It was a white two story house with green gingerbread trim and a green door to match. But the white gravel driveway was crowded with emergency vehicles, their lights flashing. People in official looking uniforms were swarming over the neatly mown lawn.
“Is that the place?” Lock asked, pointing to the house. “You always see it so much clearer than me in the dreams.”
“That’s her house.” The point of view moved up and down, as though Deep was nodding.
“What’s going on?” Lock asked.
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t look good.” Deep sounded grim.
“Maybe we should go back to the HKR building. Come again later. Or send the draft officers for her instead.”
“We agreed to come for her ourselves. Those damn draft officers only scare the human females when they drag them out of their homes. And she’s already scared enough of me as it is.” Deep sounded unhappy.
“Still, it’s official procedure.” Lock sighed. “Don’t worry about the dreams, Deep. She just needs to get to know you. We’ll take things slowly during the Claiming period. Very slowly.”
“Agreed. If there is a Claiming period.”
“What do you mean by that?” Lock demanded as they went through the gate of the white picket fence surrounding the house with the gingerbread trim.
“I’m sorry, sir, but this is an official crime scene,” a voice said, before Deep could answer. The point of view looked down and Kat saw a human police officer standing there with his thumbs hooked in his belt, frowning and blocking the walkway.
“We’re Kindred,” Deep said smoothly. “Here on official business.”
The cop got a mulish look on his face. “Well, I’m afraid your business will have to wait. Crime scene takes precedence.”
“Give it up, Murphy.” Another policeman, this one a middle aged woman with her black hair scraped back into a ponytail, came to stand beside him. “It’s not really a crime scene when she meant to off herself.”
“That’s not our call to make. The Coroner’ll decide if it was suicide or not,” the first policeman said stubbornly.
“Suicide?” Lock sounded worried. “What are you talking about? Who—?”
“There they are! Let them through, officers. Let them through—those are the murderers.” A young woman with scraggly, brownish-blonde hair came running out onto the front porch. She was pointing to Lock and Deep and sobbing hysterically.
“Murderers, eh?” The first policeman, Murphy, looked at them with considerably more interest. “You gentlemen care to explain that?”
“Officer, I assure you that my brother and I have never even been on this planet until this morning and we—” Lock began but Deep was already pushing past the officers and rushing to the front porch.
“Where is she?” Kat saw his large hands grip the hysterical girl and give her a firm shake. “Where’s Miranda?” he demanded.
“You want to see her?” the girl shouted through her sobs. “You want to see what you did to her, you son-of-a-bitch?”
“Yes, I want to see her, damn it!” Deep’s voice was fierce now. Fierce and fearful—Kat could hear the dread throbbing in his tone. The knowledge of what he might find if he followed the crying girl into the house. But he went with her anyway, climbing a staircase and going down a hallway to the bedroom at the end.
Kat could hear soft sounds of grief coming from behind one door and there were two paramedics just leaving the far bedroom as they entered it. “Hey, I thought the police didn’t want anyone going in there,” one protested as Deep and the girl brushed past them.
“Official business,” Deep said, but his voice sounded hollow and strained.
At the door to the bedroom, the girl turned to face him, her face pale and blotchy with tears. “So you finally came for her. She said you would. It was all she talked about for the past month.” Her voice went high and scared as though she was imitating someone. “‘The dark one—I don’t know his name but he won’t leave me alone. Every time I close my eyes I see him…coming for me, reaching out to touch me.’”
“Enough. Let me see her,” Deep sounded quiet but dangerous. “She’s supposed to be our bride—I have a right to see her.”
“She was never going to go with you,” the girl spat. “She made sure of that. You want to see? Fine, have a look!”
She flung open the door, revealing a room that was decorated in cream and pink and butter yellow. A cheerful room with a canopy bed against one wall and set of French doors leading out onto a balcony covered with climbing ivy.