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  I rested my hand on her shoulder as I headed behind the counter toward the door. “Something will come up. I’m sure of it. Meanwhile, if you need any help, just let me know.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.” Wren looked over her shoulder at me. “I know it will work out, but the waiting is the hardest. And not knowing how far the disease will progress.”

  As I entered the main office, Tad was riffling through a stack of papers. Caitlin was poring over a book, and Hank was typing away, entering a date into the mainframe. I held up the bag of pastries.

  “Doughnuts for everybody, thanks to Louise. Make sure Wren gets one,” I said. I arranged the doughnuts on a tray before setting it on the meeting table.

  “Oh, yummy,” Caitlin said. “So, I assume you got the blueprints, judging by that tube under your arm?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but nobody spill anything on them because I borrowed them from my contractor. It was either that or wait for a few days and pay a fee at city hall.” I slipped out of my jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then slid my purse into my bottom right drawer of my desk. Then, after handing the tube of blueprints to Hank, I moved the doughnuts to my desk so they wouldn’t mess up the paper. As he laid them out, I leaned in, trying to make heads or tails out of them. Hank started with the prints for the main floor, since that was our first area of concern.

  “Well, right off the bat, I can tell there were alterations—is this the original plan?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it is, here’s the date in the corner—1956, June.” Tad scanned the blueprints. “Do you see anything to indicate the hidden basement?”

  I shook my head. In the storage room, there didn’t appear to be anything out of place…except… “Wait. There’s enough space between the back wall of the storage room and the wall of the utility room to hide a closet or something. It might just be dead space, but we should check there. Having already found two unexpected hidden areas, I wouldn’t be surprised to find more.” It was then that I realized I had forgotten to look up who owned the house before my parents. “Hold on, I made a mistake this morning,” I said. “I forgot to check on who owned the house before my folks.”

  “Let me see if I can find out,” Hank said, heading over to the computer. “I’m good at worming my way into places.” His fingers flying over the keys, he was immediately absorbed in the task.

  Wren came in at that moment. “There’s someone here to talk to you, January.” She looked nervous.

  “Have a doughnut. Who is it?”

  “Daniel Ashante.” She picked up a pumpkin spice doughnut and bit into it.

  “Daniel Ashante? What the hell does he want?” I frowned, wondering why he was here.

  Daniel was a powerful shifter—though I wasn’t sure what kind—who worked as the administrative assistant to Val Slater, the most powerful vampire in town. Val was also the leader of the Northwest Vampire Collective and he reminded me of John Travolta’s character in Pulp Fiction, in looks at least. He was a slick operator and he made me nervous, but I knew that behind the ruthless exterior, he did a lot of good for the community. He’d helped us out in ways that we could never pay back during my first case with the company. He also kept trying to pick me up. Killian and Val had almost come to blows but, thanks to me pleading with Val to back off, he had let Killian go and had withdrawn his advances.

  I glanced over at Caitlin. She knew some of the troubles I’d had with Val, more than the rest. “All right, I’ll go talk to him.”

  I slipped out to the front. Daniel was standing there, a tall, sturdily built man with blond hair slicked back into a braid. He was wearing sunglasses and what looked like a designer suit.

  “Daniel,” I said, holding out my hand. “It’s been awhile since we’ve met.”

  “Ms. Jaxson,” Daniel said, shaking my hand. That was one thing Val Slater insisted on. His minions were polite unless they were there to “take care” of a problem. “Mr. Slater asked me to issue you an invitation for dinner on the twenty-fourth. He also wanted to make certain you know this is not an invitation to a romantic assignation, so you’re welcome to bring Mr. O’Connell. He wants to talk to you about a personal matter, relating to the paranormal.”

  I stared at him. Did Val want to hire me for a case? Oh gods, what the hell was wrong that he couldn’t take care of himself? But I reassured myself that vampires didn’t necessarily have control over other creatures who were part of the spirit world. Undead weren’t part of the Unliving, and neither were they part of the ghostly world. They were in-betweens, dead, but alive in a different manner, neither through the Veil nor on our side of it.

