Only that she thinks robbery was not the true motive. The Loop's creator was skimming the minds of the older women there.
That could mean he had a definite target, and the robbery was little more than a means of collecting recent information about them. What's the police thinking on this one?
They're not saying much, officially or otherwise. The Feds have been brought in, of course. Have there been any other unusual killings or disappearances outside of these three women? If vampires had moved into San Francisco, then surely there'd be more bodies about. Three women weren't likely to contain the hunger of six vampires for very long . A jump in the rate of homeless deaths, perhaps?
Nothing more than what you'd expect. We'll keep checking, though, just in case. He glanced out the window again and saw the familiar formation of cottonwoods and pines that led into his driveway. He shifted again, half-tempted to just tell the driver to stop here so he could get out and run. The need to hold Nikki, to breathe in the rich scent of her, had become so strong his whole body was beginning to ache. It was only for appearance's sake that he remained in the cab. The driver was a local, and Michael didn't want any gossip started up that could eventually force him to move. His house came into view—a large, rambling cabin half-hidden by surrounding pines, aspens and cottonwoods. There were no lights visible through any of the windows. He glanced at his watch again and frowned. Nikki was a night owl and rarely went to sleep before midnight. At the very least, he should have seen the soft glow of the television in the front room.
He reached out with his thoughts, but he was met by silence. Either she was asleep, or she wasn't there. I've done a reading on the case, Seline continued. But I can't seem to get any clear image. All I can feel is hate.
That's a given, considering what they're doing to these women. He paid the cab driver, then grabbed his bag and climbed out. The wind whispered through the trees, and the smell of balsam tainted the night air. He switched to the infrared of his vampire vision and scanned the house. There was no life anywhere inside.
Concern knifed through him. She'd made no mention of going anywhere the last time they'd talked—though the phone connection had been bad and had made it hard to hear what she'd been saying.
Something must have happened. He shouldered his bag and raced up the steps. Michael, I get the feeling you're not exactly paying attention to what I'm saying. Sorry. I've just arrived home to find that Nikki's not here. He opened the front door and walked through.
Cinnamon and vanilla lingered in the air, mixed with the stronger scent of pine. The house was still warm, so she hadn't been gone long.
Seline's amusement whisked down the link . Maybe she's teaching you a lesson. Lesson? He walked into the living room and smiled. A huge Christmas tree dominated one corner of the room, its top branches bending across the ceiling. Ribbons, tinsel and various other bright baubles hung off every branch, glittering faintly in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. Yes, you know, Seline continued, don't expect her to be the good little wife waiting meekly for you to come home.
She's not my wife. He hesitated, wrapping his fingers around the small package in his pocket—one he'd carried all the way from his farm in Ireland. One he intended to give her on Christmas Eve. And I certainly don't expect her to wait meekly for me to come home. Seline's mental snort stung his mind. Then what the hell do you expect her to do out there in the sticks? She's a city girl, born and raised, and used to working. With the agency temporarily closed down, you off on cases and refusing her help, it's a wonder she hasn't gone stir crazy. It was her choice to stay here, he said, more than a little annoyed at the old witch's sarcasm. Damn it, he didn't need his friends taking Nikki's side against him. I even offered to pay for a vacation, if that's what she wanted.
Seline sighed. After three hundred and sixty years of existence, I thought you'd have learned something about the female species.
I have—even the old ones can be damn irritating sometimes. He walked into the kitchen. Santas danced around the edges of his refrigerator door, but none of them held notes. All that was on the table were several unopened envelopes and a half-finished Christmas wreath. Michael, if you really want this relationship to last long-term, you'd better start thinking a little clearer.
He frowned and headed for the stairs. What do you mean?
She sighed again. Have you even discussed the future with her?