor.

He took me to an interview room. Finally, the good guy pretense was dropped. Lieutenant Morales was sitting at the table with Nunez. Buchanan tossed the report on the table and sat opposite Nunez.

"Nothing new," he said.

I was bone tired. They hadn't invited me, but I sat anyway, opposite Morales. Given the look of this, I wasn't making things any worse than they were.

Morales was running it. He had a coffee, and he took the opportunity to drink while he looked me over. He was the Denver Police golden boy. Everyone knew the position of Captain in the Major Crimes Unit was coming up in a few weeks and Morales was the anointed heir. But we also knew, all it needed was one major case to go wrong and he was out of it.

He'd want this wrapped up like a man underwater wants air.

The silence stretched. As a sergeant in Ops 4-10, I'd sat on the other side of this kind of table. Silence wasn't going to work with me. I was screwed one way or another. Every minute brought Colonel Laine closer. I picked a spot and stared at it. My spot was the vein in Morales' forehead.

"Detective Buchanan you already know," Morales said finally. "Lieutenant Nunez you've met briefly. He's with Internal Affairs. You know me presumably."

I kept my face blank and nodded. IA involvement meant they were going to try and railroad me. Everything since the drive back had been to try and get me to say something they could use in the disciplinary process.

And by telling me about Nunez, Morales was trying to get a reaction. I was determined not to give it.

What I did notice was that he didn't have the recorders on, otherwise he'd have introduced himself and me.

"At the moment, I'm chairing and this is an unofficial meeting," Morales confirmed it.

Interesting.

Buchanan stirred. I bet he'd pressed for an immediate IA case against me. He'd realized I knew things about this case that weren't in my report.

I could pull the plug now. I could demand a private conversation with a senior police officer and land everything in the colonel's lap. Or I could just say nothing. I tried to think what would serve the colonel's needs better, and regretfully arrived at the conclusion he'd want this dragged out. He'd want to be in here before Morales and others started thinking about correct procedures and authorizations. I needed delaying tactics.

"What's on the agenda, Lieutenant?" I asked.

Morales didn't like that. I was supposed to be trembling with shock. Instead I just felt tired. Tired of half-lies. Tired of walking the tightrope. Tired of walking alone.

The pulse in Morales' forehead picked up.

Buchanan couldn't restrain himself. "You don't seem to realize how serious this is-"

"What is?" I interrupted him.

Morales gestured and Buchanan shut up ungracefully.

"Why did you join the police, Farrell?" Morales said.

Because it was a job open to me that the army would allow.

Out loud, I said: "To use my skills in something worthwhile."

Morales' eyes narrowed. "Is it frustrating to you, as an army veteran with all those skills, not to be able to contribute as much as you think you can?"

I thought I could see where he was heading. He was building a case for me giving in to frustration and trying to start my own investigation. I just shrugged.

He had my folder in front of him. It would have my firearms scores and hand-to-hand reports, but, of course, it would also have my scores on legal theory.

"And you find that tempts you to sidestep things, ignore procedure? Because getting the job done is the ultimate goal?"

"Tempts me? Yes. Everyone gets tempted."

The interview wasn't going the way any of them expected. I wasn't overawed by sitting in front of senior ranks. They kept forgetting that I wasn't a fresh-faced recruit with no experience. And what they didn't know was that, short of proving I'd committed a serious felony, the power of their little courtroom procedure wouldn't mean anything when the colonel arrived. All I had to do was stick it out.

Nunez was getting as restless as Buchanan. He leaned forward to speak. Morales let him.

Nunez slipped a page from a folder and pushed it in front of me.

"Is that you?"

It was a printout of a couple of stills from the security camera on the door at Club Agonia. One with the makeup and one without.

"Yeah. That's me."

"What were you doing there?"

"Dancing." I went on the offensive. "Look, you've obviously spent a lot of time investigating me." Instead of trying to find the murderers. "You have some photos of me visiting a club on my day off, you've talked to my partner, got him to ask me questions. Have you got some allegations you want to make?"

Nunez ignored that. "You're saying it's entirely coincidental that you turn up at a club where two of the staff have been murdered in the same way?"

"Yes."

"Why were you at the club?" Nunez said.

"I already answered that."

"How do you know the victims?" Morales asked.

"I didn't. They were on the door in the club. I drove the girl back home."

"Is that another thing you do as a sideline?"

"What do you mean?"

Buchanan lost it. "Either you were doing bodyguard work for this club," he shouted, "or you found something out and were trying some half-witted investigation. Either way, it's your fault-"

"Shut up, Buchanan." I was shocked that Morales reprimanded him in front of me. Morales had to be completely p.i.s.sed off to do that, and Buchanan knew it. He subsided.

I wasn't going to let him. It was like a little demon had taken control of my voice. "There wasn't anything to investigate, unless you think I can predict the future. And is that how you dress up to do your bodyguard work, Buchanan?" I shoved the pictures in front of him. His eyes bulged, but a look from Morales kept him quiet. Nunez got the same look.

When Morales was sure he had the meeting back under control, he turned to me again.

"So, your arrival there was coincidence. You didn't know anyone there. How is it you ended up giving an employee of the club a lift home?"

"The owner asked me. There'd been a bit of trouble earlier in the week. She asked me to drive Valery Hawks home."