Sarah sees the move, understands the implication. She holds up her hands. Im not here to hurt you, she says.
We meet a few feet from the elevators. Why are you here?
Not because I want to be, thats for damn sure. The woman drops her hands to her side. She looks younger than her thirty years, except for her eyes. They harbor the shadow of sadness, of disappointment, of fear. Im here because I need your help.
With Zack?
She nods. He likes you. I can tell.
Were partners.
She tilts her head to the side. Its more.
He told you that?
He didnt have to. I know Zack, maybe better than anyone.
Youre pack mates?
She looks surprised. You know our other nature?
Yes.
Sarah releases a breath. Then you know he doesnt belong here. He belongs with us, his own kind, where he can be free.
Free?
Free to run under the moon. To live without restrictions. To be penned up in a cage three nights every month, alone. Its . . . unacceptable.
Unacceptable to whom? Zack has chosen a safe way to ride out the changeling times.
Sarah pauses now. She takes a step closer. Who are you to presume to know whats safe for us?
Im Zacks partner
Im his lover.
Someone didnt get the ex memo. I heard it was over.
Sarahs posture becomes rigid. I get the distinct impression that if we werent in the lobby of an FBI field office, her hands would be around my throat. There had been softness in her eyes from sadness, fear. Now brittle determination makes them spark with anger. She doesnt hold on to it long. In a flash its gone, replaced by smug indignation and a shiny new strategy.
It didnt feel over when we slept together the other night.
They spent the night together? I dont believe it. Or, if they did, Id bet they didnt have sex.
Whatever. I turn to push the call button for the elevator.
She grabs my arm in a viselike grip. Feign disinterest all you want. I see the way you look at him.
I slowly look down at her hand on my arm, then back up at Sarah. You need to be talking to Zack. Not me.
Her grip on my arm tightens. Youre playing a dangerous game. You should know here and now, its one you wont win. I cannot, will not, leave without Zack.
Regret morphs to anger. I dont take kindly to threats. Happily-ever-after may not be in the cards for Zack and me. But Im dead certain he isnt going to find it with Sarah, either. If he could have, he wouldnt have pushed her away, wouldnt have left her behind. I shake my arm free. Whether Zack stays or goes is up to him.
A flash of the wolf turns Sarahs eyes blue. Perhaps the decision will be made for him, she growls. Perhaps the reason for his staying will suddenly be taken from him.
I may not have a werewolfs strength, but my gun at this range would blow her clear across the hall. Superfast healing isnt in my repertoire, but Im secure in the fact that no matter what happens, I will eventually heal. Demeter would never finish me off when there was pain to be dealt. Ive been around a long time. And Ive experienced my fair sharebeen up against stronger, faster, and smarter than Sarah. Id match my cunning and determination against this werewolfs any day.
Youre threatening the wrong girl. I know what you are and I know how to stop you. You think you can take me out? Give it your best shot, I growl right back at her.
The rumble of the elevator behind us signals its approach. Half a dozen people spill out, including Kirk, the boss admin assistant. He steps between Sarah and me, momentarily blocking her from my sight.
Hey, Monroe, the lotterys up to thirty million. You want in? Im going to buy tickets. You cant win if you dont play, he points out for the hundredth time.
I reach into the pocket of my slacks, pull out a buck, and hand it to him, waving him away. The rest of the crowd has already dispersed. When he steps to the side, I no longer see Sarah.
There was a woman here, I say. Did you see where she went?
Sorry, he says. No.
I release an angry sigh. Sarah is gone.
CHAPTER 18
The confrontation with Sarah should have left me anxious. Instead, shes made me curious . . . and sore. Im sure Ill have a glorious bruise on my arm where she grabbed me. Rubbing the spot, I decide its time I ask Zack if she poses a real threat or if it was all posturingthe attempts of a scorned lover to scare off the competition.
If only she knew she had no need to take me out of the game. Ive got an envelope of powder in my handbag to do that for her.
Im stepping off the elevator onto our floor when my cell phone rings. A glance at the caller ID shows its Zack. In a flash, Sarah is pushed from my mind. Instead I wonder if hes wondering why I left this morning without waking him up or saying good-bye. Maybe hes calling to end it. Or to set some ground rules for office etiquette. Could be hes running late because our activities last night made him oversleep.
This is Emma, I croak through a throat suddenly gone dry.
Where are you? he asks without preamble. Then, Wait. I see you. Stay there.
I look up in time to see him crossing the floor. Theres nothing intimate in his expressionno sly sideways glances, no seductive smile. And hes not peering at me as if Ive suddenly sprouted a second head. Maybe the Emma he made love to last night was the Emma hes seeing now. Maybe Im not in as much trouble as I thought.
