"That won't be necessary,” Cyn said quickly.
"Not this time,” Eckhoff agreed. “You want me in there with you?"
"Duncan will be with me.” Eckhoff opened his mouth to protest, but Cyn raised a hand. “He won't say anything, but I want Ryder to see him. A little intimidation never hurt, Dean, and if Ryder killed those girls—"
"He killed them all right. That storage unit turned out to be one of those RV places. Most rent a big parking space, but our boy had a full garage, complete with running water and a sink in case he wanted to wash down the old Winnebago. He'd created a personal abattoir in there."
"Evidence?"
"The whole place reeked of bleach, but it looks like Hammel was spending a lot of time at his place when he killed her, because he had a lot of her personal stuff—books, papers, that sort of thing. He should have incinerated the whole batch. Lucky for us, he filed it all away in storage, nice and neat."
"Yeah, Todd's a neat guy. Any murder weapon?"
"Most likely a plain old barbecue fork. There were a few in the unit, high end, heavy duty types. ME's running tests looking for metal fragments in the neck wounds."
"Which they should have done before now."
Eckhoff shrugged. “Ten minutes, Leighton."
Ryder looked up when they entered the room. He was sitting on a plain metal chair bolted to the floor. There was a matching table, but it had been pulled away and shoved against one wall so the prisoner sat exposed, hands cuffed behind his back, ankles manacled. He was still wearing a striped rugby shirt and khakis, but they didn't look quite as neatly pressed. “Who the fuck are you?” he snapped.
"Not important, Todd,” Cyn said pleasantly. “But since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. I'm the one who figured you out."
"Bullshit."
"Such a mouth.” She tsked. “So tell me. I know it all comes back to Patti. I figure she was probably an accident, maybe an argument. She wants to leave, you're upset—"
"Fuck that! Do I look like the kind of guy who needs to beg a woman to stay around? Shit. Two hours after she'd left, I had someone younger sliding into my bed."
"Yes, but did she slide back out of your bed, Todd? Your girlfriends have rather short life spans lately."
"That's not my fault. They hang around with fucking bloodsuckers, stuff's gonna happen."
Cyn looked at him and gave a smile that would have made Raphael proud. Todd Ryder obviously saw it because he started to sweat. “I'm sorry, Todd,” Cyn said sweetly. “I didn't introduce you to my associate.” She stood aside so he could see Duncan clearly. “This is Duncan."
Ryder's eyes flashed over to where Duncan stood with his back to the observation window, arms crossed casually.
"Yeah? Big fucking deal. You gonna have your boyfriend there pound on me or something? I'm terrified. Hope you got a good lawyer, lady, ‘cuz I'm not going down for something I didn't do. Fuck you."
Cyn shook her head in mock disappointment. “And here we've been nothing but friendly. But don't worry—"
"I'm not worried,” he cut in quickly, but Cyn continued as if he'd never spoken.
"...Duncan here's not going to hit you.” She leaned forward and confided, “It's not really his style. Is it, Duncan?” She glanced over her shoulder.
Duncan never changed position; he just opened his mouth and smiled.
Ryder's eyes widened and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as the room filled with the stink of fear. “What the fuck's he doing here?” he gasped. “You can't do this. I've got rights."
"Patti had rights too, Todd. So did all those other girls you killed to cover your own ass. Or wait ... maybe you got off on it, huh? Are the cops going to find streaks of cum on those little souvenirs in your hideaway?"
He looked away from Duncan, his face twisted in disgust. “Jesus, you're a repulsive bitch—” His gaze snapped back, words cut off as Duncan took a step forward.
"You watch your mouth, human."
Ryder blinked furiously, his thigh muscles bunching beneath tan material as he struggled to push the bolted chair away from the vampire. “Look, look. I'd like to help but, I didn't—"
Duncan leaned a little closer and sniffed. “Nervous, little man?” he whispered, and blew a soft breath over Ryder's sweat-dampened skin.
Ryder jumped as if he'd been stabbed, his eyes rolling nearly white with fear as a high-pitched keening noise came from his throat. “You can't do this,” Ryder said again, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"But, Todd, I was never here,” Cyn said reasonably.
He stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. His face paled as realization struck. “No,” he whispered. “You can't, I'm not..."
Cyn smiled.
