Charlotte received word a couple weeks later that her only sibling, her brother, had been found dead, murdered in the same way. He was in California. In the United States. Far from France. Far from her. He'd left behind his business and his daughter, three-year-old Lourdes. Lourdes' mother had died in childbirth, leaving Charlotte's brother to raise her. Now it was up to Charlotte. Genevieve had decided to come with Charlotte to California. Whoever was after the two of them was in the States, and Genevieve wanted to find them.
Genevieve laid her hand over Charlotte's. "I know Lourdes is your first priority. She's mine as well. She's a beautiful little girl and obviously traumatized by what she saw. Her nightmares wake me up and I'm not even in the same house."
Charlotte knew Genevieve wasn't exaggerating. Genevieve always knew whenever Lourdes had nightmares, even if she wasn't staying with them. At those times, she always called to make certain the child was all right. Lourdes had been present when her father had been murdered. The killer had left the child alive and sitting beside her slain father. She'd been alone in the house with his body for several hours before he was found by the child's nanny, Grace Parducci, a woman who had gone to school with Charlotte and had known her brother and his wife.
"The police aren't any closer to solving the murders, Charlie. Not here and not in France. Lourdes is in danger, just as much as we are. Maybe more." Genevieve leaned her chin onto the heel of her hand as she hitched her chair closer to Charlotte's in order to be heard above the music. "I've been thinking a lot about this and how it all got started. What we did to draw some crazy person's attention."
Charlotte nodded. She'd been thinking about it as well. What else could she think about? Both of them had lost every family member with the exception of little Lourdes. Charlotte didn't want to lose her, and lately, in spite of taking every precaution, she hadn't felt safe. At. All. Grace had reported being followed and feeling as though someone was watching her as well.
Charlotte knew there was a part of her that had come with Genevieve to the nightclub in an effort to try to draw the murderer out. She'd certainly come prepared. She had weapons on her. Several. Most unconventional, but she had them. She honestly didn't know if the men stalking them were the same ones that had murdered her brother, but it seemed likely.
Charlotte wasn't the type of woman to run from her enemies, and it upset her to think her brother's murderer was going free--that he or she was trying to terrorize them. No, not trying. She was terrified for Lourdes. She had no idea why the little girl had been left alive, but she wasn't taking any chances with her. Coming to the nightclub without her was a chance to draw the killer out without endangering Lourdes.
"That stupid psychic center we went to together for testing," Charlotte murmured. "It gave me the creeps."
Genevieve nodded. "Exactly. The Morrison Center. We went for a lark and it wasn't in the least bit fun. They got interested in us way too fast and kept asking very personal questions. When we left, I thought we were followed."
Charlotte had thought so as well. The testing site had been a little hole in the wall but in a high-traffic area, so neither thought anything of it. They both often said they were "psychic" and thought it would be so much fun to go in and test, just like having their palms read. Something fun to do. It hadn't turned out to be so fun.
Charlotte looked into Genevieve's green eyes and saw the same pain she was feeling reflected there. Who could have known that something they'd done on a whim would have such horrific consequences? It was like that with them. They both thought along the same lines, knew what the other was thinking.
"Ever since going there, I feel like we're being watched," Genevieve said. "And not in a good way. When we were still in France, before Grandmere was murdered, a couple of men asked me out and I got this really creepy vibe from them. When they talked I just kept having the image of the testing center crop up in my mind and I couldn't help associating them with it."
Charlotte nodded her understanding. The same thing had happened to her more than once. And then the murders happened. Since then, they'd been much more careful. No dates. No fun. No strangers in their lives. Charlotte ran her brother's cabinet-making business, and she did a little art restoration on the side, but she hadn't really been working at her own business for months. Not since she'd returned to the United States.
"What are we going to do, Charlie?" Genevieve asked. "I can't live like this for much longer. I know I should be grateful I'm alive, that we're alive, and I don't want to do anything that might endanger Lourdes, but I feel like I'm suffocating."
