Dangerous Games (Riley Jenson Guardian #4)(17)

“Seems I learn something new about vampires every damn day.” Although vampires’ waste products wasn’t really something I’d ever wanted to think about, let alone know.
“I’ve never seen a guardian look as furious as you do right now.” He cocked his head a little, expression hinting at surprise and curiosity. “It’s almost as if this death offends you.”
“And a senseless death doesn’t offend you? It doesn’t offend you that some bastard shit on this woman after he’d raped and killed her?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen too much for something like this to offend me.”
I snorted softly. “And you think I’m the cold-blooded monster?”
“Cold-blooded killer,” he amended softly. “There is a difference.”
Not enough to matter, I’d warrant. I looked back at the woman and saw for the first time that she had dark skin and dark hair. This had to be Dunleavy’s girlfriend if the old girl in the first apartment had her descriptions right.
So, if Gautier was responsible for Dunleavy’s death, who had been in here, taking care of the girlfriend?
My gaze rose to the mess of her neck, and the excrement. My stomach twisted, and an odd sense of foreboding crawled up my spine. I turned around, studying the remnants of glass and furniture scattered about the room. Eventually I found what I was looking for, facedown on the brick hearth. I rose and walked over to it.
Picked up the photo frame and saw the dark-haired woman and the child within it. I closed my eyes for a second, cursing the unfairness of fate.
“Why the interest in the photo frame?” Cole asked.
“Not the frame, but the photo within it.” I turned it around and showed him. “See the child in the photo? We found her last night. She died this morning.”
“So whoever did this wanted the child?”
“No, I think she was just bait.” I rubbed a hand across my eyes. That’s why the young vamp had stood there for so long in the rain. Gautier had wanted to ensure we’d follow. He knew we’d try and save the girl. Knew we’d try and trace her parents. Which meant, maybe, he’d wanted us to find these kills. And had wanted us to find that ring.
The question was, why?
My gaze went to the woman again, and my frown deepened. “How long has she been dead?”
Cole looked down at the body. “Rigor mortis hasn’t yet set in, so she’s been dead less than three hours.” He met my gaze again. “Why?”
“Because the timing is all off. These two are recent kills, and yet the little girl was kidnapped much earlier.” And we’d killed Gautier’s little protégée last night, so it couldn’t have been him doing this. Though it was always possible that Gautier had more than one baby vamp in his nest.
But that still left the problem of how the baby vamp had gotten out of here when the sun was up. Gautier might be a young vamp, but he still would have a touch more tolerance than any youngsters he’d turned. The slightest caress of sunlight would be instant death to any one of them.“Maybe she was kidnapped to buy their silence,” Cole said.
Maybe. Dunleavy had rung yesterday evening, desperate for help. This was obviously why. If Jack had acted earlier, if the Directorate had more staff, then maybe the little girl would still be alive. Maybe even her mom and Dunleavy.
It made me wonder what they’d known. Obviously it was something of extreme value, because death had come hunting them pretty damn quick. But how did whatever they’d known connect with Gautier? And how did Gautier connect to The Cleaver?
Because it was beginning to look like he was connected, no matter what Jack said—and no matter what Gautier’s so-called contest might imply.
I glanced down at the picture. It was better than looking at the real woman lying on the floor. “I think I’ll go question the neighbor again. See if she saw anything earlier. But please, save your cheering until I get out the door.”
“A hard task, but I think I’m man enough for it.” A smile teased his lips, making his craggy face and pale eyes suddenly seem warm and inviting.
“I think you’re man enough for lots of things.” I suddenly remembered the mobile recording unit, and resisted the urge to add more. Like, but are you man enough for me? The reality was, Cole was a wolf-shifter. He’d smell my interest. If it wasn’t reciprocated, then I wasn’t going to push. “You got any objections to me taking this?”
“No.” He hesitated. “I’ll send the transcription from the ring as soon as we get it.”
“And the woman’s full ID, if you could.”
He nodded. I turned and headed out the door. His gaze was a heated weight that centered not on my back, but on my butt. I resisted the urge to work it, and just got out of there before I got myself into trouble.
