"I think you might find them in a more receptive mood now."
"You think your friends will be nice on a leash for me?"
"I was really thinking I'd been holding the leash." My phone rang, and the sound made me jump. I flipped it open, and it was a voice I didn't recognize. I don't talk to the chief of police all that often.
I did a lot of yes, sir, and no, sir. Then the phone was buzzing, and I was left with Zerbrowski staring at me. "Were you talking to who I think you were talking to?"
"They've issued a court order of execution for Van Anders."
Zerbrowski's eyes were wide. "You are not going after him alone."
I shook my head. "I hadn't planned on it."
He looked like he didn't believe me. I actually had to give him my word I wouldn't try to pop Van Anders without backup. I'd have backup. The police chief had told me over the phone that they'd go along with the werewolf tracking idea. I'd have backup-if I could persuade Richard to give them to me.
I asked for some plastic evidence bags and raided Van Anders's dirty clothes drawer. I used gloves, not to keep my scent off them, but because I didn't want to touch anything that had touched Van Anders's body. I sealed the clothes in the bag, and hoped it would be enough to help the werewolves track him. We'd come back and start around the foot of this building. Van Anders might have climbed up, but he had to come down somewhere.
Zerbrowski drove me, Officer Elsworthy, and himself off to the hospital, so Captain Parker could yell at us both. Bates had died on the operating table.
Zerbrowski had to take the tongue lashing, because a sergeant doesn't outrank a captain. I took it, because I smelled the fear on Parker. I didn't blame him for being afraid. I think we were all afraid, every single person in the hallway. Every person in the apartment. Every policeman, and woman, in town should have been afraid. Because when something like this happens it's still the police that have to clean up the mess. Well, the police, and your friendly neighborhood executioner. We were all afraid, and we should have been.
59
I met Richard at his house. We sat at the kitchen table where we'd sat so many weekend mornings. He drank tea. I sipped coffee. He wouldn't meet my eyes, and I didn't know what to say.
He caught me off guard by starting. "If you'd stuck to my morals, Asher would be dead right now, or worse, trapped in Europe with that monstrous bitch."
I was pretty sure that "monstrous bitch" was Belle Morte. "That's true," I said, and I tried to keep my voice neutral. I wanted to get down to business and ask Richard to loan me some werewolves, but it didn't usually work well to approach Richard head on. It didn't take much to offend him. I needed his cooperation, not another fight.
"I don't understand how you could let them feed off of you, Anita." He finally looked up and his perfectly brown eyes were filled with a pain and confusion, so raw, that it hurt me to look at them.
"It's hard for me to cast stones anymore, Richard."
"The ardeur," he said.
I nodded.
"I can't let you feed off of me either,"
"I understand that," I said.
He searched my face. "Then why are you here?"
Had he really thought this was going to be some tearful reunion , some plea on my part to get him back in my bed? Part of me was pissed, part of me was sad, none of me had time for it.
"The werewolf that's been raping and killing women here got away from the police today."
"I haven't seen anything on the news."
"We're trying to keep it quiet."
"You're here for business," his voice was soft.
"I'm here to keep other women from dying."
He got up from the table, and I was afraid for a moment that he'd leave, but he took the tea cozy off the teapot and refreshed his mug. "It's not one of my wolves, Anita."
"I know that."
He turned, and there was the first hint of anger. "Then what do you want from me?"
I sighed. "Richard, I love you, I may always love you, but I don't have time for this fight, not right now."
"Why not now?" he asked, and he was angry.
I opened the file folder and took out the first photo. I held it up so he could see it. He frowned, narrowing his eyes, then finally his mind made sense of it, and total disgust filled his face. He turned away.
"Why are you showing me that?"
"He's killed three women here and over a half dozen in other countries. Those are only the ones we know about. He's out there right now picking a new victim."
"I can't do anything about that."
"But I can, if you'll give me some werewolves to help track him."
He looked at me then, then away, because I still had the photo showing. "Track him, you mean like a dog?"