1

Harry pushed open the door of the squad room. "Here he is. Now let's get this nonsense cleared up."

Heads swiveled in their direction. Fowler, standing by Faye's desk with his wrists cuffed behind his back and a pick in one hand, broke off in the middle of an apparent handcuff-escape demonstration for Faye, Centrello, and Girimonte, his brows arching expectantly.

From the doorway of his office, Serruto pointed at the glassed-in interview room in the opposite corner, and said, "Not you," to Fowler.

Fowler shrugged and went on working at the lock of the cuffs.

The detectives, the lieutenant, and Garreth filed into the interview room.

Blood scents quickly filled the confined space, washing warm and salty over Garreth, drowning him. He bit the inside of his cheek, but the pain did not provide enough distraction. He remembered how he crouched over the girl at the accident again, rain pouring over him and the taste of her blood sweet liquid fire in his mouth. Longing seared his throat.

Think about something else, man. Think about the hustler. How can he possibly be dead? A vision of a sharp wooden stake flashed in Garreth's mind. He twitched away from it. Harry would surely have mentioned something that bizarre.

"You call this nonsense, Takananda?" Serruto asked.

The blood smells still surged around him. Garreth felt sweat break out under his mustache. He fought the impulse to grab a chair and throw it through a window to flood the room with fresh air. Except that would let in more light, too. The weight of day dragged enough at him already.

Harry frowned from the lieutenant to Faye, Centrello, and Girimonte. "I told you before—he was sound asleep at my place all night."

Serruto sat down on a corner of the table in the middle of the room. "And what do you say, Mikaelian?"

Garreth forced himself to focus on the lieutenant. There was no point in trying to deny he had been in North Beach. Faye and Centrello's witnesses had to be the barkers who saw his scuffle with the hustler; they would make him in a second in a lineup. He had shown them his ID, for God's sake. No, what he had to do was concoct a reasonable excuse for being there.

If he could only think . . . but his mind spun uselessly. All he could think about was the blood smells around him and the taste of that girl's blood.

Serruto folded his arms. "Well, Mikaelian?"

Fowler paced the squad room outside, free of the cuffs and obviously eaten by curiosity. Those inside the room stared hard at Garreth. Harry had growing concern creasing his forehead.

Think, man. Think, Garreth snarled at himself. At least buy yourself some time for it. "Yes, I decked that hustler." He sent Harry an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

The betrayal in Harry's eyes went through Garreth's gut like a knife. "But—how—"

"How did I happen to be up there?" Okay, now lie your heart out, Mikaelian. "I've worked nights for a year and a half, Harry. After a couple of hours I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. I went downstairs to read but couldn't concentrate on that, either. So I went for a drive and ended up in North Beach." He glanced at Faye and Centrello. "How did just a physical description and a claim of being a cop make you think of me?"

"The guy showed the witnesses a police ID, but the badge was an oval shield, not a star," Centrello said. "How many visiting cops can we have who look and dress like you?" He pointed at Garreth's yellow turtleneck and tan corduroy jacket.

"Tell us about the hustler," Serruto said. Steel edged the words.

That helped him forget about the blood scents. Fast. Garreth made himself shrug while cold crawled through him. "There's nothing much to tell. I was just up there walking around and he grabbed me. I kneed him without thinking. What would you have done?"

They said nothing but agreement flashed in every pair of eyes. None of them would have tolerated manhandling, either.

"After I picked him up it turned out he'd mistaken me for someone else. Then a blond hooker came along and he got into a car with her and another guy—a late­model Continental with California plates. I didn't catch all of the license number. Two-two-something with the last letters UW or VW. Didn't the barkers tell you about that?"

"Yeah," Faye said. "They also said Maruska called something about being able to help you and meeting you in two hours."

"Help you with what, Mikaelian?" Serruto asked.

More steel. He gave the lieutenant a tight smile. "I don't understand why you're so interested in me. He didn't keep the appointment. I never saw him again. How did he die? Did his little three-way with the hooker and her john go bad?"

Serruto repeated evenly, "We'd like to know what he was going to help you with."

The only plausible lie that came to mind was one that Serruto would not like. Garreth used it anyway. "Lane Barber. The hustler thought he might have some information on her."

The lieutenant's mouth set in a grim line. "Mikaelian, I warned you about—"

"I'm not tracking her on my own! I swear. I just stumbled across this possibility while I was talking to the hustler. If it had panned out, I would have told Harry, just like I told him about Holle. So." Garreth made his voice casual. "How and where did the guy die?"

"Not in the middle of the three-way," Centrello said. "The barkers gave us the hooker's name and we've talked to her. She swears Ricky left her and headed back to meet you. His roommate came home this morning and found him in the bathtub. His throat had been slashed and his neck broken. Coroner says he died between three and six."

The nervous system destroyed. Of course. That was the only permanent death. But how did the killer manage it? No human could overpower a vampire at night.

Maybe no human had. Violet eyes floated in the shadows of Garreth's mind.

"Where's the gray turtleneck you wore yesterday?" Serruto asked.

"At the house." Grimy with dust from the piers, but at least not splashed with blood, not even rat blood. He had been very careful about that. The knowledge did not stop the chill of fear biting into him. "Hey, you don't seriously think I had anything to do with it."

They all glanced at each other. Girimonte's eyes narrowed speculatively. Harry looked down. Serruto said, "At the moment, Mikaelian, you're all we've got."

Adrenaline surged through Garreth, icy hot. Could he really mean that? "This is crazy. It's a case with more holes than Swiss cheese and you know it! I was never near the hustler's apartment, wherever it is, and you won't find anyone who's seen me there."

Centrello sighed. "Unfortunately no one we talked to in the building saw anyone. At that time of night they were all asleep."

"Then check my prints against the ones the lab—" Schneider rapped on the door. "Harry, phone call for you. A Mr. Leonard Holle. He sounds excited." Harry left to take it. Two minutes later he was back at a run with Fowler right behind him. "Barber's turned up! Holle went to check the apartment this afternoon and it's been cleaned out! He's waiting there for us."

A chorus of indrawn breath rolled around the interview room. Relieved breath, Garreth noted with relief of his own.

Harry smirked. "So we have someone else after all. Barber could have been in North Beach last night and heard Garreth's conversation with Maruska, then killed him to keep him quiet."

"Slitting his throat and breaking his neck are rather her style, aren't they?" Fowler asked. His eyes glittered.

Garreth bit his lip in dismay. Lord, what had he done? Screwed up royally. The department would be wasting its time and manpower hunting the wrong person.

On the other hand, did he really want them finding Irina?

Serruto scowled at Fowler. "It could be Barber." He glanced at Harry. "I expect if it is Barber, you're going to want a piece of this hustler case. Faye, Centrello, do you have any objections to giving it all to him?"

The two exchanged glances, then, grinning, shook their heads. Girimonte rolled her eyes and used a short, very unladylike word.

Serruto's mouth twitched at the corner. "Sorry, Girimonte. Okay, Takananda, you have it, but keep a tight leash on your ridealongs, both of them."