Ms. Radcliffe confirmed that the child did belong to Dunleavy’s girlfriend. “When did you last see her?” I asked, wrinkling my nose at the overwhelming odor of cooking cabbage coming from the unit’s interior.
“Yesterday, when that woman was taking her to kindergarten.” She sniffed. “Her dad must have picked her up after. He shares custody, and just as well, too.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know his name, would you?”
“Robert Worthington. Lives over in Prahan, or someplace fancy like that. The kid’s name is Ellana.”
“And the girlfriend’s name? Don’t suppose you remember that?”
She sneered. “Trudi Stone. She’s a part-time waitress, and a stripper at one of them men’s clubs.”
“Did you see anyone else come or go from the apartment?”
“No.” She sniffed. “But he was burning something behind the town house after all the racket had died down. Horrible smell, it was.” 
I remembered the burned patch outside the back door. The baby vamp, perhaps? Timing-wise, it’d probably fit, even if it made no logical sense. Why would Gautier not share whatever protection he had from the sun with his own creation? Or was it simply a case of the baby vamp having done what he was taken there for, and Gautier having no further use for him? Letting him fry in the sun was one sure way of getting rid of any evidence the Directorate might be able to use.
“Ms. Radcliffe, you’ve been extremely helpful. Thanks for your time.”
“It’s always my pleasure to help you officers.”
I resisted the urge to smile but couldn’t help feeling sorry for the local cops. They were going to be seriously bombarded by the old girl’s “helpful” reports over the next few days.
I retreated to my car, barely getting there before the skies opened up and the rain came down. As water pounded the windshield, I threw the photo on the seat then got out my phone and called the Directorate.
The caramel cow answered.
“Sal, Riley Jenson again. I need you to trace an ID for me.”
“I’m not your personal servant,” she replied coolly. “There are proper channels to follow.”
“I don’t like proper channels, and I need this information quickly.”
“Such requests have to be approved—”
“I haven’t got the time for this shit, Sal. Just do it without arguing or I’ll start whispering nasty things in Jack’s ear about his hot-to-trot personal assistant.” I quickly gave her Trudi’s name and Dunleavy’s address. “She apparently works as a waitress and part-time stripper. I need to know where.”
“You are such an ass.” Despite the annoyance in her tone, the soft tap of a keyboard was evident over the phone.
“But I’m an ass Jack listens to.” Sometimes. I waited a few seconds, then said, “Anything?”
“Yeah. I’m sending you her profile.”
“Including a working address?”
Salliane paused. “She works as a cocktail waitress at the Cattle Club. There’s no strip joint listed.”
Meaning it was probably a cash-in-hand job at one of the underground strip joints. “Where’s the Cattle Club? I’ve never heard of it.”
“So much for you being a party animal,” she said, somewhat cattily. “It’s the latest hot spot.”
“For weres, or for vamps who have the hots for their boss?”
“Humans, asshole. Anything else?”
“Nope. Such a pleasure talking to you again, Sal.”
“Bite my ass, wolf girl.”
She hung up and I grinned. I was going to get into trouble if I continued riling her, I knew that, but damn, it was fun. She was wound so tight her face would surely crack if she smiled. But at least she was efficient. I’d barely hung up, when the information about Trudi Stone came through. I studied her file for several seconds, noting there was no criminal history and seemingly nothing out of the ordinary about her.
The daughter got a mention, as did the ex. I typed in a note asking that the dad be notified about the death of his little girl, then put the Cattle Club’s name into the nav-computer and got the address and driving directions.
The club sat in the middle of the city’s famed King Street dance club district, an area that was basically the human equivalent of werewolf clubs—but without the free sex. Though apparently it was available if you had ready cash and didn’t mind a quickie in the alley or a nearby car. Part of me wondered if Trudi had been a part of that scene. I wouldn’t entirely have been surprised if she was. In the file photo, her eyes had held that world-weary, bleak sort of look that hookers who’d been in the game for a while got.Had the information she’d been killed for come from a client, or from somewhere else? Was the Cattle Club the connection at all, or was it the strip joint we knew nothing about?