But I remember the feeling of soaring, of giving myself to him completely, of holding nothing back.
More important, I remember the way I looked in the mirror.
That was not my imagination. Did Zack see it, too?
All this runs through my head in the time it takes Zack to close the distance between us. For him, it seems to be all business. Hes got a piece of paper in his hands.
I feel my shoulders relax a bit. If he can separate what happened last night from our professional life, I certainly should be able to.
Just got this, he says, waving the paper. Alan Pierce moved recently. He reads off the address.
Its one I recognize. Thats the same address as Michael Dexters.
Bingo!
Hes Michael Dexters partner? I follow Zack as we head back to our cubicle.
Did you peg them as being together last night?
I shake my head. But then, Alan was constantly working the party.
Theres more. Zack hands me a cup of coffee. When the first Mrs. Barakov disappeared, Alan Pierce was interviewed. He had been working for an architectural firm in Los Angeles. The one the Barakovs hired to renovate their home. He had a key and free rein of the house, so the police thought he might have seen something. He hadnt and they dropped him from the suspect list.
Zack pauses to take a drink from his mug. Im reminded of the envelope in my bag. All it would take is one little sip. Thankfully, Zack doesnt give me much time to think. He has something else to tell me. I see it in the gleam of his eyes. He plunges ahead.
So, Alans mother, the present Mrs. Barbara Barakov, met the good doctor at Alans office. He was there for a consultation and she dropped in to take her son for lunch. While Alan works on the renovation project, his mother works on Barakov. The affair only lasted a couple months. Its not clear what ended it. But Barakov went back to his wife. You still with me?
I nod, recalling my research. A month or so later, the wife mysteriously disappears.
Zack continues. Barakov plays the concerned husband for a while. Then he starts seeing Pierce again. Not long after that, Alan gets a new stepdaddy.
What kind of doctor is Barbara? I ask, remembering how she was introduced last night.
Shes a surgeon. Specializes in organ transplants.
I watch Zack as he goes over the notes in his hand. Excitement is there in his expression, hopefulness that we may have uncovered the one detail that can help us break the case, determination that well stick at it until we do.
The one thing thats missing is any indication that we spent last night having sexgreat sex.
Am I relieved or angry?
Do I even need the fucking powder Liz gave me?
Suddenly I realize Zack is peering at me. Whats the matter? You look disappointed.
I turn away, briefly, to recompose my expression. Nothings the matter.
Is it about last night? He steps close, glances around, then whispers, I assumed you left early this morning so youd have time to change clothes before work. Are we okay?
Suddenly Im back there with himfire crackling, candles glowing, wringing torturous pleasure from Zacks body in ways that were utterly exquisite and entirely addictive.
But that was then. This is now. Were fine.
He lowers his head so its close to mine. Last night wasI dont have the words.
I can feel the pulse of his breath against my ear. Try.
Best. Sex. Ever. He straightens and steps back. Now, where were we? He makes a show of shuffling the papers in his hand, but hes grinning.
For an instant, this mornings feeling of bliss is back. With all its implications. I am at the core a sexual creature, after all. And as Liz reminded me, sex is okay. As long as we leave it at that. I see him and cant help wondering, hoping. Could it be possible? Just sex. Am I capable of hiding my true feelings for the chance to have even the most superficial of relationships with him? Could Liz work a spell that would make Zack accept a relationship like that?
Just sex.
Just sex.
Sarah pops into my consciousness. Maybe thats the kind of relationship he has with her now. Is this the time to bring it up?
No. Now its time to get back to business.
I clear my throat when what I want to do is clear my head. I think I should interview Alan, I say.
Zack nods. I agree. He glances at his watch. He should be at the Green Leaf offices right about now.
On a Saturday morning?
Someone called him earlier posing as a new fat-cat customer and requesting a morning meeting.
I wonder who that might have been.
Zack shrugs. Dont know. I do know Mr. Pierce was very accommodating. He should be waiting for us. He flutters his fingers. Ill wait outside or something while you work your mojo.
I pick up my bag. Lets go.
But the telephone on his desk rings. I pause while Zack answers it. He listens for a moment, then says, Yes, sir. Ill be right there.
He replaces the receiver. Deputy Director wants an update. I can handle it. You go on. Ill meet you at Green Leaf as soon as I can.
CHAPTER 19
The Green Leaf central office is located on Front Street. Its a converted mansion, sitting on a lot surrounded by a high hedge. The brass sign on the wrought-iron gate is in the shape of a maple leaf on which the name Green Leaf is embossed. I ring the bell outside the entrance, and a buzzer sounds immediately. No questions. The gate clicks open.
