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"No, I think she was just bait." I rubbed a hand across my eyes. That's why the young vamp had stood there for so long in the rain. Gautier had wanted to ensure we'd follow. He knew we'd try and save the girl. Knew we'd try and trace her parents. Which meant, maybe, he'd wanted us to find these kills. And had wanted us to find that ring.
The question was, why?
My gaze went to the woman again, and my frown deepened. "How long has she been dead?"
Cole looked down at the body. "Rigor mortis hasn't yet set in, so she's been dead less than three hours." He met my gaze again. "Why?"
"Because the timing is all off. These two are recent kills, and yet the little girl was kidnapped much earlier." And we'd killed Gautier's little protegee last night, so it could have been him doing this. Though it was always possible that Gautier had more than one baby vamp in his nest.
But that still left the problem of how the baby vamp had gotten out of here when the sun was up. Gautier might be a young vamp, but he still would have a touch more tolerance than any youngsters he'd turned. The slightest caress of sunlight would be instant death to any one of them.
"Maybe she was kidnapped to buy their silence," Cole said.
Maybe. Dunleavy had rung yesterday evening, desperate for help. This was obviously why. If Jack had acted earlier, if the Directorate had more staff, then maybe the little girl would still be alive. Maybe even her mom and Dunleavy.
It made me wonder what they'd known. Obviously it was something of extreme value, because death had come hunting them pretty damn quick. But how did whatever they'd known connect with Gautier? And how did Gautier connect to The Cleaver?
Because it was beginning to look like he was connected, no matter what Jack said - and no matter what Gautier's so-called contest might imply.
I glanced down at the picture. It was better than looking at the real woman lying on the floor. "I think I'll go question the neighbor again. See if she saw anything earlier But please, save your cheering until I get out the door."
"A hard task, but I think I'm man enough for it." A smile teased his lips, making his craggy face and pale eyes suddenly seem warm and inviting.
"I think you're man enough for lots of things." I suddenly remembered the mobile recording unit, and resisted the urge to add more. Like, but are you man enough for me? The reality was. Cole was a wolf-shifter. He'd smell my interest. If it wasn't reciprocated, then I wasn't going to push. "You any objections to me taking this?"
"No." He hesitated. "I'll send the transcription from the ring as soon as we get it."
"And the woman's full ID, if you could."
He nodded. I turned and headed out the door. His gaze was a heated weight that centered not on my back, but on my butt. I resisted the urge to work it, and just got out of there before I got myself into trouble.
Ms. Radcliffe confirmed that the child did belong to Dunleavy's girlfriend. "When did you last see her?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at the overwhelming odor of cooking cabbage coming from the unit's interior.
"Yesterday, when that woman was taking her to kindergarten." She sniffed. "Her dad must have picked her up after. He shares custody, and just as well, too."
"You wouldn't happen to know his name, would you?"
"Robert Worthington. Lives over in Prahan, or someplace fancy like that. The kid's name is Ellana."
"And the girlfriend's name? Don't suppose you remember that?"
She sneered. "Trudi Stone. She's a part-time waitress, and a stripper at one of them men's clubs."
"Did you see anyone else come or go from the flat?"
"No." She sniffed. "But he was burning something behind the town house after all the racket had died down. Horrible smell, it was."
I remembered the burned patch outside the back door. The baby vamp, perhaps? Timing-wise, it'd probably fit, even if it made no logical sense. Why would Gautier not share whatever protection he had from the sun with his own creation? Or was it simply a case of the baby vamp having done what he was taken there for, and Gautier having no further use for him? Letting him fry in the sun was one sure way of getting rid of any evidence the Directorate might be able to use.
"Ms. Radcliffe, you've been extremely helpful. Thanks for your time."
"It's always my pleasure to help you officers."
I resisted the urge to smile, but couldn't help feeling sorry for the local cops. They were going to be seriously bombarded by the old girl's "helpful" reports over the next few days.
I retreated to my car, barely getting there before the skies opened up and the rain came down. As water pounded the windshield, I threw the photo on the seat then got out my phone and called the Directorate.
The caramel cow answered.
