“Everything that happens in Morganville is my business, Chief Moses, since I am the Founder’s . . . What would you call it? Man on the street?” She just stared at him until he shrugged. “The girl’s one of mine, technically. I felt obliged.”
“You. You’re her Protector?” A vampire Protector was, at least on paper, someone who looked out for the humans assigned to him or her—a mutually beneficial arrangement, blood deposited in the blood bank for a guarantee of safety. Problem was, it was too often a one-sided loyalty.
“She was the property of one of my . . . employees,” he said. “Said employee was killed by the draug during the recent unpleasantness. I believe I’ve inherited her.”
He said it as if the girl were an old piece of furniture he’d been left in a will. Hannah felt a weary surge of anger. “Didn’t do a very good job of it, did you? Protecting?”
Oliver gave her a silent, warning stare, and then he said, “What suspects have you?”
“Have a little patience. This isn’t CSI. We can’t just run a funny-colored light around and find the killer in ten minutes.”
“I thought it usually took a full hour for that, although I admit that I am not fully au courant on the rules of television dramas these days.” When she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a comeback, he lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “I want to be kept informed. Send me updates when you have them.”
He started to turn away. Hannah took a step toward him—fast, before he could pull his usual disappearing act. “Wait. What do you know about the girl? Friends? Enemies?”
“I know nothing worth telling you. Now get to work.”
He was gone almost before the last words reached her ears. Typical vampire nonsense. Morganville was the ultimate in seagull management style: fly in, crap all over everything, fly away. And still, she’d made the choice, for whatever insane reason, to return here to her toxic hometown after her deployment with the military ended. She’d imagined she could make a difference.
Some days, she was still convinced of that . . . but maybe not today.
“Chief?” One of Morganville’s uniformed patrol officers at the end of the alley gestured toward her. “I think you should hear this.”
She walked toward him, and as she did, she spotted the red convertible parked at the curb, and the girl lounging against the fender. Pretty, spoiled Monica Morrell. She’d gone blond highlights again for the summer. Unfortunately, it suited her, and so did the skintight tube dress she had on. It showed off curves and perfect skin. Even the sunglasses were designer. How she managed all that flash when her family had lost everything . . . but then, she’d probably terrified people into buying all her goodies. It was her life strategy.
“Chief Moses,” Monica said. She somehow made it sound mocking, as if it were some kind of honorary title she hadn’t earned. People like Monica made it hard to hold on to that professional smile. “I didn’t know you were still in charge. I thought somebody more, you know, important would have the job by now.”
Really tough to hang on to that smile. “You have some information, Miss Morrell? I’d sure love to hear it.”
“Fine.” Monica yawned and inspected her fingernails, which were a perfect dark blue to match the dress. “I was driving by about noon and saw the body in the alley.”
“Body? Last I heard, she wasn’t dead.”
“Well, she looked it. Anyway, I’m the one who called it in. So I guess I saved her life.”
“Probably.” Hannah didn’t want to say it, but sometimes you had to give the devil his due. “She’d been lying there for hours, bleeding.”
“Can’t blame me for that. I didn’t get the memo.” Monica cocked her head to one side. “Huh. You’d think the vamps would have come running to the all-you-can-eat, what with the blood everywhere.”
That . . . was actually quite a good observation, and Hannah had to pause to consider it. Under all the hard gloss, Monica Morrell was clever, if not smart. “Did you see anything else?”
“Like some weirdo lurking in a hoodie? Miss Scarlet in the library with a candlestick? Nope. Just the girl and the blood.” Monica was quiet for a second. “I know her. Lindsay. I mean, it’s not like we’re besties, but she wasn’t a total loss. I don’t suppose you’ll ever figure out who did this, though.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“Well, it’s Morganville, and she’s just human, so why bother, right?”
“It almost sounds like you don’t care for that. That’s a change, isn’t it? I thought the vampires could do no wrong; don’t you have that on your family crest?”
“Look, the vampires do what they want—we both know that—so let’s not get all Internet rage-aholic about it. Nobody’s going to go on strike for better living conditions. So enough already. Am I done?” Monica waved a hand in Hannah’s face that she was very tempted to flex-cuff, just on general principles. Too bad she had no real reason.