Part 11 (1/2)

He waved his hands. ”There are buses, there are roads going everywhere. There's the path along the creek. They could have come from anywhere.”

”Yeah, but why park up at the stadium, say, and walk down here to commit a murder? You wouldn't walk miles. You wouldn't take a bus or a taxi and leave a trail. Not three guys together. Gut feel says they came by car, but they didn't want to park right by the apartment.”

”Okay, fair enough, but where does that get you?”

”Well, they live here, or work here, or have someplace to park that doesn't raise suspicions. Someplace private, where they're not going to be noticed or need to buy a ticket.”

”Like a private garage?”

”Or a business they work at.”

Knight shook his head. ”They wouldn't feel safe. Some other employee might come in and see the car.” He frowned. ”Unless it was a small, three-man business.”

He made a fair point. I nodded.

We'd gone as far as Speer Boulevard. Speer cuts diagonally northwest to southeast. It's a major road, split into north and southbound lanes by Cherry Creek and the trail. It felt like a border. Past it were school sports fields, businesses and a park. It didn't feel right, them coming that far, so I turned and drove slowly back, looking at the side roads.

One of these?

”It's all kinds of problem, this case,” Knight said.

”Why especially?”

”Press. Most murders, however they get reported, people read the details and they know, or think they know, why the person was killed. They move on, they say they're not like that, it's not going to happen to them.” Knight shrugged. ”But this one is strange, especially when you add in the thing about the blood. If the press gets hold of that before we've caught the perps and explained it all away, they blow it up. 'Police don't even know where the murder was committed'-you know the kind of story. Things like that make people feel unsafe. It gets air time. It makes everyone look bad. The mayor gets unhappy, the chief gets it in the ear and we get it in the neck.”

I snorted. I was looking down the side streets hoping for inspiration to strike.

Is this the sort of place vampires hang out?

”What makes the bra.s.s happy are murders that can be pigeonholed in one of the known categories,” Knight said, counting things on his fingers. ”Gangs killing each other, mugging gone bad in the wrong part of town, crime of pa.s.sion, revenge, that sort of thing. What they don't want to hear is anything that makes Joe Average feel unsafe. Psychopaths, serial killers, murders the police don't understand, and so on.”

Vampires, I thought.

Knight ran his hand over his face. ”Look, you did okay Friday night.” He sighed. ”It's kinda difficult remembering you're not a rookie like the others.”

I nodded.

”Word is,” he went on, ”your scores are good enough for the SWAT team.”

”Thanks.” That wouldn't be so bad. Not one partner, but a team. Much more like the army. But I'd need to do my time on patrol first, and for that I needed a partner like Knight.

”But if you want my advice, which is free, and you get it anyway...”

I managed a sickly grin. ”Hit me.”

”Instructor.”

”Oh, come on!”

”I have only one more thing to say about it. Something very important.” He waited till he saw he had my attention. ”Regular hours.” He tapped the clock on the dash, and we laughed.

Then he turned serious again. ”Farrell, listen to me, just this once, hey? This one is the kind of case you want to keep as far away from as you can,” he said. ”Don't do anything you aren't specifically told to do. Don't start spouting any theories.”

Yeah. Unfortunately, not an option.

The buildings on the right, down Cheyenne Street, looked like an interesting mix, but it was one-way. Further up, near the Schumachers', I was thinking about doing the circuit and driving back up Cheyenne when I saw a group of girls on the street. They looked far too young to be out this late.

”Whoa,” I said. ”How old are those kids? No way their parents let them out at this time of night.” I stopped the car. ”And if they did, they shouldn't have.” Especially if there were vampires roaming the neighborhood. I s.h.i.+vered at the thought of those guys on the video getting hold of a kid.

”Sneaked out, probably. Not really our problem,” Knight said, but he got out with me. They were even younger up close. Young enough so that the approach of 'authority'-namely me in my scary police uniform-evaporated all the bravado of being out on the streets at night. The group was too young to know what to do or where to go. They wouldn't get into any bars. The whole purpose seemed to have been to put on makeup and hang out with their friends without their parents knowing.

Fine, but not in this neighborhood, and not this late. Not on my watch.

”Evening, girls.” Knight beat me to it, sounding a little awkward. ”I don't think this is an appropriate place for you to be at this time.” He pointed at one in the front. ”Where's your home?”

The girls had regained a little courage and were just about to start some bluffing and back-talk, when I recognized a face at the back, even with the Goth makeup.

”Emily Schumacher, isn't it?” I reached through the group and got her shoulder. Her friends eased away as if I'd just told them she had the plague.

”Err...yeah,” she admitted.

Her look was mirrored on every face. Aw c.r.a.p, busted.

Immediately followed by thoughts of what their parents were going to do. It was almost funny.

Knight and I shepherded them a couple of blocks, to where the Schumachers lived. Werner came running out as we arrived. He'd just discovered Emily missing.

The Schumachers handled it well. I could see they were upset, but there was no shouting. Klara recognized the girls and had them sit in the kitchen while she started calling their parents. She was merciful enough to bring out some wipes so they could clean up before being seen. Poor Emily wouldn't have that advantage.

Werner wiped the sweat off his brow, thanked us several times and checked that there wasn't anything more going to come of it.

We a.s.sured Werner it wasn't a problem and walked back to the car.

Now, where was I? A circuit to come back up Cheyenne. But Knight had gotten bored.

”Take a left here and head up to the center,” he said. ”We haven't been up that end yet tonight.”

We hadn't, and there just happened to be an all-night cafe with good donuts that way. I sighed. He was my partner and I was the rookie. I turned left.

We handed things over to the graveyard s.h.i.+ft, making it feel like an early night for us. A few minutes later, and we'd have caught the radio calls about the next murder, the one that moved it all a huge step closer to me.

Chapter 14.