Dixon shook his head. “Not as of late.”
I stood, my swinging shoulder bag a half inch from Dixon’s forehead. “I am going to take that information upstairs right now to Alex, and we will throw ourselves headlong into this investigation.” My eyes flashed. “Some more. I mean, still.” I shot him a bared-teeth smile. “I’ll have a report for you tomorrow. How’s that?”
Dixon rose slowly. “That would be nice.”
“Okay, well.” I waved frantically. “Gotta go.”
I was so amped by the time the elevator doors opened that I didn’t stop to consider how much I didn’t want to run into Alex, and hurried directly through the police station vestibule and right out the front door.
My poly-cotton twinset began sticking to my back the second I stepped onto the baked concrete of the parking lot. The fog inching in at a snail’s pace and the twilight pink-gray of the sky, coupled with the still-searing heat gave the entire town an eerie, zombie-apocalypse-type presence. I was pleasantly surprised that such an apocalypse hadn’t yet begun and that my car still looked as miserably pieced together now as it had when I left it this morning. I probably should have at least sprung for a paint job, but I was honestly growing accustomed to my little vamp-mobile. And besides, this way I would never mistake my Honda Accord for anyone else’s.
I slipped inside, blasted the air-conditioning, and backed out, screeching to a heart-wrenching stop when I saw Alex in my rearview mirror. He had his hands on his hips and he waited, nonplussed, while I threw my car into park and desperately swallowed my heart out of my throat.
“What the hell are you doing?” I screamed, wrestling my seat belt off and flying across the parking lot at him. “Did you not see my car? It’s a car. You should have.”
“It’s not a big car,” Alex said, cocking his head to the side.
“It’s multicolored and has the word VAMPIRE spray painted on the hood.”
“Yeah . . . are you planning to get that painted over anytime soon?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes. Right after they finish painting the house in Tuscany. Is there a reason for you standing behind my car or do you just hope to become a speed bump in your next next life?”
“Well, I guess someone’s feeling better.”
My heartbeat subsided long enough to remember that I had kind of professed my love to Alex the night before. I felt my mouth drop open. “Is that why you threw yourself behind my car? Because last night made you suicidal?”
“Suicidal?” Alex said, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “No. I’m not the one with the bad haircut.”
I blew out an annoyed sigh. “What exactly was it that you wanted, Grace?”
Alex’s grin was sly. “Thought you might like to grab a bite.”
I am a lot of things: strong. Mouthy. Semi-independent. But I wasn’t made of steel.
“What kind of bite?”
He shrugged. “Your call.”
I arched a brow. “Your wallet?”
“All right.”
Rather than try to wrestle my giant hat into the car I tossed it in the trunk and replaced it with a frayed ball cap that I pulled low over my eyes. When I got into the car Alex looked at me and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I’m a little insulted that you’re not wearing the hat I got you.”
“Somebunny found another hat.”
Alex’s cheeks bloomed a bashful pink. “Forgot about the lovely inscription.”
I snapped the door shut and Alex and I were off, windows rolled down, air pulsing through the cab of the car.
“Feel like Italian?” I asked as I flipped on the turn signal.
“Always.”
“North Beach it is.”
“Hey, did you know there’s supposed to be a maze of underground tunnels under North Beach?”
I grinned. “And here I thought I was the expert on the goings-on under the city.”
We pulled up to a stoplight just off Union Avenue and I listened to the car idle, to the faint sounds of someone playing a saxophone on a distant corner. And then there was something else.
A wail—or a moan.
“Did you hear that?” Alex asked, ear cocked toward the open window.
I turned the stereo off and leaned out my own window, holding my breath for a silent beat. A lazy wisp of oregano-scented air wafted into the car, and on it, a chorus of low moans. They were desperate, insistent rumbles that cut through the city noise.
I furrowed my brow. “What is that?”
Now the moans and rumbles were joined by thumps, then a shallow scraping as though something—or someone—was being dragged.
Alex’s eyebrows went up. “Lawson?” I saw his hand hover around his concealed gun.
I held up a silencing hand. “Wait, Alex. I think it might be—”