Charlotte knew how she felt. "We've taken the first step by coming here. We weren't all that quiet about it either, Vieve. We've attracted a lot of attention. Those men, the ones who keep asking us to dance, they give off that creepy testing vibe to me. What about to you? And do they look familiar to you? I swear I've seen them before. I think in France."
Genevieve followed Charlotte's gaze to the three men who had continuously asked them to dance and sent drinks to their table. They winked and flirted and stayed close all night. They were good dancers. They'd asked other women and Charlotte had watched them. All three knew what they were doing on a dance floor. All three were exceptionally good looking. They seemed like men who frequented the dance club and picked up their share of women there. Still, there was something off about them.
"Same here. The one named Vince, Vince Tidwell, touches me with one finger every time he gets close enough. He just runs it over my skin. Instead of giving me any kind of cool shiver, I get the creeps and the image of the testing center is right there in my mind. I keep telling myself we tested in France, so would they really follow us here? But I'm fairly certain they did."
"So maybe we should leave and then wait for them outside and try to follow them," Charlotte suggested. "Lourdes is safe for tonight. I've called half a dozen times and Grace assures me all is quiet on the home front. We could track them tonight and find out where they're staying and who they really are. Maybe we'll find out what they want from us."
Genevieve's vivid green eyes lit up. "Absolutely. I need to do something to make me feel like I'm not sitting on my thumbs just waiting for someone to murder me. I have to do something positive to help myself."
Charlotte nodded. She knew better. She had Lourdes. Responsibilities. One huge responsibility. She'd always been adventuresome. She pursued her dreams with wide-open arms, rushing headlong where others were afraid to go. She hadn't stayed home with her brother. She'd worked hard from the time she was very young so she could finance her trip to France, where she'd always wanted to go. She'd learned French early, and worked hard at it until she could speak like a native. She'd left behind her brother and only come back to help him when his wife died. And then she'd left again.
"Selfish," she murmured aloud. "I've always been selfish, doing the things I wanted to do. I want to go after them too, Vieve. I swear I do." She had to put her mouth close to Genevieve's ear to be heard over the music. She wasn't the type of woman to hide in a house with the covers over her head, but what was the right thing to do? She honestly didn't know.
"Lourdes would be a lot safer if we figured this out, Charlie," Genevieve pointed out.
She wasn't saying anything Charlotte hadn't already told herself, but she still didn't know if she was making excuses to jump into action because she wanted to justify taking the fight and shoving it right down the throat of their enemy.
Charlotte made up her mind. She couldn't just keep hiding. It wasn't in her character, and Genevieve was so right--Lourdes needed to settle into a normal life. They couldn't keep moving and trying to cover their tracks. "Let's do it then, Vieve. We can follow them and see if we can find out what they're up to. You can't look like you, though. You draw way too much attention."
Charlotte risked another quick look at the three men. The one named Daniel Forester appeared to be the leader. His two friends definitely deferred to him. He was tall and good looking, and he knew it. H
e was staring at her even as he danced with another woman. The woman looked up at him with absolute worship and he was ignoring her to look at Charlie.
She raised an eyebrow at him to let him know she thought he was being rude. He grinned at her as if they shared a secret. "He is an arrogant prick," she hissed.
"So are his friends. Players. All three of them," Genevieve said. "They know they look good and they use their looks to pick up women."
Charlotte couldn't help it; she laughed softly, breaking the stare with Danny to look at her best friend. Genevieve was in full makeup and looked like a runway model. "Seriously? We're really getting bad here, Vieve. We both know we look good and we came here hoping for a little fun."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Charlie," Genevieve protested, all haughty. "I look like this all the time. Waking up, I look like this."
Charlotte blew her a kiss. "Truthfully, you do look like that when you wake up. It makes me sick."
