Nicholas snorted. "And where did you get this information from?"

"A black book found in her room at the Cleveland Motel."

Nicholas shifted in his chair, a sense of uneasiness shadowing his eyes. "An d I'm sure she told you all sorts of lies, no doubt. Who'd believe her anywa y? She's nothing but a lying s.l.u.t."

Cole took out his pad and pencil, jotting down a few notes, then looked at Mr. Darby. "You just said a moment ago you didn't know Miss Stine. Now yo u claim she's, and I quote, 'a lying s.l.u.t.' Which is it, Mr. Darby? You kn ow her, or you don't?"

Nicholas exhaled through pursed lips, then intertwined his fingers atop the table and looked at Cole, shrugging his shoulders. "I know her."

"How long ago had you met?"

"Look, what the h.e.l.l brings you here anyway? Why aren't you questioning s ome of her other clients? Why the h.e.l.l bother me?"

"Miss Stine was found murdered yesterday morning. Do you care to tell me where you were at approximately four a.m.?"

"Jesus Christ!" Nicholas blasphemed, wiping a hand down his mouth. "I was here. I was sleeping."

"Do you have an alibi?"

His face grew red. "What the h.e.l.l do I need an alibi for? Are you accusing me of something, Lieutenant? Am I under arrest?"

Darby reminded Cole of a rabid dog backed into a corner with nowhere to tu rn.

"No and no one is accusing you of anything, Mr. Darby," Cole said, his voice was calm, though at the moment, he felt anything but.

"Then get out of my house. This is absolutely ridiculous."

"Not from where I stand. I have a woman murdered in the same fashion as yo ur own daughter. Throat slit with bite marks surrounding the neck wound. T hat ties both murders together, and now I find out you are connected with both."

Nicholas tilted his head back and laughed, his humor ringing false, then ret urned his glare to Cole. "You're trying to say that I may have killed my own daughter as well as Mary Stine."

"I'm not saying anything, Mr. Darby. That's your own conclusion. I have on ly made a connection between the two...unless there is something you wish to add to them. Do you have an alibi placing you here the night before?"

"Kay was not here that night."

"Your girlfriend?"

"Yes, Kay Sanders. We had a fight and she stayed all night at a friend's. Ar e you suggesting I need a lawyer?"

"Not unless you feel the need for one. At the moment, Mr. Darby, you're no t being charged with anything. I'm only here to question you. At any given time you can end this conversation. What was your fight about?"

"That's none of your business."

"When it involves a murder case, it makes it my business. What was the fig ht about, Mr. Darby?"

"Stupid stuff. I wasn't paying her enough attention. She said I was taking h er for granted. When I disagreed, she left. But as you can see, we've made u p."

Cole nodded. "Can you tell me what your relationship with Mary Stine was?

"I think you already know."

"Please-for the record." Cole could not keep the sarcasm from lacing his wo rds. He did not like Nicholas Darby.

"I paid Mary for...services," he added.

"Care to elaborate?"

"No. What's wrong, Lieutenant? Aren't you getting it enough these days or do you just like to get off on someone else's sordid details?"

Cole glared, felt his biceps tighten, itching to slug the little p.r.i.c.k in the mouth. If for nothing else, then for reminding him of the previous evening. He ll, he had berated himself the entire night and still felt the heel for his ac tions. Laurie would not likely forgive him for walking out on her. Unfortunate ly, "I'm sorry," would never cut it.

Cole cleared his throat. "I'm not getting into a p.i.s.sing match with you, M r. Darby. I ask the questions and you answer them to the best of your know ledge. That's it. Now, what I'm asking is-with a beautiful woman like Miss Sanders to warm your bed, what were you doing paying for favors from Miss Stine?"

Nicholas's grin was filled with malice. "I like back doors, Lieutenant. Bein g a man, I'm sure you can understand."

Cole grinned, truly humored at Nicholas's surprise confession. "Sodomy is a gainst the law as well is prost.i.tution," he chided, trying to contain his s udden found humor over Nicholas's ridiculous predicament.

