"Leave it alone, Jean-Claude."
Richard's hand squeezed gently. "She doesn't want you, Jean-Claude." There was anger in his voice, more anger than should have been there. As if he were trying to convince himself more than Jean-Claude.
I stepped forward, shaking his hand off. I wanted to reach for it, but didn't. He'd been keeping major shit from me. Dangerous shit. It wasn't allowed. Worse yet, he thought in some dark corner of his soul that I might have given in to Jean-Claude. What a mess.
"Fuck you both," I said.
"So you have not had that pleasure?" Jean-Claude said.
"That's Anita's question to answer, not mine," Richard said.
"I would know it if you had."
"Liar," I said.
"No, ma petite. I would smell him on your skin."
I wanted to slug him. The desire to smash that beautiful face was physical. It tightened my shoulders, made my arms ache. But I knew better. You don't volunteer for slugfests with vampires. It shortens your life expectancy.
I walked up very close to Jean-Claude, bodies nearly touching. I stared him in the nose, which ruined some of the effect, but his eyes were drowning pools and I knew better.
"I hate you." My voice was flat with the effort not to scream. In that moment I meant it. And I knew Jean-Claude would sense it. I wanted him to know.
"Ma petite. . ."
"No, you've done enough talking. It's my turn. If you harm Richard Zeeman, I'll kill you."
"He means that much to you?" There was surprise in his voice. Great.
"No, you mean that little." I stepped away from him, around him. Gave him my back and walked away. Let him sink his fangs into that bit of truth. Tonight, I meant every word.
5
The number on my beeper was the car phone of Detective Sergeant Rudolf Storr. A Christmas present from his wife last year. I'd sent her a thank-you note. Police radio made everything sound like a foreign language. Dolph picked up on the fifth ring. I knew he'd get to it eventually.
"Anita."
"What if I'd been your wife?" I asked.
"She'd know I was working."
I let it go. Not every wife would appreciate her husband answering the phone with another woman's name. Maybe Lucille was different.
"What's up, Dolph? This was supposed to be my night off."
"Sorry the murderer didn't know that. If you're too busy, we'll muddle through without you."
"What's got your panties in a twist?"
I was rewarded with a small sound that might have been a laugh. "Not your fault. We're out towards Six Flags on Forty-four."
"Where exactly on Forty-four?"
"Out near the Audubon Nature Center. How soon can you get here?"
"Problem, I don't know where the hell you are. How do I get to the nature center?"
"It's across the road from the St. Ambrose Monastery."