"I do,” she assured him. “And I'm not here to ask questions. I'm actually hoping I can answer some for you. I'm very good friends with some people high up in the vampire hierarchy. If you needed—"
He smiled patronizingly and dropped his chair forward. “I believe we have the vampire angle covered. I don't think—” His phone rang and he picked it up quickly. “Scavetti.” He listened for a minute and swore, “What the fuck—” His eyes flashed to her once again and he turned away slightly. “What's he doing here? Nobody told me— Yeah. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. What about— All right, you bring him back and I'll meet you in the conference room."
He slammed the phone down and she could see the tendons in his neck straining as he fought for control over his anger. He stood abruptly, and Sarah knew her few minutes were over. “Come on,” he said tersely. “I'll walk you out.” He came around the desk and took her arm, propelling her quickly back through the bullpen, not letting go until they crossed into the hallway.
Sarah felt her chance, slim as it was, slipping away. What did he mean when he said they had the vampire angle covered? Was there someone in town who knew about vamps? No one at the University, that was for sure. Who could he . . . Her eyes widened as she suddenly remembered someone just a short flight away who knew a hell of a lot more than she did about vampires.
Raj pulled into the parking lot behind the police station, backing into a spot in the second row with a good line of the sight on the entrance. He wasn't comfortable being here, although he dealt with cops all the time in Manhattan. There was always some idiot with a death wish who decided to take on one of his vampires, or who got drunk and started a fight in the waiting line as it wound its way down the block. But Manhattan was Raj's city and he knew its cops. He knew who worked what beat around his clubs and he always donated to the various police charities when called upon, which was often. This, on the other hand, definitely wasn't his city, and he wasn't dealing with some asshole on a drunk and disorderly. The Cowens girl had been gone a few days; the odds were she was already dead, which made this a potential murder investigation. And Raj had a feeling the Buffalo Police Department wasn't going to be impressed with his donations to the NYPD Policemen's Ball.
A taxi cab pulled up to the station house, its left front tire dropping visibly into a water-filled pothole before the driver edged forward to sit spewing exhaust in front of the stairs. A woman climbed out of the back seat, her hair uncombed, her clothes obviously pulled on in a hurry. She shoved some money at the driver and he took off, swerving at the last minute to avoid hitting the pothole a second time, driving right by Raj on his way to the exit, windows open despite the frigid air.
As the taxi whipped onto the street, it cut right in front of a limo which had slowed down for its own ponderous turn into the lot. Raj chuckled softly. Who knew sitting in a police parking lot would be so entertaining? The long, black vehicle made its stately way across the width of the building, the driver deftly avoiding the water-filled pothole while taking up almost the exact position the taxi had occupied earlier. The right passenger door opened almost immediately and a man jumped out, his ready demeanor and discreet weapon proclaiming him a bodyguard even before he scanned the area carefully. The driver had disembarked and circled the car by then and, after getting an affirming nod from the bodyguard, opened the back door and said something to whoever was inside before stepping out of the way.
A large man emerged first, his longish blond hair uncovered, his camel-colored cashmere coat buttoned tightly. He turned just enough to offer a good look at his face and Raj swore softly. Edward Blackwood—a traveling snake-oil salesman if there ever was one.
A second man stood from within the limo, almost as tall as Blackwood, but not nearly as bulky. In his late fifties, with carefully styled dark hair, he wore a black winter coat and had a scarf wrapped around his neck against the cold. Unlike Blackwood, he didn't wait, but went immediately up the stairs and into the building, his bodyguard in tow. Blackwood seemed taken aback by the rapid departure and hurried to keep up, hustling along behind. Raj frowned. Given Blackwood's habit of hanging around rich men who had nothing better to do with their money than waste it on Humanity Realized, Raj had to figure the dark-haired man was William Cowens, the missing girl's billionaire father. Which didn't make him happy. He had come prepared to deal with the cops, not a distraught father.
The limo driver pulled the vehicle deeper into the parking lot to wait for his boss's return. Raj sat there a few minutes longer, then switched off the ignition and climbed out of the warm car. Time to find out how much the police knew. And how much they didn't.
Time to get the job done and get out of this town before it sucked him dry.
Raj crossed the parking lot swiftly, taking the stairs two at a time. The scent of a woman's perfume drifted on the air, something light and flowery, something oddly familiar. It persisted as he crossed to the reception desk to confront a human policeman sitting behind a bulletproof barrier and studiously ignoring everyone on the other side.
Raj tapped on the plastic and the cop looked up.
