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Claire unlocked her door and eased it open, straining to catch the words, but they were just sound, no meaning. She hesitated, then slipped out of the car, eased the door shut, and hurried toward the sound of the voices. Yes, that was Detective Hess; she recognized his voice. No question about it.
She didnt even realize where she was goingshe was so intent on listeninguntil she realized how dark it was, and the words werent getting any clearer, and she wasnt at all sure now that was Detective Hesss voice after all.
And she was halfway down an alley with tall, rough board fence on both sides, trapping her.
Shed gone into the alley. Why the hell had she done that? Hess had warned her. Gramma had warned her. And she hadnt listened!
Claire tried to turn around, she really tried, but then the whispers came again, and yes, for sure that was Detective Hess, there was no safety back there in the car, the car was a trap waiting to spring, and if she could just get to the end of the alley shed be safe, Detective Hess would keep her safe, and shed be
Claire.
It was a cold, clear voice, falling on her like ice down her back, and it shocked her right out of the trance shed fallen into. Claire looked up. On the second story of Grammas house, bordering the alley, a slender white figure stood in the window, staring down.
Amelie.
Go back, she said, and then the window was empty, curtains blowing in the wind.
Claire gasped, turned, and ran as fast as she could out of the alley. She could feel it at her back, pulling at herit, whatever it was, it wasnt a vampire as she understood vamps in Morganville; it was something else, something worse. Trapdoor spider, that was how Gramma and Lisa had described it. Panic whited out its song in her head, and she made itsomehowto the end of the alley and burst out into the street.
Detective Hess was standing at the car, looking straight at the alleyway. Gun drawn and held at his side. He visibly relaxed at the sight of her, came around, and hustled her to the passenger side of the car. That was dumb, he said. And youre lucky.
I thought I heard you, she said faintly. Hess raised his eyebrows.
Like I said. Dumb. He shut the door on her, came around, and put the car in gear.
Whered you go?
Chapter Nineteen
He didnt answer. Claire looked back. There was something in the shadows in the alley, but she couldnt tell what it was.
Just that its eyes reflected the light.
It was coming up on deep night, when most sensible people were fast asleep in their beds with their doors bolted and windows securely locked, and Claire was knocking on the door of Common Grounds. It had a CLOSED sign in the window, but the lights were on in the back.
Youre sure you want to do this, Hess said.
You sound just like my subconscious, Claire said, and kept knocking. The blinds twitched and tented; locks rattled.
Oliver opened the door of the coffee shop, and the smell of espresso and cocoa and steamed milk washed over her. It was warm, welcoming, and so very wrong, considering what she knew about him.
He looked very humanly harassed at her arrival. Its late, he said. What is it?
I need to talk to you about
No, he said very simply, and looked at Hess over her head.
Detective Hess, you need to take this child home. Shes lucky to still be alive today. If she wants to continue that winning streak, then she ought to be a little more cautious than to run around Morganville in the dead of night, knocking on my door.
Five minutes, Claire promised. Then Ill go. Please. I never did anything to hurt you, did I?
He stared at her for a few cool seconds, and then stepped back and held the door open. You, too, Detective. I hate to leave anyone with a pulse outside of shelter this evening.
Ill bet, she thought. Olivers peace-and-love hippie act no longer worked on her. Amelie had a kind of noble dignity that let her get away with pretending concern; Oliver was different. He was trying to be like Amelie, but not quite making it.
And Ill bet that pisses him off, too.
Hess urged her across the threshold and followed her in. Oliver locked up, walked to the coffee bar, and, without being asked, began to put together three drinkscocoa for Claire, strong black coffee for Detective Hess, and a pale tea for himself. His hands were steady and sure, the activity so normal that it lulled Claire into relaxing just a little as she sat down at a table. She ached all over with exhaustion and the tension shed run through her body at Amelies.
Miles to go before you sleep, Oliver said, as he stirred the cocoa. Here. Steamed milk and spiced cocoa. Hot peppers. It does have an amazing effect.
He brought it to the table and handed it off to her, put Hesss coffee down, and retrieved his own brewing teacup before sitting. All very normal-life casual.
Youre here about the boy, I would suppose, Oliver said. He dunked his tea bag and watched the results critically. I really must get a new supplier. This tea is pathetic. America just doesnt understand tea at all.
Hes not the boy. His name is Shane, Claire said. And hes not guilty. Even Amelie knows that.
Does she? Oliver raised his gaze to fix it on hers. How interesting, because I, in fact, dont. Brandon was hideously and cruelly tortured, then murdered. He might have had his flaws
What, like molesting children?
but he was born into a different time, and some of his habits were difficult to change. He had his bright side, Claire, as do we all. And now thats gone, along with any harm he might have done. Oliver wouldnt let her look away. Hundreds of years of memory and experience, poured out like water. Wasted. Do you think its so simple to forget such a thing for me? For any of us? When we look at Brandons body, we see ourselves at the mercy of humans. At your mercy, Claire. He glanced at Detective Hess. Or yours, Joe. And you must admit, thats a terrifying prospect.
So youll just kill anyone who frightens you. Who could hurt you.
Wellyes. Oliver took the tea bag out of his cup and set it aside on the saucer, then sipped. A habit we learned from you, really. Humans are all too ready to slaughter the innocent with the guilty, and if you were older, Claire, you would know this. Joe, Im sure, is not so naive.
Hess smiled thinly and sipped coffee. Dont talk to me. Im just the driver.
Ah, Oliver said. How generous of you. They exchanged some kind of a look that Claire didnt know how to interpret. Was that anger? Amusement? A willingness to get up and beat the crap out of each other at a moments notice? She couldnt even figure out what Shane and Michael were thinking, and she knew them. Is she then aware of the price of your services?
Hes trying to get you rattled, Claire. Theres no price.
How interesting. And what a departure. Oliver dismissed Hess and got back to Claire, who hastily took a sip of her cocoa. Ohhhhhhit just kind of exploded in her mouth, rich cocoa, warm milk, and a spicy edge that she didnt expect. Wow. She blinked and took another sip, carefully. I see you like the cocoa.
