Under Wraps

Chapter Nineteen

Nina fished around in her Birken bag and pulled out a file folder, pressing it close to her chest. “Are you sure you want to see this?”

I nodded, and a warm heat roiled through my body. “I’m sure. I want to see it.”

I took the folder with shaking hands, opening it slowly. Looking up at me was a four-by-six-inch head shot of a smiling man with spiky blond hair and a tight smile. His narrow shoulders barely seemed to fill out his navy blue police uniform, and printed in clear, careful scrawl across the bottom of the photograph were the words Officer Parker Hayes, Buffalo, NY.

“That’s Parker Hayes,” I whispered.

Nina nodded, her eyes warm.

“But it’s not Parker Hayes.”

There was no doubt about it. This man was not the man I knew. I gingerly put aside the photo and scanned the dossier about Officer Hayes—eye color: blue; hair color: blond. I noted his birth date, hometown, and then, with unsteady breath—the date he died.

“I don’t get it. Why is Parker pretending to be a dead guy?”

Nina took the file from me and thumbed through it. “It says that this Parker died while investigating …” Her voice trailed off, and when I looked up, she was gnawing on her lower lip.

“Died investigating what?” I asked.

Nina closed the folder. “Parker Hayes died while investigating a string of strange murders in Buffalo. Two victims. One completely drained of blood.”

I gulped, my saliva tasting metallic. “The other missing his eyeballs?”

“Remember the other night at Dirt, when we were trying to figure out what all these victims had in common?”

“Yeah,” I said, “and we really couldn’t come up with anything.”

“We couldn’t, but I found something interesting when I was looking for Parker’s info. Alfred Sherman filed a police report two days before he died—reporting a stolen wallet.”

“Okay, so?”

“There was a break-in at Dirt a few days before Dauber went missing. He called the police, and they came out, but they couldn’t find anything. Just came around to take a report.”

I frowned. “And the woman in Pacific Heights—the officer there said the police had been there just the day before investigating an attempted break-in. So all the victims had petty theft issues just before their murders? What does that mean? Security was compromised, information could be missing….”

Nina’s eyes were hard and I gulped. “Or that in every instance, the police had been called.”

“Kind of convenient that Parker didn’t bring that up in your investigation, isn’t it?”

My stomach dropped to my knees. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess it is.”

“He was probably setting them up. Checking to make sure all these people had what it is he needed to open the portal.”

I stared hard at the carpet. “Oh. But we went to the Crystal Ball. We were looking for the Sword of Bethesda and they said a woman bought it.”

“You don’t think Parker could know a woman?”

I bit my lip. “He did say he goes out with his niece about once a month.”

“Maybe Parker’s niece is the type who occasionally does his shopping. Did whomever you talked to know who bought the knife? I mean, other than it was a woman? Did they tell you anything else?”

I looked at Nina, at her blue-black hair hanging over one shoulder. “No,” I said simply. “Nothing else.”

Nina began gathering up the files and slid them to me. “I’m going to lurk around, see what more I can find out. Vlad should be back in a little while. Until then, are you going to be okay here alone?”

I nodded, barely feeling the file under my fingertips. “Do you think Parker—this Parker—is really after Mr. Sampson now”—I sucked in a breath—“for his skin?”

Nina crossed her thin arms in front of her chest. “I don’t know, but it certainly would explain why he’s here—and why he wanted to hook up with you.”

A lump formed in my throat. “I led him right to Mr. Sampson.”

Nina wagged her head definitively. “We don’t know that, Sophie.”

My eyes went wide. “Parker might already have Mr. Sampson. Then all he’d need—all he’d need is—me.” A crossbreed. My voice was barely a whisper.

“No. Stop talking like that. No one is going to open any kind of portal or hell hole or whatever.” Nina’s eyes were fierce, and she knelt down in front of me, her palms cold as she gripped my thighs. “Do you hear me? We’re going to be fine—you’re going to be fine. We’re going to stop this guy, whoever he is, and go on our merry ways, maybe do a little shopping, hit the white sale at Macy’s. You got that?”

