“WHAT?”
Sully stared at Chaz, his dark eyes confused and accusatory. Chaz’s heart rate climbed. His chest was tight. He wished all the myths about vampires being undead were true. Maybe if that was the case, he wouldn’t feel the gut-wrenching sense of guilt that he did now. Just when Sully made him feel okay—not exactly better, he’d never feel better about Nat—Fatima was killed and Sully was looking at him like a murderer.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know where she was, so how could you cause her death? The world is not on your shoulders….” Sully’s voice faded as he rehashed all the platitudes about responsibility. His grip was tight on Chaz’s arm, though, as if he didn’t quite believe his own words.
“I know that. But this is my fault. I didn’t kill Fatima—or Darcy—but….”
“But what? Don’t draw this out for dramatics. I can’t fucking stand it when Trina does it, so get over yourself and just fucking tell me. What do you mean it’s your fault?”
“When I got the phone off Reggie, I realized he worked for the Citizen’s Brigade. You know? It’s the newspaper and tabloids that report on monster crimes since no one in the police does. At the time, I thought the vamps were being killed as a way to be kicked out of a vampire den. They were being shamed. But I couldn’t go and talk to vampires. I didn’t know any vampires who were part of dens who weren’t Vanessa and her friends or associated with gangs. So I gave Reggie Fatima’s name.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yes. This is my fault. Reggie did this. He found her—he’s the guy—” Chaz punched the kitchen table. It wasn’t a strong hit, and was mostly made out of frustration, but Sully jumped as if he’d been struck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”
“Wait. No. This doesn’t make any sense.” Sully ran from the kitchen to the living room where the piles and piles of papers from the house were, along with the case files. He worked feverishly, intent on finding what he needed. Chaz replayed finding Reggie and his big fucking black van, taking photos of witches and socialites. I should have grabbed him then. I should have killed him then. Does this mean he’s a vampire? How many more people has he killed?
“Aha.” Sully held up the files of the first victims, Patrick Mortimer and Hector Juarez. “It can’t be Reggie.”
“Why not? It all fits.”
“No, it doesn’t. First off, he’s not a vamp. I know. I’ve seen every last inch of this guy and he has no markings and no symptoms. I heard his sob stories about not being magical. He’s a human. He hates being human, but he’s too scared to be anything else. So he can’t be our vamp. But also—Patrick and Hector both died when he was with me.”
“What?” Chaz grabbed the file from Sully’s hand and skimmed it as fast as he could. “But their time of death is a large window. A couple hours, room for error.”
“And I spent all of those hours with him. Trust me, Chaz. It’s not him.”
Chaz sat on the floor with Sully, both in the middle of the files. He scrubbed his hands over his face and realized how thick his stubble had gotten. “So it’s a coincidence? I tell Reggie to find the woman who’s murdered next? And he’s not the one who did it?”
“Yes, for once, a coincidence. Let’s praise it for what it is. But… if Reggie was trying to find Fatima, what are the odds he found her with Darcy? And then saw who killed them?”
“Oh, really? You think?”
“Yes!” Sully laughed and leaned against the apartment wall. “Maybe for once, we actually caught a break.”
IT WAS impossible to call Reggie because Sully had destroyed his phone and the contact information Artie had for him was out of date. The next best thing was to go back to his apartment building and hope like hell that the black van was there.
“Shit,” Chaz cursed when the lot held nothing. He kicked the tires of a Honda close by and earned a couple of shouts from people in the upper levels of the building. Sully took Chaz’s hand in an attempt to calm him down, but it didn’t do any good.
“Come on,” Chaz said. “It’s only the afternoon, but maybe he went to stake out the club I saw him at the last time. You hungry? We may need to pack a lunch.”
“Um. I’m fine. But… you do realize we passed a black van on the way here, right?”
“What?”
