Page 38 of Whispers at Dusk
“I still do.”
“Della—”
“You’ll have my back at every turn,” she said quietly.
He found himself thinking of the night before, of the fierce and beautiful way she looked—standing on the stairs. In a towel. Her Glock aimed and ready.
“Trust me, I intend to have your back. But you don’t know where this guy might lead. And we don’t know if he’ll be on his own or with a girl. He could be a master of disguise—he could be anyone.”
“It doesn’t matter. I think we’ll know. But, Mason, we must find a way to stop this. We’ll have to take risks. We can’t let more innocent women become his victims.”
He nodded. “We’ll play it as it comes. I’m going to give François a call and have him get Marlene Rogers down to our little headquarters.”
“Great. I’ll give Wilhelm a call and see how it went at autopsy.”
He nodded. They both made their calls.
He spoke quickly with François who assured him he’d get Marlene Rogers in.
When he ended the call, Della was still listening to Wilhelm. She appeared grave, thanked him, and ended her call.
“What?” Mason asked her.
“Andersen said he couldn’t be sure. Maybe our killer was a little anxious. The marks weren’t quite as clear and defined as they were on the other victims. Of course, she was a cop. She would have known how to fight, and maybe she gave her killer more trouble than the other victims. But Andersen just couldn’t say for sure if he believed the murder was committed by the same killer or not,” Della told him. She shook her head. “Everything in this case just seems to lead to more puzzles and riddles. He’s American, he isn’t American. It’s one killer, it’s a killer with copycat fans... I just feel we’re not getting anywhere at all.”
“But we are. We met a Viking who led us to Sven at the bar and then Scott Harrington.”
“Who turned out to be a young fun-loving idiot.”
“But, we know we might be looking for a man who is scouring for other victims with a woman.”
“They took him to drink their blood.”
“Maybe they needed to appear to be nothing more than a little crazy themselves. Or perhaps, they were trying to draw him into their realm.”
“Ah, well, let’s see what Marlene has to say. And what about our French and English counterparts?” she asked.
“Out on the town to find anyone they can to speak with.”
“Okay, so...” Della stopped speaking with a deep sigh. “Now we get to speak with someone brokenhearted about the loss of a friend.”
“At least we don’t have to tell her what happened. She already knows,” he said quietly.
“I know. That is the worst. All right, wait! What did you think about Lars?”
“Cagey!”
She laughed. “Well, we did offend him. But he has no idea who is coming or going from the dig most of the time.”
“Call Angela. Give her a report. She has acquired names. She’ll be on it.”
“She will be. She’s magic.”
“Or a computer genius. And a field agent.”
Della turned to him. “I’m glad you accepted this. I realize the plan isn’t for us to be at the home office often, but I’ve never been with a better group of professionals. Or...well, you know. People I can tell I got my information from a dead Viking.”
He smiled. “Yeah. You’re right. I didn’t get much of a chance to meet other agents with the unit—but from what we’ve gotten so far, well, you’re right. It’s the place for me.”
