Luca crouched down beside the body, his skin appearing darker than its usual honey brown in this light. “Is the vamp dead?” There was a hardness in his eyes that would’ve surprised many.
Elena had known Luca too long, seen him at too many crime scenes, understood that he’d always walked a fine line when it came to separating his emotions from the often heart-rending reality of his work. “Yes.”
“Good.” A pause. “Hel of a welcome back, El ie.”
Elena touched her hand to Luca’s shoulder as she passed, intending to check out the primary scene one more time.
“Hey, El ie.” When she glanced back, he said, “It’s good to have you back, notwithstanding the circumstances.”
The words, the quiet acceptance, meant everything. “I haven’t forgotten I owe you a drink.”
“It’s two now—interest’s a bitch.”
Five minutes later, the light exchange felt as if it had taken place in another lifetime. A lifetime in which she wasn’t standing in the middle of a room saturated with violence while the crime-scene techs worked with calm industriousness around her. It didn’t matter that the kil er had been caught and punished, the scene stil needed to be documented for both the Guild’s archives and the M.E.’s.
If, one day in the future, Celia’s parents demanded to know what had been done to gain justice for their little girl, there would be some answers for them.
Nothing that would lessen the hurt, nothing that would bring their daughter’s laughter back into their lives, but answers al the same.
Just like Elena had had a file to read after she grew old enough to request it.
Shoving aside the jagged edge of memory, she looked around the room, her eyes skimming over the blue-overal ed forms of the two techs. She knew one of them, but the other was a stranger. Both had nearly swal owed their tongues when she walked in, but Wesley had lightened the mood by saying,
“Can I take a photo of you?” A flash of white teeth against night-dark skin. “Then I can sel it to the reporters as an exclusive and make enough money to pay my as yet nonexistent kids’ col ege tuitions.”
“Hate to dash your hopes, but I’m probably already on the air by now. The students,” she’d said in explanation when confusion colored those pale brown eyes.
“Aw, shit.”
That had been the extent of their conversation. Wesley and his col eague, Dee, went about their business with an efficiency that told her they’d been working as a team long enough to have developed a rhythm, while Elena stood in the center of the room, drowning in the echoes of violence. One of the bunk beds had sheets drenched with red turning to a dul brown that failed to mute the evil that had been done here, while more blood—arterial from the pattern of the spray—splattered the wal to its right, closest to the door.
Wesley was standing there staring at that wal . “El ie, do you see?”
“Yes.” She turned in a circle, found the blood drips on the floor and wal near the window, felt her hand clench. “Dee, could you do me a favor for a second?”
The petite blonde rose to her feet, fingerprint brush in hand. “Sure, what do you need?”
“If you’d stand by the door.” Elena waited until she’d done so. “Bend down a little. That’s it.” Heading over, she looked at the spray. “That’s how tal Celia would’ve been while standing.”
Straightening, the tech looked behind her, her bones sharp against skin that hadn’t yet thrown off the pal or of winter. “Bastard took her out here, sprayed the wal .”
“Then who bled out on the bed?” Having moved to the bunk, Wesley lifted up the mattress with careful hands. “It’s soaked through. No way the girl had enough in her after splattering the wal that bad.”
Damn it. “Cal your people, tel them the pond needs to be searched.” A vampire of Ignatius’s age—he’d appeared sixty at least—could’ve carried the slight weight of two young girls without a problem. Or ... he’d discarded one in the woods where the angels hadn’t spotted it from above, and Elena had bypassed because she’d been focused on the murderer.
Wesley was already taking out his cel phone. “You going to check the trail?”
“Yes, but someone needs to talk to the principal, find out—” A new scent curved into the room, erotic and luscious and flavored with sensual decadence. It was a lure, that scent, a trap that caught only the hunter-born in its jaws, and Dmitri knew how to use it to its greatest advantage.
5