Cherry Stem Page 12

  Nah. I couldn’t. I was introduced as a consultant, and sexually assaulting a detective wouldn’t be very consultanty.

  The assistant invited us in and asked if we’d like a beverage. We followed her to the waiting area but politely refused her offer of coffee or tea.

  “We would like to speak to Ms. Herring,” Alex said.

  “I’m sorry. She isn’t in.”

  Alex brought a notepad and pen out of his jacket’s inner pocket. “Do you know when she will be coming in, or where we can find her?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Well, she left two days ago and said she’d be gone indefinitely, so no.”

  I felt like a balloon someone had just punched a hole into. All the mental and emotional prep work I’d given myself on the ride was sucked out of me, leaving behind a sizeable gap and the sense I was floating. Not floating as in being joyful and weightless, but rather like having no anchor or purpose. It was a sickening feeling, and I wanted to punch the wall. Irrelevant to my personal history with her, Sheena was our best lead so far, our greatest chance to find Dotty and the other girls. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t here.

  “Are you aware of her current whereabouts? Where did she go?” Alex tapped his pen on his notepad while I stood against the wall, playing not-here cop. A slight twitch of his eye had been the only indication that Sheena’s absence had bothered him too.

  “She said she’d visit family, out of town. I don’t know where,” the bubbly blonde assistant said nasally, pouring herself some coffee. The smell of hazelnut wafted to my nostrils. I’d have loved some but had seen enough cop shows to know accepting something to eat or drink from someone you were questioning might seem unprofessional. “I haven’t been working for her long enough to ask for details.” She shrugged again, her breasts threatening to pop out over her extremely constricting top.

  “How long have you been working here?” Alex smiled, and I leaned carefully to one side to see what exactly he was looking at: her eyes, not her cleavage. I caught myself nodding in approval. Good man. The ludicrousness of concerning myself with petty jealousy when so much was at risk didn’t escape me.

  “Almost three months now.” The blonde turned to me, and I straightened up as fast as I could. “What is this about?” Worry was drawn on her pretty yet overly made-up face.

  Alex ignored her query. “Ms. Herring went on a vacation, leaving behind an employee with less than three months of experience?” His voice was gentle, coaxing rather than prodding. Amaze me with how good and deserving an employee you are, he seemed to say.

  She frowned. “I’m very good at my job, Detective Marsden. I don’t need to defend my employer’s choices.” Perhaps she wasn’t the airhead she appeared to be, after all.

  “I don’t doubt your abilities, Ms. Greg.” Alex smiled reassuringly at her. I tried not to harrumph.

  “It’s Miss Greg.” She smiled back. “Better yet, call me Barbie, Detective.”

  Barbie, for fuck’s sake.

  “Miss Greg, then.” Alex produced a pack of pictures from the same pocket as the notebook. “Could you tell me if you’ve seen any of these girls before? Maybe one of them has worked with your agency in the past.”

  Barbie barely glanced at Dotty’s picture before she put it down and looked at the second missing girl’s photograph. My heart sank when she showed no signs of recognition. My ears didn’t pick up the slightest change in her heart rate. She wasn’t acting. Second girl got a no too, but we sort of had a winner with the third one.

  “Her!” Barbie’s lacquered, one-inch nail—how could she type with those things?—tapped the picture of a stunning girl with short raven locks and eyebrows bringing out the color of her hazel eyes. “Liza Mills. She was here…ummm…a month ago?” She didn’t sound certain. “Let me check my appointment book.” She did just that. The appointment book was more like a humongous folder holding a pack of letter-size sheets. Each page had a mug shot stapled on it.

  Barbie noticed me looking at the photos. “Sheena insists on candid shots of everyone we interview.”

  I knew that. I was just wondering if my picture was still there somewhere.

  I had to begrudgingly admit to myself that Barbie might have been better at her work than I’d pegged her for. She found the girl almost immediately. The only info under her shot was a cell phone number.

  “Here she is.”

