7. Intruder Alert
Chapter 7
Intruder Alert
Sierra Escondida Police Department—The next night
T ig followed Jayden into the station lobby. Nothing looked amiss, but they weren’t at the crime scene yet.
“From what I can tell,” he said as they walked, “whoever broke in attached a mirroring device to fool the alarm system, then cut the internet wires.”
When they reached the back door and stepped outside, letting the door close behind them, it was obvious someone had tampered with both the alarm system and utility cabinet.
He rubbed his chin, a hint of tightly coiled stubble visible as his hand swiped over it. Staring at the open utility cabinet, he pointed at the severed cabling. “After they disconnected the control panel from the internet, the monitoring company had no clue. They also disabled the external bell. It all happened about an hour before sunrise this morning.”
“Have you called Ari to check it out?”
“Not yet. Wanted to talk with you first.”
“Ask him to come over during the day tomorrow and analyze the tech used to determine if anything about it can lead us to the perp. Then ask him to devise a plan to prevent it from happening again.”
Jayden nodded. “I fingerprinted the control panel and its door. I lifted a few unidentified prints from the interior. The rest were mine or yours from resetting the alarm’s internal circuit breaker, and nothing from the cabinet door.”
“The prints may belong to the alarm repair guy. Wasn’t he out here a few weeks back when we had a window sensor go bad?”
“Yeah, my thought exactly—I pulled the work order and got his name. If you want to, we can ask the alarm company to send his prints for comparison, to rule him out.”
The alarm companies printed all their employees for just this reason. “Let’s see what else you found first.”
He swung open the station’s back door. “I had the outside lock fixed during the day, and our internet service provider came out and repaired the cables. The alarm company will be here tomorrow to repair the disabled bell.”
“What was the thief after?”
“The evidence locker. Wait until you see it.” Jayden led the way down the hallway and into the squad room. “This is what they were after.”
On the opposite wall, she immediately spotted the damage. The deadbolt protecting the entryway to the evidence lockers had been torn from the doorframe, and the door leading to the lockers ripped off its hinges. Inside, rows of cabinets covered by diamond-shaped metal grills lined the windowless room. Someone had bent back the doors of one locker, gripping and spreading the bars apart at the seam and squashing the diamonds. Most likely a vampire, by the way they snapped the lock and warped the steel.
Tig shook her head. Maybe it was time to go for a silver upgrade. “Did they steal anything?”
“Unfortunately.”
She groaned. This was so not good.
He walked them back to the squad room. A large worktable and computerized whiteboard were on one side, and the desks with computer terminals shared by her officers on the other. On the large worktable, a cardboard document box sat with its lid off.
“From what I can tell,” Jayden said, “the only evidence the thief disturbed was this box involving Jonathan’s case. The taped seal was broken. I checked the inventory list—they took his diary.”
Tig’s mind went blank. “Why would anyone want that?”
Jonathan had been a serial killer—a vampire gone revenant—who’d come to their area hunting Henry in a twisted, confused sort of revenge. He’d believed the treaty, which Henry played a major role in drafting, took away his right to die with honor as a revenant in the throes of age-related dementia. In the past, communities used such vampires as assassins in their dying days, which the treaty now banned. With neo-Nazis rising, Jonathan had escaped his home community, tracked them down, and left a trail of dead mortal bodies on his way to Sierra Escondida before being captured and staked.
“I asked the same question—why would anyone want the diary?” Jayden held out the inventory list. “Maybe one of his children wanted a remembrance of their maker?”
Tig scanned the index and realized the rest of the evidence was bloodstained clothing and the stake used to kill Jonathan. “I’ll speak with Gaea. She wouldn’t steal the journal, even if she fancied it. Do you suppose Ari took it for Gaea as a sort of misguided sweetheart gift?”
Jayden gave her a skeptical look. “Ari doesn’t seem like the sentimental type. But from what you told me, he also wouldn’t need to defeat the door alarm. He’d just—what did you call it? Flash?”
“Yeah, instantaneous travel technology, and you’re right. He’d hack the alarm to defeat the motion sensors, then flash in here and leave no trace.”
“Exactly.” Jayden took the evidence list from her and returned it to the box. “Do you think the theft has anything to do with the silver stake Henry and Cerissa received?”
Tig leaned against the worktable, tilted her head, and scrunched her brow. She couldn’t visualize the connection. “Why would you ask that?”
“A hunch? The timing is a bit too coincidental.”
His hunches were usually good. “I’ll keep an open mind.”
She tugged on her lower lip and considered the facts. If some relative of Jonathan’s wanted to read the journal, why not make the request? She’d granted such requests in the past. She crossed her arms, staring at the evidence box, not able to make sense of the crime. The case was closed. In due time, she’d turn the property of the deceased over to his heirs. Unless the thief wasn’t one of Jonathan’s heirs. But who else would want the damn thing?
