Part 9 (2/2)

I wasn't going back there willingly, whatever happened. And I wasn't going to send anyone like Valerie there on just the suspicion they might turn.

That was all to worry about later. The three vampires had to be caught. First step, I had to find a lead.

Guess I'd have to skip the repair of the fuel pump on my car and head downtown instead.

s.h.i.+t again.

My car decided that wasn't a good plan. I made it to Rom's garage at midmorning, only thanks to his tow truck.

I already had the new fuel pump, and the cost of hiring Rom's car bay and tools was nothing compared to getting a garage to fix it, even after the cost of having it towed here.

The reason for that cost, however, was the job was a stone b.i.t.c.h. The fuel pump lived in the fuel tank, so everything had to be taken off and then rea.s.sembled.

Rom grinned and dived back under the hood of his current job, a BMW.

I pulled on my coveralls and got on with it.

After half an hour, Jo came in, wearing old clothes, and helped. Balancing the time spent answering her questions and the instructions I had to give her against how much time I saved doing the job myself was a close thing, but we spent half the time laughing. Jo couldn't have realized it, but it was exactly the distraction I needed.

Rom came and helped with the last part when Jo had to leave.

Afterwards, I let the engine run while I cleaned up.

Rom was leaning against my car, wiping his hands while he listened to the steady idle. I'd kept my s.h.i.+rt on, but he hadn't. My eyes roved. He wasn't my dream man, by any stretch, but he had pretty ripply bits when he moved around, and that dark wavy hair went so well with the gypsy brown eyes.

I sighed. The colonel would spontaneously implode if I somehow infected anyone else with prions, and his medical team wouldn't rule out what they tactfully called 'intimate contact' as a method for infecting other people. So, the rules said no touch. But they didn't say no look.

”Work out okay at Agonia?” he asked when I rejoined him.

”Yeah.” I rolled the coveralls into a plastic bag and tossed it in the trunk.

”It really not for fun?”

”Not for fun at all. Apart from my entrance, thanks to you.” I reached into the car and blipped the gas pedal. The engine revved up with no hesitation. Woo hoo.

He shrugged off the compliment. ”You a PI?”

Rom didn't speak too well, but that didn't affect my judgment on his brain, and yeah, what I was doing for the colonel was closer to a sort of exotic PI job than police work. Except maybe the undercover stuff the DEA did. Allegedly.

”Yeah, something like that. Some of the time.”

Rom got the hint and backed off from asking about my work. I didn't want people to know I was in the police. Not for any feelings on my part, but I didn't want people reacting differently to me.

He stuck his hands deep into his pockets and eased his weight from one foot to the other.

”This been good for Jofranka,” he said finally. ”She needs something to help her feel okay about herself. Strong. Smart. You know?”

I nodded. Helping people find their potential was something I enjoyed and I knew he was asking about that in his roundabout sort of way. Jo didn't need a lot, she had a quick mind and a thirst to try things. But I could hardly recommend myself as a mentor-or friend. Not with the doubts hanging over me.

”I'll think it over,” I said. ”I'll keep an eye open.”

I'd heard my cell ring a couple of times while I was working and I picked it up now to check who'd called. The number surprised me; it was a guy called Greg Whitman who I'd worked with at my last job.

I walked out of the garage to call him back.

When I'd managed to get out of the army's laboratory, they'd recommended a safe, steady job. Some high watt light bulb decided that meant accounting. I was in no position to argue, and if spreadsheets and learning financial regulations was my ticket out, I was going to take it. The big thing going for it was they'd found me a position in a company here in my hometown of Denver.

It had worked out better than expected, right up until I blew the company apart by exposing the criminal behavior of the CEO. In the resulting chaos, Whitman had taken the best of the staff and the best of the clients and set up on his own. You could say I'd helped him, but I wasn't expecting any calls from him, and I wasn't going back to being a trainee accountant or bookkeeper.

”Amber! Thanks for calling back. How are you?”

”I'm good, thanks. I heard your new company is going great. Congratulations.”

”Ah, thanks. Look, Amber, I don't want to take up too much of your time on the weekend. I'm due at the golf club in a few minutes, but do you think you could make time to come in on Monday and have a talk?”

”What about?”

”Well, y'know, what you did impressed me, I'll say that. And it impressed a lot of the old clients, too. Turns out, there may be a business in there for you.”

”I don't follow, Mr. Whitman. What kind of a business are you talking about?”

”Private investigations for commercial clients. I know,” he hurried on, ”PIs are a dime a dozen, but listen to me, the clients need someone who understands financial information.”

”I don't know, I have a job. I'm a policewoman.”

”Yeah, and cops are great. Look, give it some thought over the weekend and call me Monday. We can talk it through. Gotta go now. Talk Monday. Okay?”

”Okay.”

I ended the call, and briefly indulged in a fantasy of running my own little PI business, before squas.h.i.+ng it. Whatever he said about commercial clients, PIs make their steady income staking out lap dancing joints in divorce cases. I'd call and turn it down on Monday. Anyway, the colonel would go ape-s.h.i.+t if I tried to pull something like that.

No, I needed to take police work more seriously, stop daydreaming, stop shooting my mouth off, develop respect for the positions of authority, the rank and not the person, yadda, yadda, how hard could all that be? I did it in the army. Except then, I really had been a rookie. Now I had more experience in crisis situations than half the Denver PD put together, and I still didn't get the respect I'd had in Ops 4-10.

The opportunity to spend some time trying to find a lead had gone when my car refused to start this morning. I only had an hour or so before I needed to show up for the Sat.u.r.day night s.h.i.+ft on patrol. I would have to try again tomorrow.

Meantime, I had a session booked I didn't want to miss. I'd laughed some of my frustrations away with Jo earlier, now maybe I could burn the rest of them out.

Chapter 12.

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