"Okay,” he croaked, his gaze shifting frantically between Cyn and Duncan as he strained to keep on eye on the vampire while talking to her. “Look. I'll tell you what you want to know, but don't let him...” He jerked his head toward Duncan.
"Confession is good for the soul,” Duncan said softly. “Or so I've heard.” He laughed and it was a terrifying sound.
"Please,” Ryder whispered breathlessly. “I'll talk, but don't—"
"So talk,” Cyn said in a bored voice. “Start at the beginning."
"Okay, okay,” Ryder said, then swallowed noisily. “You've got to believe me, though. I didn't mean to kill her,” he said quickly. “Patti. We had a fight, like you said.” He nodded at Cyn. “She got invited to one of those parties with the vampires, those blood houses. She was so excited. It was sickening."
He obviously remembered his audience and looked up, eyes wide. “I didn't mean...” He swallowed again nervously and continued. “I loved her and I asked her not to go, but she didn't care. I got pissed and threw something. I don't even remember what it was, but I didn't mean to hit her. I loved her,” he repeated in a pitiful whine, as if that excused everything.
"But I knew the cops wouldn't believe me, so I...” He sat up straight suddenly, sucking in a breath, as if aware for the first time what he was about to say. He frowned and gave Cyn a calculating look, but Duncan was suddenly there, right in front of him, blocking him from seeing anyone or anything. Ryder's eyes glazed over and he kept talking.
"I decided since it was the vampires that started it all, they should pay for it. But I had to do something fast. I took Patti to the tub and bled her so it would look like a vampire had done it, then I dumped the body somewhere the cops would find it. I only did the other girls to make it look like Patti was part of a killing spree. I mean those vampires kill people all the time, so what difference..."
Cyn tuned out Ryder's voice, disgusted by his pathetic attempts to justify everything he'd done. As if those girls deserved to die because Patti Hammel had fucked a vampire. She didn't need to listen to know the kind of shit he would shovel. And besides, no matter what Eckhoff said, she knew the conversation was being recorded. Not officially, and the cops wouldn't be able to use it as evidence, but it would tell them everything they needed to know to get Ryder for the murders. She sat in the chair, staring at her feet, until Duncan touched her shoulder gently.
"Cynthia."
She looked up, startled to realize Ryder had stopped talking. The whole room stank of sweat and fear and she wanted out. She stood. “Duncan? Are we finished?” She had enough presence of mind to keep her back to the window, but Duncan was studying her with concern, so she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm okay. Let's just get the hell out of here."
When she dropped off Duncan in front of the main house, it wasn't even midnight yet. She pulled up and left the engine running, and Duncan turned to her in surprise. “You're not coming in?"
"Not tonight. Listen, Duncan. Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you."
He shrugged. “None of what he said will stand up in court."
"No, but now they know what to ask and they'll get something out of him. Enough to convict anyway. Besides, you're one scary vampire. I don't think Todd's going to be in any hurry to get out of jail."
"I'll fill Raphael in on the details unless you...” He didn't finish, but looked at her expectantly.
"No, you go ahead. I need some sleep. There's always sort of a letdown after I close a case, you know?"
Duncan smiled knowingly which irritated her somehow, and so she grumbled, “What's with the accent? You had it at the airport, too, with Mirabelle. You don't normally talk like that."
His smiled broadened. “But I do, Cynthia,” he said with a heavy drawl. “It's that northern speech that's not normal."
Cyn laughed. “You're a man of many surprises, Duncan Milford. Is that your real name?"
"It was once,” he said somberly. “Now it's just Duncan."
"Well, just Duncan, thank you."
He tipped his head in a little bow and slid out of the car. “Enjoy your rest, Cynthia."
"Thanks. And I guess I'll see you on Sunday, right?"
"Oh, yes,” he said with a satisfied expression. “I wouldn't miss it."
Chapter Forty-two
The next day, Liz was waiting when Cyn arrived at the house. Luci had found clothes for her somewhere, a pair of clean denims that hung low enough to show off the glint of silver in her bellybutton, along with a couple of tops layered over one another in a clash of color that was suitably defiant. Cyn smiled. She had a feeling she and Liz would have had a lot in common once upon a time.
"I talked to Mirabelle,” Liz said without preamble. “She knows we're coming."
