if you wanted to catch a shark, you didn't fish in freshwater. He had to go to where the vampires were.
Anticipation shot through him.
He'd been brushing up on his torture techniques. And this morning, before leaving for the academy, he'd visited the workspace he'd set up in his barn. His tools were gathered and gleaming: a dentist's drill set; knives of various sizes; a ball-peen hammer and a chisel; a Sawzall.
A melon bailer. For the eyes.
The trick was, of course, walking that fine line between pain and death. Pain you could stretch out for hours, days. Death was the ultimate off switch.
There was a knock at the door.
"Enter," he said.
It was the receptionist, the jacked woman who had arms big as a man's and no breasts to speak of. Her contradictions never ceased to amaze him. In spite of the fact that a raging case of penis envy caused her to take steroids and pump iron like a gorilla, she insisted on wearing makeup. And doing her hair. In her cropped T-shirt and leggings, she looked like a bad drag queen.
She disgusted him.
You should always know who you are, he thought. And who you aren't.
"A guy's here to speak with you." Her voice was about an octave and a half too low. "O'Neal, I think that's the name. Acts like a cop, but didn't pop a badge."
"Tell him I'll be right out." You freak of nature, he added to himself.
Still, Mr. X had to laugh as the door shut behind her. Him. Whatever.
Here he was, a man with no soul who killed vampires, and he was calling her a freak?
Yeah, well, at least he had a purpose. And a plan.
She was just going to Gold's Gym again tonight. Right after she got rid of her five-o'clock shadow.
It was a little before six when Butch pulled the unmarked up in front of Beth's building. He'd have to return the vehicle eventually, but suspended wasn't fired. The captain was going to have to ask for the damn car back.
He'd gone to both martial-arts academies and talked with the directors. One guy had been obnoxious. Your typical ass-kiss-craving, self-defense lunatic who'd convinced himself he was actually Asian. In spite of the fact that he was as white as Butch was.
The other man had been just plain weird. He'd looked like a 1950s milkman, with blond hair that had obviously been hit with some pomade and a bright, annoying smile that had missed its Pepsodent ad by nearly half a century. The guy had bent over to be helpful, but something was off. Butch's bullshit detector had spiked a serious woody the minute Mr. Mayberry had opened his mouth.
And the guy had smelled like a sissy, besides.
Butch leaped up Beth's front steps and rang her buzzer.
He'd left her a voice mail at work and at home telling her he was coming over. He was about to hit the button again when he saw her through the glass door, coming into the lobby.
Goddamn.
She had on a wraparound black dress that just about brought his headache back, it was so perfect for her. The vee in front dipped down and showed a little of her breasts. The tight waist set off her slim hips beautifully. And the slit up one side showed a flash of thigh with every step she took. Her heels were tall, making her ankles look fragile and lovely.
She looked up from the purse she'd been rummaging around in and seemed surprised to see him.
Her hair was up. He thought about what it would be like to take it down.
She opened the door. "Butch."
"Hi." He felt tongue-tied as a kid.
"I got your messages," she said softly.
He stepped back so she could come outside. "You got time to talk?"
Even though he knew what her answer was going to be.
"Ah, not right now."
"Where are you going?"
"I have a date."
"With whom?"
She met his eyes with such deliberate calmness, he knew the next thing she said was going to be a lie.
"No one special."
Yeah, right.
"What happened to the man last night, Beth? Where is he?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
Her eyes never wavered from his. "If you'll excuse me - "
He gripped her arm. "Do not go to him."
The low sound of an engine filled the silence between them. A large black Mercedes with tinted windows pulled up. Real drug-lord time.
"Ah, fuck, Beth." He squeezed her arm, desperate to get her attention. "Don't do this. You're aiding and abetting a suspect."