“It happened in broad daylight,” Hayes went on, and Mr. Sampson paused.
“That’s a bit odd, but not impossible. Sophie, why don’t you get the file of active vampires within the city limits for the detective?”
I stood up and then sat down hard when the detective said, “Wait. There’s more.”
Hayes reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook and began reading from it. “Eight days ago there was another murder. A drifter, we think—we haven’t been able to ID him yet. White male, midthirties, pretty physically fit. His throat was torn out.”
I gulped. Somehow, I find the walking dead far less frightening then the dead dead.
“His limbs were basically shredded.”
Mr. Sampson straightened.
“Claw marks and”—the detective’s voice dropped—“bloody paw prints surrounded the body.”
“Paw prints?”
Hayes swallowed and nodded. “Large. Canine or”—his eyes flashed—“wolf, maybe.”
“That’s not possible,” I said, surprised at the shrill sound of panic in my voice. “I chain up Mr. Sampson every night, and there are no other active werewolves in the vicinity.”
Mr. Sampson’s mouth was set in a hard, thin line. “Go on,” he told Detective Hayes.
“A woman—a known drug user, so not entirely reliable—said she saw the murder. Well, sort of. She was in the upstairs window when she heard the vic scream. She said it was bloodcurdling, not like the usual screeches and howls on the street. She went to the window within a second or two and the vic had already been torn apart. Then she saw what she described as a large dog running off the premises.”
“A dog?” I said, leaning forward.
Detective Hayes nodded at his notebook. “Like I mentioned, the body was pretty badly torn apart. But … and I’m sorry, but this is pretty gruesome—the victim’s eyeballs had been removed.” Hayes wagged his head. “We haven’t recovered them. Whoever did this removed them and kept them.”
My stomach lurched and I gasped. “He took the eyeballs? That’s disgusting!”
Mr. Sampson looked at me sharply, and I felt myself redden, embarrassed. “I mean …” I sucked in a breath and then pushed it out, shaking my head. “No, really. That’s just completely disgusting.”
Detective Hayes looked at me, his blue eyes sympathetic. “We see a lot of odd things in the city, a lot of murderers who take things—souvenirs—from their victims. Usually jewelry, an item of clothing, a driver’s license. But this—” He slowly shook his head, lips pursed. “This is extreme. Unsettling.”
I chanced a glance at Mr. Sampson, who had his fingers laced together, his brown eyes set hard. “And what about the second murder, the attorney? Were there any witnesses?” he asked.
Hayes shut his notebook and tucked it back into his chest pocket. “That’s just it. No witnesses on the second murder even though it happened in a busy office during the day. No one saw anyone go in, no one saw anyone leave. There were security cameras everywhere.”
“And?” Mr. Sampson raised an interested eyebrow.
“And there is nothing on them.”
Mr. Sampson pushed out a long sigh.
“So we’re dealing with a rogue vampire and an undocumented werewolf?” I swallowed heavily, my stomach starting to churn. “Good grief.”
“Actually”—Detective Hayes sat on the edge of his chair—“that’s why I’m here. We’re not sure what we’re dealing with, although we’re growing increasingly certain that it isn’t human.”
“Why is that?” I knew it wasn’t my place, but I was interested—arms-crossed, edge-of-my-chair interested. “Why can’t it be human?”
“I suppose it could,” Mr. Sampson supplied, “but that would be unlikely. Especially with the bodily harm in the scenes you described. Was there any blood lost on the carpet, Detective? Any blood lost anywhere around the second victim?”
Hayes shook his head. “Not a drop.”
“And the other victim?”
“He was a good-sized man. If the druggie—uh, witness—was right about the time of the scream and the time she saw the body, only seconds passed. One scream and the man was shredded from head to toe. That’s not easy to do in such a short amount of time. And given the amount of destruction? I’d call it very nearly impossible.”
“And the eyeballs,” I said, my stomach gurgling. “Don’t forget the eyeballs. That had to take some work.” I looked from Mr. Sampson to the detective and swallowed thickly. “Right?”
Mr. Sampson sat back in his chair. “I see. So, Police Chief Oliver is looking to check into our files?”
“Actually, Chief Oliver has put me in charge of the case and would like us to work together.”