J. Robb - Dead Of Night

“Take a look.” He swallowed. “This your vampire?”

“Come on.”

“Hey, before your time I took down this asshole who was grave robbing, then sewing body parts together. Thought he could make himself a Frankenstein. Weird shit happens. He take another one?”

“Yeah, early this morning.”

Contemplatively, Feeney took another bite of Danish. “McNab said he pulled out a syringe and gave you blood right on the spot.”

“Yeah. There was a screwup there. Looks like mine. I’ll fill you in later. Anything you can do on the trans, Feeney, I’d appreciate.”

“Your man gets here, we’ll do some magic. Meanwhile, you go up against this guy, wouldn’t hurt to take a cross along.” He lifted his eyebrows when she just stared at him. “Kid, weird shit happens because people are fucking crazy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She clicked off just as Berenski made a sound of victory. “Got your blood. And I’m forced to say, ‘Damn good call, Dallas ’.”

“I’m forced to say, ‘Damn fast work’.”

“I’m the best. Pensky, Gregor.” He tapped the ID picture on his screen.

Square face, Eve noted. Small eyes, pinched mouth. The data put him at two-ten and six-one, with a long sheet of violent crimes.

It also listed him as dead for nearly a year.

“How’d he get to be a corpse?” Eve demanded.

“Son of a bitch.” Berenski pursed his thin lips. “Been running DNA on a DB.” He called for the data.

“Body found in the woods in freaking Bulgaria, where it was believed he headed after escaping from a work program on his latest visit to their version of the State Pen.” Eve shook her head. “Work program for a guy with this kind of sheet. Bludgeoned, partially dismembered, and how about this, exsanguinated. Peabody, let’s get the full ME’s report on this. I’m betting among his other injuries, there were a couple of puncture wounds in his throat.”

“This vampire shit’s creepy.”

Eve glanced at Berenski. “It would be, if vampires existed. What happened to science?”

He jutted out what he called a chin. “You got science, you got the para side of it. I’d be sharpening stakes if I were you, Dallas.”

“Yeah, that’s on my list.”

“Really?” Peabody asked when they got back into the car.

“Really what?”

“The stake-sharpening detail.”

“ Peabody, you’re making my eye twitch.”

“I know it’s out there, but you have to consider all the information. Blood from a corpse. Vampires are corpses, essentially. No trace of Vadim on the first vic, scientifically at this point in time.”

“Because he switched the fucking vials.”

“Okay, okay.” Peabody held up both hands, palms out. “But if you bought into the vampire lore, he could’ve sired this Pensky guy, then-”

“Then his body wouldn’t have been real available for the Bulgarian ME.”

Peabody considered. “There’s that. But do we know, for absolute sure, that it stayed available?”

Give up, Eve told herself. Logical debates can’t be made out of illogical theorems. “You be sure to check on that. While you do, I’ll just stick with the more pedestrian theory that Vadim hooked up with Pensky, killed the shit out of him, and stored the blood he drained out for later use. It’s smart, but it would’ve been a hell of a lot smarter to get blood from some unknown. We’re also going to see if we can pin Vadim’s whereabouts for the time of this Gregor’s murder. What do you bet he was in Bulgaria?”

“He’d’ve been in Bulgaria if he vamped him, too,” Peabody said under her breath. “Guy’s got devil eyes.”

“On the last part we heartily agree.” She pulled into the garage at Central. “And we’re going to give him a shot right between them. All data on Gregor Pensky’s autopsy, Vadim’s whereabouts at the time in question-and last night. Another DNA sample from that slippery son of a bitch.”

Mentally kicking herself one more time on that score, Eve slammed the door of her police-issue. “This one spit-and it’s going to be taken by a certified criminalist. Going to wrap him up before the day ends. He’s not going to bite anyone else.”

“ Dallas?” Peabody scrambled inside the elevator. “Do you figure he’s fatally bitten someone before? Bulgaria ’s a long way from Times Square. And there are places farther away. Places where bodies might never be found.” Even if, Peabody thought, they stayed buried.

“I don’t think he took a year off between Pensky and Kent.” Eve scowled at the elevator doors. “So yeah, I think there’ll be others.”

“So do I. And listen, whether or not you-I mean we-believe in vampires, who’s to say he doesn’t? I know how he played it at Bloodbath. Like it was a show, a con-but a legal one this time. Maybe it isn’t.”

“Mira’s initial profile allowed for him deluding himself into believing himself immortal, but his sheet screams con. We get him in the box,” Eve decided, “we’ll see how he plays it.”

“I’m thinking if he does believe it, he’s feeling pretty full of himself right now. Sucking out two vics in two nights.”

“As of now, he’s going on a no-hemoglobin diet.”

Inside Central, Eve turned toward the Homicide bullpen. Stopped. Swags of garlic hung from the door frame like some odd holiday decoration. She caught the snickers from up and down the corridor, decided to ignore them, just as she ignored the surreptitious glances shot her way when she walked inside.

She arrowed in on Baxter, strolled to his desk. “How much did it run you?”

“It’s fake.” He grinned at her. “I’d have sprung for real, even though it’s steep, but it’s hard to come by enough to make a real impact so we got the fake stuff, too. You gotta admit, it’s funny.”

“Yeah, inside I’m cracking up. I’m going back down to reinterview Count Dracula. Get your boy, you’re backup.”

“Underground.” His grin vanished into a look of pure disgust. “I just bought these shoes.”

“Now I’m crying on the inside.” She pushed him aside with a satisfied grin, and commandeered Baxter’s computer.

Moments later, her suspicions were confirmed. Two puncture wounds had pierced Gregor Pensky’s carotid artery and had been attributed to an animal bite. She had news for Bulgaria, and the standing medical examiner. But for now, she contacted her own.

“What’ve you got?” she demanded of Morris.

“Saliva and semen, and I had my top man walk them to the lab. Exsanguination was COD. She was beaten pre-and postmortem, he used his fists on her, and wore gloves. Her larynx was partially crushed by manual strangulation. Tox just came back. Traces of the same cocktail inside Kent, administered through the neck wounds.”

“He transferred the drug through the bite?”

“Yes. She didn’t consume any blood, or alcohol.”

“This one wasn’t a party. Thanks, Morris.” She sat back for a moment, organizing thoughts and strategy.

“ Peabody,” she said as she got to her feet. “Baxter, Trueheart. Let’s move.” She strode to the doorway, flicked a bulb of garlic with her finger. “You can take some of this along if that does it for you. Me?” She tapped her sidearm. “I’ll stick with this.”

Baxter might like to joke, and bitch about damage to his slick wardrobe, but he was a solid cop. His uniformed aide, Trueheart, hadn’t shaken off all the green, but he was dependable as sunrise.

There wasn’t a cop on the job-or not a sane one-who would be thrilled to traverse underground, day or night. But there weren’t any who would back her up more reliably.

She took point, left Baxter to take the rear. Below the streets, time vanished. In the world, the day was sunny and heading toward warm. Here, it was as dark and dank as midnight in a winter graveyard. Still, at this hour most of those who inhabited the tunnels were huddled away in their holes and burrows.