"My name's Gregor, Raymond Gregor,” he said, using the American version of his name. “Detective Scavetti is expecting me."
"Mr. Gregor?” The man's voice came from behind him and Raj spun, tensing slightly.
"Detective Dan Felder,” the man said, stepping forward. “Scavetti and I are partners.” Felder was tall and slender, probably considered good-looking in a subdued sort of way. He smiled as he extended his hand. “Didn't mean to startle you. I was passing through and heard the name."
"Detective,” Raj said, accepting the handshake.
"So, no problem entering the building, huh?"
"Pardon me?"
Felder looked away, uncomfortable. “I kind of thought you might, you know, need an invitation or something."
Raj's first instinct was to scoff, but he thought better of it. It was a generous gesture, and besides, it might come in handy later to have a friendly contact inside the department. “No,” he said. “But thanks for thinking of it, Felder. Public places like this, I can do just fine."
"Oh, right. Makes sense.” Felder gestured toward a closed door. “We're down this way.” He jerked his head at the desk cop who pushed a button somewhere. A loud buzz sounded and Felder pulled the door open, indicating Raj should go ahead of him. He would have preferred the cop go first, but that would have looked a little too paranoid, so he went on through.
They had taken only a few steps when that same perfume hit his senses. He lifted his head and grinned. Sarah Stratton was coming down the hall, along with another detective. She was obviously uncomfortable and embarrassed by whatever the detective was saying, and not yet aware that Raj was standing there.
"Look, I appreciate your effort in coming down here, Sarah,” the cop said, as they came closer. “But like I said, we have our own experts on these things."
"Of course. I just thought, well, since I do have contacts with the local vampire lord—"
She did? That was news to Raj. And it didn't make him happy. He didn't want Sarah Stratton within a hundred yards of Krystof or any other vampire. Except, of course, himself.
"Tony,” Detective Felder said.
The other detective looked up impatiently. “Yeah, just a minute, Dan. Look,” he said quietly, taking Sarah's arm. “Why don't you leave me your number and I'll—"
"No,” she said instantly. She glanced up nervously and froze, her eyes growing wider when she saw Raj watching her.
His lips curled into a pleased smile, although what he wanted to do was knock Tony's fucking hand off her arm.
"Tony,” Felder insisted. “This is Raymond Gregor."
Tony, presumably the Tony Scavetti Raj was supposed to meet, paid attention at last. He forgot the woman at his side to focus on Raj. “You're the vampire?"
Raj nodded. “And you must be the detective,” he responded. He took a cynical pleasure in Scavetti's automatic bristle of reaction as the human drew himself up to his full height—which was no more than five, eight—and flexed gym-built muscles beneath a too-tight jacket. Raj regarded him evenly. He'd met too many Scavettis in his long life, the ones who picked fights for no better reason than to prove no one was tougher than they were.
"Good to get those details out of the way,” Felder said, playing peacemaker. Something he probably had to do often if Scavetti was his partner. “Uh, Professor Stratton?” he reminded Scavetti.
Scavetti frowned, but switched his attention back to Sarah. “Yeah. Sarah, I'm sure Gregor here can answer any questions. In fact, you two probably know each other, right?"
A bright pink blush spread along her cheek bones as she looked up at Raj, staining her otherwise porcelain-pale skin. Her hazel eyes darkened almost gray with emotion and lingered a heartbeat too long before dropping to hide behind thick eyelashes.
"Mr. Gregor,” she said softly.
"Professor Stratton,” Raj purred. He took her hand and tugged, smoothly extricating her from Tony's grasp and drawing her close enough that he could breathe in her scent, shutting out the smells of sweaty cops and burned coffee. His action startled her into looking up and meeting his eyes again.
"I hate to interrupt,” Scavetti said snidely. Raj just barely held back a furious snarl at the interruption, and he felt Sarah's jolt of surprise, as if she'd forgotten Scavetti was even standing there. “Could we get on with this please?” the detective asked.
Raj glanced at Scavetti and permitted a cloud of disdain to cross his expression before he shut it down completely. “Of course, Detective,” he said. “I'll just walk Professor Stratton out to her car first."
Sarah flashed him a startled look, but Raj only bowed slightly and gestured down the hallway. She gave him a weak smile and shivered slightly when she walked past him. Raj swallowed his grin and followed, watching the muted sway of her hips beneath that bulky winter coat and wishing she was wearing something light and silky like before. Maybe a soft skirt, something to play around her slender legs above those sexy high heels she seemed to favor. He glanced back to find the two cops staring at him and shrugged gracefully. “This will only take a moment,” he assured them.
