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While it wasn’t anything I could influence, I would recommend it in my report and at my debriefing.
She would be closely questioned by experts. Spell work would be involved to pick her memory. Company investigators would want every detail to find out the name of the moron vampire behind this PR headache.
I wouldn’t feel sorry for him, either.
I gave up trying to sleep and returned to the cab. Ellinghaus was easy to hang with, no need to talk if we didn’t feel like it. He let a few miles pass before pulling out his ear buds and speaking. His voice was low, conversational. The general noise of the bus would prevent our patient from hearing him.
“Did you, by chance, notice her hands, Miss Goldfarb?”
“Can’t say that I did, no.”
“They were not messed up as one might expect, given her circumstances.”
Trying to claw your way from a coffin was hard on the manicure. “It just means she healed up when she vanished. You do that.”
“Yes, I do that. But it takes longer when the injury involves wood, and I heard wood snapping.”
“Okay.”
“I just thought I should mention that, is all.”
“Put it in your report. The geeks love details.”
“Indeed they do.”
I told him that Vouros was sending out a forensics crafter to process the grave.
He grunted approval.
That department had serious magical talent. Never mind about wearing gloves and being careful not to leave behind any DNA, they could get a fix on a vamp by magical means. It was also proprietary spell work, and scary efficient. Too bad they couldn’t apply it to human murder cases, only to supernaturals.
“I’ve been wondering about some things, too,” I said.
“Such as what, if I may inquire?”
“Such as how the hell did she get way out there? Who would even know about that place?”
“I have given some thought to that, as well. Perhaps the perpetrator was originally from the area and thought he could hide his crime, thinking no one would ever visit. He must not have expected her to revive.”
“He’s in for a shock.”
“Deservedly so.”
Ellinghaus hates them, the ones he calls crash-feeders. Since the Company got itself truly organized (at about the same time as the FBI), there’d not been many of those cases. He’s a stickler for rules, and when a crash-feeder comes along, it makes the rest of the vamps look bad. They resent anyone who caves to the crave.
“I suppose I could ask around, maybe look into genealogy records for that area,” he said. “I made note of the family names on the stones.”
“As good a place to start as any.”
“Might you consider initiating an online records search?”
“Glad to, but not right now. I’m tired and don’t want to get carsick.”
A grunt of understanding. Some vamps forget how tough it is to be human and subject to fatigue. Ellinghaus didn’t seem to be among their number. Not for the first time I wondered how old he was; I’d never asked, and he’s never brought it up. He could be fifty or five hundred, no way to tell. But he was comfortable to be with and always professional. I hoped he found those same qualities in me.
“Would you like to listen to some jazz, Miss Goldfarb?”
“Smooth?” I wasn’t in the mood for anything fast and raucous.