Sully pointed down the street they’d come in on. They’d driven Chaz’s unmarked car to the apartment building but had parked in a grocery store lot a couple of blocks away and walked down on foot. Chaz had been so consumed with getting to the parking lot and kicking Reggie in the gut for not protecting Fatima, he hadn’t noticed the cars they passed. His parents used to come to a coffee shop around this area, and he supposed he was also keeping his eyes down so he didn’t run into them. Sully gestured toward an office building that seemed like it had been bought out by a tabloid producer. A black van sat in the front lot, in an area marked Reserved.
“Wanna bet that’s him?” Sully asked. “We should get inside his building while we can.” Sully gestured toward the apartment doorway where a couple was walking out. He ran to catch their door, so he and Chaz could go inside without being buzzed in.
“But if he’s across the street then his apartment is going to be emp—”
“So? That’s the worst-case scenario, and I bet we’re not the first person to go looking for him. It’s a lot easier to park his van close to where he lives but not in his spot so people think he’s not there. Or at least, have a harder time finding him. Trust me,” Sully said. “He did the same thing a lot when he came to Artie’s.”
Chaz nodded, feeling silly as he did. He was a cop; he should have honed these tracking instincts better. Sully was always going to have an edge tracking Reggie, though, because they’d been intimate. The idea of Sully with Reggie didn’t bother Chaz as much as he thought it would. Maybe because, after finding one of Reggie’s aliases on the apartment registry, when they stepped in the elevator, Sully linked their fingers. He may have known Reggie from working for him, but it wasn’t intimate. Not like the shower and the time in bed they’d shared. Not like Sully trying to fix your fuckups with Fatima.
“You okay?” Sully asked. “Nervous?”
“Yeah, a little, actually.”
“Well, don’t be. We know Reggie’s not the killer, so we’re not in danger. And even if we are, I know some moves.”
Chaz laughed when Sully mimicked poking Reggie in the eyes with his two fingers. It was like watching the Three Stooges or some poorly dubbed action film, and it set Chaz’s heart to a steady rhythm again. When the elevator got to Reggie’s floor, they stepped off and headed to his apartment at the end of the hall. Chaz knocked with the side of his fist.
Nothing.
“Reggie, open the door. It’s Chip MacDonald.”
Still no answer from the other side. Chaz put his ear against the door and heard grunting. Groaning. As if Reggie was sleeping or jerking off. He knocked again.
“Answer the fucking door, Reggie.”
Sully knocked this time, using his knuckles. “Hey, Reg. Wanna open up for me?”
The sultry tone Sully used seemed to do the trick. Reggie’s heavy footsteps sounded inside. He appeared by the door in two seconds, his hair a mess and shirt wet with sweat.
“Oh, my Sullivan. How are you doing? I thought Artie told me never to come back.”
“Chip,” Sully said. His voice had a sharp, acerbic edge to it. “He’s all yours.”
Chaz pushed his way inside, causing Reggie to grunt even more. He tripped over cans, chip bags, and couch cushions as he wandered through his own place, as if he’d forgotten his own layout. Chaz shut the apartment door and Sully took up watch in front of it, blocking the exit. Chaz surveyed the mess in the living room, the dishes in the kitchen sink piling higher and higher, and the only clean space around Reggie’s computer.
“What the fuck, man?” Reggie asked. “I thought I was about to get laid.”
“Where’s the information on Fatima Aleem?”
“Fatima? The vamp woman?”
“Yes. She’s dead. Unless you want me to arrest you, I suggest you tell me what you found out.”
“Jesus. They really got her, huh?”
“You knew?” Chaz stepped closer to Reggie. He startled backward and into his computer chair. “You knew she was in danger and you did nothing to stop it?”
“She’s a vamp. I figured she could handle herself.”
“So what did you find?” Sully asked. “We know she was picking up a water shaper named Darcy. She was found in a house on Hunter. So fill in the blanks for us.”
Reggie stroked his chin, considering this. When he turned toward his computer, Chaz expected him to consult files. Instead he wrote down the information that Sully had just given him. “Hunter Street, Avenue, Crescent…?”
“Listen.” Chaz stepped around his desk and slammed the computer screen. “You’re going to tell us what you found or we’re going to arrest you. We have more than enough.”
“So arrest me. Probably give me better accommodations than how I’m currently living.”
