La Vida Vampire

“Then we have to find cause,” I muttered.

By unspoken agreement, we crossed Avenida Menendez and climbed the cement steps to the walkway running along the bay. I plopped down on the ledge of the seawall to think, leaned back where I thought one of the bollards was, and almost tumbled backward into the bay.

“Watch it!” Saber leapt to catch one of my flailing hands and jerk me off the ledge. And into his arms.

We stood frozen, chest to breasts, pelvis to pelvis. His arms clamped around my waist, my arms encircled his neck. Breath caught and stuck in my throat as he looked into my eyes.

“You nearly went for a swim,” he said, his softly exhaled words caressing my face.

“I wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“No, but the water’s cold.” His sensuous lips lifted in a seductive smile. “This is much warmer.”

Warmer? If my body temperature careened any higher, I’d be a puddle at his feet. His hips rocked minutely against mine, and my breath came in hitches.

Then his cobalt gaze settled on my mouth.

“S-Saber,” I whispered.

“Hmmm?”

“Are you planning to kiss me?”

His scent spiked—assertive, erotic, urgent. “Yeah, I am.”

I waited a beat. “S-soon?”

He lowered his head with such excruciating slowness it felt like years before his lips brushed mine. Once. Pause. Twice. Pause.

“Cesca,” he said so low, my vampire hearing kicked in.

“Hmmm?”

“Close your eyes.”

His mouth neared, his hand cupped the back of my head, and I let my eyes drift shut. His lips nibbled mine, coaxed me to open to his tongue. I inhaled, drawing his scent into my lungs, his breath into my body. Fireworks exploded behind my eyelids.

Then it was over.

He broke off the kiss, slowly, and eased space between us.

I blinked against the glow of streetlights. In another second, I adjusted to standing without the brace of his body and slid my hands from his shoulders.

“Ready to go home?” he asked.

Home. With Saber. The idea didn’t scare the bejeebers out of me anymore.

As we strolled southward, I listened to the muted sounds of sailing ships rocking at anchor in the bay. A rowboat glided toward one of the ships anchored nearest the seawall, but the rower didn’t seem to be having an easy time of it. A woman at the rail astern called down, “What’s wrong, Cappy?”

“Damn boat’s leaking again. It was supposed to be fixed.”

“Honey, it was only a patch job.”

Saber caught my gaze and grinned. We walked another dozen steps before it hit me. Yolette. A boat. I stopped, spun, and stared at the rowboat. “That’s it, Saber. That’s what we’ve been missing.”

He turned sharply. “What?”

“The boat. Yolette,” I said fast, gut instinct telling me I was on the right track. “She was killed on land, but we found her in the ocean. How did she get there?”

Saber gave me a long look. “You think she was dumped on a sinking rowboat?”

I waved a hand and rushed on. “Not a rowboat necessarily, but I thought I saw a small boat just past the breakers before we all hit the surf Thursday morning. I reported it to March but didn’t push it, because I figured it could have been a pelican riding a swell.”

“With vampire vision you can’t tell the difference between a boat and a pelican?”

“I didn’t bother with vamp vision, not with the wind, spray, and blowing sand that morning. Besides, I was there to surf, not scan the horizon for whatever might be out there.”

“Why do you think Yolette was in a boat?”

“One, because when Shelly Jergason mentioned the loud renters that night at bridge club, she also said they’d borrowed a rowboat from a neighbor without asking. That gives Etienne access. Two, if Yolette was dumped straight into the water, her body would’ve sunk. She wouldn’t have been found for days.”

“A body will float longer in salt water.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Thirty minutes, maybe more. Water seeps into body cavities eventually.”

“But you said she was killed between two and five in the morning. We were on the beach at six. And Etienne was getting his fishing boat somewhere in Gainesville—which is a good hour and a half away, even if you’re speeding—at six fifteen.”

“I’m following,” Saber said slowly. “Etienne couldn’t dump the body much after four thirty and still get to the lake.”

“And with the nor’easter coming, isn’t it more likely the body would either wash back up on shore or be pulled out to sea by the riptides?”

He frowned. “Could’ve been a fluke of the storm and incoming tides that she washed up when she did.”

“But she hadn’t been nibbled on by fish or crabs or whatever. She couldn’t have been in the water that long.”

Saber looked back at the rowboat, now tied off and riding low in the water. “If she were in a boat, it would tend to suck her body under as it sank.”

“Not if it sank slow enough.”