Part 16 (1/2)
I cradled Tara's plaque in my hands.
”Wow, that's a happy face,” said Tara. ”Fill me in.”
”Oh, let me see. I screwed up and a girl died because I wasn't going to risk losing my job crying wolf. Which job, by the way, I lost anyway. I blew away three vampires, so the army's p.i.s.sed at me, because they wanted to have a little chat with them. I've breached the secrecy terms of my agreement, so I bet the army's legal department wants me shot. Morales knows about me. The rest of the police, well, G.o.d knows what they think. Maybe that I'm some kind of mutant soldier experiment that escaped from a laboratory. Half of them are probably p.i.s.sed at the army for doing that to me and the other half at the army for letting me out.”
”Or both.”
”Or both. Don't interrupt when I'm sobbing.” I sighed. ”The colonel hasn't had me hauled back to base. Yet. That's the real good news. He's not going to get me another job, so what do I do? I've got to get a job, even if it's cas.h.i.+er at McDonald's. On the big a.s.sumption that I'm allowed to stay here, whatever job I get, I'm still going to be working for the army, for expenses and peanuts, and I'm expected to be available as a consultant for Morales. He hasn't even got any peanuts, so I guess I'm doing that pro bono.”
”Who's Bono? Not the singer?”
”Not funny. Where am I going to get a job that lets me drop everything to go chasing vampires for the police and the army?”
”Doh! You have a job offer.”
”I had a sort of job offer. That was on Monday. Today is Tuesday.”
”Call.”
Sane advice, given it came from a voice in my head.
I called Whitman.
”Mr. Whitman, it's Amber Farrell. I'm sorry about missing the call yesterday. It got kinda busy at the station.”
”No problem, Amber, no problem. Y'know, you could make my day brighter...”
”Yeah, about that, Mr. Whitman. I...ah...I'd like to come in and talk about it.”
”That's great! Fantastic! Look, I'm in meetings until silly time tonight. Come in first thing tomorrow, nine o' clock?”
”Will do.”
”That's great,” he said again. ”Talk tomorrow.”
”Looking forward to it. Bye,” I said, trying to get the tone right as I ended the call. Positive, upbeat. Yeah!
I'd have to practice that. If I actually got clients, I'd have to make nice. I shuddered, and while the cell was in my hand, I decided I'd better make the next call before I lost my nerve.
”Mom, hi.”
”Amber! This is a pleasant surprise. Is it one of your days off?”
”Uh, not quite.”
”Hmm.” There was some background noise. ”Well, dear, I'm sitting down. You can tell me now.”
”I've left the police.”
”Oh, that's-” she managed to stop herself from saying how wonderful it was, ”-interesting. What are you going to do instead? Back to accounting? There's this firm John knows-”
”I have...um...the thing is, I think I'm going to be a private investigator,” I blurted out.
”Let's not be too hasty here,” she said, hastily. ”You're under no pressure to get a new job, Amber. You know you can come and stay anytime. Heaven knows, I owe you so much-”
”Thanks, Mom, but I need this. Really, it's okay. It's safer than being an accountant.”
”Exactly how did you come up with that?”
”Okay, it was off the top of my head. But I don't think it's like the PI shows on TV. It's not that exciting.”
I hadn't changed her opinion, even after another fifteen minutes. I'd never be able to explain to her. The best I could do was guide her generally in the direction of my needing my independence, and wanting a job that didn't mean too much time behind a desk.
The truth about my life, the threat of the prions in my body, the obligations to the army and the police? Those I'd never be able to explain to her, even if I wanted to.
Far away in front of me, edges softened by the haze, lay Denver.
Sure as taxes, there were vampires down there. A community that had been hidden for who knows how long. And the army wanted me to find out all about them. In my free time.
There were roads down there as well. I-70 would take me to Kansas, I-25 to Cheyenne, I-76 and I-80 to Omaha. I pictured the network of roads spreading out like rivers across the land, full of little backwaters where I could hide. I could do it. I'd been trained by the best. It would be the easier option. But what would I say, as I-80 took me past North Platte and the biggest railroad junction in the country?
Sorry, Valerie.
And how many Valeries might be out there, now and in the future?
I drove back down into the city and went to the Schumachers' shop, on the off chance they were around.
Werner was. Klara was with Emily and had sent Werner back to look after the shop. Emily was having another session down at the station. Rules dictated they had to give her plenty of breaks. Quite how they were explaining the need for the real story of what happened in the gallery to be secret, I didn't know.
I got a big hug from Werner and a suspicion of s.h.i.+ny eyes.
Regardless of the reason he was there, he closed the shop, and insisted I stay until Emily got back, bribing me with coffee and cookies. As if that would work.
Then, when I was sitting down in his little kitchen area, he brought out a box.
”These,” he said, ”these are for you, and this is my guarantee. Never, never so long as we live, will you not have a pair of my boots to wear.”
They were beautiful. Handmade cowboy boots, lower in the heel than some, so I could wear them even when I was working. There was a matching belt. They were my unique design, my very own, that he said he would never make for anyone else.