“Like gossip about his relationships with women, how closely he watches little boys, stuff like that? Good idea.”

  “How about you have someone interview the vice squad cop who has the details? Or maybe you can track him down yourself, if he’s available.” Diane looked up as the toaster oven sounded.

  Lee reached back and handed the toast over as she brought up her plate. “I’ll make the call as soon as you leave, then let you know if I have to go into Albuquerque. You going to come home for lunch again?”

  “Depends on what I can get in gossip from Anna. I’ll let you know about eleven-thirty. I can always grab something at the store, then go down to Sully’s gas station and top off the tank. You know, look around, ask innocent questions … .”

  “Flirt with the mechanic, see if Sully’s there and checks you out. Ask about Glover’s Jeep, too, and see if his pickup is in the shop.”

  “Yeah. Sounds like a plan,” Diane said with a nod.

  She looked across the table at Lee, who was finishing his coffee. “How long do you think it’ll take before Glover makes a move against us?”

  “If he’s as devious as our initial informant suggests, it might be a week or more. My guess is he’s going to be ignoring us for a while, hoping we’ll think he’s been scared off. But don’t go outside without the vest. He could be a back shooter,” Lee said. “And remember that a vest is still vulnerable to a knife attack.”

  Diane nodded absently as she looked across the room toward the street. “On the way to Howard’s, I’m going to call Logan and see if he can get the Bureau to dig as deep as possible into Newton Glover’s background. You still have that broken bat?”

  “Excellent idea,” he said, nodding in reply to her question. “If I end up going to Albuquerque for an interview, I’ll leave it at the drop. Your people can lift Glover’s prints and run them through federal and defense department databases. All we got from county records is a verification that the guy really is Newton Glover, but for all we really know about him, he could be anything from a retired postal clerk to an NSA analyst. Just to make sure we get things rolling, I’ll package it up. Then, in case I don’t make it into the city, I can leave it at Howard’s. I noticed a pickup box for FedEx out front.”

  “Works for me,” Diane said. Then she stood and started to clean up the breakfast dishes.

  “Just put them in the sink. I’ll get the dishwasher started after you leave.”

  The table and counters were clear in seconds, then Diane walked over to the bedroom and adjusted her jacket and collar, standing in front of the mirror attached to the back of the door. “I look just like one of those mannequins in the Gap window display at the mall.”

  “But much more animated—and shorter.”

  “The heels on these shoes had to be low. I may have to run after a perp, you know.”

  “Or run from one. Be careful. Working at Howard’s is like working at a convenience store. There’s a lot more guys out there besides Glover who may want to poke a gun in your cute little face.”

  “I’m not cute. This is my ‘sassy and sexy’ look. Designed to get men talking.”

  “I know it’s just been one day at work so far, but how have the women customers reacted to you?”

  “Lots of hard-looking women live around here, and they don’t seem to care as long as I’m not making a move on their man. If I did, they’d probably jump me in the parking lot. As far as the older ones go, I think they’re taking their lead from Anna, and she’s accepted me.”

  “She might end up being a good source all by herself, Diane. She and her late husband bought that store fifteen years ago, didn’t they?”

  “Yeah, but I’m still moving slowly with her. She knows I’m a cop, but not why we’re here. That would make her too vulnerable. I don’t want her to become a threat to Glover or those working for him.”

  “Bet the widow of a retired cop is as tough as nails.”

  “You’re probably right. But she’s afraid of Glover, I can tell. It’ll be nice taking him out of the community.” Diane looked at her watch. “But one thing at a time. I’ve got to leave now.”

  “I’ll walk you to your pickup like a good boyfriend,” Lee said.

  “You better.”

  A minute later, Diane climbed into the pickup, rolled down the window, and gave him a quick kiss. “This isn’t just for show. I’ve missed not working with you, Lee!”

  “Me, too. Be careful, and let me know or leave word where you’ll be.”

  “Back at ya.” Diane started the engine, and he stepped away as she drove forward around the half-circle drive and out into the road. There was still no sign of life across the street.

