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Chapter 7: All She Keeps Inside
Well, it could be worse; it could be Summer.
Even with the sunglasses, Mick squinted as he stepped off the plane in Huntsville. He was grateful that he'd been able to finally sleep during the flight, because he knew the bright sunlight, even this late in the day, would tire him quickly. He picked up his carry-on bag and went to find his car in the lot. He'd scoffed at driving a rental car and had Josef arrange for something more suitable; it was one of the few times he'd used Josef's considerable connections. He was shocked to find, in the space Josef specified, a 2010 Jaguar XKR convertible.
"Josef, really," Mick chided, calling Josef from the parking lot, "don't you think this is a little excessive?"
"Excessive would be a Lamborghini Murcielago. The Jaguar is merely adequate." He sounded genuinely hurt.
"Well, thank you. You really shouldn't have."
"Yes, I know, but I can't have you letting the Alabama vampires think we're trailer trash. We have an image to uphold."
Mick laughed, because there really was no arguing with Josef. The car drove like it was floating on air instead of rolling on asphalt, and Mick quickly retrieved his retail blood supply from the morgue so the car wouldn't be left exposed in the lot too long. He buckled his seat belt for the drive to Guntersville, thankful that being a vampire meant never needing GPS.
The chill of the late October air was soothing, and Mick drove with the car windows down. Had it not been for the sunlight, he would have lowered the top as well. The trees lining the hills along the drive were turning brilliant shades of gold, red, and brown, creating a natural patchwork that extended for miles in every direction. The color of the sky, a pale shade of blue that recalled Beth's expressive eyes, was slowly being slowly transformed to amber by the setting sun. By the time he crossed the bridge into Guntersville, the last rays of sunlight were disappearing over the horizon.
When he arrived at the police station, he parked in the space furthest from the door, taking care to leave plenty of space around his new toy. He saw his reflection in the building's double glass doors, and, realizing he'd left on his sunglasses, he removed them.
Yeah, sunglasses at night would look out of place. This isn't L.A., after all.
An officer, sitting behind the front desk, greeted Mick in a gruff voice. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm looking for Chief Swan. I'm Mick St. John."
"I'm Chief Swan," Charlie said, extending his hand to shake Mick's "Good to meet you."
Mick shook Charlie's hand firmly and took in a small breath. With the intake, Mick could see Charlie's entire day flash through his mind. He was relieved to see that Charlie seemed like a friendly, straight-forward man, despite the suspicious scowl currently on his face. "Good to meet you, too. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"
"Well, it's the least I can do, considering you came all the way from California." Charlie flashed a brief smile that put Mick even more at ease. "Let's go to my office."
Charlie's office was like most of the offices Mick had seen over the years. A uniform windbreaker was thrown over the guest chair, and the desk was littered with papers and candy bar wrappers. All in all, Mick thought, it wasn't the messiest he'd even seen. Still, Charlie quickly attempted to straighten up things and looked slightly embarrassed.
"You'll have to forgive the mess, St. John. My daughter used to help me keep some order around here, but, since she got another job, the new assistant hasn't been as...um...attentive."
Mick pulled the guest chair to squarely face the desk and eased into the seat. "No problem. You should see my office."
Which is immaculate, just so you know.
Charlie sat down and leaned back in his chair. "So, what brings you to our fair city?" He chuckled quietly. "I've always wanted to say that."
"Well, Chief, I'm trying to find a missing girl." Mick pulled a picture out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the desk. "Her name's Annie, and she ran away to meet someone she met on the Internet. She thought he was eighteen, but it turns out he's thirty...and a meth distributor. She hasn't been seen in several weeks."
Charlie picked up the picture, and Mick could see Charlie's eyes soften as he scanned the girl's face. "And, let me guess, part of his operation is here."
"Yes. Based on information I elicited from his partners, he's headed this way. If he's not here already."
"You got a name?" Charlie asked as he turned to face his computer.
"Joe Phelps."
