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Authors: Alexis Kennedy
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returning to work on Monday after all. Diane was very understanding and agreed with her.
Now, back to the task at hand, she poured herself the strongest cup of coffee of her life and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and, once again, tried to come up with the grudge list. But she couldn't think of any enemies her friend may have had—no ex-lovers or friends came to mind that would hold a grudge against Jane. Certainly not anyone who would want to kill her. Salena understood the idea of this not being a random mugging, since none of Jane's belongings were missing. Her purse, briefcase, and CDs appeared untouched. Nonetheless, the police were going to dust for prints.
Then she thought about the recent rash of murders and her own drama and tried to remember all of the details in order to find a connection to Jane's death. The one common trait that stuck out was that the female victims had bite marks—she looked down at her wrist but there was nothing there. Her fingers went to her neck, and she recalled that the mark there was already gone too. Part of her wanted to call the detective, who'd given her his business card, to ask if any had been found on Jane, but the other part of her wasn't so sure she wanted to know the answer—it might just be too horrible to comprehend. She was also curious if Jane had tested positive for signs of recent sexual activity since that was also a common factor among the female victims, including herself—well, sort of.
The detective had told her an autopsy would be performed, so she might as well wait to hear from him; he did say he'd keep her informed. She looked at the business card again. Okay, Detective Wagner, let's see you figure all this out .
There was one phone call that she did make; it was to Eric. She told him about Jane and asked him if he could make time to come down and escort her to the funeral service. Unfortunately, he was booked on a flight to London this afternoon and would be gone for a week or two. He'd come see her when he got back.
Mr. Dependable as always. She shouldn't have bothered. The other night didn't mean a thing to him; hell, two years didn't mean a thing to him, apparently. She didn't want to seem selfish, but in his line of work as a corporate attorney, he could've sent some lackey to London and came to New Orleans to be with her. Maybe she'd get a dog; they are probably more reliable.
A hot candlelight bath was beckoning her now, so she gathered her towel, washcloth, and candles and headed into the bathroom for a relaxing soak—or so she thought. On the ledge of her garden tub was a vase full of flowers—funeral flowers—white lilies. She dropped her items and tugged her robe tightly closed as she ran back through her small house, checking doors and windows—all locked tightly. She knelt down, weeping softly—more from confusion than fear, which was confusing in and of itself. No one had a key to her home, and she didn't leave a spare outside anywhere either, just one in her purse, which was on her dresser. Even the police had said there was no sign of forced entry the last time, and none of her belongings had been missing. Feeling like her sanity was slowly slipping away, she cried hard now. Was Heloise right? Was she really being stalked by a "vampire"? Vampire or not, the killer hadn't harmed her, why was that? What did he want with her and was the connection her grandmother? She needed answers. She'd been home all morning too ...
Chapter 30
Salena was on hold with the police station when she braved a trip back to the bathroom to examine the flowers. There was no card with the lilies, but she knew it had to be the same intruder as before—who got in and out with no trace. The same one who had seduced her and bit her twice now.
She asked the operator to put her through to Officer Ann Marx, who'd investigated the first break in. While on hold, and frightened she may not be alone, she locked the bathroom door; all the while wondering what
Now, back to the task at hand, she poured herself the strongest cup of coffee of her life and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and, once again, tried to come up with the grudge list. But she couldn't think of any enemies her friend may have had—no ex-lovers or friends came to mind that would hold a grudge against Jane. Certainly not anyone who would want to kill her. Salena understood the idea of this not being a random mugging, since none of Jane's belongings were missing. Her purse, briefcase, and CDs appeared untouched. Nonetheless, the police were going to dust for prints.
Then she thought about the recent rash of murders and her own drama and tried to remember all of the details in order to find a connection to Jane's death. The one common trait that stuck out was that the female victims had bite marks—she looked down at her wrist but there was nothing there. Her fingers went to her neck, and she recalled that the mark there was already gone too. Part of her wanted to call the detective, who'd given her his business card, to ask if any had been found on Jane, but the other part of her wasn't so sure she wanted to know the answer—it might just be too horrible to comprehend. She was also curious if Jane had tested positive for signs of recent sexual activity since that was also a common factor among the female victims, including herself—well, sort of.
The detective had told her an autopsy would be performed, so she might as well wait to hear from him; he did say he'd keep her informed. She looked at the business card again. Okay, Detective Wagner, let's see you figure all this out .
There was one phone call that she did make; it was to Eric. She told him about Jane and asked him if he could make time to come down and escort her to the funeral service. Unfortunately, he was booked on a flight to London this afternoon and would be gone for a week or two. He'd come see her when he got back.
Mr. Dependable as always. She shouldn't have bothered. The other night didn't mean a thing to him; hell, two years didn't mean a thing to him, apparently. She didn't want to seem selfish, but in his line of work as a corporate attorney, he could've sent some lackey to London and came to New Orleans to be with her. Maybe she'd get a dog; they are probably more reliable.
A hot candlelight bath was beckoning her now, so she gathered her towel, washcloth, and candles and headed into the bathroom for a relaxing soak—or so she thought. On the ledge of her garden tub was a vase full of flowers—funeral flowers—white lilies. She dropped her items and tugged her robe tightly closed as she ran back through her small house, checking doors and windows—all locked tightly. She knelt down, weeping softly—more from confusion than fear, which was confusing in and of itself. No one had a key to her home, and she didn't leave a spare outside anywhere either, just one in her purse, which was on her dresser. Even the police had said there was no sign of forced entry the last time, and none of her belongings had been missing. Feeling like her sanity was slowly slipping away, she cried hard now. Was Heloise right? Was she really being stalked by a "vampire"? Vampire or not, the killer hadn't harmed her, why was that? What did he want with her and was the connection her grandmother? She needed answers. She'd been home all morning too ...
Chapter 30
Salena was on hold with the police station when she braved a trip back to the bathroom to examine the flowers. There was no card with the lilies, but she knew it had to be the same intruder as before—who got in and out with no trace. The same one who had seduced her and bit her twice now.
She asked the operator to put her through to Officer Ann Marx, who'd investigated the first break in. While on hold, and frightened she may not be alone, she locked the bathroom door; all the while wondering what
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