The Scene (30 page)

             
“Nothing. I’m fine. I’ll be around in a minute.” He stood for a moment assessing the situation before turning and disappearing around the dark corner ahead.

             
“What?” I planted my hands on my hips and looked directly at his chin. I felt like an ass but avoiding his eyes was top priority.

             
“Are you okay?” he said plainly.

             
“Seriously? You better come up with something better than that before I call for Mike to come shoot you in the face.” I was not in the mood for anymore of his bullshit excuses.

             
“I’m sorry you had to see Reggie today.”

             
“Yeah, it was gross. How’d you know I was here?” I caught myself before meeting his eyes in shock.

             
He had the gall to look sheepish. “I was here.”

             
“Here? Where? I didn’t see you.” I backed up a step away from him.

             
“Not here, in the building. Behind Malcolm’s office is a loft. When I left you last night, I came here.”

             
“Why the fuck didn’t you say something earlier? What did you see? Who killed Regina?” My mind was having trouble processing this.

             
“I didn’t see anything until the police arrived. I was asleep, didn’t hear a sound. I didn’t come down for fear I would be implicated in her death.”

             
“Yeah. I can see why. You would have been. Did you do it?” I didn’t have time to beat around the bush.

             
“Of course not.” He seemed offended.

             
“Then why tell me now?”

              “I was hoping you would understand. And perhaps trade your silence for information.”

             
“Probably not, but you can try me.” I was very curious as to what further information he could provide.

             
“I know Diego, and his friend.” Too many revelations for one evening.

             
“Friends. There were three when Regina told me about them.”

             
“There were three. Now there are only two.” He said this as though I should have already known this.

             
“Why would there only be two now?” It was becoming very difficult to not look him in the eyes. The light bulb finally popped on over my head. “What? No. Regina?”

             
“Yes.” He was moving closer to me.

             
“Why would she tell me about them in the first place if she was involved?” I stepped back once more.

             
“That, I don’t know. What I can tell you is Diego is not a sane individual.”

             
“Well shit, I could’ve told you that. Who’s his friend?”

             
“I don’t know who he is, but he is crazier than Diego. With Regina, they were restrained, but now I assume they have gone off the deep end as they say.”

             
“Are you saying Regina and her boys are the ones who are killing people?” I asked.

             
“No, I don’t know. But I would look closely at them. I didn’t think they could master mind these murders until you mentioned his name. I figured if the police are suspicious, they must have been on the radar. And now with Regina dead, and the manner of death, it all points to their obsession.” His voice had dropped low. Almost whispering now.

             
“Why didn’t you tell Mike, he was right there?”

             
“Malcolm forbids me from talking to the police. He thinks it will only end badly for us here. Even if we have done nothing wrong, he fears a witch hunt will ensue.” He glanced back over his shoulder toward the metal door at the top of the steps. It became very apparent then that what he was telling me was a big secret that Malcolm didn’t want out.

             
“Or a vampire hunt.” I chuckled. “Why did Sam tell us Malcolm brought those boys here?”

             
“He was Regina’s puppet. I’m sure she told him to say that. He’s been in love with her since the second she stepped foot into Macabre. Malcolm had nothing to do with Diego. Yes, he recruited Regina, but he did not take in Diego.” His voice was steadfast. At that point, I almost believed him. Everything he was saying made perfect sense. It was the facts he was keeping from me that I questioned.

             
“How long have you known this? About Regina’s boys?”

             
“Long enough,” he said sorrowfully.

             
No eye contact dammit.
“You knew I was looking for them! You fuck! You hid this from me; all of this could have been avoided had you just told me.” My face was flushing with anger as I fumed at him.

             
“Nothing could have been avoided. I can guarantee you that. I did not understand what I knew until today. I swear it. Besides, I was able to allow you a look at my existence. Did you not enjoy our time together?” He stepped closer.

             
“Fuck you!” I turned to storm away. He grabbed my arm and spun me around before I made it two feet away.

