"You, Hercules!" Garreth barked. "You're under arrest. Down on your knees!"

The big man whirled. "Another G.o.dd.a.m.n pig." He sneered drunkenly. "A wimp kid pig. Here, oinker." Picking up a table, he threw it.

Garreth smiled grimly.Two can play that game, turkey. Dropping his baton into its ring on his equipment belt, he caught the table and threw it back.

The gasp from the bartender behind him matched the big man's open-mouthed astonishment. Staring at Garreth, the man almost forgot to duck as the table went by ... and Garreth used the opportunity to trap the man's eyes with his.

"I said, you're under arrest." He felt the other resist him, saw denial in the big man's eyes. He met the drunken hatred with his own anger-driven will, however, and held him. "You will do as I say. Now, stop where you are!"

The man froze, clenched fists half raised, as though he had suddenly become a statue or store-window mannequin.

"Down on your knees!" Garreth snapped. "Hands together on top of your head! Cross your ankles! NOW!"

The man went down so hard the floor shook. Fierce satisfaction flared in Garreth. He felt resistance beneath the compliance, but the man's body still obeyed. Garreth controlled this behemoth. He could make him do anything.

Garreth handcuffed him. "Up." He pointed him at a remaining chair. "Sit . . . and stay."

The prisoner did so.

Garreth was heading for Pfannenstiel, who had pulled himself up to sit with his back against the bar and was fingering the gash on top of his head, when one of the patrons against the walls called, "Hey, that's a good trick. Can you make him heel, too? Or roll over and play dead?"

The words brought Garreth up short. Suddenly he heard himself as those in the bar must have, giving commands in the same tone used on a dog. More, he saw the expressions on the faces. One waited with glee to see what might be next in the show but others showed varying states of fear. He did not need to read minds to know what they feared: him; someone in his position who would treat one man that way could do it to anyone else.

He carried, he realized, a bigger stick than a badge. He carried the biggest stick of all, the power of absolute control, bestowed and limited by no regulatory body. The responsibility for it rested in just one person, Garreth Mikaelian. The thought awed and frightened him. He felt the stick between his ankles, tripping him.

To lighten his step, Garreth said dryly, "The gentleman is through entertaining tonight. Now, I'll need all of you to remain until I can take your names." He crossed to Pfannenstiel and squatted on his heels beside the older officer. "How do you feel?"

Pfannenstiel grunted. "Stupid. I should have known to duck."

Garreth smiled in relief. Pfannenstiel did not appear seriously injured. "You take it easy. The ambulance will be here as soon as Sue rousts out the driver."

Standing again, he worked his way around the room taking names. And while he did, he slid glances at his prisoner. The big man remained motionless in the chair, staring straight ahead. The biggest stick.Walk softly, a voice whispered in his head.Walk very softly .

10

"How I envy you young people sometimes." Mrs. Bieber pointed at Garreth's windbreaker. "It feels like winter today but I see the children out around the high school in nothing more than that. You're so thin, too; aren't you cold?"

"Not as long as I keep moving," he lied.

She pulled a shawl tighter around her shoulders and moved into the living room. "The older I get, the more I hate winter. Mada keeps talking about moving me somewhere like Arizona or Florida."

"It's an idea."

She sighed. "But this is my home. All my children were born in the bed upstairs. The few friends of mine still living are all in this town. Mada called last night and offered to give me a vacation in Mexico as a Christmas present. I wouldn't mindvisiting there for a while."

Garreth's stomach plunged. "You mean, go toher this year instead of her coming here?"

She nodded. "Mada said Acapulco is touristy but warm. I'd like that, though of course I would miss not spending Christmas with my grandchildren. Maybe I could go after Christmas."

Garreth's mind churned. Could he get to Acapulco? He tried to think of all he would need . . . a visa, and a plane ticket, which might be hard to come by with no money.Dracula, where are my bat wings when I need them?

Maybe he could find money for driving down, or sell the car and fly. Enough people had eyed the ZX longingly that he should be able to find a buyer. As a place to arrest Lane, aside from the problem of being a foreign country, Acapulco had its attractions .

. . princ.i.p.ally that it would save Mrs. Bieber the distress of having her daughter taken in her own home by someone the old woman thought was a friend.

"Acapulco sounds nice," he said. "Let me know if you're going, and where you'll be staying." He made himself smile. "I'll send you postcards from the shivering north."

She laughed. "I will."

