“You said Lacey was brave,” Emma said quietly. “Why would you say that?”
Violet stared down at her fingers, which played with a leather button on her sweater, rolling it first one way, then the next. “She wasn’t afraid of anyone,” she whispered. “It was as if she didn’t believe the world could hurt her.” Violet looked up suddenly, meeting Emma’s gaze. “But she was wrong, wasn’t she?”
Emma nodded, letting her own sorrow show. “Lacey was the only family I had,” she said, without knowing why. “There’s a place inside of me, right next to my heart, that hurts all the time since she’s been gone. I don’t think it will ever stop hurting, but I know it won’t until I find out what really happened to Lacey.”
Violet gave her a startled glance. “But I thought—” Realization bloomed in her eyes, and she lost what little color she had. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“You went to the parties with Lacey, didn’t you, Violet?” Emma asked softly.
“I can’t talk about this. I won’t.” Violet shook her head, once again refusing to look at Emma. “I don’t remember anything anyway.”
Emma watched the other woman, hating herself for being here, for forcing Violet Slayton to relive even the smallest part of whatever had happened to her. But those men were still out there. And they deserved to pay for what they’d done, to Lacey certainly, but to Violet and the others as well. And to some other woman in the future if they weren’t stopped.
“Lacey was murdered,” she told Violet bluntly, taking a huge chance. “I let everyone think it was a car accident because I don’t trust the police to handle it. The men who killed her have too much money and power, and those things talk in this town.”
Violet was staring at her again, shaking her head. “I can’t help you. He did something so I wouldn’t remember. It’s the one decent . . .” She laughed bitterly and ran a hand back through her dirty hair. “As bad as this looks, it’s better than the alternative.”
“Are you having flashbacks?” Emma asked, remembering the rape victims she’d talked to back in college. “Nightmares? Bits and pieces of things that make no sense, but terrify you anyway?”
“Worse,” Violet whispered. “It’s worse because they make no sense. Sometimes I think if I could only put the pieces together and make sense of it all, it would finally go away. But then I’m afraid of what I’ll discover if I ever get that far.”
“Let me help you,” Emma said. “Let my friends help you.”
“Friends? What friends?” Violet said, suddenly suspicious. “Not one of them?”
“Them?”
Violet’s breathing shallowed until she was almost panting. “Vampires,” she breathed. “They exist, you know,” she said defiantly, as if assuming Emma wouldn’t believe her.
Emma nodded. “I know.”
Violet blinked. “You believe me?”
“Of course. I’ve been to the vampires’ residence, the embassy. I know about Victor, and I know what he did.” Emma leaned forward earnestly. “Victor is dead, Violet. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Dead?” Violet whispered in disbelief. Her eyes filled with tears and she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. “Dead,” she repeated. Her gaze flashed up to meet Emma’s. “Then you don’t need me.”
“But I do,” Emma said softly. “I need you to tell me what happened. I need to know who the men were, so I can make them pay.”
Violet closed her eyes, as if in pain. She sat that way a long time, and Emma thought she’d failed. But then Violet spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. “I don’t want my family to know. They’ve suffered enough with this.”
Emma thought quickly. She needed someplace to meet with Violet, someplace where she’d feel safe. Duncan’s estate was probably the most secure, but it was clearly out of the question. Even if Violet had never been to the house, there were too many vampires. And Duncan would never agree to do it at Emma’s house, not after the other night. Damn. Well, they’d work something out. Duncan and his vampires probably had houses all over the place. They’d simply have to be sure the one they chose wasn’t someplace Victor had used for his perverted games.
“If you agree to help me, I’ll pick you up myself,” Emma assured Violet. “You can tell your parents I’m a friend. They’ll be glad you’re getting out,” she said, knowing it was true.
Violet nodded tiredly. “Fine. I just want this over with. I want my life back.”
“I’ll do my best,” Emma said and meant it. She’d started this to find justice for Lacey, but they couldn’t hurt Lacey anymore. They were still hurting Violet Slayton, though, and Emma was going to make them stop.
She traded phone numbers with Violet, promising to get back in touch with her first thing in the morning to set up something. She was nervous about leaving Violet alone, afraid something would happen. Afraid, frankly, that she’d change her mind and run. But Violet flatly refused to go with her, so there was nothing Emma could do. She’d just have to trust.