I follow the walk up to the front door, where theres another bell. This time when I ring, a voice from inside asks, Yes?
I look up at a surveillance camera set high and to the right. I dig my badge out of my purse and hold it up. Agent Emma Monroe. FBI.
The door opens immediately. Alan Pierce smiles out at me. I remember you from last night, Agent Monroe.
I have a couple questions Id like to ask you.
He pulls out his cell and checks the time. I have a client meeting scheduled, but they seem to be running late. I can give you a few minutes. Come in. He stands aside and the door closes behind me.
I hope the party was a success, I say as we walk.
He nods enthusiastically. We exceeded our fund-raising goal. Thank you for attending. And thank you for what youre doing to find Michaels friend. Hes been beside himself since she went missing.
Theres a bit of a nervous edge about him, one I hadnt noticed last night. Is it surprise at finding an FBI agent at his office so early on a Saturday morning? Or concern that a client might be surprised to find an FBI agent at his office so early on a Saturday morning?
Theres no one in the reception area. He leads me through it and into what I presume is his personal office. I attempt to set him at ease by turning the conversation to familiar territory, comfortable ground.
I make a point of looking around. I love these old buildings. Its so good to see them being renovated, to see the history preserved.
Alan nods. It was a shambles when we bought it. He gestures to a visitors chair and takes his own seat across a wide expanse of burled oak desk. Restoring it to its former glory took a lot of work.
And, I imagine, a lot of money.
We have generous benefactors.
Generous indeed. Theyve managed to get all of the details right. The period wallpaper, wainscoting, molding, even the style of doorknobs are all what you would expect in a building of this age.
I think of Dexters comment about his partner being a neat freak. Its certainly evident here. Except for a desktop phone and a computer, the only other things on his desk are a stack of spreadsheets and a pen.
This is a beautiful office. Are those the original moldings?
Good eye. He beams. Yes. This used to be the parlor. He sweeps a hand over the smooth top of the desk. We found this piece in the attic when we purchased the place. Its amazing what people think of as junk, isnt it?
Does the staff always come in on Saturdays? I ask with a smile. Better to find out if there is anyone else around who might get caught in the undertow before I open the floodgates.
He shakes his head. We sometimes have a small contingent on Saturdays. But I gave everyone strict orders to take today off. Last night was a late one for us all.
But no day off for the boss, I see.
Like I said, client meeting. He gestures to the spreadsheet. Plus, I wanted to tally up the proceeds from last night. We did very well. Especially Michaels piece. Hes such a wonderful artist. Theres a wistfulness to his voice as he adds, Im glad hes seeing his talent appreciated.
He pauses. Are you here about Isabella?
That slight hint of nervousness is back. Ive interrogated enough suspects, both with and without use of my special brand of lie detection, to recognize when they are hiding something. Alan is.
Yes. Did you know her? I ask.
He shrugs. We met, of course. But she disappeared before I moved in.
And how long ago did you move in?
About a month ago. He stands up and makes his way over to a coffeepot on the other side of the room. Can I offer you a cup of coffee? We also have some sodas, bottled water.
No, thank you. Do you know a woman named Amy Patterson?
His back is to me. The coffeepot is in his hand. Theres not even a moments hesitation. Sure, we did work for Amy. I saw on the news shes missing, too. Michael said you stopped by and He turns around to face me, alarm registering on his face. You dont think Michael has anything to do with Amys disappearance, do you? Or Isabellas, for that matter. Michael wouldnt hurt a fly.
I shake my head. No. Michael isnt a suspect.
His shoulders relax. He returns to his desk with the coffee. Takes a sip. Sits down. Thats a relief.
What about Evan Porter? I ask.
What about him?
You know Evan?
He nods. Sure. Hes my attorney. Hes . . . Are you telling me Evans missing, too?
Our eyes meet across the desk.
The truth dawns on him. You think I might have had something to do with Evans disappearance? Or Amys?
I cant help noticing he didnt mention Isabella. I add her back on and wait for the reaction. What about Isabella? You didnt forget her, did you?
What? No!
But his breathing is rapid and shallow and hes focused his gaze on the cup in his hand. I think Ive gotten all Im going to get from him with normal investigative techniques. Time for the big guns.
Alan?
He looks up at me. I take a breath, look him directly in the eye, and lower the dampening spell. Now he cant bring himself to look away. He lowers his hand to the table, pushes the cup away. He leans forward in the chair, as if to get closer. Even a gay man is not immune to my power and beauty.