Charlie's two index fingers quickly hunted and pecked out the name, and he hit the Enter key authoritatively. "Yep, thought that name sounded familiar. We've picked him up a time or two. Can't seem to get him convicted for anything substantial, though."
Mick leaned toward Charlie and began speaking in sober tones. "I'm not trying to interfere in any police work you're doing here. I just need to find the girl. I'd like the...leeway...to look for her here."
"You know," Charlie said, breathing deeply, "having a daughter myself, I'd do anything to make sure she was safe, that she was alright."
When their eyes met, Mick knew they had an unspoken understanding. "Thank you."
"Hey, Dad, are you going to work all night?"
Mick turned to face the voice behind him, and, standing in the doorway, was a young woman dressed in a midnight blue police uniform. She was petite, but strength emanated from her in waves that surprised him. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly; it would have made her face appear severe if hadn't been for her eyes, which were warm and the color of melted chocolate. She was obviously her father's daughter.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't see that you were busy." She clasped her hand over her mouth, and the gesture made her look like a caught little girl.
"No problem. We were just finishing up. Mick St. John, this is my daughter Bella."
Mick stood, walking towards Bella and extending his hand. "Nice to meet you. You can call me Mick."
"So you're the mysterious private investigator we've been expecting," Bella said jokingly, taking Mick's hand in hers.
As he shook her hand, he glanced down at her wrist and froze. His entire body stiffened for only a second as he processed the sight, and there was no question it was what it appeared to be.
A bite of a Cold One.
Mick's eyes snapped back up to Bella's face, and he breathed deeply. "Yes, that would be me." His voice was calm, never betraying the questions speeding through his mind.
"Well, my father and I are late for dinner with friends, but, I have a day off tomorrow. How 'bout the three of us have lunch and you tell us how we can help."
"There's a great pizza place down the block," Charlie added, as he walked over and gave Bella a quick squeeze around her shoulders. "Do you like like pizza, St. John?"
"Of course, doesn't everyone?"
Bella and Charlie walked toward the double doors of the station, and Mick followed, scrutinizing Bella's every move. He replaced his intense look with a cordial smile as he sensed Bella turning around.
"So is it a date?" She said, smiling.
Mick stopped in his tracks. "How can I turn down such an attractive offer?"
Especially when I need to figure out what the hell is going on here.
***
The room at the state park lodge was perfect for a vampire. Nestled in the woods next to the lake, the lodge was in constant shade, and the log cabin style rooms blocked out what little sunlight made it through the trees. Even with the Autumn air, Mick cranked up the air conditioning to make the room more like the cooler in which he slept at home. He hoped it would be cold enough; he didn't want to have to fill the tub with ice and sleep there.
Once he was settled, Mick arranged the laptop on the room's desk and pinged Josef for a video chat. He'd expected to wait a while to hear back, but Josef quickly appeared on his screen.
Josef was sitting in his office, the L.A. skyline visible behind him. "Mick, I know you love me, but can you not get through one day away without calling me?"
"Yes, very funny. I have a problem."
"Okay," Josef replied, sounding bored. "Shoot."
"I met the police chief's daughter..."
"Oh, really?" Josef leaned into the camera. "Is she cute? You know, it's been a while since you've had a freshie. Although, I don't think Beth would appreciate it."
"Josef," Mick said, snapping his fingers, "let's focus here. I'm not going feed from her. She has a scar...from a Cold One."
Josef's eyes widened. "Really? I didn't know there were Cold Ones down South. All that sparkling sunshine and everything."
"She's not a Cold One. She's human."
"Are you sure it's what you think it is?"
Mick had no doubts. "The scar is unmistakable, you know that. It's that shimmering white tissue, in the perfect outline of teeth. I could just feel the coolness coming off it. But I shook her hand, and she's warm and has a pulse."
"How incredibly odd. I didn't think a human could survive a Cold One bite without changing...you know, the venom and all."
"Exactly. I even tried to see her past, but it was all blurry. Like it was a long time ago and she was trying to forget it."
