P.D. Martin - Kiss of Death

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A young woman's body is found with puncture marks on her neck, and soon the delicious word vampire is on everyone's lips. All of FBI profiler Sophie Anderson's skills–psychic and psychological–will be needed for her to determine whether this was a thrill kill or something even more sinister.Exploring the blood bars and Goth clubs of L.A., Sophie immerses herself in the seductive culture of self-styled vampires. Posing as the alluring Lady Veronica and infiltrating a notorious clan, Sophie will learn just how deep the fantasy goes for some believers.When life requires death, nothing is sacred.

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Sloan pulls out the second-last drawer of Sherry’s chest of drawers. “I haven’t found anything yet, either.”

I look around the room, soaking it in, while Sloan finishes going through the drawers.

“Nope.” She closes the bottom drawer. “Nothing unusual, and no Goth, either.”

I sigh. “And nothing else that gives us an idea of how Sherry might have wound up at Temescal Gateway Park last night.”

“No.” Sloan leans on the chest of drawers for a moment, also looking around. After a few seconds she says, “Guess we’re done here, at least for the moment.”

“Yeah. Do you mind if I soak up the atmosphere for another couple of minutes? I’ll join you in a sec.”

“You gonna get into her head?” Sloan gives me a slightly teasing smile.

“Something like that.”

“Good luck.” She moves toward the door. “I’ll let the Taylors know not to touch Sherry’s laptop and that someone will come by in the next day or two to pick it up.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

Profilers always try to walk in the victim’s and killer’s shoes, but obviously for me I want time alone to try to induce a vision. I had my first experience of seeing something that was about to happen when I was eight, but then this ability of mine went underground…until I was working the D.C. Slasher case nearly two years ago. Since then it’s been a bumpy road, fueled first by my own denial and then my acceptance. I can nearly always induce something, but the usefulness of what I see is often questionable. Like Sherry sneaking home one night—every young woman’s done that. Still, I always use my gift on a case and sometimes it does help.

Sitting on Sherry’s bed and staring at the collage of photos on her wall, I’m conscious that I don’t want to be long, but I try to push that sense of hurriedness away. Instead I take long and deep breaths, close my eyes and concentrate on relaxing.

I’m tired and my vision is blurred. People gather around me, but I can’t make out any faces…everything is so hazy. There’s a voice, a deep voice, but I can no longer focus on the words.

The vision is brief, but the sense of wooziness makes me wonder if Sherry was drugged. The routine tox screen will answer that question. However, there was nothing in the vision that indicates time. While it may be related to her murder or the unaccounted hours prior, it could also be something entirely different. Maybe she took some recreational drugs at a party weeks, months or years ago and for some reason I tuned into that. Plus, there’s nothing that can definitively tell me this vision was necessarily about Sherry. Logic suggests that it was—I am in her room, after all—but I’ve learned over the past couple of years not to take anything for granted when it comes to my visions.

I head back downstairs, not entirely sure how long they may have been waiting for me. Usually the length of my vision is in line with how long I’m “out” for, but sometimes it can take me several minutes to experience a ten-second flash.

As I’m coming down the stairs I hear Mr. Taylor saying, “I’d like to go now.”

When he comes into view, I can tell by his slight rocking motion that he’s agitated; he shifts his weight from side to side. Sloan’s card is in his hand.

“Of course, Mr. Taylor. Whatever you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. “But I need to ring Mish first.”

“The coroner’s office is on Mission Street and me or my partner will meet you there, but it may be best if you don’t drive.”

“I haven’t…I haven’t taken anything, Detective.”

“I know, sir.” Sloan puts a hand on his shoulder. “But you’re not yourself…no one can be under these circumstances. Most people get someone to drive them.” Again, Sloan pulls together just the right tone of voice—sympathetic yet somehow commanding. “How’s 3:00 p.m.? That’ll give you time to call Misha.”

He nods and takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”

On the way back to the car, Sloan says to me, “Mom’s real confident she knows her girl’s social life.”

“Yes. But it’ll be interesting to speak to Sherry’s friends, especially the best friend.”

Sloan nods. “And you think the makeup and nail polish thing is significant?”

“Maybe. It could tie in with the human sacrifice theory—perhaps our perps felt the need to cleanse her as part of the ritual.”

“And if it’s not a sacrificial death?”

I shrug. “If the killer removed the polish and make up, could be he wanted his victim to look more natural for some reason, or it could even be a sign of remorse.”

“Remorse?”

“It’s possible he felt guilty and needed to care for the body in some way.”

Sloan’s brow crinkles. “Guess I can see that.” She pauses. “You said if the killer did it…who else could have removed the polish and makeup?”

“Sherry. She may have been a willing participant…up to a point.”

Sloan nods and punches a number into her mobile phone. “How’s it going there? Uh-huh…yup. We’ve just finished with the Taylors. Can you meet Mr. Taylor at the coroner’s office to identify the body at 3:00 p.m.? Great. Thanks.”

“Any news from the crime scene?” I unlock the car while Sloan walks around to the passenger side.

“Not really. Body was only released an hour ago.” She opens the door and we both climb in together before she continues. “Photographs are complete but the Forensics guys are still looking over the area. And they’re still casting and cataloging the footprints.”

“I wonder if we’ll have a better idea of how many people were involved in Sherry’s death once they’re done.” I start the car, unsure where we’re going next.

“I’m not hopeful. The ranger said that most walkers take the detour for the view, which means a lot of non-relevant data.”

“But did our perps know that?” I pause. “They certainly didn’t try to hide the body.”

“True.”

We’re both silent, focused on the evidence.

“So where to?” I ask. “The ex-boyfriend.”

“We should also speak to the best friend, and I’d like to check out a Goth club and the two guys who were done for trespassing, Riley and Davidson.”

Sloan lets out a sigh. “Busy day. I’ve also got a load of paperwork I need to start on. Credit card and bank account information for Sherry, plus I’ll put a request in for phone records.”

“I hear you.” Sloan’s not the only one with paperwork. I still haven’t read the file and I’m keen to get more info on Anton Ward and the L.A. vampire scene.

“Maybe we should split up. You can do the FBI-profiler thing, and I can look after the LAPD’s interests.” There’s a hint of frustration in her voice, but that ties in with the occasional vibe I’m getting off Sloan—like maybe she’s regretting calling the FBI to her turf.

The problem is I want to be there when she questions the ex-boyfriend and the best friend. They’ll give me a good insight into Sherry, and victimology is always my starting point.

“Let’s see how we go. The best friend is around the corner, so we could visit her first, then the ex, and after that I’ll get caught up on the file and you can log your paperwork,” I suggest.

“Sounds like a plan.” Sloan fastens her seat belt.

I pull into the traffic and head for Desiree’s address. I don’t mind if we don’t get time for Riley and Davidson today, because I’d like to soak up the atmosphere at one of the Goth clubs—that would be a better introduction to the scene than interviewing two members in their homes.

“I’m actually considering going to one of the clubs tonight…dressed up.” I need to look like one of them, otherwise I’ll be too conspicuous.

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