chapter 16
Gerard “flew” Amber back to North Carolina as unceremoniously as he’d transported her to New York. The moment she regained her equilibrium, she gathered the case files from her desk and spread them over the kitchen table. She shoved half the stack toward Gerard.
He raised his brows but opened the first file without comment and started reading. They sat in silence for a good half-hour, skimming paperwork.
“There’s not much here,” Gerard said with a grunt, sounding discouraged.
Distracted, Amber barely acknowledged his comment as she poured through the evidence folder, looking for anything she might use to tie Weldon to the case. There had to be something…
In a homicide investigation, detectives looked at those closest to the victim first. If they didn’t uncover evidence or leads, they expanded the investigation to include friends, coworkers—anyone who might have a motive for murder. If a motive was suspected, detectives looked for evidence to build their case. Means and opportunity were established later.
Richard Baxter had lived with his parents and younger siblings. His death devastated the family, and there didn’t seem to be a motive for killing the twenty-two year old community college student.
Tina Gallagher’s ex-husband had a motive. He also had an alibi. Before going home to his wife and daughter, he’d been schmoosing congressional interns at the Capital Lounge on Capitol Hill. Tina’s mother was dead, and her father was in a nursing home with advanced Alzheimer’s. She had no siblings so investigators looked at Lifeblood employees next. Tanner was the first to suggest a sexual relationship between Megan and Gerard.
Vincent had been the prime suspect before Tanner and Daniels interviewed him and Megan at their home outside of Cherokee. The hour and fifteen-minute drive to Lifeblood solidified Vincent’s alibi. Just before the time of the murders, he’d been at home on a three-way conference call with Brit Travers and a Hong Kong investment firm.
The original detectives were unaware of Vincent’s ability to travel the sixty-five miles in a matter of minutes, so they’d dropped him from the suspect list. They were also unaware of Sonia’s ability to manipulate minds and behaviors. Yet despite the vampires’ abilities, Amber didn’t consider Vincent or Megan a suspect.
She tossed the file aside and picked up the next one. A small red tab taped to the side marked Gerard as a person of interest.
The origin, route, and destination of Lifeblood’s private jet had been filed with the FAA. Reid had even confirmed the flight data on FlightAware.com—proof Gerard had flown to Alexandria the night of the murders. Sonia had tampered with the website just as she’d manipulated the pilot’s memory and the credit card receipts. But no one had gone to Alexandria to show the night clerk at Morgan Suites Gerard’s photo. Nor had anyone spoken with Dr. Geniss.
Gerard might be innocent, but the evidence was fabricated. If the night clerk denied seeing him or the doctor failed to confirm the late night meeting in the lobby, Gerard had nine hours unaccounted for—enough time to rent a car, drive to Asheville, and commit the murders.
The police wouldn’t consider Gerard’s claim of having xeroderma pigmentosum as evidence he couldn’t drive after sunrise. They’d assume he used skin protection and rented a car with tinted windows. And Reid would be the first to accuse him. He didn’t trust Gerard, and he wouldn’t hesitate to get a search warrant for Gerard’s home despite the receipts Sonia had generated.
Amber looked at the address listed in the files. “Is this your real address?”
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but a luxury vacation rental in Black Mountain wasn’t it.
Gerard lowered the folder he was reading and glanced at the page she held in her hands. He read the address and nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you own or lease?” She knew the area, even if the vacation homes were out of her price range.
“I own it. It has a privacy fence and not having permanent neighbors prevents anyone from getting too friendly or snooping around. Vacationers aren’t there long enough to ‘get to know me’ and the homeowners aren’t interested in making friends—just money. There’s also a panic room in the basement that provides security and protection during the day sleep when I’m most vulnerable.”
“Is the panic room fixed up like a bedroom?” Her cheeks flushed. She would not ask if he slept in a coffin.
“Yes. And I sleep in a bed—not a coffin. I also keep a refrigerator with stored blood, my computer, and personal files and records from my very long life in that room. Don’t worry,” he added, his smile stretching to show the dimples in his cheeks, “no one will find it, even if your partner does get a search warrant for the premises.”
