Red Sunset Drive, page 12
“Hold it right there!” He ordered while switching on the kitchen light.
Dragos swept the hair off his face. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the gun pointed in his direction.
“How did you get in? The door was locked.” Brett’s gaze didn’t waver as Dragos glared back at him.
“The door was stuck. When I pushed against it, it opened. Why are you pointing a gun toward me?” Dragos’s fists clenched.
Brett couldn’t shake the doubts from his mind. He didn’t want to shoot Dragos, but he was prepared to pull the trigger.
“There was another murder several hours ago. Two women have been attacked and murdered since you showed up at the bar on Halloween. Since you have a tendency to disappear, I thought you might know something about it.”
Dragos swiped his arm before him. The corner of his lip curled. “You know I was with Candy last night. When you got called out, I stayed here. Where would I go?”
When Dragos turned his head, Brett saw something beneath Dragos’s lower lip. He stepped forward and wiped Dragos’s face with his finger.
Dragos jerked backward. “What are you doing?”
He studied the reddish-black substance on his finger. Alarm bells rang in his head. Blood! Trepidation filled Dragos’s eyes. Shit! The man looked as guilty as hell. Yet something made Brett hesitate. He couldn’t believe that both he and Candy had totally misjudged Dragos. He felt he should arrest Dragos. He could always come up with a charge and hold him.
“What are you waiting for? Call the station,” Michael ordered.
Brett’s gaze didn’t shift from Dragos. Michael’s timing was always something to be desired.
Without thinking, he muttered, “Not now. I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
Dragos’s brow rose. “What did you say? Can you put that gun down? You’re making me nervous.”
“Ha! As if you’re dumb enough to put the gun down.” Michael stood next to Brett with his hands on his hips.
Brett held up his finger in front of Dragos. “See this? It’s blood. You’d better have a good reason for having blood on your face.”
Dragos quickly wiped his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I have blood on my face?”
“That, buddy, is the million-dollar question,” Michael cracked.
Ignoring Michael, Brett stated, “That’s my question. Start talking or I’ll be forced to arrest you.”
Dragos’s shoulders drooped forward. His head bowed.
Dragos’s mind raced. Fearful of discovery, he’d moved his supply of blood to the garage. He’d just finished a bag before returning to the house. Damn his luck! He had no money, no friends, and no transportation. Basically he had no options. A slight glimmer of hope remained. Would Brett understand his situation? If he wanted to survive in this time, he was going to have to trust someone. Now might be the time to do so.
“Please, may I sit down?”
Brett nodded. Dragos collapsed in a chair. “I’m afraid that I have not been quite honest with you.”
“Go on.”
Dragos shook his head. “This is extremely difficult. I have traveled here from England, as I mentioned. But I neglected to inform you that I have no idea how I found myself in your country.”
Brett frowned at him. “What do you mean? You flew on a plane, right?”
He laughed shakily. “I have seen a plane on your television, but I have never flown. In my time, such things do not exist.”
Dragos saw Brett glance to the side once again. What was he looking at?
“In your time?”
“Yes. I was born in 1812. I find myself in this tenuous situation with no logical explanation.”
“Are you saying that you time-traveled?” Brett scoffed, slightly lowering his gun. “There is no such thing as time travel.”
“Be that as it may, I somehow ended up in your time with no money, no family, no friends—nothing. I am at your mercy.”
“Ha ha. If the situation weren’t so serious, I’d go along with the joke.”
Dragos sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. It was not going as well as he hoped. Gritting his teeth, he confessed, “I have a serious illness. When we met, I was stricken with terrible pains—pains so bad I thought I was going to die.”
“Yeah, I know. You had a virus.”
Dragos held up the palm of his hand. “Please allow me to continue. Although I am much improved from the night we met, my illness persists. The virus that has attacked my body still eats away at my soul. If you have a cure, I beg you to tell me now so I may go live a normal life rather than hiding in shadows.”
Brett looked again at the blood smeared on his finger. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“I need blood to survive.”
Brett shook his head as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “What did you say?”
He met Brett’s gaze. “I drink blood.”
Brett raised the gun so it was pointing at Dragos’s chest. His finger was back on the trigger. “And you killed those two women for their blood.”
Anger filled him as he jumped to his feet. “I killed no one! I would not sink to that level.”
“You just confessed to drinking blood. By the wounds on the women’s necks, I’m guessing that you bit their necks and drank their blood.”
Dragos vigorously shook his head. “You are out of your mind. I have killed no one.”
“Then where did you get the blood on your face?”
“When I was at the hospital, I took quite a bit of blood. I have survived by rationing it out. I hid the blood in the garage so you wouldn’t discover my secret. I would never stoop so low as to take blood from a human.”
“Took? As in stole it?”
Dragos filled with shame. “I had no choice.”
Brett waved the gun at him. “Let’s go. You’re going to show me this bag of blood—if it really exists.”
Fury coursed through Dragos. His hands clenched. The man had insinuated that he was a liar. Duels were fought over lessor accusations. He stepped forward.
“Don’t do it. I will shoot you,” Brett softly whispered.
