The Rogue Hunter (18 page)

A moment of silence passed as Belmont blinked repeatedly, digesting the change in her attitude from respectful complainant to cold, hard lawyer. But Sam wasn't finished. "Her parents have important friends, Belmont. They include the Ontario Provincial Police commissioner. You do not want me reporting to Martin Latimer that you aren't using due diligence in looking into this matter. I can guarantee you the first thing he'll do is give the commissioner a call… and then you'll find your ass in a sling." She paused a moment more to let that sink in and then added, "I suggest you do all you can to find Cathy Latimer."

Mortimer wasn't at all surprised to see the dismay on Belmont's face. He was a little surprised, however, at how quick the sergeant could move when he wanted. The way he'd leaned on the counter since they'd arrived hadn't suggested he was much of a mover. The man who now tugged his gun belt up higher on his hips, and turned for the door bellowing orders to officers who suddenly appeared in the open doorways, was definitely moving, however.

"Get all the information you can from the lady, Constable Mack," Sergeant Belmont barked to the first man who stepped into the room. "I'm heading out to the Latimer house to look the situation over."

"Sergeant Belmont," Sam said, sweet as pie now that she'd gotten the man going. When the officer stopped and glanced warily back, she held up the keys she'd taken from the Latimer house. "You'll need these to get into the house. I took them off the table by the door so we could lock it."

Mouth tightening, he walked back to collect the keys and then hurried out of the building.

"I knew the sergeant had met his match when I saw the two of you pull up and get out of the SUV. Thing is, I thought you'd be the one to put him in his place."

Mortimer glanced to the speaker—the Constable Mack that Belmont had barked at before leaving—and smiled faintly in response to the grin on the young officer's face. Shrugging, he said, "She didn't need my help in the end."

"No, she sure didn't," he agreed with a soft laugh. "That's one lady who can take care of herself. I bet she's killer in the courtroom."

Mortimer's eyebrows rose at this proof that the men in the back had been listening as he'd suspected, and then lowered at the admiration in Mack's eyes as the officer peered at Sam. He suspected the man wasn't imagining her in the courtroom as he watched her walk back toward them, and the possibility of what Mack might be imagining rankled. Mortimer slid into the man's thoughts at once and immediately stiffened at the lascivious thoughts he found there. It seemed while Mortimer had been slow to see her attractiveness, this man liked his women lean and commanding. Mack was imagining being cuffed and helpless in front of Sam in an outfit made up of thigh-high leather boots, a leather cap, and a riding crop.

Fortunately, the image evaporated before Mortimer had to pop the man for the fantasy. Releasing a little sigh as the image slipped away, Constable Mack turned to Mortimer to say, "Sergeant Belmont's a throwback. Old school. None of us like his methods or attitudes much, but he's the sergeant."

"Hmm," Mortimer grunted, still irritated by the man's imaginings. Good Christ, now he had the image stuck in his own head. Only he was taking the crop away, pulling Sam into his arms and—

"Someone like this Latimer fellow she mentioned could change that," the man added hopefully.

Mortimer cleared his throat and forced the image from his mind to say, "No doubt."

He then turned to glance to the fully dressed Sam as her phone rang and she slipped it out of her purse.

Sam peered at the readout on her phone. The sight of her boss's number made her frown and glance to her watch. She'd told him three hours, and it was a little past that now. He was obviously looking for a progress report. Sucking in a deep breath, she flipped her phone open and paced to the door of the building as she pressed it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Samantha? You said you'd call in three hours." The tone was definitely reprimanding.

Nice greeting, she thought on a sigh and agreed pleasantly, "Yes, I did. But I thought you'd prefer I call after I had something to tell you."

"Something to tell me? Haven't you gone to Minden yet?" Clarence Babcock asked, and she could hear the irritation in his voice.

"Yes. I'm in Minden right now. Cathy wasn't
at
the cottage. Her car was there, the lights were on, the doors unlocked and open, and a radio was playing, but there was no sign of her."

His only response to that was a long, heavy sigh. This wasn't good news.

"I'm at the O.P.P. office right now making a report."