God, she hated when he read her mind. Even if he didn’t crawl inside her head, he had an uncanny knack for knowing her thoughts.
Rolling her eyes, she reached for another file. Weldon’s name jumped off the page. Her heart fluttered. “This is it.”
Gerard leaned closer, his big shoulder touching hers. Warmth settled in the pit of her stomach. She ignored the magnetic attraction and tried concentrating on Weldon’s file.
Initial investigators didn’t find a current address for the researcher who worked with Tina at Baldwin Industries in Alexandria, Virginia. After Timmons’ arrest, Weldon cleaned out Timmons’ Cayman Islands account and skipped town. Since it was government money to fund a government project, the Feds wanted it back.
Both the army and the government wanted to avoid ties to Baldwin Industries and allegations of cloning experiments using human cells. So, Virginia investigators dropped all but the embezzlement charges against Dr. Weldon. Once they determined he’d left the state, they turned Weldon’s case over to the Fugitive Apprehension Unit.
North Carolina authorities weren’t even looking for him.
Amber lowered the file and looked at Gerard. “If Weldon wasn’t on a federal watch list, I could search public real estate and tax records. But if I run his name for so much as a parking ticket, it’ll send up a red flag to the FBI, and Federal Marshalls will be knocking on my door within twenty-four hours.”
Worry lines furrowed Gerard’s brow. “We can’t involve the feds. If they discovered anything about vampires, it would be impossible to protect our existence. And I don’t want to think of the possible consequences of manipulating that many minds—even if it could be done.”
It didn’t matter if Weldon lived in Virginia or Timbuktu. Amber wasn’t interested in his home address. She wanted to find the lab where he was holding Axle and performing his experiments.
There had to be a way to locate him without involving the authorities.
Before Sonia killed Timmons, he’d been serving a fifteen-year sentence at Fort Lewis-McCord in Washington State—too far for Weldon to travel with Axle Travers as a hostage. He wouldn’t have risked Axle escaping. Then there was the junkie.
The cloned vampire—or someone under a vampire’s control—had paid him to mail the letters to Timmons. The junkie lived in Raleigh. Which meant Weldon’s lab was most likely no more than a day’s drive from either Raleigh or Asheville.
Amber tapped the edge of the file folder against the table. “Timmons set up a plan years ago. Weldon was part of it. He’d have an alternate site in mind on the east coast to continue his experiments.”
“He’s a fugitive and a pariah in the medical community. I don’t think he’s working for a medical or Research Company.”
She dropped the file on top of the stack. “He has all that stolen money. He doesn’t need to work for anyone. And it’s not like he’s seeking accreditation. He could set up a lab in his basement if he wanted to. So, he’s most likely rented something.”
Pushing away from the table, she abandoned her files and headed toward the living room. Gerard followed.
“What are you looking for?” he asked when she sat at her desk and turned on her department-issued laptop.
“Abandoned buildings where Weldon could set up a laboratory.”
Gerard leaned over her shoulder as she exited the Asheville PD home page and opened an internet search engine.
“Why not look through police files or databases?” he asked. “You have secure access to the department internet on that thing.”
“There’s no database of abandoned buildings. So, I figured we could do an internet search to see if there’s anything on the east coast that looks promising. Maybe seeing pictures of what your clone sees will give you a mental connection or something. If you get any ideas on where he might be, I can search real estate records to see who owns the building and then contact the registered owner to see if they’ve rented space to someone matching Weldon’s description.”
Gerard retrieved a chair from the kitchen and pulled it close enough to read over her shoulder. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “Once we locate him, you should let Vincent and me handle it.”
The odds of locating Weldon through Gerard’s mental connection to the clone were next to nil. But she had no other leads.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Not hardly—not when you admitted you can’t destroy a vampire created from your blood.”
“But I could make Weldon pay for his crimes without dragging you into it. Vampires have the power to exact retribution without fear of detection or reprisals. It’s a power few mortals will ever realize. And yes. It corrupts.”
