SATURDAY
May 10, 2008
12:08 a.m.
Michael drove up Kern Street per his routine in order to come around the west end of Roosevelt and park his car in front of the house on the street. It would have been easier to come up Roosevelt and simply park in the driveway, but he was through with trusting city vehicles not to leak oil. If they’re going to leak, better it ends up on the asphalt.
As he came around the corner, his headlights picked up the figure in the front yard. His heart skipped a beat until he realized that it was just Barbara. His head full of multiple homicides and unfortunately, very little evidence or hope of solving them to go along with, he now had to think about the doings of his wife. And this was most definitely not the time to have to also worry whether or not she was cheating on him. Perhaps even more important than that thought was the surreal possibility that this new man might in fact be the killer that the entire Central Valley of California was hunting.
More detective than husband now, Michael slowly got out of his car and headed toward the house and his wife, who was now seated upon the patio bench there in front.
“Hi, dear,” he said simply, ignoring the absurdity of the moment. It was after midnight and here he found the mother of his children sitting alone, but most likely waiting for someone other than him. At least she was dressed in more than just a nightgown.
“Hello, Michael,” she said. “Funny meeting you here in the middle of the night.”
And then she laughed. She was wearing a pair of pajamas with one of his heavy jackets on top. It was an odd pairing for 64 degrees and the witching hour, but at least she was warm.
Michael smiled. How could he not? It was precisely what he would have wanted to ask her. Grinning, he took a seat beside her. “I would have rather met you in the bed, but this could be nice, too.”
A few moments of silence passed between them before Barbara broke it up. “I suppose that you would like to know what I’m doing out here?”
“Only if you’re interested in telling me,” he answered her.
“First, let me get this out of the way. You do need to know what I have been up to, but it certainly isn’t what you may have thought. I won’t lie to you. For a while even I wasn’t exactly sure what my relationship with Nathaniel was. I do care for him very much, but it isn’t like that. Anything other than friendship is impossible for him and me for a couple of reasons.”
“I hope some of those reasons are your wedding vows,” Michael said, and immediately regretted it.
He knew that he was probably allowed the outburst given everything that he was beginning to discover of his wife’s secret life of late. He just wished now that he hadn’t done it. It smelled like just the cheapest of shots.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m just tired.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I’d probably do the same. But I hope you’ll let it go now. We don’t have time for that. I know you don’t.”
“Barbara,” Michael began, but was cut off.
“Please, honey,” she said quickly. “I have much to say. I know who the killer is. A couple of nights ago, he broke into the house.” She raised her hand to stop him, knowing full well that he would explode in either rage or with a barrage of questions upon hearing the news. “Nothing happened. It was Nathaniel who saved you from having to organize three funerals. Somehow, he heard the screams. In any event, I praise God for his intervention. The papers have it wrong, Michael. He’s not the vampire killer. As ridiculous as it sounds, your killer is a vampire. And so is Nathaniel.”
Michael was already cueing up the first “what?” when another leapt in front. “What?” he said, vaulting to his feet. How he managed to stand, though, in wake of all of the shocks of the past few minutes was incredible.
“I know this because he came back to see me tonight after you had gone. He told me. And then he left. I don’t know where he is. I believe that he will be very near until Vincent is dead.”
“Vincent?” Michael asked, his voice loud and uncertain.
“That’s your killer. Nathaniel is the reason why he is here. He’s been searching for him.”
“Why?”
“Because in some misguided way he thinks of him as his son.”
“Why is that? Did he make him a vampire?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“This is ridiculous!”
“Yes, it is,” Barbara answered simply. “But it is what it is. And we have to stop him.”
“We?”
“That’s right! We! I probably know about as much as you do concerning all of this. We can work together, we can work separately. It doesn’t really matter to me.”
12:49 a.m.