"And are you going to arrest me? No officer is going to bust down my door t o see how I prefer to have s.e.x. And it isn't something you ask from a lady.

"So, you received this type of...a...favor from Mary Stine?"

"I did, and it cost me plenty, but it was worth it."

"When is the last time you saw her?"

Nicholas looked down at his hands before responding. "A few weeks ago."

"Before or after your daughter's death?"

"After. I needed a release."

"So you went to see Mary Stine?"

"Yes."

"Did she ever tell you about being afraid of anyone? Possibly another client ?".

"We never talked, Lieutenant." His gaze slid back up to Cole's, gleaming wi th hatred. "I was paying her to service me, not converse with me."

"So you're saying you never held a conversation with Miss Stine?"

"Never."

"How did you meet her?"

"Another client referred her, said she was good."

"And his name?"

"Look in the book."

"I can see this conversation is getting nowhere. I guess now is as good a plac e as any to stop."

"Gee, Lieutenant, what was your first clue?"

Cole stood up. Had he been an ordinary man and not a law enforcement offic ial, Nicholas Darby would be sporting bruises and bloodied gashes from the serious thrashing Cole felt like giving him. h.e.l.l, he wanted nothing more than to punch him in the mouth.

"I'm finished for now, but should I think of anything else, we'll be seeing e ach other again."

"A threat?"

"A promise."

Cole walked out of the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

Back in his car, Cole headed the sedan toward the station. Exhaustion seeped into his bones. The only reason he headed for City Hall was to retrieve his truck. A hot bath and bed were in order. Cole was ready to call it a night.

h.e.l.l, he only hoped and prayed, once he hit the pillow, blessed sleep would come, not only to block out events of the day, but of the previous night as well. If Laurie did not hate him before, she certainly did now. And that tho ught bothered him more than the unsolved case.

G.o.d's life -giving seed spills forth as the dark figure cries out, the sound echoing off the undecorated walls of the red room; a room no bigger than si x foot by eight. Candles lend the darkened room illumination where no window s allow the light of day. The tortured soul slumps naked against the wall, s liding down to a crouching position by the cold cement floor. His eyes hold fast to the fluid now spent, lying in a milky pool at his feet.

A substance given to man to renew life, to give of himself and create anoth er. Only once had woman procreated without the aid of man when G.o.d brought forth His Son to save mankind from themselves. But just as He had at first forsaken His Son on the cross, the Lord now forgets the soul-left to his ow n in the mind of eternal darkness.

Long ago, G.o.d had turned His back on the evil burgeoning inside and left th e soul with a flaming hunger, an unquenchable thirst, to take the blood tha t preserves life. Would G.o.d intend for that same soul to reproduce what He now shuns?

Satan uses the power given to man by G.o.d in Genesis, "Be fruitful and incre ase in number; fill the earth and subdue it," for his own twisted vices. An d if the soul uses the power to create, one even more evil than he will sur ely be brought forth. But would the soul care when all he once believed in now turns His head and leaves him to be condemned in his temptations?

Only one the soul deems worthy of that seed.

A chalice of crimson blood left chilled to preserve sits on thealtar in the center of the room, taken from a poor being just sentto her G.o.d above, payin g homage to all that is evil. Flames from the many candles beside it lick an d climb, casting shadows across the dim room.

A clipped newspaper article of Shana Darby's funeral, a gold ring twinkling i n the flame's light, a driver's license with tattered corners, a Mont Blanc s et beside one golden hooped earring, and a silver chain baring a cross is spr ead out across the surface of the table, dumped from the box that became thei r home. The container, now discarded, lies at the foot of the altar.

The soul stands on shaken limbs and walks to the center of the room. Stretchi ng out one long arm, he holds his forearm over the flame of one candle, feeli ng the pain clear to his deadened soul. The smell of burnt flesh permeates th e air as his skin bubbles and blisters until the soul can take no more, cryin g out in pain.

