Night Of The Living Dandelion Part 8

Marco got out and strode up to the barricades. He stood there for a few minutes until he caught Reilly's attention. Reilly waved him through; then he, Reilly, and Corbison huddled together in conversation. d.a.m.ned sprained ankle! I wanted to be in that huddle, too. I had questions!

Two EMTs stood beside the blue and red rescue van, watching as a police photographer took pictures of the interior of the garbage bin. When one of the EMTs walked in my direction to take a call on his two-way radio, I recognized him as Kyle from the bar. He signaled to the other paramedic, then started toward the ambulance.

I rolled down my window and called, "Hey, Kyle. Can you talk for a minute?"

"Hey, Abby," he said, coming up to the gla.s.s. "I've got another emergency call."

"Just two seconds, Kyle. Have the police identified the body?"

"Yes. It's the nursing director from Parkview."

My gut feeling was right. "How did she die?"

"It hasn't been determined. They haven't even removed the body."

"Did you take a look?"

"Well, sure."

"Can you make an educated guess?" I smiled.

"I shouldn't. I could be wrong by a mile."

"I won't hold it against you. Please?"

Kyle glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was around, then bent down to the window. "I could be mistaken, but it looks like she was exsanguinated."

I had to run through a list of medical terminology before I figured it out. "She was drained of blood?"

Kyle started toward the ambulance. "As I said, I could be mistaken."

"How?" I called from the window. "Were her wrists cut?"

He paused outside the vehicle to curve two of his fingers, fanglike, and tap them against his throat. Was he saying she was bitten?

When Marco returned to the car several minutes later, his jaw was clenched. "It's the Willis woman."

"I know. I just talked to Kyle. He said she appears to have been drained of blood."

Marco checked the side and rearview mirrors, then pulled out.

"Did they have an idea as to when she died?" I asked.

"The paramedics estimate sometime before midnight. They're still waiting for the coroner to arrive. He'll have a better idea."

"If she died last night, then she was held for several days before being killed."

"That's what seems to have happened."

"Did Vlad's name come up in the conversation?"

"Right away. Corbison said he wants to bring Vlad in for more questioning. I told him to talk to Dave Hammond."

Now I knew why Marco's jaw was clenched. "It has to be obvious that your garbage bin was used as the dump site to implicate Vlad."

"I didn't have time to get into that with them, but I'm going back after I drop you off. I want to see what other evidence they find."

"I hate to sound pessimistic, Marco, but if Reilly and Corbison are talking about questioning Vlad again, they're not going to share information with you."

Marco was silent. I could tell he was concerned.

"I can try hitting up Morgan for the info," I said. "He's surely forgiven me by now."

Greg Morgan was a young, good-looking deputy prosecuting attorney who always bragged about how his finger was on the town's pulse. I'd had the hots for him in high school, but he hadn't even been aware of my existence. Now he was dating Nikki, which should have been a plus in my favor, except that his boss, Chief Prosecuting Attorney Melvin Darnell, had found out that he'd leaked information to me and called him on the carpet for it.

"He hasn't forgiven you," Marco said. "When I ran into him last week, he said Darnell was still watching his every move."

So Morgan was out. Reilly was out. Who did that leave?

I pondered the matter as we circled the block to get to Bloomers. "I can't think of anyone else to ask, Marco. Can you?"

"Mmm."

That was Marco's answer when he didn't want to answer. And when he didn't want to answer, it was often because he knew his answer would lead to a debate, and Marco hated debates. I, on the other hand, relished them. Probably because I usually won them.

He pulled up in front of Bloomers and came around to help me out. As I balanced on one foot, waiting for him to pull the crutches off the backseat, I said, "What aren't you telling me?"

He nodded toward the flower shop. "Grace is waiting at the door. We can talk later."

I tucked the Evil Ones under my arms but didn't move. Instead, I studied Marco's face, trying to work out the answer for myself. What had happened in the alley? Had Reilly told Marco to stay out of his way? Had the cops already discovered something in that bin that implicated Vlad? Was Marco having to acknowledge that his Ranger buddy might be the killer?

All of the above or none of the above, it didn't matter. Because I'd just spotted a glint in Marco's eyes that I knew all too well. "You're going to do your own investigation."

Marco's lips twitched, meaning I'd guessed correctly. And now I knew why he hadn't wanted to tell me. "Marco, you said you weren't going to take on any more PI work so we could spend your remaining days together."

"If this were any other case, Abby, I wouldn't take it. I want to be with you, sweetheart, but this is important. It concerns my army buddy. It could be a life-or-death situation for Vlad."

"That's why he hired Dave. You're not in the Rangers with Vlad anymore, Marco. You're here with me-for only a short time."

"Look, babe, I know it's hard for you to understand. You haven't been through what Vlad and I have, but there's this"-he glanced around, as if searching for a tool to help him describe his feelings-"this tie, this connection that forms among soldiers who fight together that's as strong as any blood bond. You witness death and devastation and sights so gut-wrenching, you hope to G.o.d you never see them again. You'd do anything to protect each other."

Marco put his hands on my shoulders. "I need to help Vlad, Abby. If I don't get involved, the police investigation will stall right on his head. Then the media will catch the fever, and we'll have a three-ring circus on our hands. Vlad wouldn't stand a chance for any real justice. That's not how I want to leave things. I won't leave things that way, and I need you to be on my side on this, Suns.h.i.+ne."