Josef leaned back in his seat with a knowing look on his face. "Well, besides the obvious trivia factor, why do you care?"
Mick paused, wondering about it himself for a few seconds. "I don't know. I just have to find out this girl's story."
"Mick, she's not why you're there. The Cold Ones stay out of our way. You should stay out of theirs." Josef sighed. "But we both know you're not going to do that, don't we?"
"Of course not."
"All I can tell you is not to get killed."
Mick laughed. "Josef, I didn't know you cared."
"I don't, but I don't want to be stuck with Beth for the rest of her life, either."
With that, Mick disconnected the chat window and closed the laptop with a smack.
The room finally frigid to his liking, Mick lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, replaying the visions he'd seen when he peered into Bella's past.
Whatever had happened, it had been a long time ago; distant events were always foggiest. Yet, these seemed obscured further, as if Bella was actively trying to block him from seeing them. Mick shrugged, knowing that couldn't be possible.
He had tried to see the Cold One that bit her, but the vision kept coming back to a forest. Bella was on the ground, writhing in pain and crying. It was dark, and shadows were descending on her. She was cold, but she didn't shiver. She just continued to lie there, knees to her chest and arms wrapped around herself. Finally, there was no more pain; there was just emptiness, numbness. A pair of strong hands picked her up and clutched her to a scorching, solid chest. And the vision ended.
Had this been when the Cold One bit her? It had to have been, Mick thought. It was the only thing that could explain the pain at the outset of the vision.
But who did this? And why isn't she a Cold One, too?
Mick then thought back to his second vision. He'd followed Bella closely as she and Charlie led him out of the station. He looked for any sign that she'd been turned, but he found none. After he'd agreed to meet her for lunch the next day and she turned to walk through the glass door Charlie held open for her, Mick took one more deep breath, searching Bella's scent for one last clue.
Again, the vision was cloudy, but a flash, imperceptible but to a vampire, caught Mick's attention. A face, strikingly handsome and calm, yet obviously a Cold One. The eyes, however, were the wrong color. Amber orbs stared towards him instead of crimson. Bronze, tousled hair framed the face, whose mouth was set in a tight, angry line. Mick could feel Bella's intense anger mixed with deep affection.
She loved him. And then he bit her, the bastard.
He still couldn't figure out how she'd escaped being turned into a monster, one worse than what he was himself. Falling asleep, he couldn't shake the feeling Annie wasn't the only reason he'd ended up in Alabama.
***
Dinner with Jackson and his wife had long since become a Wednesday ritual, and Bella enjoyed sharing the week's events on patrol with him and Charlie. She loved being a beat cop, and, with only eight weeks left until she'd have her own cruiser, she tried to soak up all the knowledge and experience of the other cops around her. Charlie and Jackson had been great sounding boards and Wednesday night dinners a good sanity check.
As she sat on the balcony holding her nightly cup of tea made by Charlie, she felt uneasy. She'd wondered about the mysterious Mick St. John since he first called Charlie four weeks ago, and, at first, she thought maybe barging into Charlie's meeting with Mick had been serendipitous. Afterward, however, she felt like he'd somehow read every thought she'd ever had just by looking at her.
She examined the scar on her wrist, left so long ago by James, and rubbed the cold, raised tissue. She saw Mick glaring at it as he shook her hand, but, as quickly as she noticed the attention, it was gone. He had a odd look on his face, as if he knew exactly what the strange mark represented.
But that's not even possible, is it?
Worse than that, Mick's smile when he accepted her lunch invitation had made her think of him again. The memories were still so strong, even though she worked diligently to keep them suppressed. The fleeting image of his face made her angry, with him and with herself. She wondered if that face, once so loved, would haunt her until the day she died.
She breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation of the cool night air rushing into her lungs. The woods practically vibrated with the hum of animals preparing for winter. The trees would lose their leaves soon, and she missed their gentle rustle during the winter. The vibrant colors would all fade and turn brown, falling to the ground, and this made her sad, reminding her again that all things eventually must die.
Except him.