Jeanne Stein - Blood Bond

“So,” he says, picking up the conversation as if he’d never hesitated, “I’ve got all these reports from the FBI investigation. And I’m exercising due diligence by going over each and every one, and imagine my surprise when a familiar name pops up.” He gets up and walks back to the coffeemaker, casual as an old sweater, taking time to pour himself a second mug and going through the “sugar, cream, swirl and slosh” routine. Then he takes a breath and turns to face me with the smug expression of a movie detective about to expose the villain in a room full of suspects.

Only there’s no room full of suspects. Only me. I know what he’s going to say. Before he gets the chance, I figure I’ll pop his balloon. “It’s no biggie, Harris. Yes. I was in Monument Valley same time as Judith Williams. But I only saw her once. Ran into her at the lodge. She was with a man I’d never seen before. I was there with Daniel Frey, visiting his son. We said hello to her, went our separate ways. End of story.”

I touch the tip of my nose. Nope. It’s not growing.

Harris puts his mug down on the credenza. “That’s what the report said. Funny thing, it’s just about word for word the same thing that you said about being in Palm Springs when Warren Williams was killed. And Daniel Frey was with you then, too.”

I eye him over the rim of my mug and snort. “My, that is a coincidence.”

I shouldn’t have pushed it with that last sarcastic remark. Harris’ patience explodes with the impact of a rock through a window. “There are a hell of a lot of coincidences with you, lady. I don’t believe in coincidences. The FBI may have dropped the case, but I won’t. Not ever. Get used to this face because I’ll be looking over your shoulder every minute until I figure out how you managed to be in the vicinity of not one, but two murders.” He pushes out of the chair. “There’s something not right about you. You’re a puzzle. I don’t like puzzles. But I’m damned good at solving them.”

He turns on his heel and storms out of the office. His threat, because that’s just what it was, trails behind him like a bitter wake.

I put my head against the back of the chair. Harris and I have a relationship that teeter-totters up and down. Not too long ago, I thought we might be on our way to becoming if not exactly pals, at least tolerant of each other. Obviously I overestimated.

His words echo in my head. Something’s not quite right with me?

I get up and take our mugs back to the credenza.

A little overly dramatic but what a master of understatement. I’m vampire, for shit’s sake.

I’m surprised he didn’t ask me again about the mysterious two-hundred-year-old DNA found where Warren Williams’ was killed.

At least that’s one sleeping dog he didn’t kick.

ITAKE MY COFFEE OUT TO THE DECK THAT SPANS THE back of our office. I sink into a chair and let the sun soothe my frazzled nerves. Harris is not going to let his suspicions about me go, no matter how circumstantial they appear to be.

Only I know his instincts are dead-on. Just my luck to get a really good detective on the case.

I’m still on the deck when Tracey and David come back to the office less than an hour after Harris’ abrupt departure.

David looks in to make sure Harris is gone.

I get up and come inside. “It’s safe. Harris left to find somebody else to harass.”

He motions Tracey inside. She goes right to the coat-rack, grabs her jacket and waves a hand at me before standing on tiptoe to give David’s cheek a peck.

“See you at the condo?”

Her good humor has obviously been restored.

David gives her shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll stop at Sammi’s for takeout and see you in twenty.”

She smiles at me. “See? You’re not the only one who found a good guy. Want to join us for lunch?”

“Good guy?” I feign shock and look around. “Where?”

Tracey laughs and I continue. “Rain check for lunch. I have some stuff to do.”

“When your guy gets to town, we’ll double-date for sure.” She reaches up and pinches David’s cheek. “Won’t that be fun?”

David groans and closes his eyes. “I can’t think of anything funner.”

Tracey heads out. When the door has closed behind her, David drops the comedy routine and turns anxious eyes to me. I expect him to tear me a new one over the Gloria Estrella thing this morning. Instead, he surprises me.

“What did Harris want?” he asks.

Relieved, I fill him in. Ever since David started having fractured memories of an evening not too many months ago when he and Judith Williams spent the night together, he’s had more than a casual interest in her, too. I could help him fill in those gaps but doing so might trigger another memory I’d rather leave buried . . . the memory of Judith telling him that she was a vampire.

And that I was one, too.

The fact that she disappeared (and I know is dead) granted me reprieve but left David with questions he’ll never get answered. I made up a story of a drunken rave where he was drugged and had sex with not only Judith, but others as well. A story part true—he was drugged and he actually did have several sexual partners that weekend—part fiction—there was no drunken rave. Judith Williams kidnapped him to ensure my presence at a little soiree she had planned. But casual sex is so far out of character for David, he was determined to question Judith Williams himself.

Something that now is never going to happen.

David listens to me as I reprise Harris’ frustration that he can’t pin either Williams’ disappearance on me.

“Why would he do that?” David asks, his own frustration adding an edge to his voice. “Just because you were a friend of her husband’s? He’s making you a scapegoat for his own incompetence. If he comes sniffing around again, I think you should file a harassment suit.”

He grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. “Got to run. Finding a place to park around Sammi’s at this time of day is going to be a bitch.”

“David?”

He stops at the door and turns around.

“I want to fix up the guest room in the cottage for John-John. I don’t have any experience decorating for a boy. I thought maybe you could help me pick out some stuff?”

His eyes widen. “Wow. You aren’t kidding about this relationship being serious, are you?”

I shrug. “And who knows? Maybe this will be good practice for you and Tracey?”

He holds up a hand. “Whoa. Not even remotely ready for anything like that.” Then he grins. “But I’d love to help you. When do you want to go?”

I look over the desktop calendar. “We don’t have anything going on tomorrow. After lunch?”

“Sounds good. I know just the place to go, too.”

Before I can ask where, he’s out the door. Is it my imagination or was that smile on his face one of genuine delight at the prospect? Who would have thunk it?

THE CLOSER IT GETS TO FREY AND JOHN-JOHN’S VISIT, the first time they’ll be staying at the cottage, the more excited I get. I had all the furniture in my guest room moved into a storage area I share with my parents and set about deciding on a color for the walls. They’re vanilla-bean bland right now. Perfectly suited for the (very) few adult visitors I’ve ever had and for the cherry bed and dresser formerly occupying the space. Not suited for an active five-year-old. I spend the afternoon looking through home-decorating magazines and the next morning at Lowe’s picking up swatches and paint samples.

It’s one when I get to the office.

The voice mail indicator is blinking. Since Tracey and David are MIA, maybe at lunch, I dial in and take the message. It’s one of the bondsmen we work for out of L.A. and he has a tip. A skip he’s been looking for was spotted eating lunch at Jake’s in Del Mar. I call him back, tell him we’re on it. I pull the guy’s file. Wanted for two counts of aggravated assault. Skipped his first hearing. If he’s not in custody by five p.m. this afternoon, his bond is forfeit. Fifty thousand dollars. Not a big payday for us but it’d take care of the tax bill, so after scribbling a hasty note to David and Tracey, I take off.