Kerrelyn Sparks: Secret Life of a Vampire

He gave her a confused look. "I don't know what to tell you, Officer. According to our records, that room was vacant last night."

Lara swallowed hard. How far had Jack gone to erase his steps? "Is the night manager here? I'd like to speak to him. And hotel security, too."

The story remained the same. The night manager had no record of Suite 1412 being occupied. Lara asked him to check on any room reserved by a man named Giacomo, but no such name emerged in their files.

Hotel security was even worse. They got all huffy when she claimed they had called the police. They could handle matters on their own, thank you very much. And there hadn't been any wild parties the night before.

She insisted on seeing the room for herself, so they reluctantly gave her a key. On the fourteenth floor, she opened the door slowly and let it swing open. She inhaled, expecting to encounter the odor of whiskey.

It was gone. But the strong smell of disinfectant and cleansers filled the room. She walked in and looked to the left where the man had lain on the carpet, covered in blood. He was gone. The carpet was clean.

She wandered through the room, eyeing the upholstery and carpet. No stains. Her gaze shifted to the wall. No blood splatter. She moved closer. Either she was off her rocker, or someone had done a phenomenal cleaning job.

He had said he would clean it up.

She touched the wall. It looked so fresh. Had they repainted it? Too bad she couldn't get a CSI team in here. There was no way Captain O'Brian would okay that, not when hotel management insisted the room had been empty.

She strode into the bedroom. The satin comforter was spotless. How had Jack managed that? She peered into the bathroom. No sex doll. She scanned the mosaic floor and white marble vanity for any sign of blood. The twenty-four-carat-gold faucets gleamed. The towels were neatly folded. No one would ever believe this room had been occupied.

She strode toward the door to let herself out. Somehow, Jack had tampered with the memories of all the hotel staff. Had he bothered with the guests?

She knocked on the next door down the hall. A droopy-eyed, yawning couple told her that everything had been quiet the night before, then slammed the door in her face. If it had been quiet, why were they so sleepy?

Well, that was easy. They could have been up all night making love. Lara sighed. Just because she was going without didn't mean other people were.

Close to the elevator, a man in a business suit emerged from his room, carrying a briefcase.

"Sir." She jogged to catch up with him.

"Yes?" He gave her that wary look so many people give the cops, like they know they've done something wrong and they're hoping she doesn't know.

She gave him a friendly smile to put him at ease. "I wanted to ask you about last night. Did you hear anything out of the ordinary?"

"You mean the damned bagpipes? Some idiot was playing them at three in the morning."

Lara's heart lurched up her throat. She wasn't crazy! And Jack had missed someone. "Yes, exactly. Do you remember anything else?"

"Just that I couldn't sleep. I finally went out to a bar to get a drink."

And that was how Jack had missed him. "Thank you."

"Well, I just hope my presentation today doesn't suck," he grumbled as he lumbered toward the elevator.

Jack was real. But how could she find him? She glanced at the local newspaper in front of the door. "Sir?" she called after the businessman. "Do you mind if I take this paper?"

"Be my guest." He stepped into an elevator.

Lara picked up the paper and turned to the section on wedding announcements. It had been a bachelor party with bagpipes and claymores. Chances were good that the groom was Scottish.

Today was Saturday, so there were plenty of weddings listed. MacPherson, Ferguson, and MacPhie. Three weddings with Scottish-sounding grooms.

Lara took a deep breath. She was about to become a wedding crasher.

Lara rushed up the stone steps as fast as her high-heeled red sandals would allow. After three months on the beat, she wasn't used to dressing up. She stopped before the carved wooden doors and mentally braced herself.

She could do this. She'd crashed the MacPherson wedding with no one realizing it. Of course, that had been a huge affair. The Ferguson wedding had been scarier. With only fifty people in attendance, she'd been painfully aware of the curious looks cast her way. She'd slipped away as soon as possible, leaving behind one of the three wedding presents she'd purchased that afternoon.

She adjusted the bodice on her red cocktail dress. Maybe she shouldn't have worn red. Or this low neckline. It was bound to draw attention. But this was a late wedding, starting at nine p.m., so she assumed it would be more formal that the afternoon weddings she'd attended. The red dress was the fanciest one she owned. The only fancy dress she owned. After leaving home, she'd sworn never ever to wear a full-length formal gown again.

Too bad she had to lug this canvas tote bag with her. Her uniform and weapon were inside, since she'd have to leave soon for work. Her shift started at ten, but she'd make it on time. It would only take a few minutes to see if Jack was here. She believed he was real, but she'd feel a lot better if she could verify that in person. And she wanted to know how he had managed to erase his tracks at the hotel. He was an intriguing mystery, with his ability to control minds. So naturally, as a wannabe detective, she just had to investigate him. The fact that he was also gorgeous and incredibly sexy didn't factor into it.

Yeah, right . She shouldn't lie to herself in church.

She pulled open the heavy wooden door and slipped inside the vestibule. Rows of red glass votives flickered, casting a warm glow against the stone walls. Her stiletto heels wobbled on the uneven pavement as she moved quietly toward the nave. Two saintly statues flanked the entrance, frowning at her for sneaking in uninvited.

Those who were invited seemed like a happy bunch. She remained half hidden behind the door, watching them as they laughed and talked. The ends of the pews were decorated with white ribbons and lilies. Another floral arrangement rested on the altar. She scanned the small crowd, looking for Jack. She didn't see him, but she did spot the guy who'd been sprawled on the floor covered with blood just the night before. How strange. He was perfectly fine now.

"May I help you?"

She jumped and turned toward the man who'd spoken behind her. A big redheaded Scotsman. "Hi there."

" 'Twill begin soon. May I escort you to yer seat?"

"Sure." She figured he must be one of the ushers. This was definitely a Scottish wedding. The guy was wearing a black-and-white-plaid kilt, white lacy shirt, and black jacket. A single red rosebud was pinned to his lapel, and his long hair was pulled back with a thin black ribbon.

He regarded her curiously with his light green eyes. "Ye're a friend of the bride?"

Lara's mind went blank as she desperately tried to remember the name of the bride. Cheryl? No, that had been the MacPherson wedding. Dammit. She'd paid more attention to the names of the grooms. And this groom had seemed familiar somehow. "I'm a friend of Ian MacPhie."

The Scotsman's eyebrows lifted. "Ye know Ian?"

"Sure. We go way back. I… used to date his cousin."

"I see."

Shoot, this wasn't working. She'd have to distract this guy. She brushed her long hair behind her shoulder to show off some cleavage and gave him the dazzling smile her mom had spent a small fortune on. "I don't believe we've met. I'm… Susie."

"Delighted to make yer acquaintance. I'm Robby MacKay." He took her hand. "Since ye're a friend of Ian's, he'll want to see you right away."

"Oh, that's not necessary." She tried to remove her hand, but Robby's grip tightened. "Surely it can wait till after the ceremony."