  “This contact number is all you have?” Alex reached out, and Barbie placed the open folder in his hands, nodding.

  He flipped through some pages, and I tried to be inconspicuous while stretching my neck to see the photos attached to them. “The other forms are filled in completely, as far as I can see,” he said. He hadn’t looked through everything, though. Maybe there were other girls with just their numbers jotted down, girls who hadn’t disappeared yet and could be saved.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m usually the one who books the appointments and fills these in when the girls come. I was on my day off when Sheena met with her, though, and when she gave me the form to file it, she said not to bother with anything else.”

  “Do you mind if we hold on to this for a couple of days?” He graced her with that smile that made me want to be his slave. “I could get a warrant, but I don’t see a reason to.”

  “I have it all in electronic form. Even scanned the pictures. I’ll print you a copy.” Barbie preened, as though she wanted to be patted on the head for a job well done. “I keep telling Sheena we’re in the age of technology.”

  Well, that was easy.

  While the printer worked its little mechanical heart out, making a sound that bore an eerie similarity to grunting, Barbie looked at the other missing girls’ photos and ruled out everyone else.

  Certain we were done, I started moving toward the front door, when Alex asked, “What’s your work schedule, Miss Greg? Do you work Saturdays, for example?”

  Why did he want to know that?

  Her grin was big enough to show her gums. “I’m here every Saturday and most Sundays, but I have the afternoon off one week from today.” Her face fell, which gave me an odd sense of joy. “But I can’t leave the office—not with Sheena gone.”

  “Is it a fixed weekend every month or did you need that time off for a specific reason?”

  “No reason. Sheena gives me an afternoon off each week. This week it was day before yesterday, when I last saw her.”

  When anyone last saw Dotty.

  “And you haven’t heard from her since.” It was a mixture of a statement and a question. Pen poised over pad once more, Alex waited to record whatever piece of wisdom Barbie would impart next.

  “She called me about half an hour before you showed. Asked if anyone had been by looking for her.” And she hadn’t even thought to mention that so far. Airhead Barbie it was. Finally she asked the million-dollar question. “Is she in trouble?”

  She would be, when I found her. Before I did something stupid like say that out loud, Alex asked, “Does your phone show caller ID?”

  * * * *

  The area code of the last incoming call was proof positive that Sheena had lied about going out of town. She had to have known her assistant wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box too, since she hadn’t even bothered calling from a private number. Still, it would have taken us longer to trace the call if I hadn’t seen that number on my cell phone’s screen enough times to know it by heart.

  Sheena had called in from her house. She had a private office there, with its own line, which was in her ex-husband’s name. She only used that for nefarious purposes, such as organizing the shooting of adult films without her name showing anywhere. I ought to know; I had been involved in said nefarious purposes.

  Once again we were in Alex’s car, but this time there was no traffic delaying us. The scenery was no longer urban, buildings having given their place to trees that appeared to run by my window at full speed. The colors changed too: from gray to green to yellow, orange, and red. I knew Alex couldn’t see the
hues as well as I could in the darkness, and for a moment I grew wistful. There was an entire world he couldn’t be a part of, just as I couldn’t completely belong in his. The thoughts I’d been trying to drive away for the finite time we had together resurfaced in my mind. We weren’t meant to be together; he thrived in the sun, while I could only live under the moon. The sooner his case was over, the better. We could both get back to reality.

  His hand brushed my thigh when he closed his fingers around the gearshift. He flashed a brief smile my way, and it dawned on me that I wouldn’t trade that smile for the world, not even to save myself sorrow in the future.

  I would if it was to save him sorrow in the future, though. Just as I would go against his wishes and take away all his memories of me if he refused to let go when the time came.

  * * * *

  My agitation rose with every step Alex and I took on the cobbled walkway that led to Sheena’s front door. I could have sworn that walkway had been a lot shorter the last time I’d visited. Now it felt like years passed before we were standing on the red, bow-shaped welcome mat.

