Karen Whiddon - Finding The Texas Wolf

The dispatcher rerouted him to 911. After he repeated his situation, he was told to stay inside the house and wait for the police to arrive. She asked him to stay on the line, so he did.

A moment later, a police cruiser turned onto his street and pulled up behind the parked Mercedes. The officer got out and walked up to the driver’s-side window. He stood there a few moments, clearly talking to the driver. Jake hoped he’d asked for a driver’s license and registration. If he at least had a name, he could do more research.

Finally, the policeman stepped back, lifted his hand in a friendly wave and watched as the luxury car drove off. One it had turned the corner, the officer walked up Jake’s sidewalk and rang the bell.

Ending the call with the dispatcher, Jake hurried to answer the door. “Thank you so much, Officer,” he began.

“You’re welcome. But I wanted to let you know, there was no reason for you to be concerned. That was the mayor’s son. He works for the City Planning and Zoning Department. He was parked on your street for business.”

Though his insides froze, Jack managed to nod. “Good to know. Thanks again for coming out, Officer.”

“No problem. I’m glad I could put your mind at ease.” The policeman peered at him. “They did a hell of a job on you, didn’t they? I hope you saw a doctor.”

“I did.”

“Good.”

Finally the patrolman left. Jake closed the door behind him and made sure he locked the dead bolt. The mayor’s son? Just how high up did this story go? If anything, this made him even more determined to get to the truth.

Moving as fast as he could, Jake hurried to his car. But before he even reached it, the navy Mercedes turned back onto his street and parked in the exact same spot.

Chapter 4

Carmen hid her surprise when Rick took her to the pier. Once the shrimp boats came in, sometimes the men would get together and drink and play cards or dice. An occasional prostitute worked one corner. Mostly, both tourists and locals avoided this place. It was nothing like Pier 21 with its popular restaurants and fish markets, close to The Strand. It wasn’t even like Pier 19 or 20, with Sampson and Sons and Katie’s selling seafood right off the boat.

No, this was further down, past a few abandoned, dilapidated buildings with cracked sidewalks and weeds. An overall sense of decay permeated the place. Once, smugglers had hung out here, with illegal gambling and gin joints and a whorehouse or two. Now, most of that was only a memory, though Carmen had been here once or twice during its heyday.

These days, this was where men went when they wanted to do things in secret, where the dim lighting and sense of anonymity made them feel at ease. It was an area she sometimes frequented when the craving for fresh, warm blood grew too strong. She’d become quite a pro at extracting just enough to make her target pass out, but without serious harm.

“Here.” Rick’s gravelly voice brought her back to the present. “In a moment, there’s going to be an explosion. It will bring the rats scurrying from their holes.”

She swung around and stared. “Why?”

“It’s something I promised to do, as a sign of good faith. There’s an illegal shipment of guns in one of these buildings. The Sons of Darkness needed a distraction so they could get them out. This will be a big one.” He got out his phone and prepared to punch in a number. “Are you ready?”

“Sure.” This got more interesting by the minute.

“Here we go.” He dialed a number. A second later, a loud boom sounded and the ground shook. Someone screamed and someone else swore. Several people staggered toward them, some of them drunk, others in shock.

“I’m calling 911,” Rick told them, holding up his phone. She watched, wondering if he really would since he didn’t appear to be in any hurry to punch in the numbers. Maximizing time for the distraction, she guessed.

Someone else must have called, though, because sirens sounded in the distance, getting closer. The occasional straggler came down the sidewalk, one or two of them appearing shell shocked. Thick black smoke billowed from somewhere behind them, appearing to almost follow them as they fled.

“Do you think there were any injuries?” she asked.

“No one was seriously hurt,” Rick assured her, sounding positive even though she didn’t see how he could be certain. “The bomb was in a locked warehouse where we stacked some dry hay and bundled newspaper. Just enough to start a good fire with possible building collapse. It’s far enough from the warehouse with the guns that no one will spot the crew moving the cargo. A perfect plan, if I do say so myself.”

Since he sounded so pleased with himself, she felt the need to point out what seemed to her an obvious flaw. “But you destroyed a building. Most likely a historical one.”

His jaw tightened. “That kind of collateral damage is better than people. Millions are at risk unless we do our job and get inside this group. I hope you understand that.”

“I do.” Before she could say anything else, the sirens grew closer. Lights flashing, two patrol cars pulled up the next street over. A moment later, a fire engine and ambulance arrived. Along with a growing crowd of people, they watched as Galveston PD cordoned off the street and sidewalk.

Soon a KHOU 11 news van arrived, which seemed awfully quick since they were out of Houston. They set up a reporter with her back to the mayhem, handed her a microphone and began filming.

“You do know in a few minutes that reporter is going to start asking people what they saw?” she said drily.

“That’s good. We want to be seen. How else can I make sure Sons of Darkness know I was there?”

“You seem to have thought of everything.” She shook her head.

“That’s my job,” he countered. “And I’m damn good at it.”

Before long a couple of the other news stations sent their own crews. The crowd of onlookers continued to swell. News cameras panned the area. Rick grabbed Carmen’s arm and made sure they were front and center, virtually guaranteeing them a spot on one, if not all, of the stations’ evening news programs.

Since she’d spent most of her long, long life avoiding the spotlight, Carmen struggled with this. While she managed to keep her outward appearance cool, calm and collected, inside she battled the urge to step back and disappear into the large group.

But Rick’s plan, she concluded reluctantly, actually made sense. If this was what was needed for them to gain entrance into that group, so be it. The idea that she—Carmen Vargas, Vampire—could make a difference in this world intrigued her. Plus, if she were totally honest, as she always was, she ached to get her hands on a microscope and take a close look at this new virus. Because of her expertise, the CDC had even contacted her several times, wanting her to come to Atlanta and work with them. She’d been tempted, but she’d come to value her friends and life here in Galveston, so she’d declined. Since they were no doubt involved closely in this case, she had a feeling that was how her name had been mentioned. For that, she considered herself lucky.

“Okay,” Rick said, tightening his grip on her arm. “Time to go.”

This time, she let him pull her away without questioning. He led her through the thick throng of people, up the sidewalk and to the still-crowded Pier 21 area. A couple had just gotten up from a bench along the walkway, and he hurried them to it.

“No matter what happens,” he told her sotto voce, “show no expression. Just go along with it.”

“No worries. I’m a master at that.”

They sat. He put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. She let herself relax into the curve of his arm, liking the solidness of his muscular body. They pretended to be people watching. Despite the commotion going on a few blocks over, most of the ones strolling by her were fixated on having a good time.