Page 11 of Whispers at Dusk
“Yes, a dead friend. You?”
“College, the military, more college, the academy. Oh, and on the enthralled—maybe I said it just right. I get the feeling you’re something like me.”
“Oh, I doubt that! And why—”
“Because work became your life at some point. Basically, we’re slaves to it.”
Della shook her head. “Not true. Or I don’t see it that way. I’m still dedicated. I believe in what we’re doing, and the fact we can get help sometimes from those who are gone—that not everyone can—is amazing. Don’t you believe in what we’re doing?”
Mason hesitated. “Yes, of course. Okay, honestly? I just... I don’t want to kill anymore. Maybe what I thought I needed was a breather. Not that I would have preferred to have been killed myself, I mean...” He paused. He barely knew Della Hamilton, and he wasn’t really ready to pour his heart out to her. But...
“Seeing so much death,” he continued, “I’ve gained a marked appreciation for life. I have never killed in any circumstance in which I wasn’t being shot at myself or in a situation in which it was necessary to protect another—an innocent, someone stunned and terrified to suddenly find themselves the target of a killer, or in the middle of a crime, war, or violence. But I wish I was better at...negotiating! Getting people to surrender. I... No matter what, it still takes something out of you when you take a human life.”
“Yes, I agree,” she said, “and everyone hopes to bring a suspect in alive because our job is to uphold the law while judges and juries do the rest. I understand how you feel. I was told you were a good guy. You are. No one wants to kill, Mason. But sometimes, negotiation doesn’t work, and we must care about the victim first. Negotiation is great, but when there is no choice... Well. And honestly, I guess you haven’t had much chance to read about thisVampireyet, but... Mason, he’s a truly terrifying figure. And if he has others joining his ranks... Mason, you do know there are groups of people across the world, I believe—I know of a few in the States—who call themselves vampires, right? Some just meet and drink one another’s blood. Some say they are spiritual vampires, and claim it’s in a good way—they can gain kindness from others and all that. But...if this guy really thinks he’s a vampire, we may be looking at worse things to come. At one time, people believed in blood-sucking vampires—diseases that destroyed the blood caused that kind of theory. In the 1800s, even in the United States, people dug up their loved ones to stake them through the heart or burn their hearts, afraid they were coming back to drink their blood when in truth, the disease was just spreading. But—”
“I don’t think this killer believes he’s a vampire, though if he is seeking followers, he’ll want to convince them he is a supernatural creature. I believe he’ll be like the guy we just got—probably handsome or charming enough to lure victims. Somewhere in his twenties or thirties. Thirties, I think, old enough to have gotten clever enough to clean up a crime scene and have the finances to pull off what he’s doing. He’ll be making sure he gets a lot of press all over Europe. He wants the fame or the infamy.”
“You spent time with profilers?”
“I did,” he said. “And we all know a profile can be wrong—but most of the time, it turns out to be right on. Let’s hope we have good help once we get there.”
“We will. And we have tons and tons of time to study all the files on the plane. Mason, we can make this work. And I know you’re a loner. This is the first time you’ve worked with a partner and a team in a long time. But I swear, I’ve got your back.”
He nodded. “I’ve uh... I’m sorry if I’m...difficult. You’re right. I’ve been on my own for a few years now. And—I swear—I’ve got your back, too.”
She smiled. “Hey, I’ve gotten to see you do that already. And I’m so sorry. I heard. I heard your last partner was killed in the line of duty,” she said.
He nodded, looking away, and not sure why he didn’t want to look at her.
Yes, Stan Kier had been killed. Mason had been nearby when it happened, and seeing Stan, he had felt a burning fury. Perhaps there had been no choice, but the searing sensation of anger and hatred he’d felt when he brought down the killer had been horrible.
There were things an agent had to do. Times when he had to kill.
But the amount of hatred he’d felt then...
It had scared the hell out of him.
It was just something he didn’t want to ever feel again. Though he had to admit, it didn’t come close to the pain of seeing Stan die. Stan had been a great guy, a family man, a friend.
He started, feeling her hand on his knee. He looked her way. In truth, he knew nothing about her.
“Like I said. Not to worry. I’ve seen you in action,” she said.
“Yeah, thanks. And I’m sorry. I’m not sure if I ever said anything to you after the events in the bayou. You were amazing. For what you did in that cabin. That was...”
“Unorthodox?” she asked, wincing.
“I was going to say it was very brave. Coming in unarmed.”
“I had a little Beretta hidden in my waistband,” she said. “I also read up on you and I knew you were a crack shot. The SWAT director there was getting edgy. And while you are such a good shot and you’d have been fine without me, I figured a little help couldn’t hurt. It can be hard to get a guaranteed clean shot. I had talked to Melissa’s parents and... We just couldn’t let him take out another victim.”
“Well, then, thanks. You threw me. I had heard things about the Krewe of Hunters, but I didn’t know you were with them—”
“Newbie,” she reminded him. “Not quite a year. The Krewe was formed over a decade ago. In New Orleans, as a matter of fact. There were originally just six, and now we have dozens of agents, and it’s good—we’re all always out, all over the country.”
“So you were down in this area with the Krewe before?”
“Right before I joined the Krewe I was on assignment as a field agent down here. In fact, it was almost right after the case I was on here that I had my interview—and found out they were real. I promise you, it’s like...sanity in the insane world we’ve chosen to work in.”