"Uh-oh, here they come. They're bringing drinks. Vince and his friend Bruce at your nine o'clock. They're carrying one for their friend Danny as well." Genevieve lowered her voice until Charlotte could barely make out what she was saying over the music.
Both women plastered on smiles as the two men toed chairs around and sat at their table without asking.
"I know you must have missed us," Bruce Van Hues said. "So we came bearing gifts." He put the drinks down in front of them, flashing them smiles as if that would convince them he was merely joking.
"Pined away," Charlotte said. "Could hardly breathe without you."
Vince laughed, nudging Genevieve playfully with his shoulder before pulling his chair very close to hers, making a show of claiming her. Charlotte saw Genevieve's eyes darken from her normal vivid emerald green to a much deeper forest green, like moss after a rain. That was always, always a bad sign with her best friend. Genevieve had a bit of a temper. She flashed hot and wild, but it never lasted long. Charlotte could hold a mean grudge. She wasn't happy about it, but if she was honest, she could. For a long time.
Charlotte knew Vince was genuinely attracted to Genevieve. Most men were. She was gorgeous. But she was fairly certain the three men had followed them to the club. They hadn't just picked them out of the crowd of women. Four stories' worth of women. Many were beautiful; most were hungry, looking to take someone home. Genevieve and Charlotte had made it clear to the trio of men several times that they weren't there for a casual hookup. That hadn't deterred them in the least.
Danny sauntered over, pulled out the chair beside Charlotte's and dropped into it. "I think I've done my duty for the night." He picked up the drink in front of Charlotte, grinned at her and took a sip. "You haven't done yours, though, woman. You've hardly danced at all. Think of all the disappointment that's caused so many men."
Charlotte shook her head, flashing a small smile at him. He really thought he was charming. He pushed the drink toward her and she deliberately wrapped her fingers around the glass, automatically finding the exact spots where his fingers had touched as she lifted it to her mouth and tipped some of the contents down her throat. The jolt hit her like it always did when she opened herself up to a psychic connection. Her mind tunneled and she found herself in the void, looking at the fresh memories of the men who had touched the glass before her.
The bartender first. His touch was imprinted there. He was worried about his mother and didn't like his father. He wanted a raise and was very tired of drunken women coming on to him. He wished he could come out openly and declare he preferred men, but his father had made it clear if he did so, it would ruin his family and he would be disowned. The bartender wished he had the guts to tell his father to go to hell and just walk away from his family instead of living a lie.
Charlotte felt bad for the man and risked a quick look in the direction of the bar. There were too many bodies dancing to the music to see the actual bar, and she knew she was putting off the inevitable--allowing herself to "read" Danny's memories. Quick flashes of horror movies pushed at her vision. A stake driven into a man's chest. Blood erupting, spraying like a fountain. The victim's eyes wide open, revealing shock and terrible suffering. Danny swinging a hammer to drive the stake deep. Voices urging him on. Distaste for the task but determination.
Charlotte gasped and let go of the glass, leaping up, knocking her chair over in the process as she backed away from the table. Not a horror movie. Reality. She couldn't breathe for a moment, couldn't catch a breath. There was no air in the room. He had done that. Had killed a human being by driving a stake through the man's heart. Vince had been there. So had Bruce. She recognized their voices.
She was aware of the men standing, of Genevieve grasping her arm. Danny's fingers settled around her neck, pushing her head down, afraid she would faint. His touch only made matters worse. She didn't get anything off human beings, only objects, but she imagined she was right there, watching him hammer a stake through a man's heart. Torturing him while he was conscious. The idea of it made bile rise and she pushed one hand over her mouth.
"I'm going to be sick," she whispered.
Genevieve caught her around the waist and began moving her away from Danny and the others, toward the restrooms. "What is it, Charlie?" she whispered. "What did you see?"
"He killed a man." Charlotte choked the words out. "Tonight. Before they came here. He drove a stake through his heart while the man was alive. Awake. The other two were with him. And then they came here, drinking. Dancing. Laughing."
