Fire Within

Fire Within - By Ally Shields

Chapter One

Eddie West, crime reporter for The Clarion, slumped in the hard plastic chair of the Olde Town jail’s visitor room. His round, human face, usually boyish and open, reflected exhaustion, even depression. And something else Ari couldn’t quite identify. His negative energy sent spider feet across the back of her neck, and she stifled an urge to rub the sensation away. To stop the distraction, she locked down part of her extra senses.

Ari studied the prisoner while she tried to think of what to say. Shouting and screaming wouldn’t help. Eddie’s freckles, usually an appealing feature which made him look much younger than his twenty-five years, popped out like chicken pox, and beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and forehead. Red-rimmed eyes looked everywhere but at her.

If it had been a normal interrogation, Ari would have relished his discomfort. Nervous suspects tended to give themselves away. But Eddie was a friend. A good friend. And a witch in her line of work didn’t have that many. Not everyone was willing to befriend a supernatural cop with powers that usually made humans twitchy. Ari turned her face away, waiting until she had control of her expression. Sympathy wasn’t what Eddie needed right now.

“I thought about this all the way over,” she began, shaking her head, “and I still don’t believe it. Murder?” She glared at him. “What the hell were you thinking? What kind of solution is that?”

Eddie’s gaze darted to her for an instant. His jaw set in a determined line. “You can’t fix this, Ari. It’s too late. Just leave me alone.”

She blinked in surprise. What was with his attitude?

Eddie wasn’t finished. “In fact, why the visit? I didn’t call you. Didn’t ask for help. Because I didn’t want to talk to anybody.” He hesitated and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “So, why are you here? Think you can make this go away with a little bit of magic?”

Ari snorted. For a guy who didn’t want to talk, he was rattling on about nothing. Nerves, maybe. He’d never been in jail before. She knew because she’d checked his rap sheet. Two old speeding tickets. She noted his copper hair was scruffy this morning; his jail clothes crumpled from tossing and turning in his sleep, if he’d slept at all. He’d spent the night in a cold, uncomfortable holding cell. In another person, that might explain the belligerent attitude, except this was Eddie—usually steady and easy going.

“It’ll take more than magic to get you out of this mess. You’re in serious trouble.” Ari sighed, crossed her legs, and pushed a strand of long blonde hair behind one ear. “You know why I’m here. You killed a vampire. That’s my territory, my jurisdiction. Did you think you wouldn’t have to face me?”

Eddie squirmed in his seat; one hand rubbed the knee of his ill-fitting blue jumpsuit. The hand trembled. Ari refused to concentrate on his obvious distress, ignoring her urge to offer support.

“There’s nothing for you to investigate,” he muttered. “I already told them what happened. Go home.”

“Oh. Well, fine. We’ll just let them lock you up for most of your life. Or worse. No reason to do my freaking job. Or worry about my friend. You’re being held for the first degree murder of a vampire. You know what happens if they find you guilty.”

Eddie flinched but said nothing. She took it as a good sign. Maybe he’d realized how bad this was. Under the 1990s amended version of the McFarland treaties—named after the first U.S. Senator who pushed for recognition—and the New Civil Rights Act, the vampires and other races with extended life spans had demanded control over the penalty phase of Otherworld murder cases. In exchange for immediate execution sentences for a number of crimes against humans by vampires, the vampires had received the sole right to determine the punishment for murdering a vampire. With a penalty that stiff, vampire hunting, once considered a safety precaution or even a sport, soon became nearly extinct.

Reactions to the treaties and legislation changes had been mixed—still were—but both sides had accepted that you couldn’t kill anyone without severe punishment.

Ari tilted her head in an effort to read Eddie’s face, maybe catch his gaze, but his focus remained glued to the table. “I heard you confessed. And they found you with Jules’s body. Do you have a lawyer?”

He shook his head. “Don’t need or want a lawyer. I can handle this.”

Ari gave an impatient flip of her hand. “Yeah, right. You’ve shown such good judgment up to now. Get yourself a lawyer.”