             
“I have offered that and you have refused.” His face was only inches from mine. Large hands clasped around my biceps refusing to release me. His voice a low growling whisper.

             
“Let me go.” I let each word slide out with the fire of pure indignation.

             
“Look at me, Dylan. I have done nothing to offend you this gravely. I am telling you all I know now. You must understand, I was not aware the information I knew was significant. Besides, I have to protect Malcolm’s cabal. He is Primus and I cannot allow him to fall. I am sorry, Dylan, I am.” His cool breath flittered across my face like an icy breeze. He was squeezing my arms as he spoke.

             
“I don’t want anything to do with any of you ever again.” I stared at his chest this time. Better safe than sorry.

             
“You don’t mean that.” He lowered his head to meet my height. His mouth hovered over mine, face nearly touching.

             
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

His hands squeezed around my arms harder. He pressed his dense body against mine; so warm. I looked.

Fuck.

At this distance
, I could see yellow flecks like pure gold, splintering the solid green of his irises. His fanned lashes framed the almond eyes creating a dreamy outcome. . He looked into my eyes like he was seeing more than just eyes. It was as if he was reading a book through them. His breath fell across my lips, this time flowing into my lungs as I breathed. My heart nearly stopped.

             
“You can stop this, Dylan.” He nuzzled his face against my cheek brushing the side of my mouth with the motion. I tried to breathe pulling his breath into my lungs once more. I could feel the sensation of his lips on mine.

             
BEEP! BEEP!

“Dylan!” Mike screamed from the window of his suburban.

              Cyrus recoiled instantly leaving my body cold with the sudden exposure. I shielded my eyes from the glare of Mike’s headlights. Before I knew it, Mike was before me. The door at the top of the stairs clanged shut. Cyrus was gone, again. Thanks to Mike.

             
“What’s your deal?” I shot Mike a shitty look before moving past him to the car.

             
“What the fuck was that all about?” He followed behind me.

             
“It’s none of your business.” Once again Cyrus had left me cold and wanting.

             
“The hell it wasn’t.” Mike was nearly screaming with jealousy.

             
“Listen, I’m not yours anymore. I can do what I want, when I want. You got that?” My words burned as they escaped my lips.

             
“Get in the fucking car.” He left me standing in the beam of his headlights like a jackass.                 Part of me wanted to walk away, go up the stairs, or leave all together. The other part wanted to leap into the sanctuary of the SUV and ride off into the sunset with my savior. I did neither. I got in the car, but I didn’t allow Mike to live in his fantasy world. Not for a fucking minute.

             
“We need to check on Tatum.” My voice was venomous.

             
“Why? She obviously doesn’t want to be checked on.”

             
“Too fucking bad. Drive.” I folded my arms across my chest like a kid.

             
I was pissed. Not sure why exactly, but I was. I was pissed at Cyrus for lying to me. I was pissed at Mike for being so damned domineering. But mostly, I was pissed at myself for allowing all this bullshit in the first place. I felt like an ass for not seeing it as it was to begin with.

How could I not realize that Reggie was playing me for a fool? And Tatum too.

              “I think Diego deserves some looking into. I like him, for this.” I spoke suddenly breaking through the tension that filled the cabin of the SUV.

             
“Why, did your sweetheart tell you that?” He sounded like a pissed of teenager.

             
“Well…yeah, he did.” Mike didn’t say a word. “He also said Regina was part of their posse, along with one other.” I left out the part about Cyrus in the loft. No need to open that coffin of worms.

             
“So the little fucks killed her? Makes sense. He didn’t happen to tell you where we could find these assholes did he?” He was sliding back into cop mode.

             
“I could be so lucky. In fact, your interruption fucked the whole thing up. He was talking. You should also know Malcolm is keeping him from talking to the police.”

             
“I figured as much. It’s no excuse. Cyrus is a grown man; he can make his own decisions.”

