"Three dead in tragic trailer fire. Authorities and detectives dug through the charred remains to discover the bodies of Jenny Stevens and what is believed to be Paul Stevens along with a single, unidentified male corpse that looked to have been decapitated before the blaze. Investigators rule homicide but with no clear evidence towards the killer(s) the case remains closed. …Well that doesn't help us."

The paper was tossed back upon my desk, a growing impulse ever time Dolly brought something back for me to look over or possibly find a lead into this story. The fragile woman looked flustered at my actions, but days spent in this stuffy office, suffering the smell of sweat, angry journalists and a randy old man that happened to be her boss, were starting to take a toll on the woman. Hardening her from within.

"Well, it's better than nothing," she tried, gathering the seventies paper back up and looking over the articles along the front.

"I guess," I said, staring down the type-writer with something close to disgust. I hate getting the late start on stories and goddamn Kinsely for thinking that this would be a piece of cake.

Yea, kids were into vampires. Big deal. Being into them as far as enjoying horror movies was one thing but actually believing that such creatures exist, let alone seeing them with one's own eyes, is entirely another. The girls I had met on the beach were the closest things I had to a true lead and their story, in some sense, was true. A year or so ago, a young girl had gone missing and shortly after the investigation was dropped, people seemed to forget about her. Her parents even moved out of state and any relations I had attempted to contact, refused to comment. Not only that, but the story about the boy who had killed both his parents, drinking their blood and burning down his own trailer seemed, in some sense, to be true.

But the problem was that there were three bodies and one was believed to be Paul, the supposed vampire kid. No one could explain the appearance of the third body and likewise, it made the story a complete fake.

"In related news, a search has been issued for Maria Gabriel, a single mother living in Amber Oaks trailer park and son, Laddie Gabriel. Both went missing the same night as the fire and though authorities believe it may have a connection to the fire, no progress has been made in locating either person…." the words trailing off from candy apple lips as bright, green eyes glanced in my direction.

It took a moment for the connection to be made. People went missing in this city every day and it was a very likely coincidence that this woman had, by fluke, been kidnapped along with her child the very same night that the fire had occurred. But there was that word in the first article… "believed."

In the journalism profession, when we are not entirely certain on something, or when the authorities give us only half the story, we learn to make up the rest on our own. "Believe" is a very useful term because it gives the audience the notion that we know what we're talking about and the most likely outcome, but at the same time, it allows us an escape route should the worst happen and our information is somehow false. Dolly, despite her newbie status at the magazine, immediately seemed to pick up on the clue as well.

"Do you think.." she started though didn't need to finish as I rose and quickly made my way for the door.

"James, wait!"

I didn't turn. I finally had it, my lead. The one thing that separated fact from fiction, vampire from a double homicide. If I could get information from the police station, possibly records of what they did find and the serious measure of doubt that Paul was even in the trailer…

"I'm coming with you!"

The words stopped me in my tracks, allowing Dolly enough time to catch up with me and put those nimble hands upon curving hips. I was suddenly, very aware of the private scheme that had been going on between her and Kinsely. All those special little tasks she had to do in his office, business or otherwise, had ultimately led up to a conversation that had given her the promotion I had to wait three years for.

I should have been furious, but the kid's lucky she's hot as hell and actually around my own age. Late twenties, another misguided youth that caught the tail end of each generation I had suffered through. Not enough to make the true cut, mind you, but I didn't doubt she had some stories under her belt.

"You're coming with me?" I had to make sure it was really what she meant.

The frailness returned for a moment, but the hardened undertone of a woman with determination began to peak through as she nodded.

"Yes… as a photographer and trainee."

The word caught me off-guard. Not so much photographer, but a trainee? Since when did this business actually train people to write this kind of trash?

I made sure that Kinsely was no where in sight before I spoke. "Look, I don't know what the old man promised you, but he had to beg me to get on this case. Why? Because people out there aren't your average, low-lives that swipe things out of grocery stores or gas stations. There are some sick motherfuckers out there and it's probably best if you don't accompany me on this assignment."

Her eyes seemed to narrow for a moment, a pout forming along those lips but catching itself before it got too cute and noticeable.

"Look," her tone was somewhat stiff with repressed anger. "I worked very hard to get this job and I know the kind of scum that exists out on the streets. I'm not asking to be a full partner in this story, I only wanted to learn from the best in the business."

A journalists worst enemies: Ego and Flattery.

"But if you don't want me…" she started, pausing at the appropriate moment and allowing me to stew in the guilt she created.

Damn, she was good.

"Alright," I breathed out in an exasperated sigh. "You can tag along with me, take pictures and learn how the field is played. But if anything dangerous or life-threatening should occur, don't say I didn't warn you."

I tried to ignore her smile as we walked out the door.