She was walking a fine line. As the investigator for the Magic Council, the governing body for the magical races, she needed to ask questions, get the facts. As Eddie’s friend, she didn’t want to push him into confessing again or giving her the damning details. If he did, she’d have to report his admissions to Lt. Ryan Foster, her human police partner on joint investigations. And Ari already had more than enough to report. She sighed, wishing Eddie had never confided to her about his troubles with the now-dead victim.

“What could a lawyer do? Maybe you should have helped me when I asked.”

She looked at him sharply. “So, you blame me for this?”

He kept his gaze averted, smoothing his jumpsuit again. “I tried to tell you.”

Ari leaned back in the chair and watched his discomfort. Eddie’s words explained his sour attitude. A month ago he’d come to her office seeking advice as a friend and complaining that the victim was dating his sister Lorraine. Eddie wanted the relationship to end. “I think she’s agreed to a vampire bond,” he’d shouted. Ari had been stunned by his vehemence, and she’d tried to reason with him. Consenting adults, the course of true love, all the arguments for Eddie not to interfere, but he’d been adamant that Jules was ruining his sister’s life.

“Are you suggesting you had no other choice? When I told you the bond was permanent and could only be broken when one of the two died, I didn’t expect you to go out and kill him.”

“She’s free now, isn’t she?”

Holy crap. Until today Ari had assumed Eddie had adjusted to the situation. Now the vampire was dead, and Eddie was under arrest. Ari wondered if she had inadvertently suggested the solution.

She drummed her nails gently on the cool top of the metal table, her bracelet of protective charms—silver cross, vial of holy water, amulets—jingling against the surface. When Eddie glanced at her hand, she stopped.

Ari allowed the silence in the cramped visitor’s room to lengthen. The black-and-white NO SMOKING sign bolted to the stark white wall seemed to be the only thing interested in making a statement. She crinkled her nose against the scrubbed, antiseptic smell and checked her watch. Not much time left in the fifteen-minute visit. Of course, she could extend it, but Eddie’s anger and evasiveness had her baffled. When she had arrived, she’d hoped he could convince her this was a mistake, that he had an alibi. Instead, he’d offered nothing at all.

“Fine, if that’s all you’ve got to say, you can deal with the PD. But don’t fool yourself that refusing to talk about last night will get you out of this. They have your confession and corroborating evidence. All they need is a strong motive, which we both know you had.” Ari shoved back her chair. “Maybe Lorraine can tell me what tipped the scales. Give me some reason that could lessen the charge or the punishment.”

Bringing up his sister’s name was a calculated risk.

Immediate anger flashed across Eddie’s face. “Leave her out of this! I’m warning you, don’t bother my sister. She doesn’t need any more grief.”

“You think I don’t know that? But you’re leaving me no alternative. The police will talk to her, too. And whose fault is that?” She studied his pinched face and tried again. “Let me help you. Make some sense out of this.”

She saw him hesitate, waver, then his chin rose. “Forget it. And stay away from my family.” He got to his feet, his back rigid, unyielding. “Where’s the guard? We’re done.” He pounded on the metal door until the guard came.

The grim-jawed jailor rapped his baton on the door and motioned for the prisoner to back away. “Finished, Ms. Calin?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

They left, and Eddie didn’t look back.

Annoyed with the course of the interview, Ari followed them down the hall, then turned toward the stairs to the main building of the Riverdale police annex. What a way to start the morning. She rubbed her temple. It was about to get worse.

Ari exited the stairway onto the third floor of the four-story building that housed the Westside contingency of the all-human Riverdale Police Department. The main building was in the new downtown area several miles away. As she approached Lieutenant Foster’s office, the 1900s gray floors and mostly barren walls did nothing to lighten her mood. She noted the framed photos as she passed: retired Chiefs, mostly dead now, and officers killed on duty. The only break in solemnity was a cartoon someone had taped across Ryan’s door. A cop says to a suspect in custody, “You got an alibi?” Suspect: “No, sir.” Cop: “Don’t worry, your lawyer will give you one.” Ha, ha. Cop humor.

Ryan Foster half rose in his desk chair and grinned when Ari stuck her head in the doorway. “Figured I’d see you this morning. Coffee?” He reached for his phone without waiting for an answer and ordered two cups. They’d worked on enough joint investigations that he knew her fondness for caffeine. Coffee, diet cola, chocolate.