“I thought you were a germophobe?” Chaz asked. “Hard to turn off that kind of phobia.”
Reggie snorted. “Well, I’m working on a story. My mind gets consumed with other things when I’m busy like this.”
“A story about Fatima?”
“A story about corruption, greed, jealousy, and betrayal. Oh, it’s all the makings of your typical noir—but in New Canadiana. I’m thinking of calling it something like… Spite and Malice. Into the Abyss. Hmm. Not good?”
“Reggie, stop fucking around. Fatima Aleem. Where was she before she died?”
“Fine. You two are buzzkills. But I’ll need to open my computer if you want me to tell you anything.”
Chaz shot a look toward Sully, who nodded. He let go of Reggie’s computer and wandered around to the other side of the desk. Sully joined him, shoulder to shoulder.
“So, I tracked Fatima from the name you gave me to her old license. I started with her old job at a pharmacy since her address was bogus. From there, she was actually at Artie’s, and then she appeared in a church a couple blocks from here. That’s where she picked up our water boy.”
“Darcy,” Chaz said.
“Yeah. The kid have a last name?”
“Chariandy,” Sully said. “Where did they go from there?”
“A field. A cop was there, so I fucked off. I figured they were about to get arrested. But I’m guessing that he took them to this house on Hunter Street. Yeah? In a squad car?”
“The passageway,” Chaz said. “Fuck. I thought someone was watching it?”
“Oh! A passageway. Exciting. A lot of twists and turns to this story.” Reggie scrolled through his laptop and wrote a few things down. A few minutes later, he let out a soft exaltation. “Ah, here we go. I have a photo of that night. You can see the cop perfectly. I was in the middle of trying to identify them when you just waltzed on in here.”
“Well, great. Hand it over and we can spare you the headache.”
“Ah, ah. You never paid me for this photo. You paid me for Fatima’s information. Which I’ve given you. She went to a church on Bond Street. Now scamper off and go inform her family of her passing. There are still a lot of them. Kids too.”
“Shut the fuck up, Reggie.” Chaz made a fist at his side, rage flowing. Fatima’s family haunted him. “Just give us what we need.”
Reggie folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed by Chaz’s anger. “Not a chance. You’re not spoiling my story.”
Chaz lunged at the computer. Reggie snapped it shut before Chaz’s fingers were around it. He opened it up and saw a password screen. “Fuck.”
“Nope, that’s not the password.”
“Tell us, Reggie.”
“Not a chance. I’m a journalist and I’m publishing my story.”
“On what?”
“Corrupt fucking cops in the City of Monsters. Gonna sell so, so much.”
Chaz groaned. He typed in SULLIVAN into the password area. Nothing. He tried again, using Reggie’s first alias, his mother’s maiden name, and the nightclub they met outside. Nothing. The computer gave him a message stating there were too many tries and now was going to protection mode for an hour.
“Fuck,” Chaz said. “We can’t get in.”
“All in here now.” Reggie tapped his temple and laughed.
“I should have arrested you when I had the chance,” Chaz said.
“You should have, but you didn’t. Now you’re both in shit.”
“So give us hints for the story, Reggie,” Sully said. The sultry tone was back to his voice. He slinked close to Reggie’s desk and sat on the edge. He ran his hands along Reggie’s T-shirt sleeve and batted his eyes. Work mode. Performance mode. “I know you’re a good journalist. Can’t compromise your integrity. But a hint is a hint. Just something small… for old time’s sake?”
Reggie spat at him. Chaz stepped forward, about to knock Reggie’s teeth out, when Sully held him back.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Understandable, really.” Sully grabbed a tissue from Reggie’s desk, next to some lotion. He wiped off and put in the garbage. “Well, this certainly is like old times in Artie’s. Weird fetish, spitting as you come, but hey, I’ve seen weirder.”
“Fuck you, Sullivan.”
“You have,” Sully said. “And since I know you like to play like this, consider what just happened between us a freebie. Now give us the information.”
