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“No blood at the scene,” Sara finished. “Has anyone contacted Nikko Leviathan?”
“Who?”
“My new boss.”
“Oh.” Petra paused. “I’m not sure.”
“Ask your source to let Division 6 know, okay?” For that matter, Sara thought, she’d do the same. Because from what little she’d heard, they’d either completely missed the fact that Stemmons was a vampire, or he had help from the fang gang.
“Sure,” Petra said. “You wanna tell me why?”
“The MO matches a Division matter,” she said. “That’s all I’m allowed to say.”
“I’d tease you for that if this wasn’t so serious.”
“Did you hear anything about a task force?” Sara asked.
“Already in place. Do you think Porter will ask you to be part of the team?”
“Probably. And I’m in the second Leviathan okays it,” Sara said. “We know Stemmons has at least two hidey-holes we never found. He’ll rabbit to one of them.”
“Yeah. My contact said they’re notifying all the nearby school districts. All the principals in the LA basin have already been contacted, and the police are set to do extra patrols around schools and public parks.”
Sara nodded, wishing there was more they could do, but gratified to see how quickly the wheels had been put into motion. Over the course of four months, Stemmons had abducted, raped, and brutally killed seven girls between the ages of nine and fifteen. The girls were all blondes or redheads, with blue or green eyes and tall, lanky builds.
Stemmons was smart and hungry, and Sara knew damn well he wouldn’t stop. He’d kill again, and soon.
“Hopefully our intelligence on the locations is correct,” Sara said. “It’s going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“We know who he is now,” Petra said. “That’s huge. He can’t move around like he used to. His picture’s everywhere. They’ll get him, Sara. He can’t hide forever.”
“Thanks,” Sara said, then felt stupid for saying it.
“You’re okay?” Petra asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, trying to decide if she really was. “No, I’m not. He’ll kill again. It’s what he does.”
“I know,” Petra said. “We’ll catch him.”
“We better.”
After she hung up, Sara frowned. All those dead girls, and now more little girls were out there, big red targets painted on their backs, and they didn’t even know it.
With a sigh, she moved to the balcony and pressed her hands to the glass. Porter had been right. Before today, she hadn’t known that vampires and demons and shapeshifters existed. The creatures that lived in the dark, Porter had said. The things that crept out of nightmares.
Maybe so, but Stemmons was more of a monster than any she’d met in Division.
And what did it say about her that she’d gone to bed with a man she should have seen as a beast? That even once she knew of his crimes, she still couldn’t keep him out of her head? Could still imagine the soft caress of his hand upon her skin?
He’d stood right there on this balcony and held her, looking out across the night with her, his arms engulfing her, his touch completing her.
He’d filled her, and that night—now locked tight in her memory—he’d been a man, not a monster.
* * *
The Slaughtered Goat in Van Nuys was the kind of pub you went to if you didn’t care about food poisoning, knife wounds, gunshots, or just general bad service.
In other words, the perfect place to kill, quickly, thoroughly, and without too much fuss.
