Bloodlust (Frailty Book 2) Page 22

  Laura would leave work long after the sun had gone down, a routine that was easy to discern from observing her habits and even easier by just calling and inquiring as to when she was scheduled to be on duty.

  Amazing how much information one can attain by simply asking.

  Ambrose planned to make his move during her drive to whatever location she was going to after work. Instead of following her to the spot where Roofy might be, he would have the upper hand. Confronting them both meant the possibility of gunfire from the female officer while also fending off an enraged demon.

  On the contrary, if Ambrose had Detective Stenks incapacitated he could use her as bait. At worse, that meant a fight with the possessed Russian. At best, the ex-wrestler would bend to his demands in order to prevent Laura from being harmed.

  The blood-dealer had to admit the plan had much in common with what he had attempted in Las Vegas, but what choice did he have? He certainly could not sit around and wait for the demon to come looking for him or for the two to leave town.

  And the Kysta girl had not made an attempt to contact him since their meeting. Tracking her after discovering that her parents’ home had been compromised by the authorities was easy enough. Her scent was still fresh and present in the area. Constance had not left town. News coverage of further occult-like blood killings confirmed that much as well.

  Her reliability at accomplishing the mission at hand was questionable, as was proving her loyalty. The girl was brash and head-strong. It was a risk he had to take, though, and he felt confident that, no matter the outcome, she would be a non-factor due to his having exerted his control over her. At worst, she could not attack him. At best, she would be a very strong ally and pack-member. Thus, Ambrose had chosen not to continue to waste his efforts watching her every move, even if she did make contact with the Russian. Besides, she was very erratic in her movements, and despite his warning to her, he did not have the resources available to have someone else constantly track her. Use of his own time was becoming more and more crucial and that meant picking a more viable, predictable, and vulnerable target, which left Laura as the better bet.

  Ferguson’s handiwork would provide his master the means to cripple the detective’s communication, allowing the blood-dealer to exploit her vulnerability when he made his move against her in an isolated spot.

  Bending under water-logged weight due to the increased rain, the brim of the fedora sagged down, further obscuring Ambrose’s view and causing him to question his current plan.

  Patience, he thought. Patience.

  Removing the hat, he remained tucked in beside the donations box outside of the branch of the city library that bordered the parking area for the police headquarters.

  Having cased the location beforehand, Ambrose was familiar with the security cameras strategically placed around the lot, but the video units did little to concern him. The dark was his ally; the shadows his cloak. With experience, speed, and stealth at his disposal, the blood-dealer had long since become confident in his ability to evade such feeble attempts at detection.

  Pulling back his damp salt-and-pepper hair into a pony tail, his keen senses identified the target he was sure he had been waiting for. Smelling the air, his nose confirmed it. Laura had just pulled up, and she was not alone.

  Marking the car, the man-beast’s low-light vision allowed him to clearly watch Detective Stenks and the officer that accompanied her cross the parking area and enter the secured building entrance.

  Patience pays off again.

  Ambrose plotted out a course to the vehicle and prepared to make his run when the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. There was only one person that would be contacting that particular device.

  Ducking back into his hiding spot, the night-stalker answered Constance’s call. To his surprise, the girl indicated she had baited Roofy and would be setting a trap for him at the abandoned Tredegar factory building. She further advised that she would contact him as soon as things were ready and to not move on the place sooner, as she did not want anything to happen that would tip the Russian off as to what was transpiring.

  Paid again, and on a large scale this time. Things were all finally coming together, and the girl had come through. Perhaps he had underestimated Constance’s motivation. She would be rewarded well for her part. After all, he was, if nothing else, a man of his word. And how shocked would the demon be when its host learned he had been betrayed by one of his own friends – by the girl he almost died trying to save? It was better than Ambrose could have hoped. He was about to have his vengeance.

  With renewed vigor, he melted into the shadows and made his way to Laura’s car and attached the small electronic component to the undercarriage. Exiting as easy as he entered the parking lot, the elder blood-dealer walked off into the darkness.

  Back-up plans. We mustn’t forget the back-up plans.

  37

  Cold, gray concrete; cold, gray steel bars; cold gray metal toilet and sink; two bench-slash-bed furniture items for sitting or sleeping on, both covered in dark green cushions; the cell Roofy sat in did little to differentiate itself from the one that he had been confined to in Las Vegas, other than the cleanliness and location.

  Not so fondly, the large Russian recalled the smell and filth of the previous jail cell. There was a putrid aroma of vomit and urine that had persisted in the air, as well as dried feces all around and on the bowl of the toilet. A drain cover bolted down into the floor at the center of the room indicated that attempts at washing and sanitizing the holding quarters meant bringing in a hose and spraying things down. Roofy imagined there was little in the way of actual scrubbing that went along with that.

  There was only one place that Roofy could think of that had been worse to be in and that was the locker room in the Civic Center in Madison, Mississippi, just outside of Jackson. Those wrestlers that did venture into the showers had left their boots on, and no one had put anything in the lockers, such was the state of the place. Roofy had opted to just leave his gear on and go straight to the airport; while he did get requests for pictures and autographs, he was asked to move to a seat near the back of the plane in a row by himself in order to offend as few patrons as possible with his less-than-fresh odor.

