"I would have. Someday."
"But not soon enough, obviously. I waited too long, and look what happened. Aroooooo."
"You're drunk, Fang."
"But that makes my pain no less real, Samantha Moon. I loved you like no other, and you tossed me aside for your doggie toy. The least you could do was turn me, to make me like you, to help ease the pain."
"You're trying to manipulate me, to make me feel guilty, Fang, and that's a shitty thing to do."
"It's nothing but the truth, Moon Dance."
"Get some sleep, Fang."
Indeed, his eyes were dropping fast. He turned on his side and wrapped an arm around himself and I saw something disturbing at his wrists. Fresh wounds. Bite marks. Had he been biting himself again? I didn't know.
I stared down at Fang, a man I legitimately cared for and loved on some level. A man for whom I had no answers. That he was miserable, there was no doubt. That he loved me in his own way, I had no doubt either.
What I should do about it all, I still didn't know.
Soon after he was snoring loudly into one of the couch cushions, I decided to follow up on a hunch.
I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door.
Chapter Forty
I was looking down from a roof top, watching the Fullerton Playhouse below.
It was windy up here, and my light jacket flapped wildly. Too wildly. I think I was losing weight. A steady diet of blood will do that to you.
I was kneeling on the roof's corner, four stories up. Directly below me was a bank. Why a bank needed four floors, I hadn't a clue. Sure as hell wasn't to store my money. So far there was no movement below, although I had spotted something very interesting in the alley behind the theater.
A blue cargo van.
I waited and watched. Other than the van, the theater looked empty. There was no movement. No lights. It was well past time for any rehearsals and any cleaning crews.
I decided not to make a move, unless something prompted me to. I was here for one reason only: to keep an eye on the theater, should the shit hit the fan. Or should someone get tipped off about the police raid.
So far, all was quiet.
My cell phone chimed. A text message. I glanced at the screen. A text message from Danny.
Thanks, Sam! They didn't come back to collect from me. Whatever you did, I owe you one.
"You owe me two, loser," I whispered, and erased his message.
I was dressed in jeans and the aforementioned light jacket. There had been an old fire escape that I had managed to grab onto. Now, I waited and watched. Just another mom with two kids, waiting on the roof of a bank building for a serial killer to emerge from his creepy theater.
Perhaps an hour later my cell vibrated.
I picked up on the first vibration which, I think, was the equivalent to a single ring. It was, of course, Detective Sherbet.
"Mason wasn't there," he said.
"Go figure," I said. "Anything turn up?"
"Nothing yet, but my guys are working on it. If there's a blood stain anywhere, they'll find it."
"Except if he's as good at killing as I suspect, then there's not going to be any evidence at his home."
"What are you saying, Sam?"
"He kills at the theater, Detective. You know that, I know that. He kills and drains and bottles his victims' blood all at the theater."
"A blood factory."
"Or a slaughtering house. A human slaughtering house."
"Jesus, Sam." Sherbet paused. "Then why not destroy the bodies there?"
"Maybe he does. Or maybe he usually does. Maybe he ran out of room. Or maybe he's decided to make it a bit of a game."
"Jesus, Sam. I'm too old for this shit."
"We have to stop him, Detective."
Sherbet paused again, said, "We've got another missing person reported tonight. A female. Twenty-three. Last seen leaving class at Fullerton College two nights ago."
"She's there," I said, with a surety that wasn't psychic. It was my gut. My investigator's instincts. "The son-of-a-bitch has her. And my bet is she's somewhere behind that door."
"We can't just go in there, Sam."
"Perhaps you can't, but I can."
"Sam, wait."
"What?"
He exhaled loudly and if I truly wanted to I could have followed his entire train of thought. Instead, I gave him his privacy, let him work this out on his own. Finally, after exhaling again, he said, "I'm coming with you."
"Welcome aboard, Detective."
Chapter Forty-one
We met behind the theater.
Sherbet was wearing jeans and a leather jacket that barely covered his roundish mid-section. He was also sporting dark-leather shoes that looked like a cross between running shoes and hiking shoes. I knew he was packing heat, and the truth was, I felt better having him here. Sherbet exuded an aura of control and security. More so than any man I'd ever met, even Kingsley.
I might be a creature of the night who has faced my share of monsters, but sneaking into the dragon's lair alone just sounded like one hell of a shitty way to spend an evening.
The alley parking lot was empty, with only a single spotlight shining down on the back door. A sticker claimed that there was an alarm system in use, but we were about to see. I doubted there was. If this place was what I thought it was, then I doubted Mr. Robert Mason ever wanted the police anywhere near the premises. If anything, he would handle the intruders himself.
Not to mention, Mason had help. Two goons had shown up at my house and neither had been Mason, I was sure of it. Three against two. I liked our chances.
I doubted Hanner was directly involved in the production of the blood. She seemed more refined than that. She seemed...better than that. What her connection was, exactly, I didn't know.
But I was going to find out.
I was the first to try the door. Locked, of course. I turned the lever a little harder, and it broke free in my hand. "It's not really breaking in," I said, holding up the broken handle. "If the door is broken, right?"
Sherbet shook his head and eased his bulk around me. As he did so, I had a momentary whiff of Old Spice and sweat, which, for me, was one hell of a heady mixture. "We're not breaking in," he growled, as he broke in. "This is an emergency search. There's a young woman missing, and he's our only suspect. I'm sticking to that story until the day I die."
"Sounds good to me."
He removed his Smith & Wesson from his shoulder holster. "C'mon."
The hallway was pitch black to anyone but me. To me, it was alive and alight. Sherbet reached into a pocket and removed a small flashlight that had a lot of umph to it, revealing a narrow hallway with a door to either side.