The Vampire and the Virgin

CHAPTER 12

Olivia was glad when the holiday season was over. The added stress seemed to be the tipping point for a lot of people. She and her colleagues at the Bureau had been busy nonstop with murders and abductions, usually committed by a so-called loved one. At least her loved ones were no longer angry with her. She’d spent Christmas with them in Houston, and no apples had arrived.

It was a bitterly cold Tuesday morning toward the end of January when things finally settled down from a frantic pace to the normal hectic one. She draped her coat and scarf on the back of her chair, then opened the bottom drawer of her desk to drop her handbag inside. The letters were still there, a constant reminder of the pain and confusion she felt toward Robby.

He was mailing her a letter every week, and she didn’t know what to make of it. She sat at her desk and placed the three envelopes in front of her. They all had the same return address in the corner, a place called Romatech Industries in White Plains, New York. Should she write back? And say what? Leave me alone. Don’t leave me alone.

She smoothed her fingers over her name, written by his hand. She still missed him something awful. The pain of his betrayal had still been too strong when she ’d received a second letter. She’d thrown it in the trash.

When the third letter arrived, it made her wonder. Would a guilty man continue to write? Maybe. Otis was guilty as hell, and he loved to interact with her. A part of her, deep down in her gut, rebelled against the idea that Robby could ever be like Otis. Robby was noble and brave. He’d risked his life to save her from the panther.

But she was afraid to trust her instincts. Blind faith could get a girl killed. All of Otis’s victims had believed in him before learning he was a sadistic murderer.

She’d dropped the third letter in her bottom drawer unopened. Since then, two more weeks had passed and two more letters had arrived. Chicken, she chided herself. Why don’t you open them?

Because they could be full of lies. They could be full of emotional pleas that would tear at her heart. She dropped the letters back into the drawer and shut it. If she opened them, she’d be opening herself up to the possibility of getting hurt all over again. She had to keep her emotions out of this, because where Robby was concerned, she was an emotional wreck.

Her heart ached for him, but her logical mind warned her to be cautious. She’d known him less than a week and she’d been unable to read his feelings or gauge his sincerity. She simply couldn’t trust him or her feelings toward him. And her penchant for overanalyzing everything was driving her crazy. What she needed was cold hard facts. Facts she could trust.

Three weeks earlier, after the third letter had arrived and her doubts had bubbled to the surface, she’d initiated an investigation of Robby MacKay. The website for MacKay Security & Investigation was surprisingly bare, offering nothing more than an address in London and Edinburgh and a contact button to e-mail them for information. She hadn’t e-mailed ’cause she didn’t want to alert the company that she was snooping about.

Things had been so hectic at the office, she’d resorted to coming in an hour early every day to squeeze in time for her investigation. Three weeks of research, and she still had zilch. There were hundreds of Robert MacKays, scattered all over the planet.

She’d started with the three Robert Alexander MacKays she’d found in Scotland. One was a sixty-four-year-old physician in Aberdeen, one was a thirty-five-year-old fisherman on the Isle of Mull, and the last one was an eight-year-old student in Glasgow. Dead end.

She recalled that he’d mentioned owning property in Scotland, but her search there hit another dead end.

The simpler name of Robert MacKay yielded a much longer list of names, but none of those panned out. She broadened the search to the entire British Isles, but still no luck. She discovered an interesting article about an investigator named Robert MacKay who had captured a notorious serial killer in London, but that had happened in 1921. Another dead end.

She thought she might have found a reference to Robby’s grandfather. A medal of valor and knighthood had been awarded to an Angus Alexander MacKay at the end of World War II. No mention of him again. Another dead end.

She booted up her computer and examined the notes on her legal pad. There were numerous Robert MacKays in Australia and New Zealand, a few in South America and South Africa, and many more in Canada. Since the return address on the envelopes had cited New York, she was now investigating possibilities in America.

“How’s the Great Robby Hunt going?”

She glanced up to see J.L. Wang leaning his forearms on the top of her cubicle wall. She’d told him several weeks ago that she suspected a guy she’d met on Patmos to be in league with Otis. Since then, J.L. had kept up with her research, calling it the Great Robby Hunt.

She sighed. “One hundred and twenty-four down and about three trillion to go.”

“Could be worse,” J.L. muttered his favorite phrase. “He could have been named John Smith.”

She groaned with frustration. “I’ve been at this for three weeks. I’ve never seen anyone so hard to trace.”

“Too bad your guy doesn’t have a more distinctive name, something like…Willoughby Gallsplat.”

Olivia snorted. “Yesterday, I located a twenty-seven-year-old Robert Alexander MacKay in Kentucky. An ex-soldier, awarded the Purple Heart.”