  I remembered that mat. Sheena had told me my hair matched it once I’d changed its color for the never-shot movie I was to star in. In the darkness, I could see the vibrant hue clearly, and it made me want to rip it to shreds. In some irrational way, to my eyes, it was another reminder of how she’d betrayed me.

  Oblivious to my train of thought, Alex wiped his feet meticulously.

  I snorted. “You couldn’t have stepped in some mud? Dog poo: even better.”

  “Sorry?”

  I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to explain my demandlike question or if he was actually apologizing. I shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  He put his hand on the small of my back, and like the first time we’d met, electricity flowed between us. This time, though, it had a different result than to raise my lust for him. His touch now was soothing, comforting. I melted against his side.

  “Is it?” He gave me a questioning look, letting his arm wrap around me to press me to him. “Are you? I don’t need you, to do this. You can wait in the car. You should, officially.”

  I rubbed my face against his shoulder once, then nodded. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be here, officially. Let’s get this over with.”

  He let go of me, gave me a peck on the lips, and rang the doorbell.

  I allowed my hearing to expand to its vampiric limit and could easily make out the ring reverberating throughout the house. Then I heard scuffling.

  “Someone’s moving inside,” I whispered. My phone vibrated in my back pocket, startling me. Whoever it was could wait.

  “Ms. Herring? Open the door, please. Police.” He sounded very police-y, indeed.

  There was the scuffling again, like feet dragging, like someone being very sneaky on the wooden floor. The sound wasn’t coming toward us. “Back door,” I blurted and took off. Not literally. I didn’t have to fly to round the house faster than a human could cross it. I was already waiting outside the glass door of the kitchen when the door pulled open.

  Sheena burst out and straight into my waiting arms. I grabbed her waist. She dropped the backpack and laptop case she’d been holding and fought me blindly. I didn’t let go of my grip on her waist.

  With her eyes squeezed shut, she screeched like a banshee. I lifted her off the ground to try and subdue her, and she did her best to lodge her pointed shoes inside my shins. Why on earth would a woman try to escape while wearing high heels? Vanity before safety, I decided.

  Then she kneed me on the hip.

  I adjusted my grip and moved behind her. That way she couldn’t get me with her hands and knees. Still, she wouldn’t stop trying to claw at me over her shoulder or get me with her heels.

  Alex approached, gun in hand. I shook my head, and he halted but kept his weapon pointed at her.

  Sheena still shrieked and bucked. Her long nails found my face, and one of them gouged my cheek. It stung enough to make my eyes tear up, but I held on even as her fuchsia jacket ripped.

  “Ms. Herring, I have a gun pointed at you. We just want to ask you some questions.” Alex’s voice of reason wasn’t working; Sheena never ceased her thrashing.

  “Sheena, cut that out! You’re not going anywhere until you talk to us.” My fangs had come out, and my s’s were kind of whistly, but I sounded menacing, nonetheless. The scent of my own blood made me moodier than before.

  “Let me go!” She stomped on my foot with her heel.

  The jolt of pain was sharp but not debilitating. I held her at arm’s length. “Why did you hand me to Willoughby?” I shook her before spinning her to face me. “Why?” I was certain I was yelling, but the last reached my ears as a whine. “I thought you were my friend.”

  She instantly stopped fighting, and her body sagged. Easing one eye open, she said, “Cherry?”

  “Yeah.” I could have said something wittier, but for the second time that day, my expectations had little to do with reality.

  Like I said, I’d been expecting shock and fear when Sheena laid eyes on me. Now I saw there was shock there, all right, but no fear.

  Her hands reached for me again, yet not to hurt me. They touched my face, my shoulders, my hair. I didn’t know how to react; she wasn’t trying to wound me or defend herself.

  Finally she squeezed me to her as hard as she could. “Oh thank God, you’re okay!”

  * * * *

  Her living room hadn’t changed at all since I’d last been there. Every piece of furniture, as well as the walls and carpeting, still made a statement: the owner had a loud personality.