  “Let me call Killian and ask if he can make it.” I asked him to sit down and wait while I made the phone call, and I ducked back into the main office. Everybody looked at me expectantly, but I shook my head and pulled out my phone to call Killian’s office. During the day, I never called him personally unless it was an emergency because I didn’t want to interrupt his appointments or risk interrupting a surgery.

  The receptionist recognized my voice. “Dr. Killian’s in the back right now, let me get him for you.” Killian made it a practice to have his clients and staff call him “Dr. Killian” rather than “Dr. O’Connell.”

  I waited for a moment before Killian came on the line.

  “What’s up, love? Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, more or less. Listen, Val Slater sent his hired gun—Daniel Ashante—here to invite us to dinner on the twenty-fourth. He wants to talk to me about some paranormal case or something.”

  The silence was deafening, but then he said, “I’m invited too?”

  “Yeah, I think Val has gotten the hint that if he wants to talk to me, you’re coming with me.”

  “I can think of a dozen other things I’d rather do than go to dinner with that vampire, you know.” He didn’t sound happy, but I didn’t blame him. Val could be an arrogant bastard at times, even with the good work he did in private.

  “I know. If you want, I can go alone. Or I can tell him no.” I really didn’t like pressuring him to do something he didn’t want to, but in truth, I felt safer with Killian there.

  “No, sweetie. I know what Val did for this community, and that you’re responsible for it. I’ll go. But can you make it for after seven? I’d like to go home and clean up after work that day.”

  What he was actually saying was that he wanted to make certain that he looked good enough to put Val to shame, which—in my eyes—wasn’t hard. “I’ll make it happen. Thank you. I owe you one, even though I want to go about as much as you do. But Val…he came through in a big way. I feel I owe it to him to at least hear him out. See you later. Love you.”

  I hung up and headed back out to talk to Daniel. “Hey, we’ll meet Val on the twenty-fourth at seven-thirty, if that’s good. Where does he want to have dinner?”

  “That’s fine,” Daniel said. “If you could meet him at Vino Italiano, he’ll be waiting.” With that, he nodded to me, turned, and left the office.

  Taking a deep breath, I returned to the others and entered the date on my calendar. When I straightened, my coworkers were all looking at me, waiting for an explanation.

  “Val Slater has something he wants to talk to me about. I have no idea what it is, so don’t even ask. I’ll tell you on the twenty-fifth. Killian and I are having dinner with him the night before—” I paused as Tad’s phone rang.

  As he answered, I returned to looking over the blueprints. There was no sign of the hidden basement, and from what I could see, other than the possible closet space, every inch of the house seemed to be accounted for. Tad interrupted my thoughts when he finished up with his phone call.

  “We have a problem,” he said.

  I turned around at the tone of his voice.

  “What’s going on?” Hank asked.

  “Our client Danielle van Ness? She was found dead this morning in her backyard. Her throat was slashed, and…” He paused, wincing.

  “Go on,” I
said.

  “She was eviscerated and from what it looks like, apparently all her internal organs are missing.” Tad shrugged, a bleak expression on his face. “We dropped the ball on this one, people. Because the ME said there’s absolutely no way a human could have caused that kind of damage to her body. I think the Whatcom Devil is real, and it stalked her and killed her.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The mood plunged after we found out about Danielle.

  “What should we do?” Caitlin asked.

  “I’ll call Millie and ask her if we can examine the backyard,” Tad said. He stared glumly at the floor. “I feel like we failed her.”

  “There’s no knowing just yet what killed her,” Hank said. “And even if it was this creature, we can’t act as bodyguards 24/7. There will always be a time when someone’s vulnerable, regardless of how hard everyone around them tries. But we can look into this and—if it is this creature—maybe we can catch it and dispose of it.”