  “Later, babe,” Diane yelled, driving off down the street.

  He avoided looking over at Glover’s house as he returned to the front porch. As he opened the door, he turned and glanced through Glover’s front window.

  Glover was standing well back in the room, in the darkness and out of view of any normal human. The man was aiming a pistol equipped with a laser sight in his direction. Lee felt a spot of warmth in the center of his forehead, and knew instantly where the red dot was.

  CHAPTER 8

  Resisting the instincts that screamed dive, Lee turned and stepped inside as calmly as he could muster, expecting at any second to feel the sensation of a bullet striking his head. Blood, brains, and bone fragments would explode onto the porch, front door, and wall into a crime scene investigator’s nightmare. But there was no shot.

  He made it safely inside, stopped, and caught his breath. His pistol was out now, so he raced along the wall on his left, ducked into their bedroom, and ran over to the window. Angling his body to avoid presenting a target, he looked over at Glover’s house.

  The man was still at the back of his living room, now aiming in other directions, waiting a few seconds to get a sight picture, and maybe dry-firing. It was just practice for Glover, not a real hit attempt.

  Lee sat down on the edge of the bed and put his pistol away. It was possible he could have taken the bullet and healed back within a half hour or less. Since it wouldn’t have been a shot to the heart, his brain might not have shut down completely. But it would have been close, even for a vampire—half vampire—like him.

  Lee walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He smiled, remembering the common lore about vampires not having reflections. The knowledge most people had about his kind was filled with misconceptions. As he studied his face, Lee saw a slight discoloration in the center of his forehead—an additional tanned area that was barely noticeable. It hadn’t burned, at least, and he automatically reached into the shelf and brought out his sunblock for a quick touch-up. He’d known that certain wavelengths of light, those found in direct sunlight and lightbulbs with a natural spectrum, could injure or fry a vampire. But until now, he hadn’t known that a laser beam—or more to the point, the wavelength used on laser sights—could have the same result on vampire flesh, even through a window. It was a lesson he would remember.

  A half hour later, Lee managed to speak with the APD patrol officer who’d arrested Sully, a young-sounding woman named Andrea Moore who was now working with the gang unit. “Andy” was on duty, making some community visits, and reluctantly agreed to let him catch up to her later while she finished her rounds.

  Around 9:00 A.M. Lee arrived in Albuquerque. He turned right off Central, drove a half block north, then entered the parking lot containing an east Albuquerque Wal-Mart. He cruised slowly across the lot, following cars stalking good parking spots up front. The drop site was an old blue Chevy van, always parked directly in line with a security camera in one of the sections designated for employees, farthest from the entrances. Every day it would be moved a row or several slots to avoid attracting attention from Wal-Mart employees. The store manager had been told about the drop, but was under instructions to keep her mouth shut.

  Lee managed to get behind two vehicles jockeying to pounce on a handicapped-only slot, and with a big pickup behind him, he couldn’t move forward or back. Meanwhile, the customer about to vacate the spot—an elderly woman probably close to his chronological age—was still loading her groceries in the trunk of her ancient-model Cadillac.

  He couldn’t get out to help the woman without leaving his own vehicle in traffic, so, like everyone else, he just had to wait. Finally, painfully slowly, the Cadillac pulled out. The closest car was too close, and was forced to back up, but the driver in the third car, who also wanted the slot, refused to give ground.

  Lee, hot and impatient, was seriously considering getting out and shooting somebody when the Wal-Mart security guy came around in his ridiculous-looking golf cart/truckette. He flashed his yellow lights, then climbed out and waved everyone back. The man looked nearly as old as the lady in the Cadillac.

  Lee was finally able to make a right turn, go to the next lane, then pull into a slot at the end, several spaces down from the drop van, recognizing the vehicle tags and various Wiccan bumper stickers on the rear door. One read BE WITCHED.

