Chapter Thirty-eight.

Sherbet answered on the first ring.

"First-ring relationships are serious business," I said.

"Don't get used to it, kid. I just kinda, you know, sensed you were going to call me. Or something like that."

I laughed. "Why, Detective, you sound kind of freaky."

He growled under his breath, which nearly made my phone vibrate against my ear. This was all new to Sherbet. After all, homicide detectives don't sense things. They operate on facts and evidence. At best, they might get an informed hunch.

"So what's the news, Sam? Out with it."

I told him about the file, about my trip to Best Buy, and about the missing tech guy. Although I still wasn't sure what the h.e.l.l a Nook was, I had discovered that Robert Mason had hired the missing tech.

"Good work, and what's this Nook thing you're talking about?"

"I haven't said anything about a Nook. You're reading my thoughts again, Detective."

More growling. "What's this tech's name again?"

"Gabriel Friday."

"Hang on. I've got his file somewhere...okay, here it is."

I had no doubt that Sherbet's home office looked similar to mine, stacked with files and reports. I soon heard him flipping through pages. He paused in his flipping-reading, no doubt-then said, "Okay, so it says the kid disappeared on his way to work."

"Yes."

"And phone records indicate he received an unknown call just prior to coming in to work."

"Says the same thing in my file," I said.

"Probably because you illegally copied the file," said Sherbet. "So, what are you thinking, Sam?"

"I'm thinking Robert Mason gave Gabriel a call."

"Maybe asked him to swing by the theater early one morning, perhaps to fix a bug in the computer."

"Something like that," I said. "Sort of a follow-up call."

"Gabriel's car-a VW bug-was found burned out in Corona," said Sherbet.

"Near where Brian Meeks's body was found."

Sherbet paused, no doubt reading the same information I was reading. "Within a few miles, actually."

"Yup."

"So Gabriel Friday shows up to give Robert Mason a helping hand...maybe do some pro bono work to help out the local theater...and Mason offs him," said Sherbet.

"And drains him of blood."

"Jesus," said the detective. "I'll call you back in a few minutes."

He called me back, in fact, in fifteen minutes.

"I got it," he said.

"Got what?"

"The search warrant. We're going in tonight."

"Going in where?"

"His house."

"What about the theater?"

"The warrant only covers the house and any outbuildings on the property. The theater isn't on the property."

"But he owns it."

"Let's take it one property at a time, Sam."

"Fine. I want to go with you tonight."

"You can't, Sam. You know that. Official police business and all that."

"Then do me one favor," I said.

"This have anything to do with Hanner? Why did I just say that?"

"Because I gave you a peek into my thoughts."

I gave him another peek. In particular, I gave him access to my suspicions about Hanner.

"I don't understand, Sam," said Sherbet. "What's this got to do with Hanner?"

I next showed him an image-my own memory, really-of Hanner and myself on the deck of her house. Drinking blood. Together.

Sherbet didn't say anything for a long time. So long that I wondered if the old geezer had fallen asleep. But I knew he was working this through.

Finally, in a voice so deep that it nearly rattled my teeth, he said, "How did I not know, Sam? I feel like an idiot."

"It's a gift of hers, Detective. She can plant thoughts and, I think, alter thoughts. In the least, divert thoughts."

"Can you do this, too?"

"I...I don't know."

"So, as far as I know, this whole d.a.m.n city could be full of vampires, and I wouldn't know. No one would know. Because anytime one of us gets a whiff of a vampire, they put a subliminal thought in our head to order a Starbucks instead."

"Sounds like a valid conspiracy."

"This isn't funny, Sam. I'm seriously freaked out here. I mean, a b.l.o.o.d.y f.u.c.king vampire has been working under my nose for, what, five or six years, and I hadn't a clue."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Detective. Remember, you sniffed me out pretty quick."

"Not really. I just thought you were d.a.m.n weird."

"Something every girl wants to hear."