Jackson glanced alternatively from Michael to Barbara and then back to Michael. Eight minutes ago he’d been summoned here by the partner that he had instructed to go home and go to bed. Two minutes ago he greeted his friend and sat down. One minute ago he was told the most fantastic tale he’d heard since he had been a child. Now he did not know what to say.
There was a knock on the door.
Everyone in the room just stared at one another. It was Michael that got up.
His gun was still holstered below his left arm. He unbuckled it and pulled it free as he went to the door. He peeked through the peep hole before opening it. As he turned the knob, he held the weapon behind him, but did not put it away.
“Hello, Mr. Lopez,” came a young female voice on the other side of the doorway.
Barbara wore an expression of recognition and raised her hands to her forehead as if she’d just remembered something she’d forgotten about. She got up to join Michael at the doorway.
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”
“It’s Tiffany.”
“Hi, Tiffany,” Barbara greeted her. “C’mon, Michael. Don’t you remember your own neighbors? Tiffany used to baby-sit, remember?”
Michael sighed. “I’m sorry, Tiffany. He turned and quietly returned the Glock to its holster, hiding it from the girl’s view.
“That’s alright. I’m sorry, too. I know it’s late.”
“Doesn’t anyone sleep anymore?” Jackson asked as Barbara motioned Tiffany inside the house.
Tiffany turned toward the man with a shy grin. “Some still do.”
“Is everything alright, Tiffany,” Barbara asked guiltily.
It was extremely late and barely 60 degrees outside and here the girl was dressed only in a pair of low rise jeans and a Matchbox Twenty concert T-shirt.
“Well, I feel a little embarrassed to ask this, but...”
“Don’t be silly,” Barbara said. “As you can see we’re all still up. What is it?”
“Well, I was staying up, watching some movies with my boyfriend...”
The two detectives exchanged quick skeptical glances that read: That’s not what you were doing. When Michael glanced away from his partner and scratched his head with another look, this time that seemed to read: I don’t have time for this! Tiffany appeared oblivious to everything other than her mission of acquiring assistance from the neighbors; however, Barbara did notice it and shot one back herself which read: We’ll be talking about this later!
“...when we heard some noises coming from the back of the house,” the girl continued, undaunted.
“What did it sound like?” Barbara asked her.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” The detectives asked in unison.
Tiffany looked to Barbara first and then to the two detectives as if unsure of who to answer first; perhaps cobwebs were forming due to the lateness of the hour. Finally, looking back to Barbara, Tiffany said: “My boyfriend just stares at the television, ignoring everything. I finally ran over here when I noticed the lights on.”
With that, Tiffany glanced down nervously at the linoleum covered floor and said nothing. For their part the two men
kept Tiffany in their collective sights while they decided the best course of action or perhaps the next set of questions. In either event, neither made an effort to move. Finally, with a sigh, as if she had been waiting patiently for someone to decide to act, Barbara went to the girl and rubbed a comforting hand across Tiffany’s back. The poor thing seemed too frightened and was most definitely cold; Barbara could feel through the girl’s flimsy T-shirt. She looked up in the direction of her husband and good friend and sighed at their apparent lack of interest.
“Can I get you two detectives to walk Tiffany back to her house and check everything out for her, please?
1:15 a.m.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with these kids today,” Jackson said sarcastically as he and his partner walked across the Lopez driveway on their way next door. “You wouldn’t catch me staying up this late just watching movies with the old ladies’ parents out of town. Not unless I needed a fifteen minute break.”
They continued on their way until they got to the Rosen’s front door. Tiffany had told them that she’d left it locked for her boyfriend. According to her he had told her not to worry about it and stay with him on the couch, but she had locked him in anyway and had gone for help.
Jackson knocked lightly upon the front door, wanting only the boy to hear them. Neither of them actually thought that their mission would discover anything out of the ordinary. These days, even nervous imagination was the norm. They knocked a few more times, louder the last time, but no one seemed to be answering.
“Damn!” Michael sighed, shaking his head.
