Page 71 of Whispers at Dusk
A camera. Well, yes, they were filming a movie. Easy for someone to set up—easy for anyone to ignore. Not to mention the fact any house might have a security camera.
“We’ll get forensics on it,” Robertson said.
He went quiet, as they all did. The EMTs were hurrying to their waiting vehicles with Frasier MacLean and his beautiful leading actress, Lydia Sanderson.
“Ian, get to the hospital,” Mason told Robertson. “He was your friend, and we all need to hope they both live.”
“I may just pace the hallways—”
“But we can all listen to the recording Della made and bring you up to speed. I think Della is right—he’s long gone. Stops at the airport and whatever can be managed at the harbor would be good, except I believe he finished the taunting he set out to do here. He was taunting us, and he doesn’t truly believe he’s a blood-sucking vampire since he left his latest victims bleeding to death. Ian, seriously, we’ll get on this. And I’ll get the recording to you for something to listen to while you’re pacing the halls.”
Robertson smiled grimly and nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
He left them.
Mason looked at Della. “We’ll listen, and get a trace on the phone.”
“It’s going to be a burner, cash up front, untraceable,” Della said.
“Yep, but we’ll go through the motions,” Mason said. “He may be getting so cocky he doesn’t care if we trace it.”
She nodded.
They made their way through the police and crowd that had gathered around the house and headed back to their headquarters first. Bisset made calls to various law enforcement departments. Detectives Taylor and Lapierre returned from their search of Kirkwall and were informed about the events. They were discouraged and tense regarding them.
They all sat and listened to a replay of the call Della had received, re-taping it first, and preparing to send the phone to tech to be traced.
Lapierre swore furiously in French. He spoke so quickly Della couldn’t catch everything he was saying, but the gist was he was sick to death of chasing such a monster. He wished that such a monster might have his heart explode so he could drown in his own blood.
Whether they understood him or not, the others certainly got the general picture of what he was saying.
“We will get him,” Mason said.
“How?” Lapierre demanded. “He taunts Special Agent Hamilton. Yes, he is probably already gone! And no matter the alerts we give out, he has a different name and a different look at the drop of a hat. He changes like a chameleon! How do you capture a chameleon?”
“When he’s busy changing his colors,” Mason said.
“He said he was going home,” Edmund murmured reflectively. “Where would he consider home to be? The United States? That’s where he visited prisoners, collected saliva, and possibly arranged for a few prison murders while he was at it. Not only that, but he was born in Louisiana. His home, his place of birth, is the US.”
“Stephan Dante was born in the United States, his father was Italian, his mother was French,” Edmund said reflectively. “And while he may have different citizenships, I don’t think any of them matter because everything he moves about on is a forgery.”
“I’m not sure about the United States. He knows he can make people believe they can be vampires, and they can be immortal. So. A vampire? Would home be Transylvania?” Lapierre asked.
“He also kept asking if I read,” Della said, “so I believe that means he might consider home from any number of books, including, of course, Bram Stoker’s classic work.”
“Transylvania, Italy, France, or, most probably, the United States,” Mason said.
“We have police and airports on notice across Europe and the US right now,” Bisset added. “If we’re going to be of any use to anyone, I suggest we get some sleep.”
“But...” Della began.
She fell silent. They were right. They had to have faith in their fellow law enforcement officers, and she knew Angela would have a team of brilliant technicians on every possible piece of facial recognition working at all airports.
“We are at a harbor,” she murmured.
“We have police warned on every inhabited island and on the mainland and beyond,” Bisset said. “There is nothing else we can do tonight except hope he decides to call you again, Della.”
“Give me five minutes,” Edmund said. “Let me get Della’s phone to the station where our tech gurus can make sure that it is connected to record automatically, and I believe we can at the least get incoming calls received on Special Agent Carter’s line as well.”