Genevieve stopped right outside the ladies' room and glanced over her shoulder. "They're watching us, Charlie. Let's get inside, out of sight."
Charlotte nodded. She had to pull herself together. "It was just a shock. They killed a man and then came here to dance." She let Genevieve lead her into the ladies' room. "Or pick up women."
"Specifically us," Genevieve pointed out. "I get the vibe off of them that they're totally targeting us. Not just any woman. They certainly had their choice. Several women made it clear they'd be willing to go home with them tonight, but they keep coming back to us." She glanced around the crowded ladies' room and lowered her voice even more. "Do you think they could possibly be the ones who murdered your brother and my grandmother?"
Charlotte frowned and forced herself to quit leaning on Genevieve. Her stomach still churned, but she had it under control now. "I'm sorry, Vieve--it was just so shocking. I let go before I could get any more. I shouldn't have, although the murder was so fresh that it probably would have covered everything else." She rubbed the frown off her mouth and sent Genevieve a wry halfhearted smile. "I panicked. I've never done that before in my life. It just goes to show what happens when you have a child. You get soft."
"What are we going to do, Charlie?"
Charlotte took a deep breath and then squared her shoulders. "We're going to get as much information as possible in as little time as possible and then we'll leave. See if they follow us. If I can figure out the location of the body, I can call in an anonymous tip to the cops and name them as the murderers."
"You want to go back to the table and sit with them?" Genevieve asked, her eyes wide with shock.
Charlotte nodded. "We can't let on that we're onto them. We have to just play it off like I was suddenly sick or something. I'll think of an explanation."
Genevieve took a breath and then slowly nodded. "Okay. I can do that if you can. But let's leave as soon as possible."
"Agreed. We'll have to get out in front of them and then find a way to watch to see if they try to follow us out. Turning the tables on them is going to be dangerous, Vieve. If they're following us, then they want something. Murdering that man has to be connected."
Genevieve swallowed hard. "Did you recognize him? Was it someone we know?"
Charlotte tried to focus on the murdered man. He'd been about forty. Dark hair. His face had been twisted with pain. His eyes alive with terror and excruciating agony. She would see those eyes in her sleep. She shook her head, trying
to still the shudder that ran through her body. "I don't know. He looks vaguely familiar. It's possible he was on Matt's crew. My brother had a lot of employees. When I sold the company, some of them were laid off and they were angry. I got a lot of threats." She ran her hand through her thick hair. "I just can't place him. He looked . . . terrified. In so much pain. I don't understand what they were doing to him."
"They drove a stake through his heart? You mean like they do to vampires in movies?" Genevieve asked. "Because when Grandmere and your brother were murdered, the blood was drained from their bodies and their throats were torn. Someone might interpret that as being killed by a vampire."
Charlotte's eyebrows shot up. "Now we're really getting outside the realm of possibility and into the realm of complete fantasy."
"I didn't say there are vampires, only that someone nutty might think there are." Genevieve sighed. "Okay, I'll admit, when I saw Grandmere, for a moment I entertained the idea that there were such things."
Charlotte put her arm around her friend in an effort to comfort her. "I'm sorry, honey. I know that was horrible for you. Anyone would have thought the same after seeing her like that. Let's hope there isn't any such thing out there like a real vampire, because the way our luck has been going, it would be after us." She tried for a little levity, although with the bile still forming a knot in her throat, she didn't feel in the least like laughing.
Danny, Vince and Bruce, the three handsome men who had spent the evening flirting with every woman in the place and with Genevieve and Charlotte in particular, were vicious, cold monsters. She took a step toward the door.
Genevieve caught her arm. "Wait. Wait just a minute, Charlie, and let me rethink this. I know I was the one pushing for us to get out of hiding and try to find whoever murdered your brother and my grandmother, but maybe I was wrong to make us a target. These men clearly are murderers, and if you don't think they're the same ones who killed our families, then we shouldn't draw their attention any more than we already have."