             
“I don’t think he can. There’s something shady going on with those two, with Malcolm in general. I don’t like that guy at all. He gives me the creeps. No one should have that much control over another human being.”

             
“Do you think they know the whereabouts of our prime suspect?” he asked.

             
“I’ve no clue. It’s pretty sad our prime suspect is some guy no one knows, no one has seen, and is only a suspect because someone pointed their finger at him.”

             
“Like you said, it’s all we got,” Mike said with pluck.

             
We debated and deliberated the rest of the drive to Tatum’s little pink house. We gauged that, while Diego has been implicated, we can’t rule out all others and assume he’s single handedly slaughtered upwards of nine women. There was still the distinct possibility that there were others responsible for the dead hookers.

My guard was up to say the least. I rarely become terrified, unless there’s a bird nearby, but I was definitely scared. And swiftly on my way to petrified. Not only has someone disposed of a body in my dumpster, I was forced to observe a beheaded and staked corpse, and could possibly be involved with those responsible. Unlucky for everyone who is within spitting distance from me, I allow my fear to manifest as unadulterated rage.

Sorry.

CHAPTER 29

              Mike slid his extra-large vehicle against the curb in front of Tatum’s tiny house. There was light illuminating the small privacy window in the bathroom. The curtains over the bay window in the living room were drawn and the porch light was off. Tatum parks her little black sports car in the garage for safe keeping, so there was no way to know whether she was in or not simply from aesthetics. Mike and I scooted out of the car, shutting the doors in unison.

Without hesitation
, I trotted up to the little front steps and rapped on the door. Mike had moved up behind me breathing loudly from his trot. I rapped again, fast and harder this time. No response. Rising to tip-toe, I reached with fingertips over the ledge of the door jamb. There, located where it always had been, was my key. I hated to use it after our altercation the night before, but desperate times. The key popped right into the hole and turned over with ease. I can honestly say I was jealous of the easy door. Petty, I know, but we all have our pet peeves. The door swung open to the wall revealing a dark living room. I flipped the switch that controls the standing Tiffany replica that stood to the right of the couch. The living room appeared to be in normal condition. A bit messy, perhaps, but nothing out of the norm for Tatum’s place. I called for her, “Marco?” No answer. “Tatum?” Nothing.

             
“Stay right here.” Mike slid past me into the living room. I never noticed before that he had his shoulder rig under his gray blazer. His hand had slid to rest over the butt of the gun.

             
“Don’t you think that is a little paranoid?”

             
“Sshh.” He hissed at me over his shoulder.

             
I stood alone in the partially lit living room in front of the open doorway. I was beginning to feel very vulnerable standing there with open darkness behind me. I flicked the porch light on for good measure. I don’t know why that calmed my senses a bit. I guess I’d rather have light at my back than darkness.

             
“What’s going on?” I was beginning to feel antsy.

             
My nervousness was only amplified by the silence from the back of the house. I strained my ears trying to pick up any sound emanating from the unlit space. A light shuffle and scraping sound came from Tatum’s bedroom.

             
“Mike?” My heart was starting to pound with the thought of being alone and unknowing.

             
“Ah, shit!” A loud banging noise, followed by a thud, preceded Mike’s first words.

             
“What happened?” I asked as he emerged from the darkness.

             
“Ah, I just tripped over a bunch of shit in the bedroom.”

             
“So I take she isn’t here.” He shook his head. “Did you bother to turn on a light back there?”

             
“No. I figured I’d cluster fuck around in the dark for a bit. Of course I tried to turn on the light. Flipped the switch and nothing happened.”

             
“Well, dammit, let me go look.” I didn’t wait for him to give his permission.