She pulled up a chair. Despite her absorption with Eddie’s problem, she couldn’t help admiring the scenery across from her. Six foot and lean; curly, blond hair—the kind a gal itches to run her fingers through—and blue trust-me eyes. That was the surface. Underneath lived the decorated Marine with the steely eyes that showed during interrogations.

Ryan and Ari had dated three or four times in the last few months. River boating, hikes along the cliffs. They shared a cynical sense of humor, and she enjoyed his company. But the spark wasn’t there. She viewed him as a buddy, a good buddy. Most of the time anyway. Ryan harbored other ideas but wasn’t pushing it. Claris, her best friend and confidant, thought Ari was nuts not to snap him up. Claris could be right.

“How was your holiday?” he asked.

“Spent it with Claris and her boyfriend Brando. Grilled steaks, did a few sparklers. Nothing big.”

“No date?”

Not very subtle, she thought and returned a dismissive shrug. “Somehow guys are turned off by females who could obliterate them with fire and habitually carry guns and knives. What did you do?”

“Family barbeque. Ate way too much. My pager kept going off from all the disorderly conduct arrests. Mom took the interruptions in stride, until I got called away on this murder case.”

“At least you got a call. I didn’t. No one paged me until this morning. What happened with that?”

His face creased with immediate remorse. “Just a crazy mix up. I thought they’d called you. And dispatch thought I’d made the call.” He shook his head. “What can I tell you? It was the 4th of July. Too many calls, too many chances for error. It was our screw up. When you didn’t show at the scene, I figured you were out of town at your grandparents. My mistake. Next time, I’ll check.”

Huh. Ari wanted to protest—remind him she’d never gone out of town without notifying him, but instead, she said, “It’s OK.” It wasn’t, of course, but complaining now was a waste of time. What was done was done. “But it’s going to take me time to catch up.”

“I appreciate you not making a big deal of this, but it’s not OK with me. Especially on this case. I have a dispatch officer tightening our procedures so it won’t happen again.” His office door opened and a clerk interrupted with their coffee. As soon as the woman was gone and they were fortified with caffeine, Ryan leaned backed and crossed his arms, watching Ari. “Have you talked with Eddie yet?”

She noted the defensive posturing. It took her a minute to realize Ryan thought she might be angry with him over Eddie’s arrest. Or maybe a little worried she’d think they deliberately kept her from the crime scene. Well, the thought had crossed her mind. Oh, yeah. But Ryan wouldn’t do that. She accepted the screw-up explanation because she knew her partner. He was born a boy scout.

“I just came from seeing Eddie, for all the good it did.” Despite her frustration, she forced warmth into her voice. She didn’t want Ryan to misinterpret her mood as a grudge over the botched notification. “He won’t talk to me. Any clue what that’s about?”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. “No, I figured he’d spill it all as soon as you got here. In fact, I counted on it. We don’t know exactly how or why this happened. I’d sure like to hear his side of the story.”

“That makes two of us. But no luck. What did he tell the responding officers?”

“Hardly anything, except the confession. They found him in the parking lot standing next to the dead body. When they asked what happened, he said, ‘I did it.’ Then he clammed up. Now all we get is name, rank, and serial number.”

She nodded absently. “Same attitude I got. The desk officer said it was a shooting?” She flipped her hair back to avoid dunking it in the coffee cup and sipped the hot liquid. When she realized Ryan hadn’t answered yet, she looked up. “Is there a problem with the cause of death?”

He cleared his throat. “There could be.”

“Why?” Ari frowned, puzzled. “What did the medical examiner say?”

“Not enough.” Ryan sighed and met her gaze. “It was a night of mistakes. The patrol officers didn’t know anything about vampire biology.”

Ari groaned. She knew what was coming. She’d had enough contact with the Riverdale Police Department over the last thirteen months to realize that regular patrol cops had limited experience with vampire deaths or Otherworld forensics. Most recruits and even experienced PD officers had never seen a vampire corpse. The vampires maintained a secretive community, and the rare deaths—usually at the hands of another vampire—weren’t reported to outside authorities, not even to her bosses at the Magic Council. The officers wouldn’t have known the basics.