  “That brings up something I wanted to ask,” I said. “Just what are we supposed to be doing? We’re investigators, but is it our job to, say, kill a monster that’s disturbing clients or threatening them? Are we merely observers, or do we go down and dirty against some of these things? I mean, so far we’ve cleared ghosts. We couldn’t do much against the creature at the asylum except try to keep people away from it. This is something that’s puzzled me since I came on board last December.”

  Tad stared at me for a moment, an impassive expression on his face. “To be honest, I don’t know if I can answer that. It’s a good question, but I don’t think we’ve ever set a firm policy on it. Let’s go over and explore Danielle’s backyard, and then we’ll talk about it. On the way back, we’ll stop at your house to see what’s down in that basement. Let’s get moving, though. We don’t want to be out in the dark for either activity.”

  We gathered our things and Hank made certain the cameras were all charged and ready to go, and then we headed out to the parking lot. Wren stayed behind to field calls and catch up on paperwork.

  “Do we want to all go in the van? It’s quicker that way,” Hank said.

  Tad nodded. “Yeah. You drive, if you would.”

  I glanced up at the sky. The clouds had firmly socked in and rain threatened. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and moisture. The humidity combined with a fifty-eight degree temperature resulted in clammy skin and I pulled my jacket tighter and zipped it up. I had finally gotten wise and bought a waterproof jacket with a hood for times when we were out in the field investigating.

  Hank and Tad rode up front, while Caitlin and I rode in the belly of the van as usual, watching the equipment. I glanced over my shoulder to the men, then glanced back at Caitlin.

  “Tad’s taking this pretty hard,” I said in a low voice.

  She nodded. “Yeah. I think it’s because he had almost bought Hank’s theory that she was either faking it or exaggerating.” She lowered her voice even more and leaned toward me. “Danielle looked like a cheerleader, and Tad’s always had a grudge against that type of woman because he was dumped really hard by his last girlfriend. She looked very much the stereotypical dumb blonde, but she was really smart, actually. He told me that she quit her job as a biochemist and did a spread for Playboy. I think he felt like she’d succumbed to the enemy camp.”

  “Did she really throw him over?” I asked, still making sure we were speaking out of earshot.

  “I think it was mutual, but he blames her life choices on them no longer being together.”

  “He has to accept that she had her own life to lead,” I said. “If he couldn’t handle the decisions she made, then that was his choice. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” I paused, then added, “I’m trying to think about how to approach Killian with the fact that I don’t want kids. If he does, then our future’s in doubt. I’m forty-one, I’m beyond the point where I’d even feel comfortable bringing a child into the world—at least for me. And I don’t want to.”

  “Don’t you think he might feel the same? He’s around your age, isn’t he?”

  I laughed. “Not exactly. He’s 120 years old. So there’s an eighty-year gap, technically. Mentally, I think we’re around the same age.”

  “Why don’t you just be honest with him? Killian strikes me as the type who would rather have you be open and up front about what you’re feeling, rather than skulking around or trying to cushion the blow.” Caitlin shrugged. “That’s just my opinion, but…”

  I shook my head. “You’re right, in that he’s pretty up front about his feelings. Well, it’s going to have to come up soon because each day I’m falling more in love with him. Even though I have no desire to get married right now, or even to move in together, I don’t want to lose him. But I’d better find out his bottom line before I get in any deeper.” I sighed, leaning back in my seat. “How goes it with your Pride and your parents?”

  Caitlin grimaced. “I’m now casta—outcast. I’ve been struck from the Pride Roll Book, and most of them have turned their backs on me. Arlo wasted no time. He’s engaged and they’re rushing through a quick wedding. He was nice enough to ask his parents not to sue mine for breach of contract and—given he was able to find a fiancée so soon—they backed down. My sister Betsy has moved into the position of eldest daughter in our family—what was my family. Which means my parents have officially disowned me. Practically nobody from the Pride will talk to me, so I really am on my own.”