"You know what I mean, Sam. You had my radar pinging. Detective Hanner...nothing. Not even a suspicion. And she even works the G.o.dd.a.m.n night shift."

"She's an old vampire, Detective. Old enough, I think, to know a few tricks."

"Worse," said Sherbet, "is that I like her. Legitimately like her."

"So do I."

"Fine," he said. "I'll conduct this tonight without her. I'll round up a few of our boys and hit this house hard. I'll call you when it's over."

And he disconnected the line.

Chapter Thirty-nine.

I had just set aside my cell phone when there came a loud knock at my front door. Loud and obnoxious.

And since my inner alarm was not ringing, I relaxed a little as I moved through the hallway. Still, if there was a vampire hunter on the other side of that door, he was in for one h.e.l.lacious fight.

It wasn't.

As I glanced through the peep hole, I saw a wildly warped and misshapen, yet familiarly handsome, face.

Fang.

His face, if possible, appeared even more misshapen due to what he was holding in his right hand: a bottle of hooch. I opened the door and he veritably spilled into my living room.

"Hope I'm not disturbing you or anything, Moon Dance," he said, catching himself on the center post that divided the foyer from the living room. His speech was nearly incoherent.

"You're drunk, Fang."

"Oh, am I? I thought I was just s.h.i.t-faced."

I shut the door and double locked it behind me. As I did so, Fang began whistling for a dog. "Here, wolfie. Here, boy."

"Kingsley's not here," I said, irritated.

"Oh, that's a shame...I had brought him some bones from work. Ribs, I think." He briefly held up a greasy bag, which he shoved back into his coat pocket.

"You're being a jerk, Fang."

He stood before me, swaying slightly. "You'll have to forgive me, Moon Dance. I've kind of been dealing with a broken heart."

Fang wasn't looking too well. His hair looked dirty. His clothing was wrinkled. His hygiene was questionable. He also looked like he'd lost about ten pounds since I'd last seen him.

He held up his bottle of booze. Vodka. A big bottle, too, and it was nearly empty. "Would you like a drink, Moon Dance?"

"What are you doing here, Fang?"

"Oh, that's right. Vampires can't drink the hard stuff. Only the red stuff." He laughed a little too hard at his own joke, then pushed away from the center post and stumbled into the adjoining living room. Like I said, I live in a small house. With two or three steps, a person could go from the foyer, to the dining room, to the living room.

"You mind if I sit, Moon Dance? I'm not feeling too well."

As he stumbled across the floor, I ran to his side and helped him down onto my beautiful new couch. Once there, I positioned him so that his boots hung off the edge. I also relieved him of the vodka bottle.

As I positioned a pillow under him, he watched me with big, wet eyes. They were beautiful eyes. Knowing eyes. Drunk eyes. "Ah, Moon Dance. It almost feels as if you care about me."

"Of course I care about you, Fang."

I went into the kitchen, poured the booze down the drain, and deposited the bottle in my recycle bag. When I came back, Fang was trying to remove his boots. I knew that the drunk b.a.s.t.a.r.d would have to sleep it off here. Sighing, I helped him with his boots. Once again, he watched me. This time with a big, stupid, drunk grin.

"I like when you help me, Moon Dance. It feels good."

"Yeah, well, you smell like greasy ribs and vodka and its turning my stomach."

"Words every man wants to hear." He patted the area next to him on the couch. "Lay next to me, Moon Dance."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not right."

"Hey, if you're not going to turn me into a blood-sucking fiend, then at least throw me a few crumbs here, Sam. Something, anything."

"If you're going to talk like this, Fang, then I'm calling you a cab."

"Talk like what, Moon Dance? Affectionately? l.u.s.tfully? I loved you long before your s.h.a.ggy wolf friend came sniffing around. I poured my heart out to you. Gave you all my attention. All my love, even if it was from afar. How many times did I drop everything to help you? How many times did I forego my own needs to help you, to talk to you, to be there for you?"