Blood Secrets - By Jeannie Holmes Page 0,5
a peaceful calm.
Last night had been a very good night. He’d seen her. It had been a brief glimpse only, but it had been enough to rekindle his desire, to assure him that his work was not in vain.
He’d even heard her voice. Her sweet, angelic voice calling to him, seeking him out. He’d wanted to answer, to go to her, but he abstained. She wasn’t ready, and he had to be patient. She would come to him soon enough.
Opening his eyes, he removed the protective drape from his current work. It was crude but the subtle features were taking shape in the face. Each doll he created was perfect, an exact copy of his models. However, this one was a replica of a very special model, and like the others, it would be imbued with a vital essence that would bring her to him.
His gaze flickered across the attic to his latest acquisition.
She stared at him, eyes wide and full of wonder. She hadn’t struggled in the same manner as her predecessor so the bindings were minimal. Bands across her forehead and throat kept her head immobile. Her arms lay naturally along her sides with black straps holding them securely in place at the elbows and wrists. A special harness crossed over her shoulders and then over her stomach. More straps held her thighs and shins in place.
Her mouth remained uncovered, however, and she said nothing. The drugs kept her pliant.
Peter smiled and picked up the new doll’s head from the table.
This one was special.
This was the one that would finally bring Alexandra to him.
This was the one that would make her his.
Forever.
two
LIEUTENANT TASHA LOCKWOOD STARED AT THE LETTER on her kitchen table. Beside it, a teacup sat ignored, the water long since grown cold and murky with over-brewed tea. Instead, she cradled a glass of golden liquid and slowly melting ice cubes.
The letter was printed on heavy linen paper. Balanced scales of justice dominated the neatly printed header for Barnes, Butler, Lockwood, & Associates, the Baton Rouge law firm in which her ex-husband was a partner. Her eyes scanned the letter but her brain still refused to believe the words.
… presence required in Nassau County Family Court on December 4 to answer the petition for sole physical and legal custody of the minor child, Maya Lockwood …
Ten years after their divorce, Caleb was suing her for sole custody of their daughter.
She hadn’t argued when he was granted primary custody and she only received visitation rights. She hadn’t even argued when he filed a relocation petition with the court after he was offered the partnership in the law firm. However, she wasn’t going to let him take Maya completely away.
She lifted her glass and drained the golden liquid. Its slightly smoky taste was mellowed by the ice, just the way she liked it. Although the bourbon was chilled, it still burned as it slid down her throat. She shuddered and set the glass on the table with a soft thump.
Her phone rang and she automatically reached for her cell before she realized it was her personal home line. She frowned. Who would be calling her this early in the morning?
Pushing herself up from the table, Tasha picked up the cordless receiver. “Hello?”
“Judging from the angry message you left in my voice mail, I’m assuming you got my letter.”
“What the hell is going on, Caleb?” She backed against the wall for support. “Is something wrong with Maya?”
“Nothing’s wrong with Maya.”
“Then why are you trying to change the custody agreement?”
Caleb sighed and the familiar squeak-pop of his favorite reclining chair sounded over the line. “Maya doesn’t want to come to Jefferson anymore, Tasha. She says she’s happy here with her friends, me, and Shantee, and doesn’t want to leave anymore.”
A knife lodged in Tasha’s stomach, cold, hard, and painful. “I don’t believe that, and who the hell is Shantee?”
“Believe what you want, but I’m telling you exactly what Maya’s told me.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Shantee is my wife.”
The knife in Tasha’s stomach slowly twisted. “Your wife? You got remarried and didn’t tell me?”
“I sent you an invitation.”
“I didn’t get it.”
“Not my problem.”
“You could’ve at least called.”
“I did.” His voice adopted an irritated edge. “If you weren’t so busy playing a vampire’s bitch—”
“I am not a vampire’s bitch! I’m the fucking liaison officer for Jefferson PD, Nassau County Sheriff’s Department, and the FBPI. It’s my job to work with vampires.”
“And given your fear of them, how’s that working out