The light glimmered off of one of Nina’s fangs and I nodded. “Yeah,” I said.

But I wasn’t entirely convinced.

I was poking at a nuked blob of meat loaf when I heard the front door open. I stood up quickly, my stomach knotted.

“Vlad? Nina? Is that you? Did you find him? Did you find some—” I sucked in a breath so sharp I felt the ache in my rib cage. “Oh. Parker. Hi.”

“You know,” Parker said, tapping on the door frame with his index finger. “We had a deal. You’re supposed to keep this door locked at all times. It seems like you want me to be mad at you.”

I forced a smile. “Oh yeah—I mean no, I don’t want you to be mad. I’m sorry. I guess I just forgot.”

Parker’s face broke into that half smile, and he strode toward me, slinging an arm around me. “Lighten up, Lawson—I’m not really mad at you. Sheesh, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Although I guess that would be kind of old hat to you, huh?”

I stumbled backward, out of his grip. “No. No. No ghost. Do you want”—I snatched the plate off the dining room table and whirled around with it—“Meat loaf?”

Parker and I both watched the grayish blob slide off the plate and ooze onto his shoe.

“No thanks, I’m”—Parker shook off the meat—“fine.” He leaned down toward his oily shoe, and I brought the plate up over my head, cracking it hard over the back of his skull.

He howled, his hand finding a fine cut and an ooze of blood inching through his hair. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Parker lunged for me, and I jumped back, tumbling over a dining room chair and landing hard on my rump. “Stay away from me!” I said, wagging a shard of broken plate at him.

“Lawson.” Parker took a step toward me.

“Stay away!” I shouted again.

“Okay.” Parker raised both hands, palms facing me. “I won’t come near you, but you have to tell me what is wrong with you. Lawson—Sophie, it’s me, it’s Parker. We’re friends, remember? Partners?”

“You’re not my partner! You’re not my friend! You’re not even Parker Hayes!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet, cutting blindly at the air with my broken plate. “Parker Hayes is dead!”

Parker’s eyes went wide, and I saw his jaw twitch. His hands dropped to his sides, tightening into fists. He took another step forward, and I dove behind the other chair, holding it like a cage in front of my body. When Parker finally spoke, his voice was low.

“Sophie, you’ve got to let me explain.”

“You’ve explained enough!” I shouted, wincing at the cliché.

Parker put both fists on his hips. “I haven’t explained anything.”

My heart was pounding in my throat. “Explain it to the police!” I spat.

My eyes traveled to the phone on the end table a few feet away; Parker followed my gaze. “Sophie, no,” he said in a gravelly, deep voice. “You don’t want to do that.”

I looked from the phone to Parker, his cobalt eyes gone wild and fierce. His lips were set in a tight, thin line. I remembered kissing them, and suddenly I wanted to cry.

“Yes, I do,” I whispered hoarsely. “Get out of here or I’ll call the police.”

“Now, Sophie, listen to me. I’ll explain everything, I will. But right now I think I have a lead on Sampson.”

My eye twitched and I glanced up through my bangs at Parker. “Where is he?”

Parker shook his head and held out a hand. “We have reason to believe he headed back to his house before moving on. I need you to take me to Sampson’s house, Sophie.” He beckoned for me, curling his fingers. “Come on?”

“Is he there? Tell me. Just tell me where he is.”

Parker’s stance was firm, the muscle in his jaw twitching again.

I wagged my head, my voice lost in a body-wracking sob. I tried to blink back tears, but they came rushing over my cheeks in hot trails. “Just go.”

Parker’s feet were still rooted, and he held his palm out to me again. “I just need you to promise me you won’t call the police. If you call the police, it will ruin the whole case.”

“You mean it will ruin your little collection.”

