“Yeah,” I said, “and we really couldn’t come up with anything.”
“We couldn’t, but I found something interesting when I was looking for Parker’s info. Alfred Sherman filed a police report two days before he died—reporting a stolen wallet.”
“Okay, so?”
“There was a break-in at Dirt a few days before Dauber went missing. He called the police, and they came out, but they couldn’t find anything. Just came around to take a report.”
I frowned. “And the woman in Pacific Heights—the officer there said the police had been there just the day before investigating an attempted break-in. So all the victims had petty theft issues just before their murders? What does that mean? Security was compromised, information could be missing….”
Nina’s eyes were hard and I gulped. “Or that in every instance, the police had been called.”
“Kind of convenient that Parker didn’t bring that up in your investigation, isn’t it?”
My stomach dropped to my knees. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess it is.”
“He was probably setting them up. Checking to make sure all these people had what it is he needed to open the portal.”
I stared hard at the carpet. “Oh. But we went to the Crystal Ball. We were looking for the Sword of Bethesda and they said a woman bought it.”
“You don’t think Parker could know a woman?”
I bit my lip. “He did say he goes out with his niece about once a month.”
“Maybe Parker’s niece is the type who occasionally does his shopping. Did whomever you talked to know who bought the knife? I mean, other than it was a woman? Did they tell you anything else?”
I looked at Nina, at her blue-black hair hanging over one shoulder. “No,” I said simply. “Nothing else.”
Nina began gathering up the files and slid them to me. “I’m going to lurk around, see what more I can find out. Vlad should be back in a little while. Until then, are you going to be okay here alone?”
I nodded, barely feeling the file under my fingertips. “Do you think Parker—this Parker—is really after Mr. Sampson now”—I sucked in a breath—“for his skin?”
Nina crossed her thin arms in front of her chest. “I don’t know, but it certainly would explain why he’s here—and why he wanted to hook up with you.”
A lump formed in my throat. “I led him right to Mr. Sampson.”
Nina wagged her head definitively. “We don’t know that, Sophie.”
My eyes went wide. “Parker might already have Mr. Sampson. Then all he’d need—all he’d need is—me.” A crossbreed. My voice was barely a whisper.
“No. Stop talking like that. No one is going to open any kind of portal or hell hole or whatever.” Nina’s eyes were fierce, and she knelt down in front of me, her palms cold as she gripped my thighs. “Do you hear me? We’re going to be fine—you’re going to be fine. We’re going to stop this guy, whoever he is, and go on our merry ways, maybe do a little shopping, hit the white sale at Macy’s. You got that?”
The light glimmered off of one of Nina’s fangs and I nodded. “Yeah,” I said.
But I wasn’t entirely convinced.
I was poking at a nuked blob of meat loaf when I heard the front door open. I stood up quickly, my stomach knotted.
“Vlad? Nina? Is that you? Did you find him? Did you find some—” I sucked in a breath so sharp I felt the ache in my rib cage. “Oh. Parker. Hi.”
“You know,” Parker said, tapping on the door frame with his index finger. “We had a deal. You’re supposed to keep this door locked at all times. It seems like you want me to be mad at you.”
I forced a smile. “Oh yeah—I mean no, I don’t want you to be mad. I’m sorry. I guess I just forgot.”
Parker’s face broke into that half smile, and he strode toward me, slinging an arm around me. “Lighten up, Lawson—I’m not really mad at you. Sheesh, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Although I guess that would be kind of old hat to you, huh?”
I stumbled backward, out of his grip. “No. No. No ghost. Do you want”—I snatched the plate off the dining room table and whirled around with it—“Meat loaf?”
Parker and I both watched the grayish blob slide off the plate and ooze onto his shoe.
“No thanks, I’m”—Parker shook off the meat—“fine.” He leaned down toward his oily shoe, and I brought the plate up over my head, cracking it hard over the back of his skull.
He howled, his hand finding a fine cut and an ooze of blood inching through his hair. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Parker lunged for me, and I jumped back, tumbling over a dining room chair and landing hard on my rump. “Stay away from me!” I said, wagging a shard of broken plate at him.
“Lawson.” Parker took a step toward me.
“Stay away!” I shouted again.