Read Online Lilith’s Dream: A Tale of the Vampire Life by Whitley Strieber - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Whitley Strieber
Ads: Link
now.”
Paul smiled to himself. What would you think, little boy, if you’d seen your mommy as I have seen her, filthy in a black cave, face to face with a monster that can throw a goddamn knife faster than a bullet, pounding away with a pistol as big as your head?
But he said—could say—not one damn word. The dark power of women has a good side and a bad side, though, and this innocent boy was being attracted to the bad side.
When they arrived at the school, Paul contented himself with a pat on the shoulder for his son.
“Bye, guy,” he said, “love you.” And, God, he felt that. He felt that so deep, and it hurt so much.
“Love you, Dad.”
Then he was gone, disappearing into the morass of losers that populated his high school. Paul knew that they should have sent him to prep school. But the idea of letting him go out in the world on his own like that—it was just impossible. When Ian was so much as late coming home from a dance, Paul paced, worrying that he was out there in the hills somewhere, sniffing around some lonely cabin.
Paul headed for the parkway, powering the vehicle expertly through the hairpins of East Mill Road. On the trip down to the city, he listened blankly to the late repeat of Morning Edition and remembered not a word.
He pulled into One Police Plaza at exactly four minutes to ten and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. The duty officer was so beautiful that Paul practically had to glue the image of Becky onto his brain to avoid becoming terminally distracted. She had big green eyes and, beneath her starch-scented uniform blouse, two very shapely reasons that a blouse was different from a shirt.
Would Leo the grrrl approve of the way I think? he wondered.
“Mr. Ward, please come in. Coffee?”
“Yeah, black and mean as you can make it.”
She went out, and Binion said, “You’re gonna have to cut it before you can eat it. She doesn’t like suits, and you gave her license.” He gestured toward a chair, then dropped into his own. “You said fifteen minutes, no more.”
“I’m looking at a possible murder.”
“All right. That’s my kind of business.”
He wanted to add, Committed by a vampire, but that was, of course, impossible. Then he wanted to say, Committed by Leo Patterson. But that was, if anything, even more impossible.
“I want to see all the raw MP sheets for yesterday.”
The eyebrows flickered. The coffee came. The chief busied himself with his mug. “I’m trying to figure out which parts of the ethics code I wouldn’t be violating, and I can’t seem to find any. Except the prohibition against killing rats on Sunday. We’re okay there.”
“Then just for Midtown North. Stuff that might not be in the computer.”
“That you know isn’t in the computer, because you already looked. Stuff the detectives didn’t bother to post. The bullshit calls from drunks and paranoids, that kind of shit—am I right?”
“Exactly right.”
“Leave no tone unsturned, right, CIA? Thing is, if you guys are so careful, then why do we always lose?”
“We don’t lose. We never lose.”
“Oh, yeah, I musta got my doublethink backward.” He pushed a button. His orderly reappeared. “Sergeant, could you get MN to fax over all the shit outa the detectives’ trash cans. Gum wrappers, everything. Gum.”
She withdrew.
“You know, Paul, if I had some inkling of what you were doing, I could help you more. Offer insight. Resources.”
“Need to know, I’m sorry.”
“Look, let me put this another way. If you’re going to get any more help from this department, I’m going to need some kind of supporting authorization. I don’t mean to be a bureaucrat—”
“You are a bureaucrat. Covering your ass.”
“Covering my ass.”
The sergeant brought in a couple of faxed sheets. “Quiet night,” Binion said, reading them. He handed them to Paul. The first was a list made by somebody taking phone calls. It was cryptic, but he could guess what things
Paul smiled to himself. What would you think, little boy, if you’d seen your mommy as I have seen her, filthy in a black cave, face to face with a monster that can throw a goddamn knife faster than a bullet, pounding away with a pistol as big as your head?
But he said—could say—not one damn word. The dark power of women has a good side and a bad side, though, and this innocent boy was being attracted to the bad side.
When they arrived at the school, Paul contented himself with a pat on the shoulder for his son.
“Bye, guy,” he said, “love you.” And, God, he felt that. He felt that so deep, and it hurt so much.
“Love you, Dad.”
Then he was gone, disappearing into the morass of losers that populated his high school. Paul knew that they should have sent him to prep school. But the idea of letting him go out in the world on his own like that—it was just impossible. When Ian was so much as late coming home from a dance, Paul paced, worrying that he was out there in the hills somewhere, sniffing around some lonely cabin.
Paul headed for the parkway, powering the vehicle expertly through the hairpins of East Mill Road. On the trip down to the city, he listened blankly to the late repeat of Morning Edition and remembered not a word.
He pulled into One Police Plaza at exactly four minutes to ten and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. The duty officer was so beautiful that Paul practically had to glue the image of Becky onto his brain to avoid becoming terminally distracted. She had big green eyes and, beneath her starch-scented uniform blouse, two very shapely reasons that a blouse was different from a shirt.
Would Leo the grrrl approve of the way I think? he wondered.
“Mr. Ward, please come in. Coffee?”
“Yeah, black and mean as you can make it.”
She went out, and Binion said, “You’re gonna have to cut it before you can eat it. She doesn’t like suits, and you gave her license.” He gestured toward a chair, then dropped into his own. “You said fifteen minutes, no more.”
“I’m looking at a possible murder.”
“All right. That’s my kind of business.”
He wanted to add, Committed by a vampire, but that was, of course, impossible. Then he wanted to say, Committed by Leo Patterson. But that was, if anything, even more impossible.
“I want to see all the raw MP sheets for yesterday.”
The eyebrows flickered. The coffee came. The chief busied himself with his mug. “I’m trying to figure out which parts of the ethics code I wouldn’t be violating, and I can’t seem to find any. Except the prohibition against killing rats on Sunday. We’re okay there.”
“Then just for Midtown North. Stuff that might not be in the computer.”
“That you know isn’t in the computer, because you already looked. Stuff the detectives didn’t bother to post. The bullshit calls from drunks and paranoids, that kind of shit—am I right?”
“Exactly right.”
“Leave no tone unsturned, right, CIA? Thing is, if you guys are so careful, then why do we always lose?”
“We don’t lose. We never lose.”
“Oh, yeah, I musta got my doublethink backward.” He pushed a button. His orderly reappeared. “Sergeant, could you get MN to fax over all the shit outa the detectives’ trash cans. Gum wrappers, everything. Gum.”
She withdrew.
“You know, Paul, if I had some inkling of what you were doing, I could help you more. Offer insight. Resources.”
“Need to know, I’m sorry.”
“Look, let me put this another way. If you’re going to get any more help from this department, I’m going to need some kind of supporting authorization. I don’t mean to be a bureaucrat—”
“You are a bureaucrat. Covering your ass.”
“Covering my ass.”
The sergeant brought in a couple of faxed sheets. “Quiet night,” Binion said, reading them. He handed them to Paul. The first was a list made by somebody taking phone calls. It was cryptic, but he could guess what things
Similar Books