  The vehicle had alarms, but Lee had the gadget to disable them and unlock the driver’s door. He climbed inside with the bag containing the baseball bat parts, signed his name, adding the date and time, then picked up the paper sack supposedly containing photos of East Mountain-area government and departmental employees, plus those of any high-profile businesspeople in the area. There was also supposed to be a copy of the paperwork concerning the Zeke Perry homicide.

  Glancing at his watch, Lee realized he had only fifteen minutes to make it all the way across town to the north valley. “Andy” was going to be talking to a middle school faculty about gang activity in their area, and he was supposed to meet her there so they could speak as soon as she finished.

  Lee returned to his unmarked SUV and punched out Officer Moore’s number. He got her voicemail, and left the message that he was across the city and would need at least twenty minutes to arrive. If she couldn’t wait for him, perhaps he could meet with her at her next stop.

  Lee got on I-40 again, then took the Santa Fe exit and entered I-25 North. Farther down, there was an exit that would take him west, just one street north of the school where Moore was speaking. He was five minutes away when Lee got a call. It was Officer Moore.

  “Officer Hawk. I’m taking Seven at Two Bits, which is just south of Five-twenty-eight. It’s two lights up, then an eighth-mile south from the intersection with Corrales Road. Meet me in ten?”

  “Gotcha. What’s close to Two Bits?”

  He heard a groan. “You’ll pass Hooters on your left. Oh, and there’s a big bookstore just past the turn,” Officer Moore added.

  “I know where you mean. Two Bits has the barbecue sandwiches and the big fries.”

  “That’s it. See you there.” Moore ended the call.

  Five minutes later, Lee crossed the Rio Grande, and not long after that drove into a slot in front of the liquor store beside Two Bits. He could see the APD unit several cars farther east, but it was empty. Officer Moore had gone inside, apparently, but he figured her dark blue uniform wouldn’t be hard to spot.

  It wasn’t. Once inside, he saw the young woman across the dining area sitting at a table beside the wall. Like most law enforcement people he knew she chose to sit with her back to a wall and her eyes to the door. Seeing him, she nodded.

  Despite having managed to keep his image out of the papers and off TV, his photo was on file. A year ago, he’d also worked with Diane on a case that had involved the APD. A murder had taken place in full view of virtually the whole nation, including the visiting U.S. president. Police officers normally had long memories and that wasn’t a case anyone would be likely to forget. These days most APD officers had heard of Lee, and quite a few had seen him on the job. Long-term exposure for a man whose appearance never changed could end up becoming a problem. He was already thinking of ways of making himself look older, maybe adding a little gray to his hair, if he stuck with the department much longer. Maybe he could push it another ten years if he transferred around a lot.

  Lee took the room in at a glance. The establishment had just opened for the day, and tables with customers planning an early lunch held businessmen, upscale tradesmen, and a few retirees with good teeth and knowledge of the extraordinary barbecue sauce served here. One could also hoist a beer or two, something the Subway down the road couldn’t provide. He didn’t see any ladies alone except for the policewoman and the waitresses.

  Satisfied there was no obvious threat, Lee walked over to Officer Moore’s table. She must have been over twenty-one, with short, strawberry-blond hair and pale blue eyes. Andrea Moore’s slender arms suggested she was a little gal, but it was hard to know for sure because the outline of her bullet-resistant vest was apparent beneath her blue uniform shirt. Officer Moore looked like a teenager except for her eyes, which were hard despite their attractive color.

  “Officer Hawk, I’ve heard of you,” the woman officer said in a low monotone, standing to shake his hand. Her grip was firm, dry, and confident, but she’d obviously not learned that, traditionally, Navajos didn’t shake hands with strangers. Or maybe she suspected Lee wasn’t a traditional Navajo, being a cop.

  “If it was complimentary, feel free to believe all of it,” Lee responded with the hint of a smile. He’d learned long ago to walk on eggshells around female cops. They were often quick to suspect ulterior motives from male officers, admittedly with reason, and got defensive easily. Truth be told, keeping it cool and professional suited him fine, too. After many decades of living alone—personally and emotionally—he’d lost the ability to feel completely comfortable around women.

