Playing Their Parts

“True.” Her partner nodded. He looked at Amelia. “Then what?”

“After The Beast left, I waited in the closet for a long time until I was sure he wasn’t coming back. Then I snuck out and checked the girl’s pulse, even though I was pretty sure she was…was dead.” Amelia grabbed for some paper towels and blotted her wet face. “And then I got my phone and called you guys—the police, I mean.”

“And here we are,” Cassie said and sighed. “All right, Amelia—can you think of anything else to tell us?”

“I don’t think so.” The girl shook her head. “But can you tell me how long this will take to clean up?” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I mean, I feel sorry for that poor girl but my parents are going to be coming back from the airport in a couple of hours. Do you think you can get it all cleaned up and taken away by then?”

“Cleaned up and taken away?” Cassie echoed, frowning. The girl really didn’t know which end was up, did she?

“Yeah,” Amelia said earnestly. “So my mom and dad don’t find out what happened. They’d ground me for like, the rest of my life, if they knew I let Frank and The Beast into the house to make porn!”

“Amelia, your house is now a crime scene,” Cassie said, trying to make her understand. “The Medical Examiner will take the body away but everything else has to stay like it is while we work on the case and try to catch The Beast.”

“You mean you’re not going to clean it up?” Amelia’s eyes went wide. “But…but my mom and dad…”

“Are going to find out one way or another,” Stone growled. He leaned forward and pointed a finger in Amelia’s face. “And you should consider yourself lucky that it isn’t you hanging there with a broken neck! Your reckless behavior was extremely dangerous. Your parents should grind you for the rest of your life, for your foolish disregard for safety.”

“The word is ground,” Cassie corrected him, half amused. Amelia began to cry again and she patted the girl on the shoulder. “Don’t touch anything in there—it’s all evidence. And if you think of anything else, call me.” She dug a card out of her pocket and pressed it into Amelia’s hand.

Amelia started sobbing in earnest.

“What am I gonna do when my mom and dad find out about all this?”

“Tell them the truth,” Stone growled. “They will find it out anyway. Maybe they will go easier on you if you tell them. Although if you were my daughter…”

He shook his head, letting the words hang balefully in the air.

“One more thing,” Cassie said to her. She was scrolling through the pictures and the contract on the girl’s phone, sending all the pertinent images to her own device. “I see an address for Frank Yarrow, The Beast’s manager, on the contract you all signed. Do you know if that’s his home or an office somewhere?”

“I…I think it’s his house.” Amelia swiped at her swollen eyes with a wad of paper towels. “He told me I could find him there if I ever wanted to…to work for him.” Her blotchy face went even redder as she spoke.

“Meaning if you wanted to do pornography?” Stone demanded, glaring at her. “Did he not know you were underage?”

“Sure.” Amelia nodded, as she shrank back from his intimidating glare. “But he said there was a, uh, big market for underage porn. Of course I would never…”

“I certainly hope not,” Cassie said, frowning at her. Though she had a feeling that once Amelia’s parents found out what their teenaged daughter had been up to, she would never leave the house again—let alone wander over to Frank Yarrow’s place to do porn.

“My mom and dad are gonna be so angry.” Amelia was starting to cry again.

“They should be,” Stone told her, frowning.

Cassie sighed and patted the girl’s shoulder.

“Call me if you think of anything else,” she told her again.

And with a final pat on her shoulder, they left Amelia crying in the kitchen, no doubt wondering how her parents would punish her once they found out she’d rented out their house as a porn studio and turned it into a crime scene into the bargain.

Eight

“I think I know our next stop,” Cassandra remarked as she slid into the passenger’s side seat. “You want to see if our friendly neighborhood porn producer is home?”

“Give me Yarrow’s address,” Stone growled. He was so angry his jaw was almost too tight to talk. Seeing the crime scene was bad, but hearing exactly how the atrocities he had witnessed had happened was even worse. Also, the Live Ink tattoo seemed like yet another indication that the perp really was a Kindred—or some kind of alien that looked exactly like a Kindred. But what other species looked so exactly like Stone’s own? With his black hair and golden eyes, the murderer was the spitting image of a Beast Kindred.