  Then again, the owner herself was a testament to that.

  Sheena had on a pair of fuchsia pants, the jacket of which now lacked two buttons, with a fuchsia and lime green silk top. The set might have looked appropriate for Halloween on me, but it complemented her mocha-colored skin perfectly. Her matching makeup was messed up, mascara-tinged tears making tracks on her blush.

  She’d asked if we wanted coffee or something stronger but we’d both refused anything, so she was the only person in the room with a drink in hand. Scotch. Straight up.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said for the millionth time, reaching across the couch to pat my knee.

  I used my fingers to trace the scratch already healing on my cheek but didn’t respond; I was still too gobsmacked to do anything but stare. If Alex hadn’t pulled me inside the house by the hand, I’d have probably still been out in the garden, trying to figure out why Sheena was acting happy to see me.

  Alex, my knight in shining armor, took it upon himself to point out the mistake in her statement. “She’s far from okay, Ms. Herring. She’s dead.” His glare was anything but professional.

  Sheena sniffed. “She’s walking and talking. It’s more than I thought she was. Ergo, she’s okay.”

  Ergo. Leave it to her to find the oddest time to use a pretentious word. I shook my head. Alex was right. I wasn’t okay. I’d spent years alone. Even when I’d been with Constantine, I’d had no friends, nobody to be silly with, nobody whose shoulder I could cry on. I couldn’t go see my family, couldn’t let them know I was still around, still the same person they’d brought up except for the undead thing. I’d never wanted kids before I’d been turned, but knowing the choice had been taken away from me made me long at times for the possibility of one.

  I could have been worse off, I guess, could have been gone forever, but so much had happened to me because of her.

  I looked at Alex and felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. Some of those happenings hadn’t been bad at all.

  Suddenly I didn’t feel like killing Sheena any longer. “Why did you do it?” That was the thing I needed to find out first.

  “I didn’t know I was doing something.” The words came out soft as a breath. “That guy asked to meet you. Nothing bad was supposed to happen to you.” That she hadn’t knowingly led me to my death loosened the knot in my stomach the tiniest bit.

&n
bsp; “Something did happen, though.” I thought Alex meant to urge her to say more, but a look at his face showed me he was still beyond pissed off. “Of course, you thought you were just whoring her out.” He spared her none of the formal courtesy he’d offered her assistant. This wasn’t a formal investigation any longer; it was as personal to him as it was to me.

  Sheena hung her head. “Willoughby was good-looking, well mannered, rich. I thought he’d be good for her.”

  How could she have thought a guy named Willoughby could be good for anyone?

  Alex sat on the armrest next to me, gun lying on his thigh. He hadn’t even let go of it to hand Sheena her bag and laptop before we’d come inside. I squeezed his free hand.

  “Why didn’t you do something when you heard I disappeared?” I asked Sheena. I wanted to believe she’d initially acted with my best interest in mind, but there was no excuse for the rest. “Why did you give him more girls?”

  “I didn’t hear you’d disappeared.” Her voice was louder, exasperated, even though she was still not looking at me. “He came here and…he said what had happened to you would happen to me if I didn’t help them, or if I went to the cops. He—he bit me.” Her free hand twitched on her lap.

  I didn’t want to feel sorry for her, but until recently I’d thought of her as a friend. I couldn’t just delete that. Instead of trying to figure out my feelings, I focused on how her words answered one of my upcoming questions. She knew about vampires. “And you just let him do it to others?”

  “He promised me they’d be kept happy, that he’d offer them things.” I could tell she was trying to convince herself more than us. “There were some who didn’t have much of a future on the runway, or at all.” I remembered the entry with just a picture and number that her assistant had given us. “Others that he’d specifically suggested I approach. He’d call and tell me what he had in mind. I didn’t do anything. I just arranged the meetings.”

  “Knowing they’d die?” It was entirely possible I could still find it in me to snap her neck. Deep down I wanted not to have found out about her involvement, even if that shot down our chances of finding the young women.