“Sheriff Sutcliffe,” she said, crossing to the desk and holding out her hand. “I’m Kathryn Hunter. We spoke on the phone.”
Sutcliffe was already standing by the time she reached the desk. His gaze did a quick up and down appraisal, and she saw the slight flare of appreciation in his eyes. Kathryn was used to the reaction and didn’t comment. Some men, too many men, automatically assumed any woman in law enforcement would be either ugly or a lesbian. Or both. The opposite couldn’t be more true. Not to mention the fact that most of the lesbians she knew were pretty damn good looking. But she wasn’t here to correct the sheriff’s perceptions about FBI agents, lesbians, or anyone else. She had one purpose, and that was to find her brother. For which she needed the cooperation of this man.
“Ms. Hunter,” Sutcliffe said, holding her hand just a little too long. She noted the absence of her proper title and let it pass. “A pleasure,” he continued. “Please sit. Close the door, Henry,” he ordered, looking over the top of a pair of reading glasses, which he quickly slipped off and tucked into his shirt pocket. He waited until the door closed before sitting down again.
“Now,” he said pleasantly. “What can I do for you, Ms. Hunter? Would you like some coffee? Water? I’ve got it here, so you don’t need to worry about waiting on old Henry out there.”
Kathryn chuckled dutifully at the comment, but shook her head. “No, thank you, Sheriff.”
“Call me Max.”
“Max,” she corrected, then added, “and I’m Kathryn.”
“Kathryn. Beautiful name. My mother’s name.”
“My great-grandmother’s too,” she commented with a smile, then sat on the edge of the wooden chair in front of his desk and pulled a small notepad from the inside pocket of her jacket. She still took written notes when interviewing people, no matter the case. The FBI’s policy on recording interviews and confessions was inconsistent and more complicated than it needed to be. It was easier to assume that recording wouldn’t be permitted. Later on, she’d transfer it all to her laptop anyway, and if a recording was made available, it was a nice bonus. But this way she always had her written notes to fall back on. Kathryn flipped open her notepad. She’d already marked the page containing her notes on Daniel’s disappearance, so she didn’t have to search for it.
“As you know, Max,” she started, “I’ve been trying to track down a photographer who went missing around here a couple of weeks back.”
Max nodded. “Daniel Hunter,” he confirmed. “Your brother, if I’m not mistaken,” he added with a smug look.
Kathryn wasn’t surprised he’d made the connection, even though she hadn’t mentioned it to him. Hunter was a common enough last name, after all. But what she knew of Max Sutcliffe already told her not to underestimate him, so she didn’t bother denying it, either.
“My younger brother, and only sibling, as it happens.”
“He didn’t tell you where he was going?”
“Dan sent me his itinerary, including flights and hotel, which is his usual routine when traveling. I’m based out of Quantico, and Dan lives in California, so we don’t see each other as often as we’d like, but we’re close and stay in touch by phone and computer whenever possible. What I know, Max, is that my brother has never, and I mean never in the ten years we’ve lived apart, disappeared like this.”
“Well, hell, Kathryn. I don’t care how close you are, there’s all sorts of things a man wouldn’t want to share with his sister,” he said, suddenly seeming uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.
“I’m sure you’re right. But not this. A couple days, even a week, I could buy. But Dan wouldn’t go this long without getting in touch. He knows I’d worry, and he knows what I do for a living. He wouldn’t want me calling out the troops if he was just off on a romantic fling,” she finished with a smile that she hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt.
“I believe you, or at least I believe you believe it. And I’ve checked around some since we spoke last. Last time anyone saw him was at a private club over in Spearfish.”
Kathryn looked up in surprise. This was new. “A private club? What kind of a private club?”
Max squirmed uncomfortably, and Kathryn felt a depressing sense of inevitability. Her brother was openly gay, and she had a feeling Max was one of those people who weren’t comfortable discussing—
“It’s one of those vampire things,” Max finally said in disgust.
Kathryn’s dismay was replaced by shame that she’d assumed the other. Max’s unease was apparently focused on vampires, not sexuality. And the vampire connection wasn’t a complete surprise to her. The last time she’d spoken to Daniel, he’d mentioned meeting a vampire or two, and said something about a party, which might be the same as the private club Max was talking about. In fact, it was her brother’s comment about the local vampires that had motivated her to set up an interview with the local vampire honcho. Max’s information only made that interview more important.
“In the last conversation I had with Dan, he mentioned meeting some vampires,” she told the sheriff. “I actually have an appointment to meet with . . .” She checked her notes. “. . . Lucas Donlon later tonight. I understand he’s leader of the local vampires?”
“Lord,” Max said sourly. “He’s not a bad sort, but he does title himself a vampire lord. His people even call him Lord Donlon, like this was the Middle Ages or something.”
“I’ve heard that title also. Not about Donlon, but a couple of others. Vamps tend to lie pretty low usually, but the FBI does have some information on them. Mostly from the one or two who live more in the public eye.”
“Yeah,” Max said glumly, “when I first became sheriff, I ran a check on Donlon and any of his people I could get names for. They don’t have so much as a traffic ticket in South Dakota. Leastways, not that I could find.”
“Arrests aren’t common,” Kathryn agreed, “but when they do happen, the lawyers come out, and it goes away. These vampire lords seem to have plenty of money, and they’re not afraid to spend it on the right lawyers and politicians.”
“Why should they be different than any other rich a**hole, right?”
“I’m afraid so. Should be interesting, though, to see how Mister Donlon responds to an FBI investigation, which is quite a bit more serious than a traffic ticket.”
“I wish you well with that,” Max said, but with so little enthusiasm that she didn’t find it very encouraging. “You got a navigation system in that SUV you rented?” Kathryn nodded, and he continued, “You’ll want to use it going out there after dark. You’ll never find it otherwise.”