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah, he sounds like a great guy. He’s a star player on the local wheelchair basketball team.”

“Oops. I gather your Robby had legs?”

“Yes.” And a wonderful chest. Broad shoulders. Handsome face. Soft auburn hair. Lovely green eyes.

“Did he have a fully functional brain?”

She shot J.L. an annoyed look. “Yes.”

“I’m just saying it would take a moron to let someone like you get away.”

“Well, that’s kind of you, but I’m getting worried about all the dead ends I keep running into. It’s not normal.” She frowned at her notes. What if he’d lied about his name? What if he’d lied about everything?

“Yeah, this is weird.” J.L. drummed his fingers on the partition. “With all the information we have at our disposal, you should be able to trace him. A person would have to purposely work at not showing up anywhere.”

She swallowed hard. What kind of person had no past? In this day and age, it was virtually impossible to erase every trace of yourself. “Do you think he’s into covert operations?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he gave you a false name.” J.L. held up a hand. “I take that back. You would have caught him if he’d lied.”

She winced. “That’s the problem. I couldn’t read him. My grandmother couldn’t, either, and that’s never happened before.”

“Never? Shit. He could have been lying about a lot of things. Maybe he’s had special training in deception.”

Her chest tightened. “Then you think he’s the one helping Otis to harass me?”

J.L. regarded her sadly. “I think we need to get to the bottom of this. I can’t sense emotions like you, but even I can tell this is causing you a lot of pain.”

She inhaled a shaky breath. “I need to know the truth.” She needed to know if Robby had been sincere. He’d said he was falling in love with her. He’d made love to her so sweetly. It had to have been real. It was just too awful to think otherwise.

“You want him to be innocent, don’t you?” J.L. whispered.

She nodded. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them away.

“Okay, let’s assume he is innocent. If he didn’t send the apples—”

“Then someone else did,” Olivia finished his sentence.

“Who knew you were going to Patmos?” J.L. asked.

“My family. You.”

He affected a shocked look. “I’m innocent, I swear. I’ve been a good boy my entire life.”

She scoffed. “I’m detecting a little deception.”

“Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have robbed that bank.”

She grinned. J.L., bless him, always had a way of cheering her up.

“And I shouldn’t have kicked Mickey Mouse in the balls at Disney World.”

She sat back. “You’re telling the truth now.”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“Why did you kick Mickey?”

J.L. shrugged. “I was only three years old. Imagine the horror of meeting a smiling rodent that’s bigger than you. Besides, I think he wanted my ice cream.”

She laughed.

“Who else knew where you were going?” J.L. asked.

“A few people around here.” Her smile faded, and she exchanged a worried look with him.

J.L. glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice. “What did Barker tell you?”

“He agreed that Otis could have an accomplice, but he ordered me to stay out of it. He told Harrison to look into it.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll see if he’s done.”

They walked over to Harrison’s work area. In most ways, Frank Harrison appeared completely normal: average height, average weight, brown hair, hazel eyes. Olivia tended to agree with J.L’s assessment. Harrison acted like a jerk so he would stand out from the crowd.

“Have you got a moment, Harrison?” she asked.

He slanted an annoyed look her direction, then went back to studying his monitor. “I’m busy. In case you didn’t know, the Morehouse case is still open.”

Olivia nodded. Tyson Morehouse was a postal worker suspected of embezzlement. He claimed to know nothing about the missing money, but Olivia had interviewed him the day before and knew better.

“He was lying,” she said. “It was in my report.”

Harrison snorted. “Like we needed your input. We already figured the guy’s guilty. Saunders is trailing him while I trace all his bank accounts.” He glanced at Olivia. “Why don’t you save us some time and use your weird-assed powers to locate the missing money?”

“I’m not a psychic, Harrison.”

“Oh. Too bad.” He went back to studying the monitor. “I thought all that paranormal crap was the same.”

Olivia sensed anger about to boil over from J.L., so she gave him a warning look.

He gritted his teeth. “Look, Harrison, we were wondering if you’d checked on the Otis Crump situation.”

“Another waste of my time,” Harrison muttered as he scribbled some notes. “I went to Leavenworth last Friday and talked to the warden. He had a guard check the log-in book. The only visitors Crump has had in the last eight months is me and you, Sotiris.”

“And his mail?” she asked.

“It’s all checked, coming in and going out. Nothing about apples.” Harrison glanced at her, and she could feel his growing irritation. “You’ve got the wrong guy. Someone else is messing with you.”