"I see. Yes, a report, that's good," he muttered, sounding old and tired. It was the first time she'd ever heard the vital senior partner sound his age, but Cathy was his goddaughter.

"Is there any way to tell how long she's been… not there," he finished unhappily.

Sam turned to glance toward Mortimer and the officer he was talking to while she considered his question. There hadn't been any delivered newspapers lying on the deck, no calendar with the days conveniently ticked off. Other than the dried-out cheese, there was nothing to indicate how long the house had been empty.

"I'm sorry, no," Sam said finally, and then asked, "How long has it been since her parents spoke to her?"

Clarence Babcock's breath hissed over the phone. "I'm not sure. I'll call them and ask." There was a clicking sound as if he were clucking his tongue and then an impatient sigh. "I didn't think to ask anything like this. In truth I expected you to find her there and all to be well."

"Yes, of course," Sam murmured. No one expected tragedy when it struck, she thought, and then frowned at herself as she realized she was already writing off Cathy Latimer when she should really try to remain positive. Cathy might be all right. Maybe. Doubtful, but—Hell, she thought on a sigh and then asked, "What do you want me to do, sir?"

"I realize you're on vacation, Samantha, but…"

Sam closed her eyes, suspecting what was coming.

"Could you stay there to keep an eye on the progress the police make? I realize the house might be a crime scene and you probably can't stay there, but there are several guest cottages on the property, and you could stay in one of those."

Bingo, Sam thought on a sigh. And she couldn't refuse under the circumstances. Alex and Jo were going to be
so
pissed at her.

"I'll call Martin and his wife at once," Clarence Babcock continued. "I'm sure they'll want to fly back and head up there to be in on the search. I'll come up as soon as I can, but I'd really appreciate it if you could stay there and make sure the local law enforcement are doing everything they can until we arrive."

There was no way she could say no. Not because Babcock was her boss, but because a young woman was missing and her family was frantic. She'd just have to find a way to work it.

"Of course, sir," Sam said quietly, and was glad she had when she heard the relief and gratitude in his voice.

"Thank you, Samantha. I won't forget this," he assured her. "Now I'd best call Martin and Trisha. I'll call you back after I know when they're returning and when I can get up there, but if anything happens in the meantime…"

"I'll keep you informed," Samantha assured him.

"Very good. Thank you," he said gruffly, and hung up.

Sam closed the phone with a sigh and then grimaced as her gaze slid to Mortimer. While she might be stuck there, he wasn't. In fact, he could leave at once if he wished. She was sure the police could take her out to the house after she'd finished the report. Still, she felt bad about his having to drive back to Magnetawan on his own at this hour after kindly volunteering to drive her here. And part of her was disappointed that work, or at least a work-related issue, had stomped on the first chance she'd had of a social life in a long time.

At least that's what Sam told herself, but she wasn't fooling herself. She knew she was secretly relieved to have the matter taken out of her hands. Now she didn't have to agonize over whether she was ready for her first fling or not. She also wouldn't have to fear having her heart broken. Cathy Latimer's disappearing had seen to that nicely.

Shaking her head, Sam slipped her phone back into her purse and walked over to Mortimer.

Chapter Ten

"That was my boss, Mr. Babcock, on the phone."

Mortimer nodded at this announcement from Sam as she reached him. He'd suspected as much. "Is he contacting the girl's parents?"

"Yes. He's probably calling them right now," she answered, and then blurted, "But he asked me to stay here and keep an eye on"—Sam hesitated, her gaze sliding to Constable Mack, before she simply said—"things until he or the Latimers can get here. And I agreed."

"Of course," Mortimer murmured, not at all surprised.

"If you're staying," Constable Mack piped up, "I could call the Dominion for you and see if they can find you a room for the night. It's the hotel here in Minden. It's on Main Street."

"Oh, thank you," Sam said, offering him a wide, surprised smile for his helpfulness. Apparently it was the last thing she'd expected after the completely unhelpful behavior of his sergeant. Mortimer doubted she'd be so surprised if she knew the role she'd played in the fantasy the man had enjoyed moments ago. He was just bending a scowl on the officer for his "helpfulness" when Sam said, "But Mr. Babcock asked me to stay at the Latimers', in one of the guest cottages."

