She frowned but let the thought go, simply because it was just another question for which she had no answer.
As she looked back to the club's doorway, she noticed the red-haired stranger had also slipped away. His presence was a fading tingle, getting more distant by the minute. The night felt cleaner for his disappearance.
She put her weapon away, rubbed her arms and leaned back against the car, waiting and watching.
It took ten minutes for the clean up team to arrive. Two men took care of the vamp's body, while the man in charge— an agent she didn't recognize—took statements from her, Wetherton and the driver.
As he moved on to interview other witnesses, she opened the door and climbed into the car. "We can go now."
"About time," Wetherton muttered, glancing at the driver.
"Henry, take me home."
She didn't comment on his tone or the inference that she'd delayed purposefully, simply leaned back in the seat and watched the lights flash by. Tiredness washed over her, and it was all she could do to suppress a yawn. Thankfully, King Street wasn't that far from his Collins Street apartment. Once the driver had stopped in the secure underground parking garage, she climbed out and checked to make sure there was no one about, then signaled the driver to pop the trunk. She retrieved her overnight bag and com-unit, then opened Wetherton's door.
He grabbed his briefcase, climbed out and headed for the elevator.
It turned out that the minister's apartment was on the top floor with good views of the bay. The apartment's living area wasn't huge, but the ceiling to floor wall of glass made it seem otherwise. The city stretched before them, an unending sea of twinkling lights that merged gradually into the dark waters of the bay.
She dumped her bags on one of the black leather sofas, then caught Wetherton's arm as he walked past her.
"Minister, I should check all rooms first."
"This apartment building is fully secure," he said, exasperation in his voice. "No one could get in here."
"There's no such thing as a fully secure building. All security can be breached, even that of the SIU."
He grunted, but waved her on irritably. She walked to the nearest room, which turned out to be the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, despite the marble tiling and gold-plated taps. The same could be said for the bedroom—though the silk clad bed had to be the biggest bed she'd ever seen. It dominated the room, leaving little space for anything else. She walked past it into the walk-in closet and dressing area, noting with a frown that the minister's suits were all top of the line. And there were enough of them that he could wear a different one every day for a month. Surely politicians didn't make that much.
Between the apartment, the suits, the family home and the family itself, Wetherton had to be running himself dry.
Unless, of course, he had a secondary source of income no one knew about.
As she turned around to leave, her gaze fell on a grate covering what looked like a large vent. The paint work around one edge had been scratched, as if the vent had been opened recently, or often. Frown deepening, she knelt and ran her fingers around the covering's edge. It was loose. She pried to open and carefully looked into the hole.
Darkness and air rushed up at her. She shuddered, and quickly drew back. Small places had never been on her list of favorites things. Especially when they were small places that seemed to drop down to unending darkness.
But why was this here? It didn't appear to be part of the air conditioning system, as it seemed to go straight down. And if it was a laundry chute, why was it here rather than in the bathroom, like most installed into serviced apartments? Why wasn't there a proper cover?
"What the hell are you doing?" Wetherton appeared in the doorway, his expression darker than usual.
She sat back on her heels and indicated the vent. "What is that used for?"
"It's a vent."
"Its cover has been pried away many times."
He shrugged. "They're in the process of placing a laundry chute in the building. Workmen have been in and out all week, fiddling with the damn thing and generally being a nuisance."
Some of those scratches were more than a week old, but still, the explanation was reasonable enough.
So why did she sense he was lying?
"It's a dangerous thing to have such an easy access point in your apartment, Minister."
He snorted. "No man could fit in the vent, let alone climb it."
"No man, but maybe a shifter."