She sighed and caught Jayden’s gaze. “Now that we’ve learned more about Jonathan’s identities, we can search for his other children. Gaea said she’d never met his maker, and neither did Mikhail.” From the box, Tig grabbed the journal translation Gaea had dictated. “We have the maker’s name and sex: a female named Inanna. Although without a description or current identities, a name alone will probably get us nowhere.” She paused, tapping a finger on the table. “If we can find more children, they might know what Jonathan’s maker looks like or what other aliases she’s gone by—if she’s even still around.”
“Why the focus on his children and maker?”
She shrugged. “An educated guess. When someone becomes interested in a closed crime, enough to steal evidence, the culprit is often family or another loved one. And the journal has that flavor—a memento a relative might cherish. One they were afraid they wouldn’t get in a squabble over the inheritance. After all, he left all his money to his youngest child, Gavin. So Jonathan’s maker, or his other children, are the obvious suspects.”
“Got it.” He returned the journal translation to the box and replaced the lid. “What if the journal contained a coded message? Something we missed?”
“Maybe Ari can help with that, too. You scanned the journal into a file, right?”
“Let him take a stab at examining the copy. Email the PDF to him.”
“Will do. But we have one more piece of the puzzle to discuss.” Jayden strode to his desk and woke the computer by jiggling the mouse. “The burglar accessed the department’s multi-user investigation software and, from what I can tell, printed out the entire case file on Jonathan.”
“Fuck. That makes it even more likely a family member is our suspect, or maybe someone looking for revenge.” She shook her head in disgust. “Wait. Isn’t that computer password protected?”
“We didn’t bother when we upgraded the server system. Didn’t feel the need because of the alarm. All the reserve officers use this terminal, and trying to make sure everyone remembered—well, we’d have to hide the written password in the desk because Zeke always forgets, and putting it in writing defeats the whole purpose. The last time we passworded a computer, I got woken in the early morning hours five times in one month because Zeke couldn’t remember an easy password. I figured he’d never forget cowboy69.”
Tig chuckled. Then her phone rang, and she grabbed the device from its belt holder. “Hello, Evelina.”
“I have a problem.”
“Is it urgent? I’m currently investigating a break-in.”
“Oh fer crying out loud. I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t.” Tig tapped the speaker so Jayden could hear. “Someone sent me a silver stake. Burned my hand something fierce when I opened the package and reached in.”
Damn the ancestors. A second one. And Evelina was the person who killed Jonathan in self-defense. “All right. Don’t do anything with it. Jayden and I’ll be there shortly.” Tig disconnected the call and caught his gaze. “I don’t like this. The break-in here, and now Evelina’s been targeted. Your earlier question about the connection between the break-in and the silver stakes may have been prescient.”
Ten minutes later, they parked the police forensics van at the curb in front of Evelina’s house. Evelina met them at the door, holding out her right hand, fingers spread, with a thick black line seared across her white palm, and a sharp fillet knife held in the other. She stepped back and ushered them in.
“Wouldja please heal this first?” She thrust the knife’s handle into Tig’s hand. “I don’t have any vampire blood in the fridge. It hurts like a son of a bitch.”
The silver had blackened the skin on her palm and fingers, including the tender webbing between her thumb and index finger. She must have reached into the box and gripped the stake without sensing the deadly metal inside.
“Fine,” Tig said. “But let’s go into the kitchen so we don’t get blood on your rug.”
The musician’s living room, dining area, and kitchen were all one open room. Tig took Evelina by the elbow and marched her to the sink. “Jayden, please take a photo of the injury for the file.”
He placed his forensics kit on the counter and removed the crime scene camera, then took a series of photos from various angles.
After the photoshoot was done, Tig sliced the knife through a wrist vein and drizzled her blood over Evelina’s fried skin.
The younger vampire let out a hiss , then used her index finger to spread the red essence evenly until she’d covered the whole burn.
“A wound that deep will take a while to heal.” Tig set the knife down and licked her own wrist to stop the flow. “But hopefully that helps. Now, tell us what happened.”
Evelina led them to the dining table and showed them the box. Jayden brought the forensics kit with him, slipped on purple nitrile gloves, and opened the flaps. Foam peanuts filled the package to the brim.
“The stake’s in there.” Evelina bobbed a finger, pointing to go deeper. “I opened the flaps and reached in, assuming the shipment was something I ordered online. I dropped the stake as soon as I saw the damn thing. My brain took a moment to register the pain.”
“How was the package addressed?” Tig asked.
Jayden lowered the flap. “Looks like a commercial mailing label. Standard typeface. Nothing to clue you in—they didn’t cut numbers and letters out of a magazine—but there’s no return address. I’ll put out an alert to the community to be cautious opening packages with no return address, and to dump out the contents rather than blindly reaching in.”
Evelina hissed.
“Uh, no offense.”
The young vampire let out a sharp breath. “None taken. I’ve never had something like this happen before. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Do you mind if we take everything with us?” Tig couldn’t imagine why Evelina might want to keep it, but then again, if the stake was solid silver, it’d be worth a few dollars.
Evelina made a shooing motion. “I don’t want it.”
Jayden opened a large plastic bag and slid the box in. “We’ll check for fingerprints. Did you find any message inside?”
