There were no more footsteps, but the hairs on the back of my neck rose with the awareness of another. I still couldn't smell him - or her - but he was close.
A shadow appeared in the doorway and I recognized his outline immediately. Harris.
The damn man was a bloodhound. For an instant, he looked straight at me, but there was no sign of recognition, no indication he actually realized I was there, and I frowned. Maybe the darkness and shadows were deeper than I figured.
I stayed where I was, watching him, hoping against hope he'd continue to not see me, not smell me, and would just give up and walk away.
I really should have known fate had other plans.
"I know you're here somewhere, Hanna. Come out."
I didn't move. He could have been bluffing.
"Come out, and we'll discuss your reasons for being here. If you don't, I will throw your ass in jail and bury the key."
If it had been Mike making that offer, I would have stayed where I was. But it was Harris and, for some reason, I trusted him.
I rose to my feet and stepped out of the shadows. His gaze swung around and I saw the barest flicker of surprise.
"How the fuck did you do that?"
I frowned. "Do what?"
"You weren't there. There was nothing but shadow in that corner." He stared at me. "Only vampires do stuff like that."
"I'm not a vampire." But again that ripple of doubt ran through me. I might not be a vampire, but did that blood run through me?
Yes, that inner voice said. Yes.
It was coming back. Slowly but surely, it was coming back.
"I know that." There was a sharpness in his voice that suggested annoyance, even if it didn't show in his expression. "And yet you obviously just shadowed."
"Look, I've been nothing but honest with you. I don't know who and what I am. I don't know what I can and can't do. I'm trying to uncover all that and, the minute I do, I'll let you in on the secret." I paused, my gaze searching his and once again seeing little. "How come you keep tracking me down? Have you got some sort of weird ability to sense trouble before it starts?"
"Something like that," he said, voice short. "So tell me, just how is breaking into a crime scene going to help you recover your memories?"
I gave him a thin smile. "As I've repeatedly said, Landsbury's murder reminds me of another. If I uncover his killer, maybe I'll shake loose some more clues as to how and why I was involved in investigating that other murder. And that, in turn, just might lead to a revelation about identity."
He stared at me for a minute, then said, "Did you find anything?"
I hesitated but decided I'd better be honest. If he did have some sort of psychic gift, lying would only get me in deeper trouble. And right now, I needed someone on my side.
An odd thought, given that Evin was supposedly my brother.
"There's a notebook in the bottom drawer that lists some rather chilling details about ten local girls."
The only reaction Harris had was a slight flaring of the nostrils. Yet I could feel his anger - a rush of heat that briefly seared the air.
"You placed it back exactly as you found it."
"Of course, but why - " I stopped, studying him. "You're using it as bait."
"Yes. We don't know whether his partner is in town under an alias, but if he is, then it's possible he'll know about the notebook and attempt to recover it."
"Good plan, except that I doubt the partner had anything to do with Landsbury's murder."
"No, but if we can flush him out, we can get him out of harm's way."