He was brought to tears.
Caxton bit through a hangnail on the side of her thumb. There was no signature on the message. The phone said it came from an unknown number. She knew exactly who had sent it, though, based just on the archaic phrasing. Justinia Malvern. The ancient vampire couldn’t speak, at least not the last time Caxton had seen her. She was too decrepit to even sit up in her coffin. She had been able to communicate only by tapping out cryptic messages on a computer keyboard. It looked like she had learned how to text as well.
It also looked like she had been watching the ceremony over Jameson’s empty grave. No, Caxton thought, that was impossible. The ceremony had taken place during the day, when Malvern would be dead to the world inside her coffin. Which meant that she must have sent a half-?dead to observe it. The whole time she was arguing with Jameson’s kids, some undead freak must have been standing close by, keeping an eye on her.
She wondered how long Jameson and Malvern had been watching her. The idea made her skin crawl. If only to clear her head, she decided to listen to her voice mail. She held down the one key until it automatically dialed her voice mail, then put it on speaker mode. “You have six new messages,” the phone told her. “First new message.”
“Trooper, it’s Glauer. Just checking in. I took Raleigh home, just like you said. Except it’s not exactly what I would call a typical residence. Some kind of weird hospital or halfway house or something. A big old mansion, red brick with ivy all over the front. Really big lawn, and the whole place is surrounded by a ten-?foot wall. She said I couldn’t go inside, that it’s for women only. I figured that was okay, so I just dropped her at the gate and confirmed your appointment to come talk to her. I’m headed back to HQ
now. I’m probably going to go home in an hour or two, but I’m on my cell if you need me.”
“Next new message,” the phone said.
“Hey, cutie! It’s me, the much-?neglected but still wonderful Clara. I’m at work right now and I can’t really talk. The sheriff and his boys have knocked over another drug lab. No shots fired, thank God, everybody went quietly. I’m taking pictures of all these bags of heroin and stacks of money. I’ll bring you home something nice. Just kidding! Actually I’m calling because I miss you, like, a lot, and I’m going to be done here by one or two and I thought we could have lunch. That way at least I’ll know you’re eating. I miss you. Did I mention that? I really do. Call me.”
“Next new message.”
“Trooper, this is Glauer. I just got into work and I heard—well, I heard what happened last night. It’s all anyone wants to talk about here at HQ. I was glad to hear you’re alright, and sorry to hear about Angus Arkeley. This is—I guess this is what we’ve been bracing ourselves for the last two months. It’s funny, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. Between you and me I’m kind of relieved. Listen, I’m sitting here with no direct orders, so unless you need me for something I’m going to get to work. Kenneth Rexroth has been talking to the local police in Mechanicsburg. They left me a message last night saying he had all but confessed to the two homicides—they said he was gloating about those kills. I want to get out there and talk to him myself. I know what you said, that he’s just a wannabe and that he’s not worth our time. But, Trooper, this is a real bad guy. You did a real good thing putting him away. I’ll talk to you later—I’m on my cell phone if you need me.”
“Next new message.”
“It’s Clara. Again. Call me. Please, call me as soon as you can. I love you.”