requested, shielding his eyes against the sudden glare.
The clothes she'd worn this afternoon would have to do, Celluci had certainly seen her look worse. "Are you sure?"
"Very. Cloud checked out the car when it first pulled up. She said she could smell a gun, so I took a quick look. It's Michael Celluci. Keeping in mind how we met, I'm not likely to forget him."
Vicki had very little memory of how Henry and Celluci had met, but considering that she was tired and bleeding and about to become a demonic sacrifice at the time, that was hardly surprising. "What the hell is he doing here?"
"I don't know." Henry leaned back against the wall and waited while she pulled a T-shirt over her head before he continued. "But I thought you might like to be there when we found out."
"Be there?" She stuffed her feet into sandals and stood, running both hands through her hair rather than search for a brush. "You couldn't pay me enough to miss this explanation and if something isn't very wrong that I have to know about immediately - and I'll be damned if I can think of what that might be - I'll have a few words to say in return."
Because Henry had every intention of living for another four hundred and fifty years, he kept his initial response to that clamped firmly behind his teeth.
"Detective-Sergeant Michael Celluci, ma'am. Is Vicki Nelson here?"
"Yes, she's here. Henry's gone to wake her."
"That isn't necessary." Henry must've seen him approaching the house and recognized him. He's got eyes like an owl if that's the case. I couldn't see my hand afoot in front of my face out there, cloud cover's got everything blocked off. "It's late. Now I know this is the right place, I can return tomorrow."
"Nonsense." The woman stepped back out of the way and motioned him into the kitchen. "You've driven all the way from Toronto, you might as well wait. She'll be right down."
If they'd gone to get her up, he didn't really have a choice. The only thing worse than having Vicki dragged out of bed, would be having her dragged out of bed and not staying around to explain why. Slipping his shield and his ID back into his pocket, he followed a gesture into a chair, keeping a wary eye on the huge white dog who watched him from across the room. This is ridiculous. One more night isn't going to make a difference. And she's not going to be happy about being woken up.
A red dog came out and sat beside the white. It looked less than happy to see him. It also looked larger although, considering the size of the first, Celluci found that difficult to believe. He shifted a little in his chair. "What, uh, kind of dogs are they?"
"They're descended from an obscure European hunting breed. You've probably never heard of it."
"Something like wolfhounds?"
"Something like, yes." She pulled out a chair and sat down, pinning him under a curiously intent gaze. "My name is Nadine Heerkens-Wells, my husband and I run this farm. Vicki is working for us at the moment, Is there something I should know, Detective?"
"No, ma'am. This doesn't concern you." In fact, Celluci was having a little trouble dealing with a friendship between the man he perceived Henry Fitzroy to be and this woman. Although physically she was quite striking, with her widow's peak and sharp, almost exotic features, the quality of her surroundings said poor white trash. Her wrinkled sleeveless dress looked as if it had just been picked up off the floor and thrown on. And there's enough stuff scattered around to dress a half a dozen people, provided they 're not too fussy about the condition of their clothes. None of the furniture could be less than ten years old, clumps of hair had piled up in every corner, and the whole kitchen had a kind of shabby ambiance that indicated money was scarce.
Of course, all their spare cash could be going into dog food.
He heard footsteps on the stairs and stood, turning to face the door leading into the hall.
"All right, Celluci, what's wrong?" Vicki stopped barely a handspan from his chest and glared up into his face. "Someone had better be dying... " Her tone added, or someone's going to be.
"What the hell happened to your head?"
"My what? Oh that. I was in a car accident this afternoon. I guess I hit the dash." The fingers on her right