Reggie smirked. The way his gaze flicked up Sully’s body set Chaz’s teeth on edge. Before he could threaten violence, Reggie shrugged.
“Fine, fine. My computer’s been locked by Detective Feel Good over there, and I can’t give you the photo I took or any of my info sheet since I need it for my story, but I can tell you that you should be looking a lot closer at your police department.”
“Crooked cop? Really? That’s all you’re telling us?”
“Yes. Just look at the similarities of who showed up for all of these crime scenes. Who was called in? Who was there? You’d be surprised at how often it lines up with who was at this church sanctuary with Fatima and who I know I saw in that goddamn field.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes. I wasn’t just trying to get a rise out of you before. Maybe a little, but I mean it. It’s a fact. Look at your department.”
Chaz’s stomach felt as if it was nailed to the floor. The names came into his head like wildfire. He didn’t even need to look at the reports to know who was there; he’d seen them so much. “Jinny Rong?”
“No, but good memory. Her alibi is solid, actually. I tracked her for the last couple days and her mother is sick. Whenever she’s not working, she’s in the hospital.”
“So her partner, Alan Ramirez?” Chaz asked. “The rookie who fell and got cut at the first scene?”
Reggie smiled and shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Maybe. Could be. I will tell you that he is hard to track. Any idea why he needs to go into a blood bank so often?”
“Oh no.” Chaz’s mind swarmed. Suddenly the arm wound was cast in a whole new light. It was a defensive wound from the victim, not from discarded cans at the scene. He’d also rejected EMTs and sounded interested in a supernatural doctor. “Oh no. It was him. It was him all along.”
“I can’t say that for sure. Not my job. But there have been a lot of shady dealings in the City of Monsters. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that more than one of your men in blue are creatures in disguise.”
Chaz swallowed hard. The way Reggie looked at him was like a threat. Did he know? No, he couldn’t know. If he did, he’d have used that as leverage. But no amount of rationalization could remove the sinking feeling from Chaz’s gut. Alan Ramirez. Why did he hate vamps so much? Alan blended in. He could have lived under the radar for such a long time. Why would he risk everything to return to the scene of the crime and be the first one there?
“Are we done?” Sully asked, voice tense. He shot a look at Chaz, then grabbed his arm. “I think we’re done. Now go fuck yourself, Reggie, to the memories of me. You’ll never have something as good as that again.”
Sully tugged Chaz to the door, slamming it behind them. When they were in the stairwell, he finally relaxed. Chaz wrapped his arms around Sully.
“Are you okay?” Chaz asked. “I wanted to punch him. I can go back—”
“No, no. I just needed a hug. It’s amazing how much they can fix.” Sully smiled, soft and playful, then wrapped his arms around Chaz again. Each rub of Chaz’s arm up and down Sully’s back seemed to soothe him, along with Chaz. The confrontation had been awful, especially now, given the information they’d found.
“Consider this my payment,” Sully murmured.
“What?”
“Consider this hug my payment.”
“Okay,” Chaz said, squeezing tighter. “But for what?”
“Well, I think we should go to that church. What do you think?”
“Without backup?”
“What do we need backup for? Fatima was last seen there, but if it was Ramirez, he got her at the passageway. Right now, we need to link Fatima to the underground system without using my knowledge.”
“And then link that to the tunnel where Ramirez was set to watch. Okay, okay,” Chaz said. “Makes sense. But shouldn’t we just wait for Reggie’s story to come out?”
“That will only cast doubt. Tabloids lie, remember?”
“Even with a photograph?”
“A photograph we haven’t seen,” Sully added. “My bet, Reggie was lying. So we should check it out. You should get the arrest.”
“But what about—”
Sully hugged him harder. He reached a hand over Chaz’s spine, his neck, and whispered in his ear. “We’re partners, right?”
“Partners.” Chaz swallowed hard. He brought Sully’s mouth to his own and kissed him fiercely. He wouldn’t have been able to do half the things he’d done so far without Sully at his side. He needed him, and he owed it to him to find out what happened to Fatima.
When their kiss ended, Chaz linked their hands again. “Let’s go.”