“Do you think we’ll ever get to bed?” Jackson asked in a tone that said he already knew the answer.
Next, although what Michael really wanted to do was to break down the door, the two men decided to check around the back. The unspoken thought between them was that the kid had decided to get up after all and check that everything was indeed alright. They went around the Rosen’s driveway and headed for the side gate entrance to the back yard. Upon arriving at their destination, each man quickly pulled both their guns and their Mag-lite police-issue flashlights. Then they separated: Jackson leaning up against the side of the house and Michael moving over on the other side of the gate and against his own back fence.
“Ready?” Jackson mouthed. Michael nodded in return.
Jackson aimed his Mag-lite toward the spot where the gate latch string should be. The gate was closed shut, but only partially. He glanced toward his partner. Their faces were visible thanks to the street lamp that stood directly across the street from them. Michael nodded in agreement. Holding his Mag-lite in his left hand, and parallel to his chest, Jackson laid his gun hand atop his arm in the shape of a cross. Quickly, he kicked open the gate. It flew open, slamming back against the body of the fence with a crash that would not only betray their position but would announce it to the entire neighborhood. Ignoring it, he swept both his light and his weapon back and forth across his entire viewpoint, revealing the west side of the yard to be unoccupied. Fescue grass grew from the cement slab by the pedestrian door all the way to the back of the yard. Alongside the grass appeared to be bark, decorated here and there with small flowering plants. Some of the coloring could be discerned with the dim moonlight. Sweeping the light back and forth, he looked for anything else that might be of importance.
“Clear!” he said in a firm whisper.
At that point Michael moved across his partner’s line of sight momentarily, holding his Mag-lite and gun in like manner and moving in. After a few steps Jackson joined him and the both entered deeply into the yard. Michael cast his light ahead, while Jackson double-checked where they had come.
There was suddenly a hand on Michael’s back. “Mikey,” Jackson said. He turned around, casting his light upon the ground before him as he did so. “Take a look at this.”
Laying atop of the medium sized walk-on bark along the base of the fence was the missing gate hardware with the Master lock still attached to it. It looked relatively new. They could now see why the wooden door had opened to them. Someone very strong had simply yanked the hardware from the fence thus negating the necessity of a key.
“Shit!” Jackson said under his breath, but mostly not.
The men continued more carefully now. Half way down was the kitchen window. Both men glanced at it, shining their lights across its area. The window appeared closed at first glance, but appearances were deceiving.
Jackson stopped, glancing back. Michael continued a few steps, but also stopped when Jackson fell back and watched as he stepped close to the window. In the meantime, Michael took a couple of quick steps forward, took a quick peek around the corner, and swept his light in all directions to make certain that there was nothing awaiting them while they discerned what type of pie his partner just found in the kitchen. At first glance the rest of the yard was just as safe and quiet as the side had been.
“What did you find, Jacks?” Michael asked upon reteaming with his partner. “Cherry pie?”
“Not likely,” Jackson answered. “I’m hoping it’s just some chicken that your neighbor absently tossed in the trash a few days ago.” He paused. “Otherwise, it might be your neighbor.”
1:26 a.m.
“So,” Tiffany began, absently fingering some cookies that Barbara had set before her.
There might have been a time when Tiffany would have devoured those cookies, but apparently not tonight. Perhaps it was just too late for that. Perhaps it was because she was too worried about what the detectives might be finding next door.
“How have you guys been?”
“Good,” Barbara said. “Just busy.”
“How are the babies?”
“They’re fine. I can’t believe that they’re still sleeping after all of the noise around here.”
“I’m sorry,” Tiffany said.
“No, dear. It isn’t you.” She reached out toward Tiffany’s hand for consolation. She didn’t quite reach it, but it was the thought that mattered. “Everything has been turned upside down in this house, this town, this everything.”
