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“What about the video?” A younger man at the back. “We heard you got a video of the killer.”
Barbara hesitated and then said: “Upon further investigation, I’m afraid the video was discounted as evidence.”
“Why?”
“I can’t say at present.”
“But a vampyr still killed Marcus, right?”
“From my examination, yes. It is most likely that Marcus Anderson was killed by a vampyr.”
This time the murmur that ran around the crowd was louder, angrier. Barbara gripped the edges of the lectern.
“So, what else is there to know?” The bearded man from before. “A vampyr killed that poor boy. We need a cull. To protect our kids.”
Barbara swallowed. “My title may be different from a normal detective’s, but my job is still the same. To find the perpetrator of the crime. The individual responsible.”
“We all know they won’t give up one of their own, so you might as well just save yourself time and sign the order now.”
Murmurs of assent. She thought about Nicholls’s advice. Tell them what they want to hear. But she had never been good at that.
“I don’t see a murder investigation as a waste of time, sir,” she said firmly.
A woman with short gray hair stood. “Since the Colony returned, a boy is dead and our church has been attacked. How much more proof do you need that the Colony is a danger to this town? We need to defend ourselves.”
“Ma’am, I understand how you feel—”
“Do you?” Carly stood. “Seems to us, you care more about protecting them than you do about this town, or that poor dead boy.”
A few people clapped. Cries of, “Hear, hear.”
“That’s not true,” Barbara said. “I’m here to find a killer and prevent any more loss of life.”
Mocking laughter. She ignored it.
“That means not panicking or acting rashly. Right now, I need everyone to stay calm and continue with normal security measures. Make sure homes are locked at night. If you have UV lights, use them. Don’t let children out alone after dark—”
She broke off as the church door suddenly swung open and a blast of icy wind and snow blew in. A thin, slightly stooped figure entered. Beau Grainger. The man wore no coat, and his white hair was thick with snow. He must be freezing, Barbara thought. He walked slowly down the aisle like a jilted lover about to object to a wedding.
“Beau!” Rita stood. “What are you doing here?”
He ignored her, staring at Barbara. He didn’t look well, Barbara thought. His eyes were bloodshot, and his lips had a blueish tinge.
“Did I miss the meeting?”
Barbara smiled. “No, sir. If you have a question…”
“Questions!” he snorted. “It’s too late for questions.”
He turned to the seated crowd.
“Look at you all, sitting here, like sacrificial lambs. What do you think the Colony is doing while you waste time talking? Why do you think they haven’t run?”
People shifted awkwardly.
“You think they’re up there waiting to be culled? No. They’re planning their revenge. That’s why she’s back.”
“How do you know?” someone called out.
