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Except Chloe, and a few others he trusted just enough. And most of those others … well, he would bet most thought he was just a member of a vampire cult, the way they were. He doubted many of them thought he was the real thing.
He felt the sun’s rising, though he could not see it. It prickled along the back of his neck, and told him it was time. He stripped quickly and slipped between silk sheets. Not because he would be aware of anything between now and sunset, but because when he awoke he wanted to be comfortable.
His head hit the pillow. The prickling strengthened. And then with a sigh, he died.
“God, he’s weird,” Matthews said after Jude departed. “He always tears out of here like he has a rocket on his tail, especially in the early morning.”
“He can’t help it,” Chloe said. “He’s got a disease.”
Matthews arched her brows. “What disease?”
“I can’t remember what it’s called. He can’t get into bright light, especially sunlight. Blisters, burns … why can’t I ever remember what it’s called?”
“Oh, come on,” Matthews said.
“No,” Terri offered. “It’s called xeroderma pigmentosum. Rare but real.” She looked at Chloe. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine living with that.”
Chloe gave a little shrug. “He seems to have adapted pretty well.”
Matthews still looked doubtful. “That’s a real disease? How fast can he burn?”
“Probably with just a few seconds of exposure he’d have the kind of sunburn that would put most people in the hospital,” Terri said. “Most people with it don’t survive long, because even fluorescent lighting can cause burns in some cases. Given how little people know about the disease, it’s a miracle he’s still alive.”
“Well, that would explain why he’s so pale,” Matthews commented. “Imagine never seeing the sun. So you learned about it in medical school?”
“Actually,” Terri said, “I learned about it during an investigation when I was a pathology resident. We had a case the police thought for sure was murder, the kid was so severely burned. The first assumption was that one of his parents must have literally boiled him alive. But there was no evidence of assault, nor were the burns anywhere near as severe where his clothes were thick, like his diaper.”
“Oh, ugh,” said Chloe.
“But the pathologist I was training with did some genetic testing, when the parents insisted all they had done was take the baby to a lakeside picnic. Anyway, he found the markers.”
“And it killed the kid?” Matthews sounded amazed.
“Every bit of exposed skin was blistered. The most exposed areas even exhibited third-degree burns. Most people have milder cases than that baby, but yes, when you’ve got an extreme case, even a tiny bit of sun can kill you.”
“Live and learn.” Matthews shook her head. “Okay, to get back to your case. I doubt we can arrest Sam Carlisle for anything, unless you have some kind of injury yourself?”
Terri shook her head. “It all happened so fast. Honestly. If I have any bruises, I’ll find out during the day. He did grab my arm awfully tight, but I don’t bruise easily.”
Matthews nodded sympathetically. “I’ll do a background on him and see if anyone else has ever had trouble with him. But without some physical evidence, it’ll be hard.”
“I know. Jude just thought I should report it.”
“He’s right. You should, and you did. I’ll type up your statement and you can sign it later, okay? In the meantime you probably need to go home, shower, sleep a little and get ready for your shift.”
Terri managed a smile. “Thank you, Detective.”
Pat Matthews shrugged. “Look at it this way—if the creep comes in to file a complaint against you for stabbing him with that pen, you’re covered. We won’t listen very hard.”
“I didn’t even think of that.”
“And as for those other creeps Jude scared off, well, if they try it on someone else, your statement will back the victim up. Can you come back after your shift to look at some mug shots?”
“Sure. It was dark, though.”
“You never know. You might recognize someone. It’s worth a shot.” She looked at Chloe. “And tell that boss of yours I want him to look at the mug shots, too.”
“I will,” Chloe answered as she stood. Then she turned to Terri. “Come by the office tomorrow when you get off work, and I’ll bring you back to look at those mug shots. Now let me drive you home. You’re not the only one who needs a shower and bed. It’s been a long night.”
Not even a cup of herbal tea helped Terri relax into sleep. Too much had happened in the hours just past, and her mind and emotions struggled to cope with them. Attempted rape, not once but twice. She’d stabbed a man. Every time she remembered that, the way it had felt, the realization of what she had done, she shuddered again.
Nor did it help that she had to get to work around ten. The idea of only a couple of hours of sleep seemed to make it harder yet to close her eyes.
