Page 34 of Whispers at Dusk
“And be useless. I wake up at a whisper,” he said. “I was already in bed, just about out, and I heard a noise—just a rustle—from the street. And there he was, standing to the side of the house, staring up.”
“And he looked like a vampire.”
“The vampire our friend Scott Harrington described today.”
“So, somehow, he knows us.”
“Maybe. But it’s known that this place is rented to tourists. Maybe he was just checking out whoever might be here. Some sweet innocent young things here to enjoy Lillehammer.”
“But maybe we need to move,” she said.
“When I talked to the police, they planned on having someone watch here, too.”
“We are going to stretch the resources here to a breaking point,” Della murmured.
“No. We call Jackson. We have agents in Europe already who can come and cover some of the guard duty. But it’s interesting that avampirewas here.”
“That means we have to play it a little differently.”
“Or maybe not. Let him think we didn’t see anything, and I was chasing a ghost. What was your plan?”
“Chatting him up. Getting to know him.”
“You wanted to pretend you were being charmed—seduced?” Mason asked skeptically.
“Well, I’d learn about him. With you at my back, of course.”
“I don’t know. I don’t like it. But we can talk about it in the morning. For now, the plan has to be—”
“Well, for me, it’s going to be to finish drying off and getting clothes on,” Della said.
“Good plan. I guess... Well, hell, I thought I could sleep. But it will take me a bit now. Guess I’ll take a shower.”
“I might have used all the hot water.”
“Well, you know, that’s okay. I think a cold shower might be in order.”
He swept past her and hurried up the stairs. She heard his door close.
She checked the front door. But even in his anger and frustration, he had remembered to relock it. Adjusting her towel, she headed back upstairs, set the Glock on the bedside table, found one of the big soft, comfortable T’s she used as pajamas, and quickly dressed.
She laid down, exhausted, yet with her eyes open.
It had been an impossibly long day and night, or night, day, and night. She was tired and she needed to sleep, but her mind was racing.
A policewoman was among the dead. The killer might well have been in the street. Or one of several killers might have been in the street.
She still barely knew her partner. Yet, she felt as if she had known him for years, as if there was a strange kind of connection you had with some people. No matter how often or how sporadic you saw them, the connection was always there.
She’d been wary of him.
No more.
And...
She remembered standing on the stairway. In a towel. And realized he was standing there, watching her, stunned that she was in a towel.
There’d been...something.