Ryan was trying to explain what happened. “A crowd had gathered, and our officers were collecting witness names before anyone got away. That delayed the call to Doc Onway until they noticed something wrong with the body. They didn’t know decomp would start that fast.” He shook his head. “Why don’t they listen to me? I keep telling them we need to train anyone working in or near Olde Town. Anyway, patrol reported they saw round, bullet-like punctures to the head and the chest area. But, thanks to the rapid decay, there wasn’t much left by the time Doc or I arrived.

“So, it could have been any instrument that made a round hole. Like a stake or a pole?”

Ryan shook his head again. “Don’t think so. Bar patrons reported hearing shots. But we didn’t find any sort of weapon on the scene. The delay cost us good evidence.”

“Are they sure it wasn’t fireworks?”

“Claimed it wasn’t. And whatever it was came from the parking lot.”

“Drive-by?”

“Not likely. But look at the scene yourself.”

While the delay was discouraging, Ari wasn’t sure the arrival of the PD experts would have made much difference in the evidence. Not calling her or the magic lab was the problem. A vamp corpse began to decay within minutes and turned to bones within an hour, ashes shortly after, depending on the chronological age of the vampire. Ordinary forensic procedures weren’t much use, but Otherworlders had additional senses, magical ones, to use. The lab even had handheld sensory instruments now. That was the reason the Magic Council had recently expanded the Otherworld research lab: so these problems wouldn’t occur.

“Wounds to both the head and heart, huh? Double tapped?” Ari looked thoughtful. “Someone was thorough. Almost sounds like an execution.”

“What do you mean, someone?” Ryan puckered his mouth, his voice tinged with suspicion. “You mean Eddie. You might not want to hear it, but we got him cold on this, Ari. And, yeah, I’d say your boy wanted to be sure the vamp was dead.”

“It does look that way.” She kept her voice neutral. “What about the lack of weapon?”

“Just because we haven’t found the gun, doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. We’re still looking for any possibility—stakes, weapons made from silver—but the bar crowd and neighbors heard gunshots.”

“Any other physical evidence? Gun powder residue, brass, silver bullets?”

“Nothing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone had policed the area. An accomplice may have fled with the gun, but according to witnesses there wasn’t time for anything else. Residue tests on Eddie’s hands were negative, but you know we get a lot of false readings.” Ryan scowled in frustration. Ari knew he’d been lobbying for an upgrade to a better testing system, but his department was balking at the cost.

If Eddie’s test had been accurate, it reinforced a critical question. No weapon, no bullets, no gun residue. How could Eddie, a slightly built human, kill a vampire without a weapon?

Ryan’s thoughts must have centered on a similar concern. “In spite of the current lack of a weapon or forensic evidence, we have the killer in custody. Eddie confessed. And no one else was in the parking lot.”

“As far as we know,” she hastened to remind him. “You suggested the possibility of an accomplice. If you believe someone had time to get away, couldn’t there have been a different killer? And Eddie just happened to be there?” Ari was beginning to see possibilities in the case. So many missing pieces. “If there really was no one else, and there’s no weapon, what are you suggesting Eddie used? His bare hands?”

Ryan tightened his lips but gave her a faint smile. “Very funny. It was a gun. Everyone heard it. Just haven’t found it. Yet.”

“So, until you do,” she insisted, “your only real evidence of Eddie’s guilt is the confession.”

Ryan’s grin vanished. “Come on. What more do you want? He was standing over a dead body. How do you explain that?”

At the moment, she couldn’t, but considering the repercussions for Eddie, she couldn’t give up either. “Any objections if an Otherworld tech goes over the scene?”

“None. Suit yourself. But there’s nothing supernatural about this, except the victim.”

She made a quick call, requesting a tech from Otherworld Forensics & Research (OFR) meet her at the scene in thirty minutes. Regardless of how good Ryan thought his case was, Ari would look under every rock for a different answer.

Before she could get started, she had a responsibility to fulfill, one she really didn’t want to do. Loyalty was a big thing with her, and this time she was caught in the middle. “I don’t agree Eddie’s guilty, not yet. But I have to tell you something that’s going to make things look worse for him.”