Dragos hesitated.
Brett motioned outside. “Let’s go.”
With a gun pointing at his back, Dragos walked to the garage. Once inside, he flipped on the light. Beneath the tool bench, he pulled out the box from the bottom of the pile. He tore off the lid and tossed it on the floor.
“There.”
Brett peered into the box. “I don’t see any blood.”
With a growl, he yanked out the black bag and tossed it at Brett’s feet. Brett picked up the bag and dumped the contents onto the floor. Forty or more small bags of blood fell at his feet.
Brett picked up a bag and glanced at him.
“You’ve been drinking this blood.”
Without a word, Dragos nodded. His lips clenched tightly.
“Where are the empty bags?”
Dragos pulled out a second bag and gave it to Brett. After a few minutes, Brett motioned him back to the house. In the kitchen, Dragos sat and watched Brett. Brett scraped the dried blood from his finger onto a sheet of paper and carefully folded the edges.
“I’m going to have the lab analyze the blood from your face. You’d better pray that it doesn’t match either of the murdered women.”
Brett set the gun down on the table and grabbed a beer. “Do you want one?”
Dragos shook his head. He wasn’t feeling very thirsty, having just been threatened with a gun pointed at his chest. They sat in silence while Brett sipped his beer. He hoped Brett believed his story; otherwise, he’d be lost.
“Tell me about your life in England growing up.”
Dragos sighed, feeling relief. Brett was giving him a chance to prove that he wasn’t a killer. He apparently didn’t have any answers about his illness, but it was a start.
22
Brett stoically listened to the unbelievable tale that Dragos spun. He continued to ignore Michael, who leaned against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. He had to admit that the level of detail was quite specific. His life as an English gentleman sounded like something from a movie. Brett wasn’t a history buff by any means, but it sounded legit.
By the time Dragos finished his story, Michael paced the floor.
Brett tilted back in the chair and rubbed both hands through his hair. “Okay, I admit that some of your story is plausible. I still don’t understand how you got to this century or how you’re still alive. You were attacked by Victor. The next thing you remember, you woke up in this century as a vampire.”
Dragos erupted from his seat. The chair crashed to the floor before Dragos kicked it across the room. “Vampire!”
Michael jumped as the chair slammed into the cupboards. “What the hell?”
“Every … you calm down!” Brett yelled.
“You called me a vampire.” Dragos marched across the room and jabbed a finger into Brett’s chest. “I am an English gentleman, not a damn vampire. I’m sick. Even you said I had a virus.”
Michael moved closer to Dragos. He sneered at Brett’s houseguest. “He’s a bloodsucker. You’d better kill him now.”
“For God’s sake, not …” Brett’s voice trailed off as Dragos eyed him suspiciously. “Viruses don’t cause people to drink blood, Dragos.”
Dragos’s hands gripped the edge of the kitchen table. “But how … how did this happen to me?”
Brett studied Dragos. He seemed truly upset, even angry, about being a vampire. It appeared the guy had no idea what he was. A thread of sympathy took root. “If what you say is true, I bet the guy you and Marcus were with that last night did something to you.”
Brett watched confusion fill Dragos’s gaze as he began to put the pieces together.
“I never knew. Yet it all ties together. How could I have ever trusted the man?”
Michael threw his hands up in the air. “Well, hell. Now we have two vampires to worry about.”
With Michael being distracting as usual, Brett focused on Dragos. “You had no way of knowing the truth.” Brett cleared his throat. “I know this is traumatic for you, but you’re asking me to believe you. Well, you’re going to have to trust me. I’m going to run your prints and have the lab check the blood sample. If everything comes back clean, then we will go forward.”
“Go forward?”
“I won’t arrest you,” Brett clarified. “One more thing. If you’re in this century, then we need to be prepared to believe that the man may also be here.”
With a heaving chest, the anger faded from Dragos’s face. He slumped against the wall, his long legs bracing him upright.
“My God. His name is Victor! Candy showed me how to use the TV at her house. I just watched Dracula Untold on TV. Am I evil?”
Brett picked up the chair and shook his head. “Evil? I don’t think so. The blood thing will likely scare most people. I don’t think Des Moines is ready for a vampire. For now, let’s keep that a secret between us.”
Brett knew he’d have to bring Anders and Foster up to speed. But how?
Straightening, Dragos growled. “Why did Victor turn me into a vampire? Why not kill me? Could Victor be the one killing the young women?”
“Perhaps. First let’s get you cleared; then we can search for him.”
Streams of light peaked over the horizon. Brett rolled his shoulders, alleviating some of the tension that strummed through him.
“I’m going to get cleaned up, and then we’ll go to the station. I assume since you sleep most of the day that you are affected by the light.”
Dragos nodded. “Somewhat. Drinking blood seems to help diminish the pain.”
As Brett turned toward the bedroom, he saw Michael standing behind Dragos, pantomiming the act of stabbing him with a stake. Brett rolled his eyes.
Michael jumped forward, trying to tackle Dragos. “Don’t trust him! He’s a vampire for God’s sake.”
