“Wait a minute. Are you suggesting he’s done this in several towns? You only mentioned Fort Lurrow.”
; “Other charters are working on similar cases.”
“Since when does the MC stick their noses in official police business?”
“Like it or not, we may be the only hope you have for putting this guy down.”
“And why is that, Mr. Shane?”
He didn’t flinch. “We have skills others don’t possess and I’ll leave it at that.”
The investigator within would later wonder what he’d meant by that, but she let it slide. “So this guy stumbles upon a town, enjoys a killing session, and moves on?”
“For now, we’ll go with that assumption.”
“I still don’t buy he’s a vampire. There weren’t”—she paused in reflection as she remembered the victims—“bite marks or anything to suggest their bodies had been drained.”
“Not all vampires seek blood. By definition they prey upon the living in an effort to obtain something of value to them.”
“Like what?” As much as she hated to admit it, this theory was better than any of her own.
“Athleticism, intelligence, beauty, charisma, and other traits humans take for granted.”
Pageant crossed her arms. “You had my attention at first, but you realize how farfetched this sounds. Don’t you?” When he didn’t respond, she decided to play along. “Okay, suppose you’re right. Suppose there’s this ‘vampire’ out there, and he sees me for instance. He wants my charming personality. Now what?”
“We think he hypnotizes his victims, lures them into a remote area, and further entrances them. Once they’re mesmerized, for a lack of a better term, he takes these individual entities with force and it causes their bodies to go into shock. They never recover.”
“If that’s true, then wouldn’t they have a heart attack or stroke, some sort of medical condition that would lead coroners to believe they died of natural causes?”
“One would think.”
“How do you explain that?”
“I can’t.”
“You seem to know a lot about this guy. Why? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Am I under arrest, Detective?” He was toying with her.
“Why do I get the feeling you might enjoy it if I read you your rights?”
“Why do I have the feeling you might like slapping some handcuffs around my wrists?”
“That was uncalled for.”
He shrugged. “A lot about us is uncalled for.”
About us? Why did she like the sound of that? “Care to elaborate?”
“It’s approaching midnight. You haven’t been to bed in a couple of days, yet here you sit with a perfect stranger in the middle of a deserted diner, pretending to use your investigative skills to keep the conversation moving along.” He stroked his upper lip with the tip of his tongue. “A few times you’ve shrugged those full breasts up just enough to make a man pay attention to the cleavage you apparently don’t mind to show—and it looks great by the way—and you’ve kept your eyes on mine the whole time, as if you’re afraid I might vanish—poof! Go up in smoke—if you dare to look away.”
Pageant gasped, certain this “stranger” as he’d dubbed himself had knocked the breath out of her. He was right on all counts. She couldn’t exactly deny the accusations, to contradict him would call for substantial evidence to the contrary and without a sound opposing argument, she wouldn’t waste her breath.
“Busted.”
A slow smile swept across his face. Even his eyes flickered with amusement. “What time does this place close?”