             
I could walk this house blind if I had to, I know it so well. And apparently, that’s what I was about to do. I made my way down the miniscule hallway toward the bedroom. The light switch just to the right of the door jamb worked the lamp on the dresser; I flipped it. Nothing. I shuffled my feet forward slowly anticipating the clutter Mike had spoken of. It was then I came up with the genius idea to use my cell phone as a flashlight. Those damn things come in handy for everything. Utilizing the dim LED screen, I scanned the area for clues. A regular Nancy Drew. The bed was disheveled, not abnormal. Clothes were strewn about, completely normal. Bedside table tipped over, definitely not okay. Other debris, likely the contents of the nightstand drawer, were scattered about the floor. The awesome, and highly illegal, butterfly-blade I gave Tatum for her birthday last year was lying open on the corner of the bed. Someone had gone to town in this room.

             
“Hey detective, you got a flashlight in your car?” I called from my darkened space.

             
Receiving no response, I continued my investigation in the bathroom. Reaching around the wall in the dark, I fingered for the switch. The vanity lights were working fine and illuminated the adjacent bedroom enough to make out the uncensored scene.  The bed, which I had at first assumed was only disheveled, had revealed itself to be a total mess. Her fluffy bed cover was balled up at the head of the bed and the top sheet appeared to be missing. The clothes tossed on the floor were of average variety with one exception, a summer dress, torn to shreds on the floor near the foot of the bed.              

             
“What a disaster. Does it always look like this?” I about jumped out of my pants at the sound of Mike’s voice penetrating the silence.

             
“No, it doesn’t. Look at this.” I held up the ripped dress.

             
“Lay it on the bed. Did you touch anything else?” He was digging in his pocket.

             
“No. Just the light switch in the bathroom and the one by the door.”

             
Mike finally fished out two pairs of latex gloves and handed me a set of my very own. I slid my hands into the powdery holes; small hands leaving floppy tips at the fingers. Mike began arranging the dress on the edge of the bed. One of the skinny straps had been ripped at the seam and the miniature pearl buttons down the breast had been popped off.

             
“Did she wear this last night?” he asked.

             
“I don’t know. She wasn’t wearing anything but a blanket when I saw her. If I had to guess, I’d have to say no. This isn’t exactly something you’d wear to meet your lover for a rendezvous. This was probably something she put on after she got home, or at any point up to this afternoon.”

             
“So the likelihood of it being ripped in the throes of passion is unlikely.”

             
“I’d have to say so. Unless she has, yet another secret lover, no there was no passion happening in this dress. Check this out.” I pointed to the butterfly-knife then on toward the tipped over night table. “I don’t think this was a happy accident.”

             
“Why, my dear Watson, I think you’ve got it!”

             
“No shit Sherlock, at least I was smart enough not to bumblefuck around in the dark. What do you suppose happened here, detective?” I stood with my hands in my pockets struggling with the compulsion to touch stuff. Struggling to keep my composure with thoughts of a headless Tatum dancing in my head. 

             
“Obviously there was some kind of struggle. The front door was locked when we came in and the living room was in order, right?”

             
“As far as I could tell, yeah.” I thought back to the lock turning. I felt the pins fall into place as the deadbolt turned over. I was sure it was locked.

             
“Then she had to have let someone in. Maybe someone she knew.”

             
“She went for her knife at some point. It hasn’t left the bedside drawer since I gave it to her. And look, it’s even open.”

             
“Oh, it is. And it’s fucking illegal, Dylan. Way to go.”

             
“Cuff me.” I scoffed. “Anyway, she must’ve come for her knife in here where her dress got ripped. In fact, they probably ripped it right off her by the looks of it.”

             
“And you’re the expert in tearing clothes off?” I ignored that comment.

             
“She must have knocked over the table while she was getting the knife.” The knowledge began to process. “Shit, Mike, someone took her. Why would someone snatch Tatum?” So many horrific images flashed through my head. “We have to find her before she ends up behind a dumpster missing her fucking head! We have to find her now!” I was becoming frantic at the thought of my friend being stolen from her home, scared, defenseless, and possibly naked.

             
“We will. We’ll find her. I want you to calm down and think who could have done this? Did she have any enemies? Is there anyone who would want to hurt her?” He was squeezing my shoulders methodically.