Tiffany smiled absently. This was followed by a strange silence. Tiffany turned to the left and toward the front door as if expecting someone. Barbara followed Tiffany’s gaze, but could hear nothing. She was reminded now how the twins had done nearly the same exact thing the day Vanessa had visited unexpectedly.
Things seemed to flow in slow motion suddenly as Tiffany got up from the chair without a word or even the slightest glance her direction. There was no thank you for the cookies. There was no acknowledgement of the time that Barbara had spent visiting when she could have just as easily gone to bed. Tiffany simply stood up and went, gliding easily to the front door, taking the knob in one casual move and, without a thought to any possible danger, walking out the door.
Barbara started to get up herself, but a pair of cold hands at her shoulders and a much colder voice above her right ear stopped her. Then there was that face. She would never forget it for the duration of her days. It was Vincent. This had been a charade, Tiffany’s coming over, and Barbara knew it at once.
She also knew that it might be too late not only to warn Michael and Mark, but to save their lives as well.
A name came to her mind, but she wondered if it might be too late for that, too.
Vincent reached to his right and took the chair that he found there. He moved it close to where Barbara sat and took a position beside her.
“So.” The vampire grinned, inquisitively. “How is Nathaniel?”
1:31 a.m.
The two detectives moved away from the window and went back to the job at hand which was to secure the perimeter. There might indeed be something quite nasty inside the residence; however, before they took that on they needed to make quite certain that there was not something also
nasty hiding in wait on the outside. While Jackson hovered around the sliding glass door which no doubt led into the living room or kitchen/dining area, Michael continued on his way through the rest of the well-groomed back yard and patio area.
The cement pad at the slider was dyed and stamped concrete. It was very nice and also very expensive. Had it stopped there it might not have been that rough on the Rosen’s budget, but it did not. Rather, it continued down the side of the house, extending into the middle of the yard and nearly all of the way to the fence on the east side. Michael followed where it led, taking pains to shine his light southward where he found fruitless pistachio and cherry trees. The bark continued all throughout the border of either grass or cement. A large toad hopped twice, causing him to flinch. He caught the second hop in his beam.
Along the east side of the house were some old metal stakes and some firewood that had been hidden away or forgotten. There was nothing for anyone to be hidden behind, so Michael quickly retraced his steps back to his partner. He found Jackson waiting impatiently for him.
“Clear?” Jackson asked. He was alternating using his flashlight to peek in the house and turning it off and using only the naked eye. Neither worked all that well. Whatever movie was left playing when the girl had gone for help was still rolling, sending mad shadows across the room. “I think the boyfriend’s asleep. Does that look like him, laying there wrapped up on the couch as if it were winter.”
“God, I hope that wasn’t him we smelled at the kitchen window?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” Jackson reached for the handle on the slider. He stopped and pulled back. “Wait!”
“What is it?” Michael asked.
“Tiffany just walked in. I thought you told her to stay with Barbara?”
“I did,” he said, turning to see for himself. He had to wait a while for the scene to change in the movie. Once it did, he was able to see her advancing into the room. She walked over to the couch, either ignoring them there at the window or perhaps not able to see much in the dark just like them. Again the room went dark. When he could see again, Michael saw Tiffany kneeling at the couch in front of her sleeping boyfriend.
“We’d better get in there before she moves to another part of the couch and decides to wake him up the old fashioned way,” Jackson whispered.
He went for the handle on the slider and pulled. Originally, he thought that it, too, was locked, but upon giving it one good pull, it came open. It hit them both as they stepped over the threshold. It was not any attacker. It was the smell of death.
“Shit!” Jackson cursed a moment before Michael got far enough in the room to catch the brunt of the odor of rotting human flesh in the living room. Michael grabbed his shirt and yanked it quickly over his nose and mouth. He gagged twice before he shielded himself enough from the assault.
Slowly, casually, Tiffany Rosen turned around to greet the two detectives in the dark, but both men were oblivious to it. The movie continued its march; the scenes now occurring during the night. As far as they knew, nothing had changed.