Alan? Im going to ask you some questions.
The air stirs around us, blowing a slip of paper from his desk. The pen rolls to the floor. Alan doesnt notice. A faint perfume fills the air.
He nods and breathes it in.
You want to help, I continue. So youre going to answer truthfully. Once you do, youll feel better.
Of course he will. He has no choice.
I stand up, pushing back the chair in which Id been sitting. The wind rises around me. The stacks of spreadsheets on his desk begin to rustle. Since his anxiety seems to rise every time I mention Isabellas name, I start there. Did you have anything to do with Isabella Mancinis disappearance?
A buzzer rings before he can answer.
Is that the doorbell? I ask Alan.
He nods toward an open window. Its the front gate.
I look to see Zack outside. I place Alans phone on top of the papers and then use it to dial Zacks cell. Im with Alan in his office. Ive already started. I dont want you to be affected by what Im doing.
Want me to stay outside?
Theres a waiting room. Youll be safe behind closed doors. Alan will buzz you in. Keep this line open. Ill put us on speaker. You can listen in.
Zack agrees.
I turn to Alan. Let my friend in.
Alan reaches under his desk. The front door buzzes open. Seconds later I hear Zacks footsteps.
Are you ready? I ask.
Doors closed. Zacks voice comes through the speaker. I can hear him pacing on the other side of it. What have you got so far?
Not much. Were just getting started. I turn my attention back to Alan. Did you have anything to do with Isabella Mancinis disappearance?
No.
What about the disappearances of Amy Patterson or Evan Porter?
No. I told you.
And yet they all have one thing in common. Green Leaf. And you.
Alan shakes his head. I dont understand.
He doesnt. His expression is both troubled and sincere.
Zacks voice comes through the telephones speaker. Whats going on, Emma? I thought you said he wouldnt be able to lie.
He cant. I peer closely at Alan. You know Michael loves Isabella. If youre holding anything back
Of course Im not holding anything back. Id do anything for Michael. Anything.
There it is. The truth in his statement strikes me like a slap in the face. Weve made a mistake. I turn off the speaker and pick up the telephone receiver. Its not Alan.
So what do we do now? Zacks expression reflects the same frustration Im feeling.
I wish I knew. Selfishly, I think about Liz first, then Dexter. I hate to say it. Hate to even think it. Could Evan, Amy, and Isabella already be dead?
Alan stirs in his chair. Of course Isabellas dead. Shes a vampire.
I snap my attention back to him. You know Isabella is a vampire?
Yes.
I immediately replace the phone, reactivate the speaker. Michael told you?
Alan shakes his head. Not Michael, my mother.
Your mother? The revelation comes out of left field. Then I realize she probably learned of this from someone else.
Zacks thinking the same thing.
Barakov, he spits out. Hes the one. Ask him.
Was it your stepfather?
I watch Alans face. BarakovAlexanderdidnt take them.
Alans shoulders slump. His hands rise to cover his face.
A strange sensation washes over me. The gut instinct that the pieces are about to fall into place.
Hes not involved? I ask.
He answers with one word. No.
But you know who is?
I hold my breath.
Yes.
Who?
He glances around. A sign of resistance. Were wading through territory hes kept deeply suppressed.
I realize I may already have the answer. Your mother?
Alan nods, his face crumpling in shame and pain. Eyes fill with tears, not just of sadness, of anger.
Whats happening? Zack asks.
I fall back into the chair across from Alan. Hes nodding. Barbara Pierce is the one behind all of this.
Shes saving lives. The vampirestheyre making a noble sacrifice. He utters the words as if theyre his lifeline, a self-soothing mantra hes been relying on to justify something horrible, something heinous. Hes holding on to the arms of the chair, knuckles white. She said I had a choice. I could let Michael go, or I could save him. How could I just let him go?
I know what its like to stand by, watch the worst happen to someone you love, and know theres not a thing you can do about. Ive been there more than once. If someone offered me an out, would I have taken it? Possibly.
Make him explain, Zack says.
I dont need to make him. Hes started to tell the truth and hes on his way to feeling better. Just as I told him he would. Hell want to get it all out now, even if that means betraying his mother and implicating himself. I feel a rush of empathy. With power comes sacrifice. Alan chose to save Michael, and in doing so, he lost a piece of himself.
Alan stares across the desk at me through haunted eyes. I want to help. Ill tell you everything.
Of course he will. I draw my powers back in and seal the doors shut. We wont need them anymore. Not with him. I walk over to the office door and open it, surprising Zack on the other side.
You can come in now.