Mortimer was just relaxing over the fact that there was no need for the man's helpfulness when she added, "But I'll probably need a ride out to the Latimers' after we get this report business done, if you wouldn't mind."

That brought the scowl right back to Mortimer's mouth. "You don't need a ride. I'm here. I'll drive you."

"Oh." Sam glanced at him uncertainly. "I thought you'd want to head back to the cottage right away rather than wait around. That way you wouldn't be on the road too late."

Mortimer was silent for a minute as he considered the matter. The fact was, under different circumstances he might very well have felt he had to leave her and return to Decker and Bricker and their hunt. But this disappearance bothered him. While the abandoned state of the house with the uneaten sandwich, the still-playing music, and the open door convinced Sam that foul play was involved, the fact that there was no sign at all of struggle was what bothered him. It might seem unusual to Sam and other mortals, but it was something he'd seen many times while working cases involving rogue immortals. His kind could slip into a mortal's mind and walk them out the door with no muss, no fuss, and little effort at all.

The problem was that up to this point they'd thought their rogue was just running around biting locals. A no-no, but as long as he or she wasn't doing lasting harm, they would have merely found out the who, what, and why of it all and then passed the individual over to the Council to deal with. Nobody had really thought they had a mad dog on their hands or someone dangerous.

This was not something they liked to admit to their mortal friends or even the younger of their kind, but the fact was, sometimes older immortals grew weary of cold, bagged blood and longed for the "good old days" of the hunt. In such cases they had been known to sneak about and eat "off the hoof." Once caught, they usually agreed to stop and went back to bagged blood, or they were invited to move to Europe, where the practice of eating "off the hoof" was more acceptable. That was what Mortimer had expected to find here; a lonely old immortal, bored with eating bagged blood, and seeking out the intimacy of biting mortals.

But Cathy Latimer's disappearance changed all that. The lack of any sign of a struggle suggested an immortal was involved, and if their rogue was behind this, the girl wouldn't have been taken away for a good purpose. Mortimer feared Cathy's bloodless body probably now lay somewhere in the woods awaiting discovery by mortals, and that would not be a good thing for his kind. Most of Mortimer's family had been wiped out by vampire hunters during the hysteria after the release of Stoker's damned book. Finding a young girl drained of her lifeblood, but with no wounds but fang marks, might lead to the same hysteria and see more of his kind hunted down and killed. It was the kind of thing he'd become a hunter to prevent. Cathy Latimer
had
to be found. If she was alive and he had misread all this, then good, but if she was dead at the hands of an immortal as he feared, then her body would have to be burned or otherwise destroyed.

He needed to talk to Decker and Bricker about this, but Mortimer suspected he was going to be staying in the area and helping Sam with her search. Or hindering it if necessary.

"Can you find your way back to Magnetawan on your own?" Sam asked, dragging him from his thoughts.

"Of course I can find my way back," he said with irritation.

"I'm sure there'll be no problem with my driving you out to the Latimers' after we finish with the report," Constable Mack said helpfully. "If worse came to worst and Belmont had a problem with it, my shift is done in an hour and I could take you on my own time."

Mortimer found himself glaring at the young man again. He'd just bet the fellow wouldn't mind taking her on his own time, but he wasn't going to get the chance.

"I'll take her out," he said firmly. "Now let's get to those reports."

It took much longer than Mortimer had expected to fill out the reports, mostly, he suspected, because young Mack was taking as much time about it as he could just to keep Sam there as long as possible. He probably hoped Mortimer would get tired of the long delay and head back to Magnetawan, leaving him free to drive Sam out to the Latimers'. Mortimer knew his suspicions were right when, halfway through the process, Constable Mack apologized for the time it was taking and again assured him he'd be happy to drive Sam out to the Latimers' if Mortimer wished to leave.

Mortimer's response was a snort that brought confusion to Sam's face and understanding to Constable Mack's. Apparently realizing that he wasn't going to be left alone with her, the constable stopped dragging his feet and hurried the process along.