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"I need to go out there," Claire said. "Stay here."
Eve nodded numbly. Claire hated leaving her there, but Shane was going to get himself arrested if he kept it up, and who knew what could happen to him in jail?
She was only to the porch when another police car turned the corner, lights flashing, siren adding its howl to the chaos. It braked beside the first one, and another policeman got out and moved to where Shane was being restrained.
Claire didn't recognize the cop who had Michael face-down on the hood, but she knew the new arrival. It was Richard Morrell, Monica's big brother. He wasn't a bad guy, although he was definitely from the same icky gene pool. He took over for the other cop, who backed away.
"Shane! Dammit, Shane, calm the hell down. This is a crime scene, I can't let you run out there, do you understand? Calm down!"
Richard was occupied with keeping Shane under control, so the other policeman went to crouch next to the body on the street. The body. Claire took a step closer, and the policeman produced a flashlight and focused it on the face of the man lying in the street.
Not Michael.
Sam.
There was a stake in his chest, and he was still and white and not moving.
"Richard!" the cop yelled. "It's Sam Glass! Looks dead to me!"
"Sam," Claire whispered. "No."
Sam had been kind to her, and somebody had dragged him out of his car and put a stake through his chest.
"Shit!" Richard spat. "Shane, sit your ass down. Down, right now. Don't make me handcuff you." He yanked Shane by the collar of his t-shirt and sat him down on the curb, glared at him for a second, then came over to look at the body. "Holy mother of -- grab his feet."
"What?" The other cop -- his name tag said FENTON -- looked at him with a frown. "It's a crime scene, we can't -- "
"He's still alive, you idiot. Grab his damn feet, Fenton! If he burns, he's dead."
The first rays of sun crept over the horizon and fell on Sam's still form.
And Claire saw him start to smoke.
"What are you waiting for?" Richard shouted. "Pick him up!" The other cop, after a blank hesitation, grabbed Sam by the feet. Richard took him under the arms, and together they bodily threw him into the maroon sedan, the one with tinted windows, and slammed the door shut. Fenton started for the driver's side, but Richard got there first. "I'll drive," Richard said. "The wound's still fresh. He's got a chance if I can get him to Amelie."
Fenton backed off and nodded. Richard gunned the engine, and slammed the door even as he was peeling rubber toward the end of the street.
Officer Fenton glared at Shane. "You going to give me trouble, boy?" he demanded. Claire sure hoped not. This man was twice the size of Richard Morrell, twice as old, and he looked like a human pit bull.
Shane held up his hands. "No trouble from me, officer. Sir."
"You two see what happened here?"
"No," Claire said. "I was asleep. We all were."
"All in the same room?" the cop grunted, and looked her over, from her bed-head to the wrinkled clothes. "Didn't take you for the type."
She couldn't figure out what he meant for a few seconds, and then felt a wave of hot embarrassment sweep over her. "No, I mean -- Eve was in her own room. We were asleep on the couch."
Shane said, "Yeah, we were all asleep. Woke up when we heard the siren." Which wasn't quite true, was it? They'd woken up, and then heard the siren. But Claire wasn't sure why that would be important.
The cop tapped on a handheld device, still frowning. "Ought to be four of you in the house. Where's the other two?"
"Eve's still inside. And Michael -- " Where the hell was Michael? "I don't know where he is."
"I'll go see if he's in his room," Shane volunteered, but the cop froze him in place with another thunderous scowl.
"You'll sit your ass down on that curb and be quiet. You, what's your name?"
"Claire Danvers."
"Claire, get in there, find out if Michael Glass is inside. If he's not, find out if his car is missing."
Claire stared at him, wide-eyed. "You don't think ...?"
"I don't think anything until I have facts. I need to know who's here, who isn't, and work from there." The cop transferred his dark stare to Shane, who was starting to get up. "I already told you, sit your ass down, Collins."
"I didn't have anything to do with this!"
"If I had to put together a list of prime suspects out to stake some vampires, you'd be right at the top, so yeah, you do. Sit down."
Shane sat, looking furious. Claire silently begged him not to do anything stupid, and hurried back into the house. Eve was upstairs dressing -- black baby-doll tee with a bling-enhanced cartoon Elmer Fudd on the front, and black jeans with clunky Doc Martens.
"It wasn't -- "
"I know, I saw," Eve said. Her voice sounded stuffy, like she'd been crying, or about to. "It was Sam, right? Is he alive? Or -- whatever?"
"I don't know. Richard said something like he could still be okay." Claire gripped the doorknob tightly, and glanced down the hall. Michael's door was closed. It was always closed. "Did you look -- ?"
"No." Eve took a deep breath and stood up. "I'll go with you."
Michael's door was unlocked, and it was utterly dark inside. Claire flipped on the lights. Michael's bed was empty, neatly made, and the room looked absolutely normal. Eve checked the closets, under the bed, even the master bathroom.
"No sign of him," she said breathlessly. "Let's check the garage."
The garage was a shed in the back, not attached to the house; the two of them went out the back kitchen door and crossed the rutted driveway. The shed's doors were closed.
Eve opened one side, Claire the other.
Michael's car was gone.
"What about work? Could he be at work?"
"TJ's doesn't open until ten," Eve said. "Why would he be in there at six?"
"Inventory?"
"You think they're going to call a vampire in at six a.m. to do inventory?" Eve slammed the shed door and kicked it for good measure. "Where the hell is he? And why the hell don't I have a working cell phone? Why don't you?"
Hers had been lost, Eve's had been smashed, and both of them looked miserably at each other for a few seconds, then without a word, walked to the front yard where Shane was still sitting on the curb. If anybody could sit rebelliously, he was doing it.