Silently, he swore. Of all the lousy luck, just when he had himself settled in his web. He had better start planning for the trip now so he could leave the moment he knew where to find Lane.

11

Given the tendency of cops to hang out with other cops and the fact that he and Maggie were the only single officers in the department, Garreth supposed it was inevitable that they should start dating. It also provided a good chance to get out of Baumen.

Not that seeingSudden Impact in Bellamy was very much of an escape, but at least the movie theatre there ran seven nights a week.

Once in the theatre, though, Garreth wondered if the movie was a mistake. He felt as though he were drowning in a sea of blood. The reek of it surrounded him, leaving him fighting cramps and shaking in longing. Someone had been eating Italian food, too; a taint of garlic eddied intermittently, each whiff bringing a moment of suffocation.

Maggie peered anxiously at him. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." But even saying it he knew the tremor in his voice betrayed the lie. "I . . . get a little claustrophobic sometimes." Not the best excuse in the world with the theatre just half full this Monday night, but it would have to do.

Maggie appeared to believe him. "Do you want to leave?"

He shook his head and put an arm around her. "I'll tough it out."

Somehow he did, though the effort cost him the satisfaction he usually felt watching Dirty Harry blow away bad guy after bad guy with blithe disregard for civil rights, due process, and public safety. It was a relief to escape to the car. There he could at least roll down the window and let the wind dilute the warm blood smell coming from Maggie.

She snapped her seatbelt and settled back. "A little gratuitous violence is good for the soul, don't you think? Have you ever wanted to act like Harry?"

He shrugged. "Sure, especially after spending two weeks tracking down some punk who cuts up girls or old ladies only to learn that he's back on the street before I've finished the paperwork on the arrest."

A nasty whisper in the back of his head asked him if he might not be doing a Callahan now with this self-appointed hunt of his.Setting one's self up to alter things according to one's own judgment can end in mistake and failure. He shook his head inwardly. No. After all, he was not looking to kill Lane, just arrest her, all perfectly legitimate since there was a warrant out on her.

"Did you ever find yourself sympathizing with someone playing vigilante, like Harry did that girl hunting down the men who'd raped her and her sister?"

He shook his head. "I might sympathize, but I'd never let them go like he did. If someone chooses to kill another person, no matter how strong or justified the motive, they should be willing to accept the consequences of their act."Lord that sounded self-righteous. Would he apply it to himself, too? There was probably no way to know until it happened.

They pa.s.sed the city limits. Garreth floored the accelerator. The car leaped forward like a wild thing unleashed.

Maggie whooped in delight. "This thing really moves. Just don't overrun your lights too far. Cows sometimes get out on the highway along here."

"No problem." Even on this moonless, overcast night the highway stretched in a shining gray ribbon, clearly visible far beyond the edge of the headlights.

He sighed. Nightsight. Vampires. Lane. What was Mrs. Bieber going to do? Here it was nearly Thanksgiving and no word yet about whether she was going to Acapulco or not. Belatedly he realized Maggie had asked him a question. "What?"

"I said, what are you doing Thursday?"

He bit his lip. Was she going to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner? "Nothing in particular. Sleep."

"Not going to pollute your body with delicious, fattening carbohydrates and preservatives and additive-filled plastic side dishes?"

A flood of Thanksgiving memories rose in him, bringing a wave of homesickness. He could never enjoy another feast like those again. Would he even see another holidays? A nagging suspicion had haunted his dreams lately that once he had settled with Lane he would simply cease to exist. "I'm not going to feast, no."

"Then could I talk you into talking Danzig into letting us trade shifts just this once, oh golden-tongued one? Dad and I have been invited to Aunt Ruth's in Victoria and I'd love to be able to spend the whole day there."

Garreth did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed that she was not inviting him to dinner. "I'll talk to Danzig."

Without his gla.s.ses on.

"Great!" She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Sitting back, she glanced out the window and said, "Look, it's starting to snow."

What? He pulled the car over to the side of the road and switched off the lights. Fat, feathery flakes drifted down around them, and with them the darkness lightened, as though each snowflake brought a bit of moonlight with it. Garreth leaned out the window to stare up, fascinated.

Maggie grinned. "I don't suppose you've seen much of this before. The ground's too warm yet for it to stick, but isn't it pretty?"

"You know what I'd like to do? Run in it. Want to? Just a couple of miles to that rise over there and back."