She frowned. Apples would have significance only to Otis. Or someone else who knew all the details about his case. Maybe an admirer? Some sick person who had studied Otis and wanted to harass the criminal’s enemies out of a twisted sense of loyalty? “I need a list of everyone who’s communicated with him.”

A spurt of anger rolled off Harrison, and he glared at her. “Forget it, Sotiris. The case is over.”

“It’s not over as long as Otis keeps sending me apples.”

“So you’re getting some fruit,” Harrison growled. “So what? If you can’t take the heat, get out of the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey,” J.L. protested. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“It’s none of your business, Jail,” Harrison replied, using his nickname for J.L.

“Hold it, you two.” Olivia raised her hands. She returned Harrison’s glare. “I’m not calling the case closed, because you didn’t do a thorough job. Since you can’t be bothered, I’ll do it myself.”

Harrison made a sound of disgust. “You’re freaking obsessed with the guy. You two deserve each other.”

J.L. muttered something rather nasty-sounding in Chinese, but Olivia hushed him with a slight shake of her head. She focused on Harrison. “How many times have you seen Crump?”

Harrison turned back to his monitor. “Just a few times. I hate seeing that asshole.”

“When did you see him last?”

“I don’t remember.”

She stiffened.

“Now buzz off and let me get back to work,” Harrison grated through clenched teeth.

Olivia opened her mouth, but J.L. grabbed her arm and hauled her away.

“Come on, Sotiris, you heard the man,” J.L. said loudly as he dragged her across the room. “Let him work.”

“I wasn’t done,” she whispered. “He—”

“Shh.” J.L. shot her a warning look and whispered back, “We need to activate the cone of silence.”

“We don’t have a cone of silence.”

“We’ll improvise.” He glanced around the open work area. “Go to Yasmine’s office. She’s out today. I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

“Fine.” Olivia headed right, while J.L. veered left toward the hallway.

She slipped inside Yasmine’s office and turned on the light. The supply closet was attached, so she could always claim she was getting paper clips or staples if anyone asked what she was doing there.

She paced across the office, her heart racing as the severity of her new suspicions hit home. Why would Harrison lie about meeting Otis? What was he hiding? It seemed too far-fetched, too awful to imagine a special agent helping a criminal to harass her. But there was no mistaking the truth. Harrison had lied. And he’d tried to convince her that Otis wasn’t the one responsible for sending her apples. She knew that wasn’t true.

She continued to pace, her thoughts growing increasingly alarmed. She spotted the sweater she’d give Yasmine, neatly folded on a shelf. Thank God Yasmine had never told anyone about her meltdown in the restroom. She wondered where the office manager was, and stopped by her desk to check her calendar. A doctor’s appointment.

The door opened, and J.L. strode inside with a bag of chips from the hallway vending machine. He locked the door. “Okay, let’s talk.”

“Harrison was lying,” she whispered.

“I know. Whenever you hear a lie, you get all stiff and prickly looking.”

She stiffened. “I do?”

“Yeah, just like that.” He opened the chips and the smell of nacho cheese filled the room. “So we’re thinking the same thing? Harrison’s the one sending you apples?”

She winced. “It’s a terrible accusation to make. We can’t assume he’s guilty just because we don’t like him.”

“Okay, emotions aside, let’s look at the facts.” J.L. removed a chip from the bag. “He lied to you. He knew where you were vacationing. He’s had opportunity—that’s contact with Otis. And he has motivation.” He popped the chip into his mouth.

“What motivation? I know he doesn’t like me—”

“It could be more. You’re the one who took Otis’s latest confessions. They might be trying to make you look unstable so no one will believe you.” J.L. offered her a chip.

She shook her head and paced across the room. “Otis was already convicted before he met me. I don’t think making me look crazy will help his appeal.”

J.L. bit into another chip. “What would help his appeal?”

“He would have to appear innocent.” She halted in mid-step. “He could swear that an accomplice did the murders.”

J.L. winced. “And you’ve been insisting that he has an accomplice.”

“Because of the apples, yes. But if he can convince everyone there was an accomplice during the murders…” Olivia groaned. “He’s playing me. The bastard’s using me.”

“It looks that way.” J.L. stuffed another chip into this mouth. “We need to be careful about this.”

“We need proof.” Olivia pressed a hand to her stomach. Just the idea that a federal agent could ally himself with a serial killer—it was a nauseating thought.

“I’ll check on Harrison,” J.L. offered. “Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet.”

Olivia nodded. “I’ll step up my investigation on Robby.” She would contact MacKay S&I. If Robby MacKay was secretly sending the apples, she’d uncover it. She’d prove his innocence.

And then she’d be free to love him.