And then there was Jude Messenger, private investigator. Eyes as dark as the night he had emerged from, turning an odd shade of dark gold when he stepped into the light. A man only slightly taller than average, but somehow seeming much, much larger. That voice of his when he’d told those men to go. If she hadn’t been paralyzed with fright, she probably would have obeyed that order herself.
The incredible speed with which he had approached her, so fast it had almost seemed he was there picking her up before she had seen him move. But of course that was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Her recollections must be marred by the fear that had been raging in her. The adrenaline.
The man had rescued her, yet he had left her feeling supremely uneasy, anyway. And she couldn’t really understand why. His office was normal enough. His assistant Chloe was perfectly normal. Even Garner, that handsome young man, had seemed typical, even though she got the impression Jude considered him to be some kind of plague.
So what was it about Jude Messenger?
She lay on her side, keeping the locked door in sight, making sure that even if she shut her eyes, they would open trained on the only place from which a threat could come.
Somehow she couldn’t feel safe. Was she really worried that Sam might carry out his threat to kill her? Or was it just a holdover from the earlier hours? She didn’t even want to turn off the small lamp by the bed, although sunlight had long since begun peeking around the edges of the curtained window above the bed.
And the feeling she had right now reminded her all too much of her childhood, when fear had kept her awake countless nights, fear of something she could not see, could only sense and finally, to her horror, hear. The haunting. But this was different. Surely?
Yet, in some way she felt as if she had brushed up against that evil again during the past night.
A shudder passed through her, and she forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly, calming herself. That evil had been gone from her life for sixteen years now. There was absolutely no reason to think she’d ever encounter it again.
But her thoughts refused to be entirely corralled and kept returning to Jude. He, too, made her uneasy. He might be a little … different, but he had saved her from those beasts, and had brought her to a safe place where Chloe had become an instant friend. Then he had even gone so far as to accompany her to the police.
So what was it about him? She had to admit that along with the uneasiness he made her feel, she also found him undeniably attractive. Maybe thirty, she thought. Maybe a bit older. Something in his eyes, when they turned golden, made her think he was older.
He was definitely handsome. No, not exactly that. Good-looking, yes, but he was even more attractive in another way. Something visceral in her responded to him. Maybe that was what made her so uneasy.
It had been a long time, a decade or more, since simply seeing a man had been enough to make her aware of fluttery, eager femininity. Of desire. And she’d been aware of it every single second in his presence, despite everything that had been happening.
Pretty amazing, actually, but pretty unnerving, too. Even his gruffness and impatience hadn’t put an end to it.
She closed her eyes and gave up, hugging the unexpected, nearly forgotten feeling somewhere deep inside. No one would ever know, and it was nice to realize she could still feel that way. At twenty-nine, she had thought she would no longer feel those things. Too many other things, adult things, kept getting in the way.
But somehow the mere sight of Jude Messenger had swept away the layers of the years and made her young enough in some way to just respond to man’s appearance and voice, and get a thrill from it.
Kind of neat, actually, now that she had figured it out.
Satisfied she had identified the source of at least part of her uneasiness, she curled more comfortably on the bed and finally let sleep crawl closer.
Surely her uneasiness had nothing to do with that haunting when she was a child, no matter how it felt. How could it? It had been so long ago.
No, of course that had nothing to do with it. She was just feeling uneasy because it had been so long since she’d felt such a powerful attraction. She didn’t want that now, didn’t have time for it.
All in all, though, it had been one heck of a night. And at last her eyes fluttered closed.
The Medical Examiner, Steve Crepo, sent Terri home a little early when he heard the reason for her obvious fatigue. Her usual shift ran from ten to eight four days a week, with a brief lunch break. “You should have just called in and explained,” he told her.
“I’m the newbie. Besides, honestly, I didn’t want to spend all day thinking about last night.”
He nodded understandingly over his half-rimmed eyeglasses. A little plump and balding, he had a kindly face which belied the strict way he ran the M.E.’s office. He did have the somewhat disconcerting habit of treating the cadavers as if they might still be alive, and referring to them by name rather than number. It was almost as if he saw himself running a surgical suite rather than a morgue.
In one way Terri liked that about him. In another she found it discomfiting, because his idiosyncrasy had already begun to chip away that carefully trained distance she had been taught to place between herself and the dead. She found herself on guard, for fear she might lose objectivity.