Does he feel corrupted?
Staring into his eyes, she saw images from his life flash before her eyes. She gasped, her nails biting into her palms.
Was he sending her mental pictures? Or was she somehow able to read his thoughts?
He had killed—in the same violent manner in which her mother died. But he wasn’t a murderer. The men he killed were already dying—or they were a threat to society. Had he worn a badge, he would have been forced to shoot—just as she’d done in Iraq. And living with those deaths was as hard for him as pulling the trigger had been for her.
She touched his knee. “Some deaths are unavoidable, and some men deserve to die. But I can’t condone violence unless it’s in the line of duty.” Even then, it was hard to get past the taking of a life. “If we find Weldon, I’m going to arrest him. Not kill him.”
Their gazes locked. She could see the ghosts in his eyes. They still haunted him. So did his need for revenge.
“You’re not like those other vampires,” she added when she sensed his anger. “You still possess a soul—a conscience. If you kill Weldon merely for revenge, it will haunt you.”
He dropped his gaze, his sigh tearing at her heart. “I’m not so sure. If it wasn’t for the regenerative sleep, I wonder how easily I’d rest.”
She squeezed his knee. “You did what you had to do to survive. The fact that you feel guilty proves you have a soul.”
“Then you’ll trust me to handle this?”
She smiled. “Not a chance.”
Turning back to the computer, she hesitated. Weldon didn’t need an entire facility. Just a couple of rooms. He’d want to find some place away from major cities. Some place that wouldn’t attract too much attention if lights shone through the windows at night.
She typed “abandon US laboratories” into the search engine.
“This is interesting. If a university professor quits without providing for the final disposition of hazardous research materials, the lab is listed as ‘abandoned’ even if it’s still useable.”
“I don’t think he's working in a university lab,” Gerard said. “Too hard to blend in on campus.”
“I know. But it goes to show an abandoned lab doesn’t have to be unusable.” She clicked a website containing pictures of an abandoned bio-chemical laboratory. “Looks like they left behind files. And equipment.”
“Broken equipment,” Gerard said. “Refurbishing a lab costs money, with or without FDA approval. So does renting or purchasing real estate like that.”
“He has the money. Or he could get his vampire to use his hocus pocus tricks to gain access to the building without money exchanging hands.”
When she verbalized her thoughts aloud, it sounded stupid, even to her. But the idea took root and blossomed. Weldon was using an abandoned facility. Every instinct she possessed—cop, soldier, dhampir—agreed. She was on the right track.
Frustration knotted the tendons in her neck as she continued to search. Most of the websites pertaining to abandoned labs led to gaming sites. Undead Avengers. Lethal Contagion. Mad Science II.
Are any of these video games based on real vampire encounters? In one, the vampires were the heroes.
“Maybe I should be looking for abandoned hospitals rather than deserted labs.” Her skin tingled when she thought of hospitals. She could almost see the vampire clone with Gerard’s face in her mind, walking down a narrow hall with peeling green paint.
Returning her attention to the keyboard, she typed “abandoned US hospitals” and got multiple hits. Some of the buildings had been abandoned for more than a century.
Third down on the list was a link to an urban exploration database.
In recent years, urban decay had led to the exploration of abandoned buildings and other areas of society deemed off-limits to the public. Entering abandoned buildings without permission was dangerous and illegal but urban exploration or Urbex was becoming a popular hobby, especially among professional photographers.
Even the photographs taken by amateurs evoked a visceral reaction. They captured an odd beauty in the unlikeliest of places—a glimpse of a forgotten past—a portent of the unpredictable future.
Despite creeping kudzu and century-old neglect, the aesthetics and architectural beauty of some of the old buildings survived. It seemed a shame not to restore them.
Shaking her head, Amber navigated the Urbex website until she found a link to abandoned hospitals. The oppressive, haunting pictures touched off a firestorm of images in her mind—brief mental flashes too illusive to grasp.
Over-active imagination? Or some sort of paranormal psychic ability?
Fueled by determination, she clicked a hospital link.