He wraps the chalice with his palm and brings it to his lips as his stomach pangs in hunger. Tipping his head back, the red fluid pa.s.ses over his tongue and down his throat, filling him more completely than the milk from his mot her's breast ever did. Blood spills from the corners of his mouth and drips in finality to the floor. With one swipe of his hand, he wipes the remaining blood from his mouth and drops the empty chalice to the ground.

For now, life can once more return to what might be deemed as normal until h is pa.s.sion rages and claws at his soul, forcing him to prey yet again.

The soul dons black jeans and a shirt, then wraps his blistered arm with whit e cotton gauze. He grasps the red rose left by the door, for the time has com e to lay his remorse at rest and visit the grave of one who is no more.

Chapter 15.

Dressed in an oversized T-shirt and cut-off sweat pants, Laurie took another bite of her grilled chicken filet sandwich and headed for the door. The bel l rang again, sending Zeke jumping in circles as his high-pitched bark echoe d off the white walls of the foyer.

Laurie was in no mood for company and had half a mind to ignore the intru sion and wallow in her self-pity. An entire day had nearly come to pa.s.s a nd Cole Kincaid had not the decency to call or acknowledge her in any way . Wham bam, no thank you, ma'am. What a fool she had been.

Opening the door, a slinky-clad Cindy bounded into Laurie's home like a k id who had just consumed way too much caffeine and sugar.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Laurie grumbled as Cindy handed her a bo x of Chinese.

"I was in the area and thought I'd spring for dinner," she said, kicking off her heels and heading for the family room, not waiting to see if Laurie follo wed or cared.

Laurie had to practically run to keep up with her over-enthusiastic houseguest.

"It's nine o'clock, Cindy, a little late for dinner. Besides, I've already eat en."

"There's always room for Chinese." Cindy plopped her rear end, barely cove red by a short spandex skirt, down on the sofa, propping her stocking feet onto the coffee table. Tearing into her box, she used the wooden chopsticks to fish out a small pink shrimp and dropped it into her open mouth. Betwee n mouthfuls, she said, "Besides, I got an hour to waste."

Laurie sat on the sofa beside her, chicken filet long forgotten, and opene d her own box. "So where are you off to?" she asked, knowing Cindy never went anywhere alone. She and Cindy had been practically inseparable the las t few months since their meeting each other.

"Back to the Agora," she grinned, her face beaming with exuberance. "Dami en's playing there again tonight. He's asked me to meet him."

A lead weight settled on Laurie's chest. Certainly, Cindy had not become to tally smitten with the dark singer overnight, not realizing how dangerous t his man could be. "Then why doesn't he pick you up if it's a date?"

Cindy giggled as though Laurie really didn't have a clue and had yet to figu re out how the opposite s.e.x works. "It really isn't a date. He just wants me around, says he likes to look out and see my smiling face. Want to go?"

"No," Laurie snorted, the idea being preposterous. "Besides, what do you ne ed me hanging around for? I'd just get in the way."

"Damien doesn't seem to think so-he asked if I'd be bringing you along."

Laurie glanced at Cindy's youthful face and wondered if she were truly so naive. Had Damien Vincent wanted Cindy, he would not have asked her to bri ng along a friend.

Cindy looked at her, eyes gleaming. Laurie hoped from the bottom of her h eart Damien's true intent was indeed Cindy VanWarren and not Laurie Micha els, though it appeared otherwise.

"Besides, maybe you could find one of the other band members more to you r liking and we could double sometime."

Laurie shoved a chopstick full of rice into her mouth, not really wanting t o comment. Mouthful gone, she turned to Cindy and said, "You're not serious .".

"Oooh." Her eyes rounded. "I'm sorry. How inconsiderate of me. Did things go well with the detective last night?"

Laurie looked back to her sweet-and-sour shrimp, stirring the rice absentmi ndedly with one of the wooden sticks. "No, not really," she said, stuffing her mouth again to avoid saying anything more.

Cindy obviously had not detected Laurie's uneasiness at the subject of Col e Kincaid for she continued, undaunted. "Then I think you should come with me. We'll have a blast. Most of the band members are cute-besides, their whole bad boy image is enough to get your panties in a bunch."