Gina was at the head of the crowd.
"Detective DeFarge, we've heard that the dead woman was a blonde, and that she was drained of blood. Should the blonde women of New Orleans be dyeing their hair?"
"The women of New Orleans need to be vigilant and not go out alone after dark. Don't walk through parking lots alone, don't leave a party alone, stay with friends and family. We've released a sketch of a possible witness to the disappearance of Tina Lawrence, so please, if anyone has seen the man, notify the police. If anyone sees anything out of the ordinary, notify the police. We need your help. Thank you. Now, please, I have work to do."
Despite the barrage of questions that followed him, Jagger made his way out of camera range.
Caitlin glared at Fiona. "There's a rogue vampire out there, Fiona. You have to stop him. This will turn into a panic and create a mess in more ways than most people in this city can possibly expect."
"She's right," Shauna said. "I'm going to a meeting tonight of the were clans. I'll do my best to keep them from flying into a fury, but...two murders, Fiona. This is bad."
"We need to call a general assembly," Fiona said, forcing herself to remain calm. "All the races need to be invited--and the voodoo priests and priestesses, as well. And Father Moran."
Father Moran was a priest, and a human being. But like the city's most powerful voodoo priest, Antoine Geneset, who would also be invited, he had an instinct for all creatures and often attended the general assemblies, which were usually held no more than twice a year.
This was an emergency, however.
"I'll stop by and see David Du Lac. He'll make the arrangements," Fiona said.
It was a terribly duty, informing people someone that someone they loved was dead.
Jagger felt out of his league, even though he'd had to perform the same sad duty before.
The sisters who had raised Abigail Langdon had loved their charge dearly, and caught in the midst of their grief, he felt as if he had been overwhelmed by a flock of penguins.
But the sisters had a powerful faith, and eventually their tears gave way to prayers. Listening to those prayers, Jagger felt his resolve doubled. He would see to it that their beloved Abigail was allowed to rest in peace, to return to the tender hands of her Maker.
Sadly, the sisters were unable to help him in his quest for the killer. Abigail had been living in a dorm. She had a roommate, and they had talked to the roommate just before the girl had called the police, which was how they had found out that she was missing to begin with. The roommate, Linda McCormick, had called them to tell them that she had last seen Abigail at a frat party. When Linda was ready to head home, Abigail was nowhere to be seen. Linda assumed her roommate had headed out without her, but when she reached the dorm and found no sign of Abigail, she had begun to worry. But she had known that Abigail was an orphan, and where she had been raised, and she had called the sisters.
Jagger's next stop was the dorm, where he met up with Tony Miro and went to speak with a teary-eyed Linda McCormick.
"It was a party, just like any other party," she told him. "Yeah, there was beer. There's always beer...we are in college, and this is New Orleans," she said, sounding a bit defensive.
"What about drugs?" he asked.
"Sure, some kids do drugs. But I don't, and Abigail didn't."
"What about the kids at the party? Was there anyone there you didn't know?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Can you give me a list of names?" Jagger asked.
She started crying again, and he took her gently by the shoulders. "Linda, we need your help. I know you cared about your roommate. I need you to be strong, though. I need a list with the name of every person who was at that party. No one is going to get in trouble for underage drinking, I swear. Okay? I need every name."
Linda stopped crying long enough to shudder and nod. Tony provided a paper and pencil, and she went to work.
They headed out of dorm as soon as she was done. Jagger called in the ten officers he'd been given as his "task force," so that they could all begin questioning the frat boys at the house where the party had been held, before starting to track down the other attendees. Before long Celia Larson and her team showed up to search for trace evidence.
Jagger wasn't sure what they thought they were going to find. Even if the entire fraternity and all their guests had been full-on inebriated, he was sure they would have noticed if a murder had taken place right in front of them.
The sketch of their possible suspect from the strip club was passed around, but no one had seen anyone who resembled the "pretty" man who had waited for the first victim, Tina Lawrence.
Something big--and bad--was going on.
It was while he was talking to a frat boy who claimed to have been in love with Abigail that he found a possible--and troubling--suspect.
"Hey, have you talked to Billy Harrington?" the boy asked. "He and Abigail were friends."
Jagger frowned and looked at his list. Billy's name wasn't on it.
