Della had started searching for any info on Facebook and Twitter, even hit a few local online papers. She learned Lorraine had attended a New York dance school back in the summer. She even ran across several tweets with images of Lorraine’s new puppy. One of those smooshed-nosed dogs with big ears that was so ugly only a mother would love it.
Or love it until the dang puppy got turned into vampire, a cynical voice whispered in her head.
Chasing that thought from her mind, Della friended about six people who claimed to know Lorraine. Thankfully, most people will friend anyone, so that worked in Della’s favor. Within a couple of hours, Della was Facebook friends with four of Lorraine’s school buddies, too.
Della messaged them, saying she’d met Lorraine in New York last year and had just heard she’d died. There was a chance one of these people went to New York with Lorraine, and her cover would be blown. But that didn’t seem to be the case.
Three of the girls replied back over the next hour, and Della was messaging all three separately. She had three accounts of what happened to Lorraine right before the murder. Della also knew everything from Lorraine’s favorite color to the argument she’d had with her mom the night she died.
Lots of info, but nothing that helped with the case.
“What are you doing?” Kylie asked, walking into the cabin.
“Research on the case.”
“That couple?”
“Yeah,” Della said, and wondered why her curiosity didn’t extend so much for Lorraine’s boyfriend. Maybe, just being a girl, she related more with her.
“You going to dinner?” Kylie asked.
“Nah, I have some blood here.”
“Okay, but if you get lonely come on down. Some of us are going to light a campfire by the lake and roast marshmallows.”
“Sorry. I’m working the case again tonight.”
Concern flashed in Kylie’s light blue eyes. “I wish Burnett would let me go to have your back.”
Della shook her head. “You’re a protector, not an agent.”
“I thought we did pretty good at the funeral home.” Kylie started out.
“We did.” Della smiled and waved good-bye, then refocused on the screen.
Lindsey, one of the girls, finally wrote something interesting. When I first heard about the accident, I swear, I suspected Phillip did it. You know, ran them off the road or something.
Not unless he’s vampire, Della thought, and she recalled someone at the funeral talking about Phillip being Lorraine’s old boyfriend. Della typed back. Yeah, I heard they broke up. But he wasn’t that bad, was he?
Lindsey replied. Not at first he wasn’t, but once he got in that band, he got effed up. I don’t know if it was drugs or what?
Hmm, so Phillip played in a band? And got effed up. Getting turned vampire could really eff someone up. Della’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing one friend and then the next. What was Phillip’s last name? I forgot, she asked Lindsey and the other two.
Lance, Lindsey replied, being the most eager to answer questions.
Oh, yeah, now I remember, Della typed. Did you ever hear him play in his band? What was the name of that band? She messaged the same question to two of the girls, thinking it would be a place to start researching him.
Lindsey came back again. They kept changing it, but the last name before the group broke up was the Crimson Blood.
Crimson Blood? The name of the gang Chan was involved in. Chills ran down Della’s back. Could that just be a coincidence? Della recalled Burnett saying he didn’t believe in coincidences.
But how could she get to the bottom of this one? Her fingers suddenly itched from the need for more information. I never understood why Lorraine loved him so much. I think I saw a picture of Phillip once. He wasn’t even good-looking. Didn’t he have red hair?
No one answered for a few minutes. Finally, Lindsey came through again.
No, brown. Kind of hot. Had a tattoo of a skull on his neck.
Shit! Glancing up, she saw the time. She didn’t have time to get to the bottom of anything. She had to go meet Chase at the office. She considered telling Burnett what she’d learned but decided against it. She could hear Burnett scolding her that she wasn’t keeping her emotional distance from the case and reminding her how unlikely it was that a vampire killing had any direct ties to the life of the victim. But not if the victim had an ex who was a vampire.
Gotta go, Della wrote all three girls, and then headed out. She decided to Google-search the Crimson Blood band when she got back in. And then she realized, Kevin, Chan’s friend—the one who’d led her to his body—knew some of the Crimson Blood gang. She had to talk to Kevin. Maybe he could tell her if there was a Phillip Lance in the gang.
Long shot, her gut echoed back. But long or not, it was a shot, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to take it.
The boisterous voices seeping out of the bar stopped when she and Chase landed. Della spotted a couple, limbs wrapped around each other, behind a group of trees. Two lovers? Or was it one of the girls selling her body? The idea knotted Della’s stomach.
“The gang’s here,” Chase said in a low whisper.
She nodded.
“Stay close,” he said.
She made a face and they continued toward the door. The room seemed darker, as if the crowd of vampires had sucked the light out of the room. All the dark auras, Della thought, and inhaled, trying to see if her sense of smell had returned. Nope.
“Over there,” Chase said, pointing to an empty table.
Della felt all twenty pairs of eyes on her. Jeepers, if things went wrong, she and Chase would be pushing up daisies. A chill moved under her sweater, telling her that her temperature still wasn’t right. But now wasn’t the time to worry about that.
The bartender, the same one from the night before, came strolling over. “What’s your liking tonight? I got some B positive. It goes down good with a splash of Jack.”
“We’ll take the blood straight up,” Della said, not wanting alcohol involved. They were going to need all their wits about them tonight.
The bartender nodded and walked off. She took a glance around the room and discovered not all the patrons were vampires. She picked out a few werewolves and warlocks sitting among them. So, not everyone here was part of the gang. When Della came to one table of four, she recognized three of them.
Agents from the FRU—one of them the female agent who’d come to help clean up the kangaroo mess. And that was just the three she recognized. Who knew how many of the other patrons were agents?