Uprising. Scott G. Mariani
know, a tattoo.’
Spider tattoo, Joel scribbled on his pad. ‘Now, what about the other people in the crypt? Would you recognise them again?’
Dec nodded. ‘There was the big massive black dude, and the little bastard that looked like a rat or something. And there was the woman with the blade. Sure, I’d know them again.’ He shuddered.
‘Tell me more about the other man. The one you think picked Kate up in his car.’
‘He seemed scared,’ Dec muttered. ‘Like he wanted to be there, you know? But shitting himself at the same time.’ He paused, chewing his lip. ‘Thing is, I could have sworn I’d seen that fucker before.’
‘That’s important. Any idea where?’
Dec shook his head. ‘Like I said, I didn’t see his face. It was just a feeling.’
‘The Rolls. You didn’t get the registration number, I take it?’
Dec looked sharply at him. ‘I didn’t exactly know I was following Kate into a fucking vampires’ nest, did I? Is this all you can do, fuck about with car registrations?’
‘I’m only trying to—’
‘You still don’t get it, do you? There are vampires out there. They’re going to kill everyone, like they killed that girl.’ Tears of emotion spilled out of Dec’s eyes. His voice was cracking with the strain. ‘I’ve had enough of answering questions. This isn’t some shit you can deal with the normal way, like you can line these fuckers up in some ID parade and stick them in jail. Don’t you understand? They drank her fucking blood! They’re vampires! That’s what I’m telling you, because that’s what I fucking saw!’ His voice had risen up to a tortured scream that filled the ward.
At that moment, the staff nurse Joel had spoken to earlier came running in.
‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but I can’t have you upsetting the patient like this.’ She glanced worriedly at Dec, who had collapsed back on the bed and was shaking and weeping hysterically. ‘I’ll fetch the doctor,’ she said, and rushed out.
Joel stood and watched the kid. He was sorry he’d caused this. The fact was, he just didn’t know what to think.
‘Quite a tale, isn’t it?’ said a voice behind him.
Joel hadn’t sensed anyone else come into the ward. He swung round. Standing a few feet away was a woman. She was smiling at him.
The woman’s sudden appearance, like a ghost coming out of nowhere, startled Joel. For what seemed like an endlessly drawn-out moment, he stood there speechless. There was something mesmerising about her, and it wasn’t just her stunning beauty – the thick auburn curls that tumbled about her shoulders and bounced when she moved, the willowy figure and perfect, pale skin, like porcelain. It was the wry, knowing look and the enigmatic little smile on her lips, as if somehow she could read his thoughts. That look…it just seemed to hold him there.
He forced himself to snap out of his reverie and was about to say something when the staff nurse returned in a hurry, followed by a tired-looking male doctor in a green smock. The nurse shot Joel a pointed stare as she curtained off Dec’s bed and she and the doctor attended to the agitated, sobbing teenager.
Joel turned back towards the strange woman, but she was already gone.
He trotted out of the ward and spotted her a little way down the corridor. She was hanging around as though waiting for him. As he approached, he felt his heartbeat quicken and cursed himself for it.
‘Are you a relative of his?’ he asked her. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
She shook her head. The smile was still there, teasing him.
‘So what were you doing in there?’
‘Listening,’ she replied coolly. ‘Interesting, don’t you think?’
‘This is a police enquiry,’ he said. ‘I was taking a statement from a witness, and I’d like to know what you were doing there eavesdropping.’
‘My name’s Alex. Alex Bishop.’ She dipped a hand in the pocket of the long, elegant coat she was wearing and handed him a business card. The momentary brush of her fingers against his was like a million volts of current jolting through his body.
‘DI Joel Solomon,’ he said. Doing his best to look composed, he glanced at the card. ‘So you’re a journalist.’ He noticed the landline number at the bottom and added, ‘London got too dull? A teenager crashing his car out in the Oxfordshire sticks isn’t exactly what I’d call a scoop for a hotshot city reporter.’
‘Except it’s not just about a teenager crashing his car, is it?’ she said.
He made no reply.
‘Are you interested in vampires, officer?’
‘What did you say?’
‘You believed him, didn’t you?’
Joel blinked. ‘What makes you so sure of that?’
‘I saw the look on your face,’ she said. ‘Have you got time for a drink? I’d like to talk to you.’
‘I can’t discuss police business with you.’
‘Like vampires are official police business now?’
He looked at his watch. ‘Fact is, I’m in a rush.’
‘Shame.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe I could have helped you.’
Before he could reply, she’d turned and was already walking away. He watched her all the way to the lifts; then she was gone, without looking back.
The hamlet of Sonning Eye,
near the Oxfordshire/Berkshire border
12.17 p.m.
Sandra Roberts threw the stick and watched as Bertie went hurtling after it down the leafy riverside path. It hit the ground and bounced, and the golden retriever jumped in the air to catch it in his jaws.
‘Bring it to Mummy,’ she called to him brightly. ‘Come on, Bertie. Good boy.’
Bertie trotted back to her, the stick in his mouth, and dropped it proudly at her feet, looking up at her with keen anticipation, tail wagging. She patted his head, picked up the stick and threw it again. This time her throw wasn’t quite as straight, and it landed in the reeds at the side of the water. Bertie went charging after it.
‘No, Bertie! Not in the water!’ Last time he’d gone for an impromptu swim, he’d been impossible to recall, had got absolutely filthy and completely saturated the back seat of the Volvo.
Christopher had not been at all pleased. But then again, not much pleased Christopher.
‘Bertie, you bloody dog! Get back here now!’
It was too late. Bertie completely ignored his mistress’s shouts as he went ploughing straight through the reeds, sending up a spray of mud and water. She huffed in exasperation as he hunted around in the shallows, rustling the long reeds as he sniffed excitedly here and there. Then he seemed to freeze, as if he’d found the stick. Oh, good.
‘Good boy, Bertie! Fetch now; bring it to Mummy!’
And, thank God, he was responding. She could see the yellow of his fur through the reeds as he scrabbled back