It wasn’t until she was in her car and heading back to the District that she realized how late it had gotten. In retrospect, she was kind of surprised that Duncan or one of his guys hadn’t called to find out where she was. It actually concerned her a little. Had something else happened? Something that had them all so busy, they didn’t have time to worry about her whereabouts?
At the next red light, she picked up her cell phone and scrolled through to Duncan’s number. It was the first time she’d called him since he’d given her his business card a little over a week ago. She was startled to realize it hadn’t been any longer than that. So much had happened, it didn’t seem possible so little time had passed.
The light turned green and she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder as Duncan’s number went straight to voice mail. Maybe it was too early to call. After all, the sun was barely down, the sky still light on the horizon. Maybe vampires weren’t early risers or whatever you called someone who woke with the sunset.
Duncan’s voice mail beeped, inviting her to leave a message. She dropped the phone into her hand and held it to her face.
“Hi, Duncan, Emma here, calling to let you know I’m on my way, and I’ve got news. I’ll tell you when I get there.”
She paused, suddenly unsure how to sign off. The usual okay, bye didn’t really cut it, and the mwaah of a phone kiss seemed trite, given the heat between them. She took the coward’s way out and simply disconnected, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.
She and the too sexy Duncan were going to have a heart-to-heart very soon. Maybe tonight after he heard about how she’d found Violet Slayton. This was good news for their investigation, really good news. A little celebration wouldn’t be out of order. And what better way to celebrate than finally getting naked together?
Her stomach tightened as the image of a half-naked Duncan flashed in her mind. She zipped up the ramp onto 95 and hit the gas. It was going to be a very good night.
Chapter Twenty
Duncan stared at his prisoner, the unfortunate who’d attacked Emma and nearly killed Baldwin, as difficult as it was to kill a vampire. It was just good fortune that Duncan and Miguel had been so close, and that Baldwin had been alert enough to get Emma to call them. A few more minutes and he’d have bled out, despite their best efforts. And apart from the threat to Emma—which Duncan wasn’t likely to forget—the attack on one of his own was something he couldn’t forgive.
Except that this man truly was an unfortunate who, if he could be believed, had chosen the wrong house to burgle. And Duncan had no reason not to believe him. As far as he could determine, the man was telling the truth. And there were damn few vampires more skilled at detecting lies among humans than Duncan was, especially once he’d slipped into the human’s mind and made him all comfy and relaxed. At that point, there was no deception left in the man.
“I’m telling you the truth, man,” the prisoner whined for the umpteenth time. “I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’.”
“So you say,” Miguel snarled.
“’Cuz it’s the truth, man. I saw the funeral notice and checked out the house.”
“So, you steal from the dead, is that it?”
“I ain’t ashamed of it. A body’s dead, what does it matter who gets their stuff? Might as well be me. Nice place like that, I figured there’d be something worthwhile, so I kept an eye on it, and when nobody comes home, I made my play. Two minutes later, this bitch shows up and all hell breaks loose.”
“And you shot my man,” Duncan said tightly.
“Yeah, well, shit happens. He startled me is all. Shouldn’t startle a man like that.”
“I see. So it’s his fault he got shot.”
“Well, yeah, sort of.”
Duncan studied the man, wondering if he shouldn’t return a good dose of fear to the human, if for no other reason than to punish him for being such a worm.
“Is it possible someone got to him, Sire?” Miguel asked softly.
Duncan had already considered, and rejected, the possibility that another vampire had manipulated this pitiful excuse for a man and sent him to kill Emma.
“There’s no sign of tampering. The problem is,” he admitted, “that this creature really does prey on the dead. If someone knew that, it would be simplicity itself to direct him to Emma’s and let him do what he does best. The necessary suggestion would be so mild that unless the vampire was a total idiot, the result would be all but undetectable, even to me. Especially since the human honestly believes what he’s telling us.”
Miguel frowned. “So what do we do with him? He nearly killed Baldwin.”
Duncan agreed. He couldn’t simply let the man go. He hadn’t killed anyone last night, not that Duncan knew of anyway, but it was probably only a matter of time before he did. On the other hand, it wasn’t Duncan’s responsibility to protect the human race from itself, either.