I hated references to his leaving. They were like a fist in the gut.

Step back, Abby. See the problem through Marco's eyes.

I took a deep breath. Although I couldn't relate to all of his experiences, I did understand having such powerful feelings because that was how I felt about him. "I will always be on your side, Marco."

He gazed into my eyes for a moment, then hugged me against him, being careful not to throw me off balance. "Thank you, sweetheart. It means a lot to have you with me."

"Good, because I'm also going to help you investigate."

He pulled back with a frown, holding me by the shoulders. "Abby, no. That wasn't what I meant. Look at you. You can barely make it from the car to your shop. If we're dealing with a killer, there's no way I'm going to put you in danger."

"I don't have to run a marathon to help you. I can do other things-computer searches, phone calls, accompany you on stakeouts . . . We have thirteen days left, Marco. Want to know how many hours that is? I'm not spending them away from you."

"I don't want to spend them away from you either, Abby. It just goes against my better judgment."

"You'll get over it. We're a team now, Marco. Partners."

He looked as though he was going to argue, but then he sighed and shrugged. "Okay."

"Great! So what do we do first, partner?"

"Not so fast. We need to set some ground rules."

My turn to frown. Following rules didn't come naturally to a Knight.

"You have to promise to abide by my instructions."

"I love it that you're so protective, Marco, but don't I always abide by your instructions?" Always meaning when I felt like it.

"You also have to promise not to argue if I say something is too risky for you."

"Define risky."

Marco put his hands on either side of my face. "This is for your safety, Abby. If you don't intend to do exactly as I say, then thirteen days or not, I'll do it without you."

The stubborn part of me wanted to fold my arms and tell him to stop being so bossy. That wasn't how partners.h.i.+ps operated. But the logical part of me knew he was acting out of love. And besides, how could I look into those intensely pa.s.sionate eyes and deny him anything? I loved Marco with every molecule of my being, and I wanted as much time with him as possible. If that meant abiding by his rules, then so be it.

"I promise," I said solemnly.

"I don't want you to discuss this case with anyone either. That includes Lottie and Grace. The fewer the people who know what we're doing, the less likely it is that the cops will find out and interfere. So mum's the word. You don't know anything about the murder."

That last promise was going to be tricky. "Got it." I gave him a salute, then nearly lost my balance.

Marco caught me and kissed me right there in full view of Grace and anyone else watching. I felt such an overwhelming love for him that I dropped the Evil Ones, wrapped my arms around his ribs, and kissed him back, clinging to him to keep from falling.

Unbidden, one of Grace's sayings jumped into my mind: All good things must end. And just like that, my connection to Marco felt as tenuous as a thin rubber band stretching toward that thirteen-day mark and the murky future beyond. I hugged him tighter, wanting to hold on to him and the moment forever.

"Will you call me as soon as you work up a plan?" I asked.

"You know I will." He picked up the crutches and helped me position them.

"You don't need to escort me to the door," I a.s.sured him. "I can manage." I started forward, hit a crack in the sidewalk, and tottered backward.

Marco caught me again, only instead of kissing me, he looked troubled. I vowed then to practice on those darned crutches until I mastered them. No way did I want Marco thinking I'd hold him back. I rebalanced myself and hobbled forward alone.

Grace held the door for me. "Is it true what Lottie heard? That a body has been found in the bin behind Marco's bar?"

I'd made Marco a promise five minutes ago and was already being tested. Figuring I was safe with gestures, I nodded.

Lottie held the wheelchair while I settled in. "I heard the news on the radio," she said, taking the crutches from me. "They're saying it's the Willis woman."

"Lottie, why are you here on your Sat.u.r.day off?" I asked.

"Are you kidding?" Lottie said, pus.h.i.+ng my chair into the parlor. "With all of this hullabaloo, we'll be swamped with customers. You'll need help."

"She doesn't want to miss any of the excitement," Grace translated.

We sat at a table near the window, where Grace had already set out a basket of fresh scones. I put one on my plate and broke off the end. Yum. Pecan raisin.

"What else did you hear about the woman's death?" Grace asked Lottie, filling our cups.

"Most of it was speculation," Lottie said. "They said she wasn't the suicidal type or much of a drinker, and rarely took a day off work. A person like that doesn't disappear for a few days, then reappear to dive into a garbage bin and die."

"So it was clearly murder," Grace said.

"Yep. Murder," Lottie said.

What was murder was playing dumb. I bit into the scone, hoping they'd tire of the subject.

"Did you hear whether the police have any suspects?" Grace asked.

"One," Lottie said, then gave me a sidelong glance. "Vlad."

"That was on the radio?" I asked.

"You don't even want to know the things people called in to say about him," Lottie said, then proceeded to tell me. "They're calling him the vampire killer, and saying he drained her body of blood."

I swallowed the bite of scone with some difficulty. "Thanks for the image."

Lottie patted my arm. "Sorry, sweetie."

"Vampires," Grace said, shaking her head. "What rubbish."

We drank coffee silently for a few minutes; then Lottie said to me, "So how did Marco find out? Did the cops call him?"

"One of his employees found the body and phoned," I said. No harm in revealing that.

"That poor woman," Grace said. "Stuffed in the trash like yesterday's fish."

"I saw the alley is blocked off," Lottie said. "Has Marco been back there to take a look at the scene?"

"Yes," I said, busying myself with putting clotted cream on the scone.

"Was he able to talk to the cops about what happened?"