Alan doesnt even wait for introductions. He begins in a barely comprehensible rush. Its not her fault. Shes been given no choice. She made a mistake, yes. But now shes having to pay and pay and pay. That horrible man. Killing all of those people. Making her . . . all for what? Money. She was going crazy. She had to find a better way. And now . . .
Zack holds up his hand. Slow down. Lets start with whos been killed.
Charlotte Barakov, for one. Thats where it started. When Mother hired Davis Mager to get rid of her. It was crazy and stupid, not to mention wrong. He shakes his head. But what that man has forced her to do since . . .
Zack takes a seat on the edge of the desk. So your mother hired Mager to kill the first Mrs. Barakov, then what? He blackmailed her?
Alan nods. Yes. About a year after Mager got rid of Charlotte, he contacted Mother. His daughter was in need of a heart transplant. Only he didnt want to wait for a voluntary donor. He blackmailed Mother into helping him identify the right person, then into doing the surgery. Naively, she thought that would be the end of it. But it got her in deeper. Gave Mager the idea that they could harvest organs and sell them on the black market. He had connections. At first they targeted the homeless. He stops abruptly, his eyes darting between Zack and me.
And? Zack encourages him to continue with a wave of his hand.
But Alans eyes have settled on me. You didnt flinch when I mentioned Isabella was a vampire.
I cross my arms in front of my chest. No, I didnt. You said at first they targeted the homeless. Are you telling us at some point Mager and your mother shifted their focus to vampires?
He nods. She said she couldnt live with what she was doing. But she couldnt get out of it, either. She was getting in deeper and deeper. Then the idea came to her. She knew about Alexanders experimentation, about his technique. She convinced Mager to invest, to allow her to explore the possibility of using vampires instead of humans. Theyre already dead. And their organs regenerate.
Your mother and Mager are kidnapping vampires, then harvesting and selling vampire organs? asks Zack.
Apparently vampires are universal donors. Mother discovered a vampire organ can be transplanted into a human with no danger of rejection. Magers doing the kidnapping. Alans face turns red. Although it seems Mother has looked through Alexanders patients records from time to time to find prospects. Her word, not mine.
I sit again, trying to absorb what hes telling me. And then your mother operates on these prospects against their will?
Even stares down at the desktop in front of him. Healthy new organs save lives. Its repeated like a lesson hes been forced to memorize.
Lives like Michael Dexters? I shake my head. Alan, your mother has Isabella, Amy, and Evan, doesnt she?
He meets my gaze head-on. I dont know about Amy and Evan, I swear. Only Isabella.
My skin is crawling. The realization of what Barbara Pierce is doing is making my stomach churn. So barbaric and so unnecessary.
Where is she keeping them? asks Zack. And how is she containing them? No human can simply take a vampire if he or she doesnt want to be taken.
Silver. Thats where Alexanders research came in handy. The way I understand it, Mager uses tranquilizer darts containing silver to capture the vampires. Then Mother stores the shells in containers where theyre given silver-laced anesthesia to keep them sedated and trapped.
The shells?
Alan swallows. Thats what she calls them. They dont have souls, you know. They arent human. The shells are like . . . like incubators.
For organs, Zack adds. Shes built a goddamned organ factory using vampires. Have you known where Isabella was this entire time?
Have you? I repeat.
He shakes his head. No. I didnt even know about Michaels illness until after she went missing. We dated for several months and he didnt breathe a word of it. After Isabellas disappearance, he went downhill fast. There was an emergency hospitalization. Isabella was his primary contact. With her gone and no family, he had the hospital call me. I went to my mother right away, of course. Michael needs a liver transplant.
Alan climbs to his feet and walks over to the window.
And your mother offered this neat and tidy solution? Zack asks, his voiced laced with disdain.
Alan turns to face us. I had to do something! Michael had exhausted all normal channels. Hes on a waiting list, but hes failing so fast. I told him that there might be another waythat we had money and could look for alternatives. There are always favors to be had if one is willing to pay the price. Michael wouldnt hear of it. He said he wouldnt buy his way to the top of the list at the expense of other deserving patients. Hes ready to die.
Only, you arent ready to let him go, I say.
Alan glances at the clock on the wall above the coffeemaker. Michaels was supposed to be the last life Isabella saved. According to Mother, shes at the end of her period of . . . usefulness. After a while, the levels of silver necessary to control them turns the organs, spoils them.
Zacks on his feet. How much time do we have?
The operation is supposed to take place this afternoon. Maybe an hour, answers Alan.
Zack fires off a series of questions, short and direct.
Are there other vampires being held hostage?
Alan nods. I dont know how many.