Gillian was one of the first to be paired with a man from Homeland Security, and she followed her new partner into the mansion.
He had the air of someone who spent most of their life in the military and still had the crew cut to prove it. He was perhaps in his forties and looked fit and strong, but for the slightest of limps—the kind left by a bullet.
He firmly but briefly gripped her hand in his, nodded once, and that was that. She handed him the protective items, and he put them on methodically and with care.
Once inside, her world narrowed to the man hanging on the wall, nailed to a cross painted on the pristine white wall with his blood, and it was not even the most horrific thing.
Andrew Hunter Marsden of the Manhattan Marsden's, a man whose idea of rough living was going on a fishing trip with his dad (according to his interview with some magazine), was skinned alive. The framework of muscle and sinews laid bare like those preserved cadavers in the museum that showed you how the human body functions.
His blue eyes sat exposed in his lidless sockets, and stared right at them.
Gillian shuddered.
Everyone would think that vampires had seen it and done it all, but they were mostly ordinary people. Some were nice, and others were not. Some abhorred killing and others reveled in it, but like humans, they had laws that their monarchs enforced.
This vampire was a sick piece of shit and desperately needed eradication.
"Come," Douglas ordered.
Gillian shook her head as if to shake the image from her mind, but noted that even the agent's gaze settled uneasily on the remains of what used to be a man.
***
That long day turned into two as they did what needed doing and brought their new 'partners' up to speed on what had already been done.
In the end, they filled the warehouse from end to end with their mock crime scenes. There were many people around, busily doing something or the other.
When the leaders of the joint investigations came in on Friday for an update meeting, they listened to each and their officers as they laid out and rehashed everything.
Those grave men asked very few questions, and the ones they did ask were tough and to the point.
"So basically, we gained a new crime scene, assigned sixty-three people to a fifteen-man job, and we're still nowhere?" Hector Inez worked for Homeland Security, and his men called him the numbers guy behind his back.
His whole outlook settled around the manpower, the budget, and the results.
"So what have we not done, and what did we neglect to do?" Phineas Jobs from the FBI Special Crimes Unit asked, and Senior Detective Hoight inelegantly snorted.
"Consult a psychic," Hoight muttered, and Jobs stared him down.
"If I thought it would help, I'd do it," Jobs deadpanned, and it took Gillian only a moment to realize he was entirely serious.
"With the sheer volume of evidence, one would think that there would be something, anything?" Hector stated more than he asked.
"Well, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but people watch cop shows and crime television, and you will not convince them that we have nothing. This is real life, and there are no magic answers and sudden insights leading to instant results.
"This week, people physically assaulted two of my people on the street because their faces are all over the news. We're getting blamed for this guy being a bloody genius or psychotically precise," Hoight shifted uneasily in his chair, took a sip of his coffee, and pulled a face at the cold dark brew.
"We learned why he killed the mayor. Our dear civil servant got away with a hit-and-run accident that killed two people when he was twenty simply because his parents were wealthy.
"He annihilated two kids from the wrong side of town, and no one cared because they had no one to care. Unfortunately, we can't release that information because then the city would have to explain how that got wiped under the rug.
"In the eyes of the people, our killer went from vigilante to the Boogeyman, and fear sweeps our city. If the mayor isn't safe, then who is?"
No one had anything to say as Hoight let his words sink in.
"We never accused you of incompetence, Hoight," Jobs chose to take the bull by the horns.
"Then why are my people still your flunkies, fetching coffee and doing your grunt work?" Hoight demanded, and neither man could look him in the eye.
"The public needs to see that competent people are doing the work," Grey said, representing the DA's office.
"Competent?" Hoight spat the word out as if it tasted bad and rose to his full height, resting his fists on the table, his face red with fury and indignation. "You dare call my people incompetent? You have gotten no more results than them!
"You waltz in here and take over, using our facilities and budget as if it were yours to take. You usurped my people, our skills, and our offices, bringing nothing new to the table and insult us? Yet you have done absolutely nothing to improve the situation."
Hoight was just getting warmed up to the topic when something caught his eye. She turned her head, although she was already aware of him and frowned as she took in Detective Boss as he stood at the door, his gaze dark, brow stern, mouth set, and body tense.
"What?" Hoight barked at the intrusion.
"Dana and the ME from the FBI went outside to get some equipment, and they can't be found."
The words brought the entire room to a standstill.
***
Elissa and Gillian glanced at each other and feared giving credence to their thoughts.
This was why the "Serial Killer Vigilante" brought in the circus. Their personal guard force had to be placed discreetly further away, and they had to deploy fewer of them to avoid notice. He killed the mayor to get them where it hurt. He wanted Dana, not Colt.
"It doesn't fit," someone protested and was ignored.
Hoight nodded once, and Gillian, Elissa, and the others followed him out of the room.
Strangely, some of their new 'partners' followed without the say-so of their superiors, and it took less than ten minutes to establish that Dana and Louise Kent had disappeared.
Gillian's heart ached. She had barely gotten to know Dana and kept a distance between them because the coroner was her father's eyes and ears. Despite that, she had already formed an attachment to the smart, motivated, too-observant, and sometimes irreverent redhead.
Oh no... (Version 3)
YOU ARE READING
Heritage 1: Against the Grain
VampireGillian Beaumont is not your run-of-the-mill rookie cop. She is a vampire born from an ancient line, and she ran from that life to find herself. She's trying to be an ordinary cop and to do good in a world full of wrong, but she was not born to be...
