Chapter 8
As they reached the end of the alley, Maeve started to snoop around. Barnabas watched her intently. The back wall was over five foot high where a man could possibly climb over, she thought, with the aid of those boxes . . . maybe. She looked around for some clues of a struggle but saw none. There were a few empty wine bottles still in plain brown bags, broken cartons that homeless people slept on and a huge dumpster used by the adjacent apartment buildings. Otherwise, it was a rather clean alley.
She went over to the dumpster, stood on her tiptoes and managed to throw the lid open. She was aware of Barnabas stepping closer to her. "Could you give me a hand?" She asked. "Just cup your hands so you can lift me high enough to look into this dumpster."
"What are you looking for," he asked nervously, walking closer to the dumpster. She looked into his eyes. Proof you aren't what I think you might be, she thought.
"I am just covering all the bases." She said evasively.
She placed her foot into his cupped hands and he easily lifted her up so her head was above the top of the dumpster. She looked into the belly of the receptacle and Barnabas could not tell if she saw anything. She was emotionless. She asked to be lower and Barnabas gently lowered her to the ground. He stared into her eyes as his body stood rigid and calculated his next course of action.
"Well, I guess that is about it. Thanks for your help, Barnabas. Shall we go have that coffee?" She started to move towards the street. Still having her suspicions about him, she had to find another way of learning the truth.
Barnabas was flabbergasted. "Of course, but did you find evidence that could help this case?" Standing slightly behind her, he took a few steps towards her in a menacing way, which he did not know she sensed.
As she turned around to face him, she was toying with a small gold crucifix necklace. Acting as though she did not see him step back, Maeve stepped closer to him and stared at him for the long moment. Barnabas was no longer looking directly at her. She said, "Nothing in this alley will help that girl get over her ordeal or bring anyone to justice." She tucked the necklace in her shirt, smiled, and felt almost sure now. Her fascination with him was growing in leaps and bounds. He was not acting like a typical vampire and she had become very enamored with him. She couldn't destroy such a fine specimen. She must keep an eye on him, though.
Take him with you, the voices of her "Inner Guides" whispered in her head. Startled but delighted, she smiled.
"What happens next?" he smiled back.
"Nothing I can do. It's up to the girl to report it. I can't make her go to the police nor can I go to them with this story. I didn't witness the attack." She wouldn't suggest that he go and by his omission to offer, suggested to her more evidence against him.
"I see. If you are done, shall we go have that cup of coffee?" Barnabas asked, directing her to lead the way out of the alley.
Not turning around yet, she asked, "How about coffee in my room?" She watched his reaction, enjoying his astonishment. As he followed her out of the alley, Barnabas thought of all the right reasons why not go to her room. Not one would stop him.
As they walked back to the street, thoughts flooded Barnabas' bewildered mind. What did she see in the dumpster? Did the body slip down under bags of garbage? Or did she see it and she was setting a trap for him in her room? That did not seem to be her style. He could drink her blood right now . . . he bared his fangs then retracted them . . . he couldn't do it. He felt alive in her presence, so he retreated to the "lion's den".