"Billy was here?"
The young man wiped his wet cheeks and frowned as well. "Come to think of it, Billy wasn't going to come. Said he had to be somewhere else."
That rang true; Billy had been at the meeting at David's last night.
The murder could have taken place in the hour right before the meeting.
"All right, he wasn't supposed to be here. But you saw him?"
The boy suddenly seemed confused. "Did I see him? I don't remember him coming in, and I was by the door. But...I thought I saw him. No, maybe I didn't. But...oh, I don't know!" Fresh tears streamed down his face. "I had a lot of beer."
The kid went on.
It didn't matter.
Jagger knew that he would be seeing Billy that night.
Valentina--apparently chastised by David--was icily cordial when Fiona stopped by the club. She led Fiona right to David, who was in his private quarters, thoughtfully sipping a cup of something when she arrived.
Once they were alone, he lifted a hand before she could speak. "I heard, of course," he said softly.
"We have to call a general assembly, David," she said. "I'm afraid that things will start getting ugly. Everyone--every being--is going to be up in arms."
He nodded. "Let's try for 3:00 a.m. again. Tomorrow night-slash-morning," he said. He looked at her sadly. "Who would do this? Who would risk everything?"
"I don't know. We have to find out," Fiona said. "And we have to keep the peace while we find the killer, and I think an assembly is going to be the best way. The others have to believe you when you say you want the killer as badly as they do. You have to be beyond convincing."
"You got it, kid," he said softly. "Tomorrow night."
She thanked him, said goodbye and left.
She hoped the next night was going to be soon enough, but there was no way to meet any sooner. It wasn't as if they could broadcast this particular meeting on the airwaves.
Back out on the street, she saw that the sun was setting. She got in her car and headed for Martin Luther King Boulevard.
Darkness was falling, but it seemed as if the entire morgue staff was working late.
Jagger waited, watching the entry, watching the sky.
Finally he could wait no longer.
He turned to mist and entered, aware that some people felt something as he passed by. A chill. "Footsteps walking over their grave." Bad expression for New Orleans--there weren't many graves to actually walk over.
He headed to the autopsy rooms, certain that Abigail would be in the same situation as Tina Lawrence. With the autopsy scheduled for first thing in the morning, a tech would have prepared the body. He wondered what thoughts had accompanied the process. Anyone in their right mind would have felt sad at the sight of one so young, with so much hope for a future, lying dead on a cold gurney at the morgue.
He passed the desk where Billy Harrington should have been working, stopping anyone who came to that part of the morgue and requiring them to sign in, but Billy wasn't there.
As Jagger stood there for a moment, he realized that the place had gone very quiet. Most of the day workers had left at last.
He strode down the hall, quietly opening the door to the room where he'd so recently seen Tina.
And there she was: the beautiful young victim.
He entered silently, and there he found Billy.
The boy was standing in front of the gurney, holding a stake. It wasn't nearly as efficient as Jagger's own weapon, but it was apparent that Billy had intended to carry out what he saw as his duty.
Or his necessity?
Was Billy the killer?
Jagger glared at him. "You were seen," he said. "One of the frat boys saw you, Billy."
The look Billy gave him as he turned in surprise was one of sheer astonishment. "What?"
"You were seen at the party. The frat party. The last place Abigail was seen."
"I wasn't there!" Billy protested. "You know where I was. I was at the meeting."
"She could have been killed as much as an hour before the meeting."
Billy shook his head, astounded. "Jagger, I'm telling you, I wasn't there. I swear it. I swear it on my soul and any hope of heaven! I've never killed anything, except for a rat here and there. And they're awful! I get my blood the same places you do. I wasn't even born into human life before the peace was made, much less reborn as a vampire. And I remember the war. Good God, Jagger, I don't want anything like happening again. It wasn't me, I swear it!"
"You'll have to appear before the council, Billy," Jagger said. "For now, you need to step aside. I'll take care of this matter."
Billy didn't move.
"No," he said softly.
"Billy--"
"No. Jagger. I knew her. Abigail was a sweetheart. She'd never hurt anyone, alive or...dead. She might not even need to be--"
"Billy, the girl was murdered. The entire city knows she was murdered. The medical examiner has seen her. She's been photographed and bathed. Her time of death has been listed."
