Vampire, Hunter. Maria Arnt
Bradley had hauled her into the precinct for questioning. A group of serial killers he'd been trying to pin down had turned up dead, and she'd been sloppy.
She had been young, and she freaked out and told him the whole truth. Fortunately, he hadn't needed much convincing. His daughter had disappeared years ago, and he’d found out the truth about vampires the hard way. He’d devoted his career to chasing down bloodsuckers, and her marks had just been his latest investigation.
Ever since then, he'd been working with her from the inside, covering up her work and even giving her leads when she ran dry. He was the coolest cop she knew, and they both rested a little easier thanks to their arrangement. That, and she thought Bradley probably got his kicks trying to figure out where she'd stashed the Masters.
"Well. That's an interesting idea," he said. "I'm sure the rags will pay good money for it."
She snorted. "Yeah, they'll eat it up. Everybody loves a good story."
He nodded his agreement. "One of the guys had a freaky tattoo. You want a picture?"
"Sure." She hefted her camera, and he led her into the warehouse.
It was always weird for her, coming back. She didn't get the old ‘the murderer always comes back to the scene’ theory, Tanya would have preferred to never set foot in there again. Every cop they passed was just one more witness, and it set her on edge. The warehouse looked different, lit up with halogen lights exposing every nook and cranny. It made the place seem surreal.
Bradley showed her the body with the tattoo. It was a pentagram. How edgy, she thought sarcastically, but snapped a few pics anyway. She got more money when she had pictures to go with the story.
“Hey, no pictures,” Davis approached them, her hand held out in the same authoritative gesture Lee had used. When she saw who it was, though, she sighed. Glancing between Bradley and Tanya, she shook her head and turned away. “I never saw anything!” She threw her hands up in the air and went on her way.
Tanya had never liked Bradley’s partner. She refused to believe in vampires, and generally devoted her life to convincing Tom he was crazy. Why he didn’t get a different partner was a mystery to her.
As they walked back out of the nest, Bradley asked her casually, “Hey, did you find that guy you were looking for?”
She shook her head. “Nah. I think maybe he left town.” Honestly, she should have thought of looking outside of St. Louis sooner, but working with Bradley had made things easier here.
He grunted, obviously having reached the same conclusion. "You got any leads lined up?"
Tanya smiled grimly. "I've got something up in Chicago I'm gonna go look into."
"Chicago?" He lifted his eyebrows. "That's a little out of the way.”
"Yeah, well, I think it's a really good lead," she said truthfully. "St. Louis isn't the den of iniquity it once was," she laughed.
He chewed on the corner of his mustache a little, thinking. "I know a guy up in Chicago, name’s Shiro. He’s a bit… overenthusiastic, but he does good work. I'll give him a call and let him know you'll be coming his way."
"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."
"No problem," he said. "Now get off my scene."
She gave him a half-assed salute and booked it.
Four
So then he says, 'I'm sorry, ma'am, but you have to leave.' He actually called me ma'am." Tanya imitated the greenhorn's serious tone, and then stabbed a forkful of mac and cheese. It was her favorite, especially when her mom made it. No matter how grown-up she had become, there were some things that never changed.
She was regaling her parents with the story of last night's investigation. She'd stayed up late to write her fake article, slept in, edited and emailed it around noon. After that, she'd texted her dad to say she'd be joining them for dinner and hit Interstate 44.
"Well maybe he was just trying to be polite," her mother offered, ever the optimist.
"Yeah, but ma'am? What happened to miss?" she complained.
Her dad chuckled. "You said he was young, was he younger than you?"
Tanya thought about it. If he was fresh out of the police academy and still in his probationary period, he could be twenty-two, maybe twenty-one. She was twenty-three. "Couldn't be by much..." Then she noticed the amused looks on her parents' faces.
Oh god, I'm getting old. Up to that point, she could easily assume that anyone in a position of authority would be older than her. From now on, that wouldn't necessarily be true.
"It's probably just how you wear your hair." Her mother tried to console her. "You'd look younger if you'd let it grow out a bit."
Self-consciously, Tanya touched her auburn curls. They were about chin-length, the longest she could afford to let them get. When she was young, her hair reached halfway down her back. It had been a pain to take care of, but she was an only child; her mother had spoiled her, combing out the mess twice a day and turning it into a river of waves. That and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose were the only contributions from her dad's Irish background. The rest of her was a carbon copy of her Russian mother.
"It's way easier to take care of this way." Tanya dredged up the familiar excuse. She was in no mood to tell the truth: long hair was a great handle for an opponent. Her scalp ached with memories.
"Spending time on your appearance is a good investment," her mother countered.
Tanya resisted the urge to roll her eyes. How many times had they had this argument?
Her mom went on, though. "I know we taught you that it's what's inside that counts but—"
"But the rest of the world is pretty shallow and will judge me by my appearance, yeah, I know," Tanya finished. In truth, it was a good concept, and she had used it in ways she was sure her mother would not approve of.
Stabbing at her macaroni, her mother sighed. "Well, as long as you know, Tanya."
Her father, who had wisely stayed out of the small spat, changed the subject. "So who did you submit your story to this time?"
"The Enquirer." She grinned.
"Ooh." He looked impressed. "I'll have to keep an eye out next time I'm at the grocery store!"
They laughed together, although her mother didn't join in. Tanya knew her mother didn't approve of her line of work. She told her friends at the hospital that her daughter was an investigative journalist. Tanya and her father had decided a long time ago, right after the attack, that she just didn't need to know what her daughter was really up to. It would only upset her.
"Any idea where you'll find your next story?" he asked.
Tanya shrugged. "I was thinking I would head up to Chicago. There's some funny business going on at one of the museums." Her investigation of the name she had gotten, Seth Walker, had turned up a couple articles about a permanent exhibit at the Field Museum.
"Chicago?" her mother lit up. "Sharon went up for a weekend last month, and she had a blast shopping. I should come visit you!"
Tanya and her father exchanged a brief look. She was torn. A shopping spree with her mom did sound like fun. She wasn't much of a shopper herself, but her mother was a real enthusiast, and her excitement had a way of rubbing off on others. "I dunno, Mom... I'm gonna be really busy..."
"Just for a weekend?" she suggested.
Tanya smiled. It would be kinda nice. "Okay, just for the weekend. I'll tell you where I’m staying when I get up there." She would probably check into a different place when her mom arrived. Tanya wasn’t picky about where she stayed—as long as they had wifi she was happy—but her mom would probably freak at some of the dives she’d crashed in.
Her dad gave Tanya a concerned look, and she shrugged.