“No, but I sorta lost interest after the silver burned me.”
“Okay, we’ll take all the evidence with us and investigate. If you think of anything relevant, call me.” Tig pursed her lips, considering how much to say. “You heard Henry received one too?”
“Yeah, you know Gaea is gossip central.”
Yup. Gaea had been at the sangeet party. Tig wasn’t all that surprised the news had spread throughout the Hill community. “There’s one other thing you should be aware of. Someone broke into the police station. The thief stole evidence related to Jonathan’s case.”
Evelina’s mouth hung open and her bright blue eyes widened. “No frickin’ way.”
“Way,” Jayden replied. “Happened an hour before sunrise, when the station isn’t staffed.”
Tig didn’t want gossip spreading about the station being unstaffed in the early morning hours. “I’m going to ask Zeke and Liza to take a rotation around that time. From now on, we’ll staff the station twenty-four seven.” She crossed her fingers behind her back as she said the lie. They didn’t have enough officers to crew the station day in and day out, not until the council granted residency to more vampires who were qualified to perform police work. But to discourage any further break-ins, she wanted the community to believe the building wasn’t sitting empty. “I haven’t reported what happened to the mayor yet and don’t know when I’ll get a chance, since Rolf is on vacation. So don’t mention the theft to anyone before I release a public report, but we’re informing you because we suspect it might be connected. Given you were involved in Jonathan’s death, we want you warned for your own safety.”
“Thanks.” Evelina nodded vigorously. “I’ll keep my guard up, and I’ll tell Gavin, too.”
During Jonathan’s rampage, he’d turned Gavin vampire just shy of his eighteenth birthday, then released him with no supervision. Henry and Rolf had discovered the teen working at a Halloween maze, not expecting to find an actual vampire there. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s gettin’ the hang of being one of us. He’ll survive.”
Tig narrowed her eyes. “You and him still an item?”
“For now. I’m sure he’ll get itchy feet as he gets older.”
“Just remember—”
“Consent. And he’s young, and sort of touchy, and he’ll grow tired of me at some point. I understand the whole enchilada better than you do—you date older than I do. No offense, Jayden.”
“None taken.” He chuckled, collected the bag containing the box, and headed for the door. “Hope you heal fast.”
“Thanks.”
Tig exchanged goodbyes with Evelina and carried the forensics kit. When she got back to the police van, she took the driver’s seat and looked at Jayden before starting the engine. “Do you think Gavin stole Jonathan’s diary?”
He shrugged. “Good question. I’ll log it as a line of inquiry, but I doubt it. The kid’s smart, but he’s not that tech savvy. Whoever screwed with the alarm system knew what they were doing. Or knew someone who could teach them what to do.”
When they arrived at the station, Jayden led the way to the combined forensics lab/autopsy room. Curiosity got the better of Tig—she wanted to see what was really in the box. After he spread out plastic sheeting on the stainless-steel table—a space larger than a twin-sized bed—he dumped the contents out. White Styrofoam peanuts fell out first, then a twelve-inch stake in silver clunked onto the table, a short leather sheath wrapped near the square head.
“Wow.” Still gloved, Jayden grasped the thick stake between two fingers, one at each end. “Just like the one Henry and Cerissa received. Whoever created the mold probably used a lost wax casting method.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Some comic book collectibles are made that way. That or die cast.”
He placed the stake on another piece of protective plastic and, focusing on the remaining contents, moved the peanuts aside with a rod. “No sign of a note.” Then he shined a high-intensity flashlight on the surfaces of the box. “Nothing written inside, either.”
Tig sucked on her teeth for a moment while considering all the facts she’d gathered so far. “It’s definitely a threat. No other way to interpret a silver stake. But why?”
He dusted fingerprint powder over the stake and inspected the surface through a desktop magnifier. “Let me finish processing the evidence, and then we’ll talk.”
“I can take a hint. I’ll be at my desk when you’re done.”
Twenty minutes later, Jayden plopped onto the couch in her office with a tired groan. “No fingerprints on the stake or inside the box. Whoever did this was smart enough to wear gloves. But here’s the weird thing.” He held up his fist around an imaginary stake. “Where you’d grip the stake to hold it—did you notice the leather sheath?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, inscribed in the leather sheath are symbols. Again, similar to the ones on Henry’s.”
“Can you translate them?”
“I tried running a photo of them against other images in V-Trak and got nothing.”
V-Trak was a custom piece of software shared by the treaty communities to keep track of the identity and location of all vampires in North America, along with pertinent data—like the language each spoke and any educational specialties.
“Hmm. Send the photo to Evelina. Ask her if she recognizes what they mean.”
“Will do. And in the meantime?”
“As Cerissa would say, correlation is not causation. We don’t know with certainty if the stakes and our break-in are related. The timing is fishy, as are the people targeted in relation to what was taken, and your intuition is probably spot-on. But for now, we treat them as two separate crimes, and process accordingly. Call the alarm company and request the fingerprint card of the last repair guy. Then we’ll go from there.”