  Caitlin’s Pride was harsh on their women.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “What…how do you feel about all of this?”

  “Not thrilled, but at least I’m still single. I hung out with my sisters a lot, and I miss them. One of them texts me, but she has to delete the texts right away so my father doesn’t see them. I’m trying to make new friends, but it’s not that easy.” She paused. “I really appreciate your support. This has been a rough time for me. I won’t forget it.”

  “Change is hard. I’ve been going through it too—leaving Ellison, losing my parents. I understand the ‘not easy’ part all too well.”

  The van bumped along. I glanced out the side window to see rain sheeting down. The comforting sound of drops on the roof of the van made me relax into a melancholy mood. Everything was so topsy-turvy and I was trying to figure out just where things stood. As I leaned my head back, my phone rang. It was Millie.

  “Hey, Millie. What’s up? Is this about the Danielle van Ness case?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ve got news about your skeleton. Well, not your skeleton, but…you know.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “The clothing and dental work both confirm that the dead man is Charge Maxim Briarson. But there’s another twist.”

  “Gods save us from more complications,” I said, sighing. “What is it?”

  “The blow on the back of his head appears to be made by something flat, and the pattern of the fracture looks less like a direct impact from a blunt object and more like the probability of him falling back onto something. We can’t be certain, but with the pattern of the injuries indicating the likelihood that he hit his head when he fell, the ME is uncomfortable labeling this a homicide. Therefore, he’s listing the cause of death as ‘unknown’ with a ‘likelihood of accidental nature.’ I thought you’d like to know.”

  I let out a soft breath. “What does that mean? With regards to the case?”

  “That we have no reason to investigate into whether your parents were responsible for his death,” Millie said. “The case can’t really be closed, given the unclear nature of his death, but it’s not being treated as a homicide. That doesn’t explain why he was in the trunk, though the ME said there wouldn’t be room to put a fully clothed large body in there, so it’s likely that your parents—or whoever else was around when he died—undressed him before…”

  “Before stuffing him in the trunk,” I said, opting for blunt. “You know, if he was stalking my mother, then maybe he was looking in th
eir bedroom window and fell off of a ladder. Or maybe he’d crawled up on the roof and fell and they found him. My parents might have been worried they’d be blamed for his death so…”

  “So they put him in the trunk? It’s not something I’d think likely, but at this point, it makes as much sense as anything else I can think of.”

  I paused, then asked, “What else did you find in the trunks?”

  “His clothing was in the second one, and a gun—which was registered to Charge. It was fully loaded, and we found extra ammo.”

  “If he had a gun, then…maybe he was there to hurt my mother and they managed to stop him.”

  “Possibly. I just wish they had called the police so we’d know what went on. But that was back when Roberts was the chief and he…”

  “He was corrupt,” I finished the thought. “He was notorious about accepting bribes. He may have been accepting them from the UnderLife and if Charge was part of that, then maybe my parents were afraid that they’d be framed for his death?” That idea struck a bell that resonated.

  It must have for Millie as well, because she perked up. “You might be on to something. When I get the chance I’ll do a little sleuthing. Meanwhile, let me know when you get here. The ME and I are out back.”

  “Thanks,” I said as the van stopped. “We’re arriving at the house just now.”

  I signed off and told Caitlin, Hank, and Tad about what Millie had said. “So my parents are off the hook at this point. Millie’s going to check on whether Charge might have been part of the UnderLife and if so, did that influence my parents to hide his death.” I stretched after opening the van door and stepping out.

  We were in the driveway next to a cute little cottage. One of the officers was in front near two patrol cars, and he waved for us to go on through the side yard to the back.

  The cottage had ivy growing over it, and a six-foot-tall fence surrounded the property from the side yard, around back. It looked like it followed suit on the other side of the house. Everywhere, signs of flower beds showed that Danielle had taken care of her house and yard. The cottage looked freshly painted, as well.