“He’s not in South Carolina,” Gerard said, referring to an image on the computer monitor.
The intricate crown molding, stained glass window, and dusty planked floor on the third floor of an abandoned asylum in South Carolina looked more like an abandoned ballroom. In contrast, windowed doors on the patient rooms locked from the outside and bars covered the windows. Without the dirt, grime, and green moss creeping across the floor from a leaking roof, the room would still be depressing.
A century ago, the mentally ill had been locked away, sedated and restrained with no hope of recovery. Amber shuddered and continued her search. Nothing about the South Carolina asylum triggered any sort of psychic reaction. Just an emotional one.
“Some of these hospitals are used for horror movie locations and paranormal investigations.” Nearby residents would be used to temporary renters. Weldon could set up shop and post guards. Only the vagrants would be disturbed.
“That would suit Weldon’s needs,” Gerard said with an almost imperceptible shiver. “He definitely fits the criteria of mad scientist.”
There were abandoned hospitals in all fifty states. Most were TB sanatoriums, asylums, or condemned mental institutions abandoned fifty years ago or more, but some were small town hospitals that had outgrown neighborhood locations. She clicked another link.
Oppressive pictures filled the screen. In one, light from a dirty, broken window shone on the rusty frame of a hospital gurney—a haunting spotlight. A ghostly image.
Gerard’s hand settled on her shoulder. The unexpected contact sent an electric shock to her brain. A vision shimmered in her head, just out of reach.
“You can sense him too. Can’t you?” He leaned closer, peering over her shoulder.
The image sharpened, becoming clearer—an image not visible on the computer monitor. “We’re definitely on the right track.”
She loathed admitting the truth. Doing so meant acknowledging her abilities.
“My touching you is like an antenna,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “You’ve been in contact with my clone. His imprint should be familiar and since I share his DNA, it should boost your ability to connect with him. Try linking your thoughts with mine and then concentrate.”
She nodded, unable to speak. Her mind reeled. The images in her head intensified.
“I feel it too. A connection to my clone. I can’t be sure where Weldon is, but my clone is sleeping in an abandoned hospital in North Carolina.”
“He’s asleep? Now?”
“Yes.”
Amber looked toward the darkened window. “Why’s he asleep in the middle of the night? Isn’t that prime hunting for a nocturnal creature?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. Embarrassed heat flooded her cheeks. “Sorry,” she said, glancing briefly at Gerard. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that, well—”
“It’s okay, mon chèrie. We are nocturnal in nature. Since vampires are only dangerous at night, I imagine Weldon is using the garlic-extract sedative to keep him sedated and under control.”
Heart pounding, she turned fully in her chair to face him. “Maybe he’ll still be sedated when we find him. Then, we’d only have Weldon to deal with—and I can arrest Weldon.”
And charge him with what? Unless they found Axle or evidence Weldon had killed Tina and Richard, she couldn’t charge him with a crime. But she could turn him over to the Feds—if she could get close enough to detain him.
Fear settled in her gut. Weldon had created a cloned vampire—a vampire he used as a bodyguard. “What if the clone’s not asleep when we go in? What if—”
“Shush,” Gerard said as he placed two fingers over her lips.
Heat sizzled between them. He leaned forward, eyelids drifting closed. Their lips touched and…
The doorbell rang.
Springing apart like two lovers caught in the act of adultery, they turned toward the foyer.
Gerard’s gaze narrowed. “Expecting someone?”
“Vincent and Megan.” She rose to her feet.
“It’s too soon for them to be here. They had to catch a flight,” Gerard said, rising to stand beside her.
Amber retrieved her gun, holding it against her side, barrel pointed toward the floor. As she approached the door, she motioned to Gerard. “Stay back.”
He mumbled something in French.
Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, she said, “What was that, Frenchie?”
“No way in hell, mon chèrie.”
Smiling despite the fission of fear that snaked down her spine, she leaned toward the door and peered through the peephole. Reid stood on the other side.
Her heart dropped to her toes. “Well, shit.”