Although there were inevitably cases where objectivity went out the window, terrible cases, mostly those involving small children. Then anger and horror often overrode all self-protective mechanisms.
“I understand,” he told her now. “But remember, if you’re overtired, you can make mistakes. We can’t have that.”
“No, sir.”
He smiled. “So go home and rest up. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
She showered and changed back into street clothes before leaving, washing the smell of death out of her very pores. That odor clung and sometimes she wasn’t sure that even three shampooings got it all out of her hair.
Outside the sun hadn’t quite yet set, and that for some reason made her think of Jude Messenger. A man confined to the hours of darkness, who had nevertheless managed to cobble together a useful life, and even, apparently, some very loyal friends, to judge by Chloe.
Remembering Chloe’s promise to accompany her to look at mug shots, and feeling an oddly strong compulsion to follow through even though she was exhausted, she got off the bus near Jude’s office and rang the bell.
Chloe’s voice greeted her. “Messenger Investigations.”
“Hi, Chloe, it’s Terri Black.”
“Hey, Terri. Come on in.”
She walked down the now-familiar dark hallway as Chloe opened the door and leaned out.
“How are you doing?” Chloe asked.
“I’m tired but fine. I guess we should go to the precinct and look at mug shots, but I can barely see straight.”
Chloe laughed, inviting her in, then closing the door behind them. “I slept most of the day,” she volunteered. “Jude’s not going with us. Says he’ll get to it later. Did you want to see him, too?”
Terri hesitated. “I guess. I never really thanked him.”
“He’s not real big on the gratitude thing. Sort of like the Lone Ranger, you know? ‘Who was that masked man?’”
Terri laughed. “You make him sound like a superhero.”
Chloe started to giggle again, but at that moment her eyes widened a shade. “Hi, Jude. Sleep well?”
Theresa turned to find Jude Messenger standing in the doorway of his office, a study in chiaroscuro, all black and white from his hair to his boots. His eyes were dark again, and she realized the last of the daylight had vanished, leaving only the low light of a couple of small lamps. Her heart thumped, and she felt that magnetic pull once more. How could she have forgotten how good a man could look? Especially in black slacks and a very nicely tailored black shirt.
“Like the dead,” he answered, sounding almost sarcastic. “Didn’t I tell you to stop trying to turn me into Superman?”
Chloe sniffed. “I’m just saying I like the kinds of things you do. They make me feel good about our business.”
He gave a little shake of his head, as if he knew he wasn’t going to win this argument with Chloe. “Did Garner show up?”
“Not yet. Was he supposed to?”
“Around sunset.”
“Well, he’s not that late then.”
Jude crossed the room, pulled a wooden chair away from the wall and straddled it, facing the two women from a few feet away. He folded his arms across its back. “I need to take care of that guy so Dr. Black here doesn’t have to worry about him. And I have that other case. I was hoping Garner would show up first.”
“He’ll probably be here any minute. Why? Is he working for us now? You usually groan when you hear his name.”
“I may groan again before too long.”
Those dark eyes settled on Theresa, and she felt her skin prickle. Awareness? Or something else? She couldn’t tell.
“How are you feeling, Dr. Black?”
“Just call me Terri. I’m fine, thank you. And I doubt you need to do anything about Sam.” Although she had to admit she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of that, given that she had stabbed him. He might well be the kind to want to get even. How would she know? She’d certainly looked at enough women on the autopsy table who had misjudged a man’s thirst for vengeance.
“Yes, I do.” His tone brooked no argument. “What’s his full name again?”
“Samuel Carlisle,” Chloe answered promptly. She pulled out a drawer in her desk and retrieved a file. “Everything I could find on him from what Terri told me.”
Theresa was amazed. She hadn’t expected Chloe to go to all that trouble. After all, even the police had only wanted the basics.
But Jude opened the file and began reading, and apparently it was more than just name and address. “Hmm,” he said finally.
“Hmm?” Theresa asked.
Those dark eyes lifted to her again. Hunter’s eyes, she thought, wondering why she almost felt like a mouse staring down a hawk.
“Hmm,” he repeated.
“That means ‘not good,’” Chloe interpreted.
“Not good how?”
Jude tossed the file and it landed on Chloe’s desk. “I’m going to have a very interesting talk with Samuel Carlisle.”
“Why?” Her heart fluttered a little, because she didn’t like the dark tone in his voice.
“Because he needs one.”