He saw Dragos shudder and glance around the room.
Brett froze. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. It’s chilly all of a sudden.”
“I’ll get my coat and we can leave.” Brett nudged Michael as he left the room. He had enough on his mind without putting up with Michael’s antics.
By the time Brett and Dragos left the house, dark thunderclouds had rolled in. Torrents of rain slashed against the windshield. Brett swore, as he could barely see the road. Looking in the rearview mirror, he saw Michael. Michael leaned over the front seat and glared at Dragos.
“I don’t know how you can trust this guy. He’s going to suck you dry,” Michael warned
Brett grabbed an empty soda bottle off the floor and tossed it into the backseat, aiming at Michael’s head.
Dragos flashed a quizzical look.
“Hey! What was that for? Michael whined. “I’m trying to help you.”
Brett bit back a smile when Michael disappeared.
On arriving at the station, Brett and Dragos darted into the building in between raindrops. Brett studied Dragos’s figure. The vampire was dressed in black from head to toe, and the storm blew his hair about his shoulders. Raindrops glistened on his high cheekbones. The steely look in his eyes caught Brett off guard. For a moment, it was as if he were watching a character from a Marvel movie running toward him. He shook off the unusual case of the nerves. Michael’s warning still rang in his mind.
Even though the station was fairly quiet at this time of day, he took the back stairs. The fewer people that saw Dragos, the fewer questions he’d have to answer. Once inside his office, Brett called for an ID technician. Dragos paced the floor, looking out the window.
The technician knocked on door as he entered.
“O’Shea, what’s going on?”
“Hey, Sanders. Can you run the prints on my friend here and analyze this blood sample?” Brett handed the technician a plastic bag containing the blood from Dragos’s face. If Sanders was surprised at Brett’s request, he didn’t show it. “I’d like the results ASAP.”
“All you detectives are the same. ASAP! Hurry up! Yada yada.”
He felt the tug of a smile. “If you can keep this under your hat, I’d appreciate it.”
Sanders cast a quick glance at him while taking Dragos’s prints. “As long as you don’t box me in a corner.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be reporting to Foster and Anders.”
“Fine. I have a couple of things to do for the chief, so I’ll get back to you by lunch.”
After Sanders packed his gear and left, Dragos stood. He returned to the window and stared at the river. Dragos’s wide shoulders bunched together. Brett felt the tension rolling off of him.
“Now what?”
“I take you home so I can get back to work.”
Dragos whipped around and faced him.
“If we discover Victor is here, I want to help you catch him.”
Suddenly the door to his office burst open. Chief Anders stormed in, coffee cup in hand. The eyes of the burly chief narrowed as he studied Brett and Dragos.
“O’Shea! When are we going to have some answers for the mayor?” Anders paused, nodding at Dragos across the room. “Who’s this?”
23
Brett blinked in disbelief. The chief was never in the office this early. “Uh … uh …” He struggled to form a coherent sentence.
Dragos stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Hello, sir. I’m Dragos Eldridge, son of the Earl of Albermarle.”
Anders shook Dragos’s hand. “Good morning. I’m Chief Anders.”
Dragos’s unique accent was very pronounced. Brett glanced at Anders’s face. Sure enough, the chief’s head tilted as he studied Dragos.
“Dragos is staying with me for a few days.”
“Hmm. I didn’t think England used titles nowadays.” Anders took a sip of his coffee as he watched Dragos.
The chief’s nonchalant action didn’t fool him. The chief always nursed his liquid caffeine when he was thinking.
Brett jiggled the car keys. “Was there something you needed, sir? I was getting ready to take Dragos home.” He glanced at Dragos and nodded toward the doorway. Unfortunately Dragos didn’t take the hint. He and the chief were staring each other down. Shit!
“I read your report about Detective Randall. After I suspended him, the mayor called and wanted me to retract my decision.”
That was news. “What did you tell him?”
Anders set his coffee cup on Brett’s desk before settling in the side chair. He stretched out his legs. “Why don’t you guys have a seat?”
“Dragos, why don’t you wait outside my office,” said Brett. “I’ll come and get you when the chief is through.”
Anders’s brow wrinkled. “Dragos, have a seat.”
Fuck! What is Anders up to?
Dragos frowned. Obviously he wasn’t the only one confused. Brett walked behind his desk and sat.
“Anyway, I informed the mayor that I would talk to you. You’ve always been by the book, O’Shea. Do you think Randall had anything to do with the murder of the two prostitutes?”
“I don’t know. He obviously has issues, but the coroner’s report has indicated that the women bled to death as a result of the bites on their necks.”
Anders scratched his cheek. “I assume you have some thoughts on what made those bites.”
Brett forced his gaze to remain impassive. He wasn’t going to discuss vampires at this point. “We’ve ruled out animal bites. They could be puncture wounds of some sort.”
Anders turned and stared at Dragos. “I’m sorry, but I think I missed Brett’s explanation as to why you’re here at the station?”
Suddenly the collar of Brett’s shirt felt too tight. Before Dragos could say anything that would get them in trouble, Brett leapt to his feet.