A smile broke the ferocity in Parker’s eyes. “Is that what this is about?” He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and rolled back on his heels. “Come on, Sophie, you don’t really think I’m responsible for all these murders, do you?”

“I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know what you might be responsible for. All I know is that you’re not who you say you are, and, and, everyone says you smell weird and Lorraine thinks you know something about Sampson….”

Parker nodded slowly, savoring my answer. “Okay, truth time. I’m not Parker Hayes.”

“I knew that.”

“But I am a detective. Well, sort of.”

I nodded, silently sweeping the apartment for a way to escape. Parker noticed me eyeing the phone again and stepped to the side, his body covering my access to it. I swallowed hard, watching as his hands balled into fists at his side. “I told you, Sophie, you really don’t want to do that.” His words were stiff, cold. “I don’t want to scare you, but you really do need to trust me. You trust me, right?”

I nodded slowly, dumbly. “Sure, Parker,” I whispered, “I trust you. So, you’re sort of a detective?”

Suddenly Parker was a hairsbreadth away from me, his fingers closing over my wrist, his blue eyes focused and exploding with color. “This is going to sound strange and you should know that I’ve never told another human being this before. I don’t even think I’m allowed to.”

I raised one barely interested eyebrow. What? Now he’s a zombie? Werevamp? Shapeshifter? Wizard?

“Sophie, I’m an angel.”

There was an agonizingly long pause as Parker held my gaze. His lips were pulling into a calm smile, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed slowly. “Did you hear what I said?”

I heard myself start to giggle, and then it was a fullblown guffaw. “An angel? You think because I live with a vampire and work for a werewolf, I’m going to buy that?”

Parker’s eyes were set, the smile on his lips serene and unyielding. “Well, yes.”

“Okay, brilliant. Nice halo, by the way.”

“No halo,” Parker said, freeing my wrist and moving to the phone.

“And no wings,” I observed. “What are you doing?”

Parker unplugged the phone from the jack. “I need to be sure you’re not going to call the police.” He turned to face me. “And you’re right—no halo, no wings. I’m a fallen angel.”

I snorted. “I’ll say.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh no, I totally believe you. Why wouldn’t you be an angel? My roommate’s a vampire. A gargoyle cuts my hair. Hell, my great aunt was the tooth fairy.”

“Now you’re just being silly.”

“You’re right. I’m being silly.” I was also being held captive by a demented human-parts collector who thought he was an angel.

“You believe me then?”

I shrugged, and a slight smile crossed his lips.

“Good. Let’s go get Sampson and I’ll explain the whole thing.” Again, Parker stretched out his hand to me, and this time, I pushed myself up on shaky legs and slid my hand into his.

“See?” Parker squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“No,” I said, my heart thumping in my throat. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” I tried to shrug nonchalantly, but it came out as more a spastic trembling.

I crouched down and picked up the meat loaf, and then found the fork sinking into the carpet. I slid it into my hand and followed Parker toward the door.

“You know how to get to Sampson’s place?’ he asked me.

“Uh-huh,” I said, gripping the fork in my palm. Angel or no, I was on the offensive.

Parker snaked my keys from the key hook and closed the door behind us. When he leaned down to lock the door I struck, plunging the tines of the fork as hard as I could through his pants, feeling the tough strain of the fabric and the smooth plunge as the tines dipped into the flesh of his thigh. He howled, throwing my keys and pushing me backward, both of his hands diving for the fork shoved in the tender inner flesh of his thigh. I crab-walked to snatch my keys and pushed myself up to my feet. I sprinted down the stairs, Parker’s screams and footfalls thumping behind me until I pushed through the front doors, gulping in lungs full of cold, night air.

My hands were trembling as I worked to push my key into the ignition of my rental car; I tore my eyes from the rearview mirror long enough to careen out of my parking space and onto the street. I remembered Parker’s and my first car ride together, and I was crying as I pushed the gas pedal to the floor now, ignoring the honks and screams of angry drivers as the tears and snot rolled down my chin.