  However, where the Las Vegas accommodations had been the definition of grungy, the cell he sat in at the City of Richmond Police Department gave at least the appearance of having been kept up. Sure it was dirty, as he expected most holding tanks would be, but it was obvious someone had actually cleaned the two metal lavatory units with some sort of commercial product and a brush. The toilet paper had also not been pissed on. Double bonus.

  Located in a series of units that ran in a square around a centrally stationed guard desk, the layout of this facility also set itself apart from Roofy’s previous arrest experience. Where the Las Vegas Police Department had used something akin to an isolated lock-down, the Richmond floorplan felt open and airy. It also subscribed to the philosophy of detained-by-being-supervised instead of dumped-in-a-hole.

  The only similarity the giant ex-wrestler could compare about the two experiences and say it was the same was the fact that he was alone in the cell. As a matter-of-fact, guards had moved two other detainees from the barred-room he was in prior to being allowed to be processed, much to the other prisoner’s displeasure. The change had meant over-filling one of the other units, and the occupants of that cell had been very vocal about their new cramped quarters. The blustering brought nothing in the way of change and added a threat from one of the guards to put each of the boisterous men in a restraint chair.

  Weak was the word that came to mind for Roofy when he thought about their griping. Back in his home country of Russia, he had known men that had done time in the sub-zero prisons located in Siberia as well as the maximum detention unit of the Black Dolphin in Moscow. Stories from the latter had included how lock-down meant being held behind three sealed doors, not one, going for exercise in the yard meant being transferred in cu
ffs with a hood over your head and dogs growling at your heals, and having a visitor did not mean one had family or friends checking in on them; it meant the guards came to spend some quality time softening you up in the middle of the night.

  Despite the silly, aquatically referenced name, which Roofy could never understand how anyone would have thought a dolphin would be intimidating, the prison had broken more than its fair share of occupants. No, the big Russian was sure that most of the would-be tough guys sharing the detainee area of the Richmond P.D. would not have survived a day in one of Russia’s notorious criminal camps.

  “Well, we can’t all be as big and bad as you are, can we?” Apocalypse asked, breaking his silence and initially jarring Roofy.

  Collecting himself, The Russian mumbled softly under his breath, “You deserve to be locked away to rot.”

  “Deserve? Oh that is a very harsh and judgmental word, my host,” the demon responded. “I’m hurt. Really. To the core. But then, if I am locked up, you’re locked up, so I guess we get to sit in here and rot together. Well, at least until I take over and break us out.”

  “I will find a way to rid myself of you,” Roofy replied, flustered.

  “Yes, yes. Blah, blah, blah. You will get rid of me. Sure, sure,” Apocalypse ridiculed, and the evil laugh made the Russian fume. “You better enjoy my company because it’s all you’re going to have for a long, long time, Nimrod. No more nooky-nooky from the good detective. Speaking of which, she was very good, as far as humans go. Who knew she had such a twisted side when it came to rocking the bed posts. I may just have to keep her around as a toy after you are gone; you know, just until I wear her out and all.”

  Roofy smashed his hand down on the long bench seat, the words “You will leave her alone!” erupting from his mouth before he realized how loud he had been. This brought two responses: one from the guards advising that the big man needed to cool down or else, and the second was what seemed like an endless stream of mocking laughter from the demon sharing his body.

  Calming himself and attempting to block out the demon’s words, Roofy went back to mulling over his current situation. One thing he felt was for sure, Ambrose would not be coming for him here, at least not at first. The man-beast had made it clear his intentions were to destroy the ex-wrestler, but the Russian figured his initial targets would be Constance and Laura.

  Anxiety crept back over him. How could he protect them if he was in here? It was a frustrating conundrum, following the advice of Father Philippe and Laura to keep the demon, and thus himself, locked away yet yearning to help the people he cared about.

  Distracting him from the thought, an officer entered the room with some urgency and approached the guard desk, discussing something with the men on duty that Roofy could not quite hear. Moments later, the same officer made his way over to the cell where the Russian was being held.

  Unlocking and opening a small metal hatch at about waist height in the barred door, he ordered Roofy to stand up, turn around, and place both of his hands through the portal.

  Complying, the ex-wrestler could feel the policeman trying to apply a set of handcuffs. Frustrated with not being able to get them to fit, the officer yelled over to the control desk and asked if they had a set of larger shackles, which they did.

  The metal bracelets secured, the officer opened the cell door and, speaking the words “You’re coming with me, Big Guy”, escorted Roofy from the room.

  Stopping only briefly at check points in the detention area, the two made their way back through the headquarters building and to the chief’s office, where Roofy was given directions on how he should behave during the meeting.

  Chief Epps invited Roofy to come in and take a seat while they finished preparing. Upon entering into the commander’s room, the Russian’s attention was caught by the scene of Laura, blouse unbuttoned and hanging open, being outfitted with a wire.

