Larry walked up to us. His face was the color of yellow-green tissue paper. It clashed with his red hair. His eyes were red-rimmed where his eyes had teared while he threw up. If it's violent enough, sometimes you cry while you vomit.
I didn't ask Larry if he was okay; the answer was too obvious. But he was on his feet, ambulatory. If he didn't faint, he'd be fine.
"What do you want from me, Sergeant?" I asked. I'd been more than patient. For me, I'd been downright conciliatory. Dolph would be proud. Bert would have been amazed.
She crossed her arms over her stomach. "I let Sergeant Storr talk me into letting you see the crime scene. He said you were the best. According to the newspapers, you just do a little magic and figure it all out. Or maybe you can just raise the dead and ask them who killed them."
I took a deep breath and let it out. I didn't use magic to solve crimes, as a general rule; I used knowledge, but saying so would be defending myself. I didn't need to prove anything to Freemont. "Don't believe everything you read in the papers, Sergeant Freemont. As for raising the dead, it won't work with these three."
"Are you telling me you can't raise zombies, either?" She shook her head. "If you can't help us then go home, Ms. Blake."
I glanced at Larry. He gave a small shrug. He still looked shaky. I don't think he had the energy yet to tell me to behave myself. Or maybe he was as tired of Freemont as I was.
"I could raise them as zombies, Sergeant, but you have to have a mouth and a working throat to talk with."
"They could write it down," Freemont said.
It was a good suggestion. It made me think better of her. If she was a good cop, I could put up with a little hostility. As long as I never had to see another set of bodies like the ones below, I could put up with a lot of hostility.
"Maybe, but the dead often lose higher brain function faster after a traumatic death. They might not be able to write, but even if they could, they might not know what killed them."
"But they saw it," Larry said. His voice sounded hoarse, and he coughed gently behind his hand to clear it.
"None of them tried to run away, Larry. Why?"
"Why are you asking him?" Freemont said.
"He's in training," I said.
"Training? You brought a trainee in on my murder case?"
I stared up at her. "I don't tell you how to do your job. Don't tell me how to do mine."
"You haven't done a damn thing yet. Except for your assistant throwing up in the bushes."
An unhealthy flush crept up Larry's neck. Embarrassed when he was almost too nauseated to stand.
"Larry wasn't the only one upchucking in the weeds, just the only one without a badge." I shook my head. "We don't need this shit." I brushed past Freemont. "Come on, Larry."
Larry followed, obedient to the last.
"I don't want any of this leaked to the press, Ms. Blake. If the media gets hold of it, I'll know where it came from." She wasn't yelling, but her voice carried.
I turned. I wasn't yelling either, but everyone could hear me. "You have an unknown preternatural creature that uses a sword, and is faster than a vampire."
Something flickered across her face, like maybe I'd finally done something interesting. "How do you know it's faster than a vampire?"
"None of the boys tried to get away. All of them died where they stood. Either it's faster, or it has some amazing mind control."
"It's not a lycanthrope, then?"
"Even a lycanthrope isn't that fast, and they don't have the ability to cloud men's minds. If a lycanthrope came in there with a sword, the boys would have screamed and run. There would have at least been signs of a struggle."
Freemont just stood there looking. It was a very serious look, like she was weighing and measuring me. She still wasn't happy with me, but she was listening.
"I can help you, Sergeant Freemont. I can help you figure out what did this, maybe, before it does it again."
Her quiet, confident mask crumbled around the edge for a second. If I hadn't been staring at her neutral brown eyes, I'd have missed it.
"Shit," I said, loud. I walked back over to her and lowered my voice. "That's it, isn't it? These aren't the first killings."
She glanced down at the ground, then met my eyes, jaw sort of thrust forward. Her eyes weren't neutral now; they were just a little bit scared. Not for herself, but for what she'd done, or not done.
"The State Highway Patrol can handle a homicide." Her voice was the gentlest I'd heard it.
"How many?" I asked.
"Two before. A couple of teenagers, boy and a girl. Probably necking in the woods." Her voice was soft, almost tired.
"What's the M.E. say?"
"You're right," she said. "It was a blade, probably a sword. The monsters don't use weapons, Ms. Blake. I thought it was the girl's ex-boyfriend. He's got a collection of Civil War memorabilia, including swords. It seemed pretty cut-and-dried."
I nodded. "Sounds logical."
"None of his swords matched the blows, but I thought he'd ditched the murder weapon. I didn't think..." She looked away from me, hands shoved so hard into her pants pockets I thought they'd split the cloth. "The first scene wasn't like this. They were killed with the first blow; it pinned them through the chest into the ground. A human being could have done that." She looked back at me as if wanting me to agree with her. I did.
"Were their bodies cut up beyond the death wound?"
She nodded. "Disfigured faces, her left hand missing. The one that had worn the ex-boyfriend's ring."
"Were their throats cut?"
She frowned, thinking, then nodded. "Hers was. Not much blood either, like it'd been done after she died."
My turn to nod. "Great."
"Great?" Larry asked.
"I think you've got a vampire on your hands, Sergeant Freemont."
They both frowned at me. "Look at the body parts that are missing. The legs of the one boy were cut off after he died. The femoral artery is in the thigh near the groin. I've seen vamps take blood from that in preference to the neck. Cut off the legs, and no fang marks."
"What about the other two?" Freemont asked.
"Maybe the smallest boy was bitten. His neck was sliced twice for no reason. Maybe it was just a little extra violence like the disfigurement of the face. I don't know. But a vamp can take blood from the wrist, the bend of the arm. All parts that are missing."
"One of their brains is missing," Freemont said.
Larry swayed gently beside me. He wiped a hand over his suddenly sweating face.
"You going to be alright?" I asked.
He nodded, not trusting his voice. Brave Larry.
"What better way to throw us off the track than to take something a vamp wouldn't be interested in?" I said.
"Okay, say it makes some sense. Why this way? This is..." She spread her hands wide, staring down at the carnage. She was the only one of the three of us still looking at it. "This is nuts. If it was human, I'd say we had a serial killer on our hands."
"We may have," I said softly.
Freemont stared at me. "What the hell do you mean?"
"A vampire was a person once. Just being dead doesn't cure you of any problems you had as a live human being. If you have a violent pathology before death, that won't change just because you're dead."
Freemont looked at me like I was the one who was crazy. I think it was the word "dead" that was bothering her. Once her suspects were dead, they weren't suspects anymore. I tried again. "Say Johnny is a serial killer. He becomes a vampire. Why should being a vampire make him suddenly less violent? Why not more violent?"
"Oh, my God," Larry said.
Freemont took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out slow. "Okay, maybe you're right. I'm not saying you are. I've seen pictures of vampire victims and they don't look like this, but if you are, what do you need from me?"
"The pictures from the first crime scene. And a look at where it happened."
"I'll send the file to your hotel," she said.
"Where was the couple killed?"
"Just a few hundred yards from here."
"Let's go take a look."
"I'll have one of the troopers take you over," she said.
"This is a damn small geographic area. I assume you searched it."