             
“I don’t know…I…she wouldn’t have let anyone in. Except me…or you. She never opens her door, Mike, she’s not an idiot. She wouldn’t have just let anyone in; someone must have broken in through a window or picked the lock or something.” I was shaking my head back and forth; over and over again. My eyes blurred with desperate tears. I was looking into his eyes but not really seeing them.

             
“There was no broken glass. Not even a cracked window. Think, Dylan.”

             
“There’s no other way in.” My mind was spinning with ideas. “The garage…they could have…”

             
“I checked the garage. Her car’s still there and everything’s locked tight.”

             
“She…someone must’ve pushed past her at the door. She ran in here…goddammit, I’ll fucking kill him!” I shoved past Mike and stormed into the living room. “Stake through the fucking heart should do the trick! Maybe I’ll hack his bloody head off for good measure!”

             
“Dylan, what are you screaming about?” He chased me into the living room.

             
“That bloodsucking ginger fuck. He’s the only other living creature she would’ve let in this house other than you and me. And I know I didn’t take her…”

             
“Well, I didn’t fucking do it. Why would Malcolm kidnap Tatum? What would he have to gain?”

             
“Well…blood for one. She could turn up behind a damn dumpster somewhere! What if he wants to remove her head!?” My words grew louder and more frantic as I spoke.

             
“Chill out we’ll find her. Where could they have taken her?”

             
“You’re not going to argue with me? Talk me out of it or tell I’m being dramatic?”

             
“No.” He sounded as stunned as I felt. “Actually, you make a lot of sense. If this were a movie, Malcolm would be the chief suspect. And Cyrus would be his senseless henchman.”

             
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” I balled my fists and squeezed my eyes shut.

             
“We need to move out. Now.” He pulled his phone out of his inner pocket and speed dialed. “It’s detective Petersen. I have a possible missing person. I need CSU out to process the crime scene. Put out an A.P.B. on a Tatum Price, possible victim, age twenty-six, blonde, blue, five foot nine, hundred and fifty pounds. Last seen with a Malcolm McTavish.” He listened to the other line for a moment then sighed heavily, “Yes,
that
Malcolm McTavish. I’m contacting him now then following up on some leads. Dispatch uni’s to hoof the neighborhood for witnesses.” He gave the address then listened. “Yeah, I will. Thanks.” He shoved the phone back in its home. “Let’s go catch us a vampire.” He smiled at me smugly while reaching for the door.

             
The door opened to a shadow in the dark. A tall shadow. A human shaped shadow. The look of alarm plastered on my face must have alerted Mike to the danger just out of his sight. He turned his head and drew his gun simultaneously, pointing it at the center of the black mass. Suddenly, my feet were moving, carrying me as fast as they could toward the door jamb or more specifically the light switch just to the left of it. Adrenaline pumped through my muscles as my body was thrust subconsciously toward the light. In less than a heartbeat, I had reached the switch. My hand flew upward and flipped the switch in one fluid motion. Light flooded the entry way instantly. Gun drawn, Mike stood face to face with our dark shadow. Or gun barrel to face, rather. 

I
’d swear I turned that fucking light on.

             
“Whoa! It’s me!” This from the now illuminated silhouette.

             
“And that’s supposed to help?” I said through my racing heart and labored breathing. Such a tiny everyday action had completely depleted my resources.

             
“I came to check on Tatum, I swear. Can you please move that gun from my face?” Cyrus was standing on Tatum’s tiny porch with his hands shot to the sky and pissing his pants with fear. Funny what that little hunk of metal can do to a heap big man.

             
“Where is she?” Mike spoke steadily, sights still trained on Cyrus.

             
“I don’t know. That’s why Malcolm sent me. He was quite distraught she hadn’t returned his call and wanted to ensure her security.”

             
“How convenient. It’s interesting you show up just in time to catch us here. Perhaps Malcolm sent you here to ensure
his
fucking security.” I looked in his face, Mike did too, but his eyes were fixed on the business end of Mike’s 9 mm.