  Almost stumbling over the chair leg as he sat down, Roofy found it hard to take his eyes off her. For an instant, their gazes met, but she offered no expression and looked away. The action did not surprise him, given their prior discussion about the plan she had laid out over and over for when he was turned in. Laura would do nothing to compromise the situation, including any wayward personal actions. The instructions had been made clear…multiple times. He liked and admired that about her, though; the take charge attitude. Despite the unnecessary repetition, he wanted to show her he was willing to do what was needed, even if it meant not being able to show her how he felt while in the company of others.

  Still, being in the same room with her captivated Roofy, especially in her current state of partial undress. His stomach knotted up some, and more than anything, he wanted to talk to her; to ask her if she was okay or if she had discovered anything new about Constance.

  “Aw yeah, we tapped that,” Apocalypse said, instantly ending the line of thought the Russian was lost in. Roofy barley caught himself just before telling the demon out loud to shut up. Instead, he turned his head and forced himself to stare at the chief’s desk, shuffling some in the chair due to the discomfort of having his hands bound behind his back.

  With the electronic listening device taped into place on Laura’s body, she began buttoning up her blouse, and Chief Epps dismissed the officers in the room and closed the door.

  “Mister Reiner,” the older commanding officer started, removing his glasses and rubbing his face, “it appears we have a situation that requires your participation.”

  Finished fixing her clothing, Laura joined them, taking the seat next to Roofy.

  The chief continued, “We received an anonymous call from a man that claims to be responsible for the Amazing Woman murders. While he would not cooperate with answering any questions or offering up any specifics, he was able to provide enough details that were not released to the media to lead us to believe he is involved with the string of homicides in some capacity.”

  Roofy was well aware of the costumed crimes that had been committed, based on what he had heard from news reports, but unsure of what role he could possibly play in being of any assistance. Why would his presence have been requested unless...his thought cut off there. It had to be someone that wanted he and Laura together, and that could only be one person – Ambrose.

  “What really has us intrigued,” Chief Epps added, cutting his eyes disbelievingly at the detective, “is that he also confessed to having kidnapped the missing dead girl, Constance Kysta.”

  There was no hiding the reaction, as Roofy lurched forward in his seat. “We must help her!”

  “First things first, Mister Reiner,” the chief stated sternly while holding up a hand as if signaling for Roofy to back off, “you need to calm down or the only place you are going is back into an eight-by-ten. We understand each other?”

  Frustrated, the big Russian slumped in his seat, trying his best to quell his anxiousness. A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked to see Laura staring back at him. Although her face offered no expression, there was a reassurance there that Roofy could feel from her contact. He took a deep breath and leaned back. “Da. I am okay.”

  “Now, this supposed murderer and kidnapper has advised us that he is willing to turn himself in and deliver the girl to us, but he will only do so if you and Detective Stenks agree to meet him alone,” Chief Epps said.

  “I will do this,” Roofy said, concentrating over his rising anticipation to use the correct wording. “I am willing to cooperate in any way.”

  “I already explained to the chief that you would go along with this, and I have vouched for your assistance,” Laura added.

  “Be that as it may,” Chief Epps said, leaning back in the cracked leather chair, “I hope you understand why I am reluctant to go along with this. We still have a lot of unanswered questions that you need to address, and we spent a lot of time and manpower trying to track you down in the first place. It won’t be easy to explain that I let you walk right back out the door to help save the life of a girl tha
t is already dead.”

  “She is not dead,” Roofy said with obvious concern.

  “So I’ve been led to believe,” the chief replied, an air of disbelief still in his voice.

  “She needs help. I need to go to her. Let me do this, and I will answer all the questions you have,” Roofy added.

  “Sir,” Laura broke in, “we’ve already discussed this. Despite your feelings on the state the Kysta girl may be in, we cannot afford to not follow through on this lead. If we don’t and more women are killed and the press finds out we could have prevented it, we’re all going to be stuck in a shit storm. That’s on us.”

  Holding up his hands, the chief took a deep breath, “I recall our conversation, Detective. I’m old but not that far gone yet.” Tapping his fingers against each other, the commanding officer paused in contemplation before beginning again. “If we are going to do this, we are going to do it my way, though.”

  The chief outlined his plan, which began with the unidentified caller only providing the location of the meeting to Laura and Roofy and only when the two of them were in route, and he was insistent that no other law enforcement come. In order to counter their lack of information on the subject’s whereabouts and their ability to be sufficiently prepared in advance of the meeting, officers were working at the moment to outfit Laura’s car with a tracker. Using GPS, she and Roofy would be tagged by the department, with additional unmarked support units no more than five miles from them at any time.

  Upon arriving at the drop spot, the two of them were to meet with the unsub and confirm that the girl was there, in whatever capacity that her body could be there. At that point, Laura would give the signal, and the supporting forces would cordon off and storm the area.

  “At no time, Mister Reiner, are you to do anything other than follow Detective Stenks’ orders,” The chief instructed. “No engaging this man. No attempting to make a getaway. Despite what the detective here has promised me about your good behavior, should you try anything outside the lines or, God help you, instigate or allow any harm to fall upon my officer, I will personally use the full resources and weight of this department to hunt you down like a dog.”