The light turned red at the end of my street and I considered running it, but careened to a stop when the Fulton 5 bus groaned through the intersection, just inches from tearing off my rental car’s bumper. I was looking over my shoulder at the glass vestibule doors of my apartment building, hoping Parker wasn’t coming out, when I heard the pounding thump of fists on metal. My heart lurched, and when I looked out the front windshield, Lucy was there, her hands pressed into fists pounding, working the hood of my car.

“Sophie! Sophie, please let me in, you’ve got to help me!”

Lucy’s eyes were wide and terrified; her smoky black eye makeup was halfway down her cheeks, her tears leaving pink tracks in her white pancake makeup. “He’s going to get me!”

She screamed, and when she looked over her shoulder, I could see that her blouse was torn around the collar, and her neck and chest were covered with fresh blood.

I pushed open my car door and grabbed her by the wrist. “Get in!”

Lucy dove through the open driver’s side door and scrambled across my lap, panting, crying, trembling. “Close the door, close the door, close the door,” she was mumbling. I slammed the door, locked it, and hit the gas, hearing the squeal of my tires as we raced through the intersection.

“Lucy, what happened to you?”

Lucy had curled herself against the passenger side door, her bird legs pressed up against her chest, her arms cradling them. She was whimpering and shaking uncontrollably.

“It’s Vlad,” she said finally. “He’s gone crazy. He tried to bite me. Sophie, he thinks he’s a real vampire.”

I looked sideways at the terrified girl who looked like a tiny child curled up on the seat. “Lucy,” I started softly, “Vlad is a real vampire.”

She took the news better than I expected, staring blankly out the windshield. “Where are we going?” she asked finally.

“My boss’s house. I have to find him. I’d drop you off, but there’s no time. I think he’s in danger.”

“More vampires?” Lucy whispered.

I swallowed, my eyes on the road. “Worse.”

By that time I gathered my composure enough to maintain a nonlethal speed, but when I glanced down and noticed the line of fresh blood smeared on my steering wheel, I wanted to cry again. Instead I took a deep breath, resigning myself to be strong for Lucy.

“Is it bad?” I asked her.

She looked at me, blinked. “What?”

“Your neck. Is it bad, do you need to go to the hospital?”

Lucy shook her head, her long black hair dancing around her shoulder. “Uh-uh. He didn’t really bite me, bite me, just sort of nicked me.” She produced a Kleenex and dabbed gingerly at the blood.

“Even so, I need to call my roommate and warn her about Vlad—and Parker—and maybe we should call you an ambulance.”

I looked around for my purse and remembered it hanging on its little hook by the kitchen counter, my cell phone comfortably charging in its cradle. “Damn it! My cell phone is at home.”

Lucy smiled weakly at me. “That’s okay, Sophie. I’ll be fine. I was just really scared is all.”

I nodded, thinking of Parker, of Mr. Sampson. I’ve got to warn him, I thought. If only I could contact him … When we pulled up to the next red light I clamped my eyes shut and tried.

“Mr. Sampson! Mr. Sampson!” I said in my head, hoping that my power would kick in. “Mr. Sampson, I’m so sorry. It’s Parker, Parker Hayes is the killer and I—I—I stabbed him with a fork!”

“What are you doing?” Lucy wanted to know.

I looked at her, rested my hand on her knee reassuringly. “Lucy, there is a lot about this town that you don’t know. Vampires are real, demons are real, and me—well, I’m a seer. I can contact people with my mind. That’s what I was doing just now. Although”—I bit my lip—“it didn’t really work.”

Lucy smiled warmly at me and snuggled back into her seat.

The lights of the Golden Gate Bridge swirled in front of my eyes, and I pushed the gas pedal down once more, hearing the angry groan of the car as it reached higher speeds. I sucked in my breath and focused hard on the road in front of me.

“I’m coming for you, Mr. Sampson. I’m coming for you, I promise,” I whispered.