"Garreth!" She laughed. "Run? Just a couple of miles? Look at my shoes. I can't run anywhere in them. Even if I could, we'd break our legs running in the dark. Let's go on to your place. We can sit out on the deck in the snow there, if you like, and think of some way to warm up afterward."

Pleasure at the snow faded. He put the car in motion again and sighed inwardly. Sitting on the deck would be all right, but . . .

he wanted to run. It seemed he and Maggie could date and talk about everyday things. It sounded like she was inviting him to make love later, too. But they could not talk about the things deep in him, could not even share some of the physical activities he had come to take for granted. She could not run through the magic of falling snow with him. Tonight he would just about sell his soul for someone who could.

12

Baumen felt like a ghost town. Garreth saw almost no one. Kansas Avenue lay completely deserted. Which did not disturb him a great deal. With luck nothing would happen on the shift. Even beneath an overcast sky threatening snow that might manage to stick in today's near-freezing temperature, and wearing his trooper gla.s.ses, the light still gave him a headache. Somewhere above the clouds the sun pressed down on him, draining his energy.l hope you appreciate what I'm doing for you, Maggie. 1 wouldn't take on the sun for just anyone.

He tried not to think about what she was doing at the moment, for fear it might bring on more memories and homesickness. But those came anyway. Would calling home after the shift help or just make the pain more unbearable?

"Baumen 407," the radio murmured. "Public service a Mrs. Anna Bieber at 555-7107."

Mrs. Bieber? Garreth drove to the telephone outside the A & W and dialed the number. Background voices almost drowned out conversation with the woman who answered. Garreth had to shout to make her understand who he wanted to talk to.

But finally Mrs. Bieber came on the line. "I tried calling you at home but Emily Schoning said Helen said you were working.

Can you come to the house after you're off? I have the address of the hotel in Acapulco where I'll be joining Mada after Christmas."

He sighed. So it was decided. At least he had several weeks to sell the car and make other arrangements. "It may be eight- thirty before I'm through. Is that too late for you?"

"I'll be expecting you."

He hung up the phone and leaned against the side of the booth, staring out at the patrol car. Guilt stabbed him at the thought of walking out on Danzig and the department. He could give them a story about a critical illness in his family, but it was still unfair to everyone. Doubt at the correctness of his chosen course nagged him again. It spread pain from one temple across his forehead to the other, a headache which not even sunset cured.

At the watch change, Maggie took the car keys from him and said, "You look terrible. I think you're right about being a night person. Would you like it if I come over after I get off and show my appreciation for the favor?"

Monday night seemed to have started something. Would she be amused or insulted if he told her he had a headache? No, headache or not, he wanted her to come. He needed someone, however wide the gulf between them. "The bed and I will be waiting."

He raced through his reports and drove straight to Mrs. Bieber's, still in uniform except for the equipment belt left in his locker at the station.

The old woman answered the door. "My, you look nice. I've never seen you in uniform before. Come on in the living room."

She led the way.

He smiled at her despite the lump in his stomach. "I hope you had a good Thanksgiving."

"Oh, yes. My daughter Kathryn hosted this year. It was noisy, of course, but I loved every chaotic minute." She stopped and turned to face him. "I'm afraid I have a confession to make."

A chill of unease moved down his spine. "Confession?"

"I have a hotel address, but that was just an excuse to get you here. Come on." She moved on into the living room.

He followed, only to stop in the doorway. A woman sitting on the couch stood up.

Mrs. Bieber grinned. "I wanted to surprise you. Garreth, this is my daughter Mada."

Mada! His stomach plunged. But this was not Lane! The woman had the right height, legs that seemed to stretch forever and looked even longer with the high heels on her black boots and her snugly fitting dark green slacks. Mahogany hair swept the shoulders of a scarlet turtleneck, but . . . gray streaked the red and her skin had the coa.r.s.eness and creases of middle age.

He felt numb with shock. All these weeks he'd been lying in wait for the wrong woman? But-his mind stumbled trying to think- the postmark, the school picture, Mrs. Bieber's description of her daughter as a singer; how could all that match so well and yet be so totally wrong!

"I . . . am very glad to meet you," he managed to force out. He must not betray his disappointment.

"And I you," Mada said in an amused voice.

He stiffened. It was Lane's voice.

Looking at her again more closely, this time he saw her eyes. His heart jumped. The eyes were hers, too. They reflected the light, vampire eyes, and they glinted cold and blood-red, recognizing him . . . measuring him.