"I haven't been here in a while," Tony said behind me.
"Who will have the records of all the disappearances?" I asked, refusing to turn around.
"Gavin has them," he said, coming to stand beside me.
"You think I'm going to ask him?" I snorted. I was still staring out at the ocean. The moon was a sliver, peeking through shifting clouds and hanging low over the water. I recalled that I didn't know what day it was. Nobody had been standing by with a watch or calendar when I'd come back to myself on Kifirin.
"The local police will have it in their computer records," Tony offered an alternative.
"I'll go find the police station, then," I said. "Maybe they'll have something Gavin doesn't have."
"There's definitely something Gavin doesn't have," Tony said softly.
"His choice," I said and misted away.
"You can pull up all the public records right here if you scan your ID," an officer informed me when I walked into the police station half an hour later. I'd asked a helpful delivery truck driver for directions to the station.
I scanned my new ID and got into all the news and recent records quickly—computers were simple to operate in the future. The only thing I found in common with all the disappearances was that all the victims had been going to the beach. The father and son who'd disappeared last had gone surfing. They'd failed to come home for dinner that evening as they'd promised. I watched a video interview with two wives, who were pleading for the release of their husband and son. I then watched a video interview with relatives of the next disappearances. "She was only going to Pismo for the day," the distraught father said.
This young woman was nineteen and both the father and mother were weeping in front of the camera. It was heartbreaking to watch. The media wasn't any different from when I'd seen them last—going for every tear and heartrending situation they could. I was mentally keeping track of the disappearances, too. The three most recent were in the Pismo and Morro Bay area. Before that, the disappearances had occurred north of there—near Monterey and San Luis Obispo. Looked like the killer or kidnapper was heading south. I wasn't sure all of them happened at night, either. Call it a feeling, but the victims had gone out in daylight and most of them were expected home that night. They'd just never shown up. According to the police and the media reports, no evidence had been collected.
"Find what you need?" The policeman was back, a cup of coffee in his hands.
"Some," I nodded. "I'm visiting the area and want to make sure I'm doing everything I can so this won't happen to me."
"Good idea," he said. His nametag said Sergeant Whitaker. He looked to be in his forties and wore a wedding band. I wasn't interested anyway; I had more angst than I could handle on my emotional plate as it was. "Just get in tonight?"
"Yeah," I nodded. I figured he could check my ID in the computer and find out whether that was true or not.
"There wasn't a bit of evidence," he sighed, settling onto a seat at the kiosk next to mine. "Nothing. Like they were snatched from the air." He fluttered his fingers. "Just—gone," he added. Sergeant Whitaker's words made my skin itch.
"Do you think the victims were on the beach or in the water?" I asked.
"Don't know," he scrubbed his face with a free hand. He had a bit of beard showing.
"Long day?" I asked sympathetically.
"Double shift—we're having trouble with this," he sighed. "There's an average of one disappearance every twenty hours or so. And we've got extra patrols on the beaches; nobody is out at night like they used to be."
"How long has it been since they stopped going out at night?" I asked.
"At least a week," he replied, sipping his coffee. There'd been five disappearances since then—the father and son the last ones. "This is the damnedest thing," he muttered. I nodded in agreement—it was the damnedest thing.
"I have a question," I said. Sergeant Whitaker quirked an eyebrow at me. His eyebrows were on the bushy side and his dark hair was threaded with gray. Hazards of the job, I'm sure.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Has anything else been disappearing? Animals or anything?" The more I learned about the disappearances, the more convinced I became that vampires weren't involved. It sounded predatory, but it was much too close to daylight, if not during daylight hours, that these humans were taken.
"A farmer up the coast filed a report because some of his cattle were stolen. We haven't had time to investigate the theft, though—we've been too busy with this. Here," he reached over and tapped a few keys. "Something like this—you can pull up the police report; it hasn't been investigated yet and since it’s a theft, it's public record anyway."
I nodded and began to read the report. At least they were electronically recorded now—no hastily scribbled notes to decipher. The address of the cattle ranch was listed, so I committed it to memory. Four cows were missing. That sounded weird—why would they only steal four cows? I even said it out loud.
"I don't have the answer to that; you'd think they'd get as many as they could," Sergeant Whitaker said. I agreed with him. "We don't have time to worry about cows now." He rose stiffly. "Gotta get back to work," he said.
"Thanks for your help," I smiled at him. He had laugh lines around his eyes, I noticed, and he had a nice smile.
"Stay away from the beach if you can," he cautioned and walked away.
Chapter 10
"Where the hell have you been?" That part of Gavin hadn't changed, and it was the part I wished was still gone.
"I went to the police station to use the public computer kiosk," I said, walking past him into the dining area of the basement. "I don't think we're dealing with vampires." That statement brought a disbelieving glare from Gavin. "Think what you like," I shrugged off his annoyance. "I'm going out in the morning to see what I can find. A rancher not far from here lost four cows six days ago and that happened on a day when no humans disappeared. I'm wondering if other cattle or animals have disappeared on days when no humans came up missing."
"What are you saying?" Tony came over as I pulled out a chair and sat at the tiny kitchen table.
"Too many of these disappearances happened too close to daylight. And the officer I talked to said there was no evidence left behind—it seems as though the people were snatched from the air."