Ryan straightened. “I thought he didn’t talk to you. How can you hurt his case?”

She repeated the conversation she’d had with Eddie in her office three weeks ago, even including Eddie’s damning final words that Jules’s death couldn’t come too soon. “But I don’t think he meant it as a threat,” she finished. “He was just venting.”

Ryan leaned back, his lips pursed in thought. His chair creaked, tilted precariously to the left as it had done for years and stopped short of dumping him on the floor. “So, Eddie had a motive. A strong motive. I know he’s your friend, Ari. Hell, I like him too. But he sure looks guilty.”

Ari glowered at the coffee mug. She was beyond unhappy about her part in this, felt like a traitor to Eddie. But she and Ryan were partners. That meant something. In the last year or two, the police lieutenant had come a long way in trusting Otherworlders, and she wasn’t about to keep secrets that would destroy that trust.

So, where did that leave Eddie? She had a responsibility and loyalty there, too. He’d helped her out on her first big case. Been there when she’d needed a friend. Maybe she should have looked deeper into his complaint about Jules when he first came to her. Could she have stopped this? Maybe not, but Ari wished she knew. In any case, Eddie needed her now more than ever.

“Something’s not right, Ryan. I don’t know why he confessed, but there’s too much left dangling. The only explanation I can think of is Eddie’s protecting someone. How about his sister, Lorraine? Have you questioned her?”

“No, not in person, but she’s coming here in about an hour. The officers who went to her house last night said she fell apart when they broke the news. Can you stay for the interview?”

Ari slowly shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d rather visit the crime scene first. I’ll catch Lorraine at home. Do you have a sketch of the parking lot?”

He used the machine in the hall to make copies for her, and upon his return he leaned over her chair to point out the different positions on the drawing. “Given the trajectory, this is where the shooter stood. Next to the building.” He shifted his finger to another spot. “And this is where Eddie was standing when patrol arrived.”

He didn’t have to show her where the victim had fallen. A squiggly form, vaguely humanoid in shape, the kind they show on TV shows and book covers, marked the location. If the cops were right, the shots hadn’t come from the street. That’s why Ryan had ruled out a drive-by.

“You said there were witnesses?”

“After the fact. About two dozen customers from the bar and a handful of neighbors. Anyone who didn’t hear the shots at least heard the sirens. They all came out to have a look.”

“But no one claims to have seen the shooting,” she mused. Eddie’s defense lawyer could work with that. Without an eyewitness to identify Eddie as the killer, there was always room for doubt.

“So, what happened between the shots and the time the cops arrived? Surely a guilty man wouldn’t stand there and wait.”

“This time he did. According to a bar patron,” Ryan pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket and flipped the pages, “a Lewis Hampton, the first person out the door, Eddie seemed frozen, just staring at the body. Maybe he was shocked by what he’d done.” Ryan returned to his desk and sat down. “You can look for mitigating factors, maybe affect the penalty, but a jury is going to take about ten minutes to convict.”

Ari shrugged. Maybe not, if Ryan couldn’t produce a weapon. And Eddie’s lawyer could get him to retract the confession. The juries in human trials were human. While they’d try to be impartial, she felt they’d be hesitant to convict on such slim evidence. Especially considering the consequences. Of course, nothing would help Eddie if he pled guilty. He’d never get to trial. The case would go straight to the penalty phase, and Eddie would be turned over to the vampires for disposition.

Ari’s gut clenched. Vampires could be very inventive.

She strengthened her resolve and wrote down Lewis Hampton’s number and address. His testimony would be critical to the prosecution’s case. If she wanted to save Eddie, she had to find a way to punch holes in his confession.

What they knew so far led to an unacceptable conclusion. She intended to start over from the beginning. Give it a fresh look. Collect new facts. Vampires—overly confident, arrogant or just plain belligerent, depending on your point of view—had a way of making enemies. There had to be other, better, suspects than Eddie. Ryan didn’t know the reporter the way Ari did. Eddie was a law-abiding guy, the kind who paid his parking tickets and didn’t fudge on his taxes. Much more likely to write a vitriolic column than take a gun in his hand.

But if Ari was right about his character, why was Eddie lying?