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He shook his head. “No. Blood.”
“Dr. Dalton was dealing in illicit human blood?”
“Yeah.”
Barbara sat back in her chair. The colonies didn’t rely upon human blood for nutrition, and hadn’t for centuries. Animal blood had been deemed an acceptable alternative, a necessary adjustment to keep the peace between the two species. But still, the craving for many remained. And wherever there is a desire, there are people who will find a way to make money from it.
Selling human blood to the colonies had become a thriving illicit trade. Unscrupulous dealers would source it from the vulnerable who needed cash. Others stole from hospital blood banks. Doctors were not immune to accepting cash for high-quality human blood.
Barbara had worked one case where a pimp kept half a dozen young women chained in a basement to be used for feeding. By the time the department raided the building all but one of the women was dead. Barbara had never forgotten their emaciated bodies, blue from blood loss and covered in bite marks.
Prostitution of a different kind. And, just like paying for sex, in most states it was illegal. For good reason. Once some vampyrs had a taste for human blood they wanted more. And if they couldn’t afford to buy it, they might just decide to take it.
“You know where he got it from?” she asked Jacob.
“Someone in Anchorage. He would travel up there every week.”
Barbara suddenly remembered something else Nicholls had told her: “Rita said he was very thorough. Always took blood.”
I bet he did, she thought.
“So,” she said, “Dr. Dalton would bring the blood back and then what?”
“I’d go and collect it, leave it at a drop-off point in the woods. There’d be cash, jewelry or gold waiting and I’d take that back to the Doc and he’d give me my cut.”
“When was your last supply run?”
“Monday.”
That explained something else. When Jacob ran in front of the cab he must have been running from the Doc’s house. Carrying the supplies. No wonder he had looked scared. Scared he would get caught.
“You almost got yourself run over by my cab that day.”
Jacob’s eyes widened. “That was you!”
Barbara thrust her hand in her pocket and pulled out the shard of glass. She held it up between her finger and thumb. “I found this and some blood on the ground.”
He nodded. “I smashed a vial. The Doc was pissed. It wasn’t a scheduled run. Doc said we needed to do an extra one and it had to be soon, so I was kind of panicked about being caught.”
“You know if the blood was for one particular person, or the Colony in general?”
A shrug. “I don’t know.”
“How much blood did you take up there?”
“Depended. Sometimes I took small amounts in vials, sometimes larger amounts in bags.”
Barbara considered. If the Doc was blood dealing, it might make sense of his death. Maybe he thought he would be exposed and couldn’t face going to jail. Or maybe someone wanted to keep him quiet?
“Why don’t you talk us through what happened today, Jacob?” she said.
“I got there as usual to pick up,” Jacob said. “But something felt kind of off. Normally, the Doc leaves the stuff in a key safe outside so I can pick it up anytime. But the safe was empty and when I went up on the deck, I could see that the door was open.”
“So, you went inside?”
“I went to look for him and…” He paused, swallowed.
“You found him?” she prompted.