  Diane was one of only two women he’d ever let into his life. He’d married the first, and lost her to Navajo wolves—skinwalkers—due to his own lapse in judgment. Lessons like that stayed with a man.

  “Coffee?” Officer Moore offered, raising her hand and waving to a waitress who’d caught her eye.

  “Yeah. You having an early lunch, Officer Moore?” He noticed a menu resting on the table by her right arm, opened.

  “Got to do it now while I have the chance, Officer Hawk.”

  “Think I’ll join you. A working lunch? I’m hoping to glean some old details from your days in vice.”

  “Shoulda stayed in vice, wearing those tight jeans and tube tops, trolling for johns. I traded a group of horny sickos for carloads of young, hard-core shitheads who’d just as soon shoot you as look at you. And every look is mad dogging to them. Punks. And that’s just the girls.”

  Moore was harsh, but she was telling it like it was today, even in small New Mexico towns like Los Lunas and Española. Lee remembered neighborhood gangs back in the fifties, when knives, clubs, chains, and fists were the weapons of choice, and a car less than fifteen years old was a luxury. Nowadays, even the wannabes were packing serious heat and racing around in brand-new cars. And, with cell phones, bad guy backup was just a speed dial away.

  He nodded just as the waitress came up.

  “Would you like a menu, sir?” The young woman was definitely not a Hooters girl with her high collar, conservative white blouse, and loose-fitting black slacks. She gave him that big-tip smile as she poured Lee a cup of coffee and topped off the female officer’s mug.

  Lee looked over at Officer Moore, who offered him a look at her menu. He waved it off. “I’ll have a beef barbecue sandwich, large fries, and coffee. Then a second sandwich packaged to go.”

  Officer Moore added, “Me, too, but only one sandwich. And I’d like extra sauce for the fries.”

  “I can do that, Officer,” the waitress said, then hurried away.

  “I’ve eaten at their place over in the northeast heights, and the one south of the university. Didn’t know they had a third location,” Lee said, looking around the establishment.

  “This one’s still pretty new,” Officer Moore said, then her voice lowered, taking on a husky tone. “You wanted to know what I remember about a bust I made a few years ago. A scumbag businessman—Brian Sully?”

  Right down to business. Lee liked that in a cop. “He’s the one. I know it has been a while … .”

  “I looked it up to refresh my memory, but it wasn’t really necessary. Another female officer was working with me. We were both posing as hookers near one of those run-down East Central motels. She’s built like a brick shithouse, so every time the perps hit on her first. Even in my tightest jeans and tube tops I’m pretty much straight up and down. My self-esteem was going down the toilet. But this guy Sully just couldn’t wait to get his hands on me. Never gave Monica a second glance.”

  “This officer, Monica. She’s tall?”

  “Yeah. We looked like Nicole and Tom out there.”

  Lee would have said Mutt and Jeff, but Andrea wouldn’t have had a clue. “No offense, but you’re small and look like a ninth grader. Maybe Sully was into jailbait.”

  “Could be. You can imagine the kind of crap I went through at the academy. My instructors and most of the guys in my class thought I was either gay, androgynous, or still going through puberty. Once I was in the field, though, the department took advantage of my lack of obvious attributes. I was assigned to vice to lure in the pedophiles.”

  That was the kind of insight Lee was looking for. In the dark, with a boyish figure, maybe Sully had thought he was picking up a young man. Lee thought about the missing boy … .

  “A light just went on behind those dark eyes, Officer Hawk. Care to enlighten me?”

  “Call me Lee. And, yes, it makes me even more interested in Brian Sully. You know about the latest Amber alert.”

  “That ten-year-old from the East Mountains? Timothy Klein? Don’t tell me Brian Sully lives out there. Any question of him being a pedophile?”

  “He’s not on the list, but that might just mean he’s never been caught. Sully’s got several businesses, including a gas station in Tijeras, and property farther south, according to what I’ve managed to learn. He’s a contact of someone we’re investigating right now—undercover. My partner and I will check into any possible connection Sully might have had, or is having now, with a minor.”