Chapter Four

Whiskey Girl

Beth picked up a plate and passed it over to Allison. "Sorry for standing you up last night. I was slammed at work and couldn't get away."

Allison shrugged as she reached into the pizza box resting on the coffee table. "I want to say, "You need more than that weak ass apology," but this pie you bought is a great start. Extra large with sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, green olives, and bacon. You remembered."

Beth laughed as Allison slid two slices onto her plate. "You're easy to shop for."

The two women sat on the couch in Beth's apartment with plates of pizza on their laps and glasses of wine. Beth took a bite of hers and closed her eyes in disbelief. "I am in love."

It was Allison's turn to laugh. "Can't go wrong with Anatoly's." She took a bite herself and savored the taste before looking over at her host.

"I know this is apology pie and all, and I do appreciate it. Believe me. But your phone call sounded like there's something else, Beth. And looking at you, you're not yourself. It's like you have this weight on your shoulders or something. What's wrong?"

Beth stared back for a long minute before placing her plate on the table. "I need your help in finding someone."

"Who?"

Beth took a deep breath. "Mick."

Allison leaned back in surprise. "Mick? I was about to ask you about him. I haven't seen him since I moved here."

All business, she placed her plate on the table. "How long has he been missing?"

"A little over three weeks now."

"Three weeks? Beth, first rule of finding a missing person is the search usually starts shortly after the person is declared missing. Not three weeks later." She gave an exasperated shake of her head. "You're not making this easy already."

"What if I told you that I know your boss, Alexandra Sanders, met the person the day he took Mick? Would that help?"

Allison considered the question. "It would. Especially if the guy came into the offices. We have cameras in the lobby, reception, and common areas. If she hadn't ran a facial recognition profile already, we can use that as a basis."

She dug into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. "I'm sending a text to one of the girls at reception. What is this character's name?"

"Rehnquist. Malcolm Rehnquist."

Allison's eyes darted up from the screen. "I remember that name. Alex told me the story about him. She was pissed because he came into the offices pretending to be a Fed. He was the one who took Mick?"

Beth nodded.

Allison continued her message on her phone. She received a confirmation beep a few seconds later before setting it on the couch beside her with a satisfied sigh. "Kate is going to check our security protocols. She's said to give her a half-hour, which I think is plenty of time to talk about something else while we wait. Kidnappings are depressing."

The conversation steered back to pizza and wine, along with Allison's recent trip to Japan. "Hayley said she already has a team put together to go over there, but I'm on the short list because of tenure. So, not knowing when I'll be able to go back, I made a killing when I went out shopping."

Beth finished her glass of wine and reached for the bottle. "I seem to recall someone purchasing me a robe. Where is it?"

Allison jumped to her feet. "It's in the car. I'll go get it."

Beth took a sip of her wine while Allison moved to the door. She set her glass down and loaded her plate with two more slices of pizza. Noting Allison's glass and the bottle was empty, she rose and went into the kitchen where her wine rack rested on the counter. Choosing a white wine, she reached for the wine opener sitting by the sink.

She was almost done twisting the corkscrew in when the door opened and close. "I hope you like the white wine," she said, popping the cork out of the bottle. "One bottle of merlot is enough for me for one night."

"I appreciate the thought," a somewhat familiar voice replied. "I'm more of a whiskey girl myself."

Beth looked up from her work and noted Allison standing in the living room, a small plastic bag in her hand. "Beth," she breathed.

Beside her, a woman with red hair pulled into a long ponytail draped over her shoulder turned from the coffee table to face her.

"It's nice to see you again, Miss Turner," said Alexandra Sanders. "I believe we both have an common interest in Malcolm Rehnquist that we need to discuss."

#

He exited the taxi cab, thanking the driver before closing the door. Picking up his seabag from the sidewalk where he had deposited it, he proceeded up the walkway to the front porch steps of the Victorian styled house. Taking them in two bounds, he rapped his knuckles lightly on the screen door.

Several seconds passed before he could hear a set of unsteady footfalls approach. A young male, late twenties and balancing himself against an arm crutch appeared from a side hall and made his way to the door.

"I always said I wondered when my old Army buddy and best friend would come visit, and here he is," he said, pushing the door open to admit the visitor. "How was New York?"

"They are loving returning G.I.'s, that's for sure." He stepped inside and dropped his seabag on the hardwood floor before giving his friend a back slapping embrace.

"How are you, Ray?"

Pulling back and reaching over to shake his elbow, Ray Fordham smiled.

"Happy that you're here, buddy. Damn happy." Balancing his hand on the crutch, he reached down to grab the seabag from the floor and slung it over his free shoulder. "Go in the kitchen and grab yourself a beer, and head out to the back porch. I got your bag."

"You sure?"

Ray pointed to the kitchen. "I can do cartwheels with this thing. Go."

He obeyed, entering the kitchen and reached for a beer bottle settled amongst others in a large bucket of ice on the table. Popping the top with a bottle opener chained to the bucket's side, he took a healthy pull from it, savoring its cold taste. He took another sip before moving to the screen door leading to the back yard. His hand started to push it open but stopped, fingertips lightly brushing against the wood as he looked outside.

She sat on a wooden swing hanging from the tall oak tree in the yard. Her bare feet lightly brushed against the green grass as the swing gently swayed. The knee length yellow dress she wore stood out like a beam of sunshine, accentuating her shoulder length brown hair. Lilah was just as beautiful as she was when last he saw of her, holding one of the swing's ropes to balance herself.

Her other hand held a newborn baby in a protective embrace against her chest.

He was so in shock at the sight that he did not notice Ray's approach from behind. "She found out she was pregnant about two months after I made it back home," he said. "Considering how bad off I was, it was a miracle. An unexpected miracle."

"And then you disappeared. No letters, no phone calls, nothing. It didn't take a genius to guess what had happened while I was away, Mick."

He waited several seconds before turning to face his friend. "Ray," he began.

Ray held up a hand to stop him. "Mick, before you say anything, I had a talk with Lilah already. She admitted everything. And you want to know something? I forgive you both."

Ray looked down at his crutch for a second and chuckled softly to himself. "I was dead for months, Mick. Dead. And when I wasn't dead, I had no idea who I was. It might as well been said that the Ray Fordham you knew vanished from existence. It's true. You and Lilah believed it. Hell, you were there when we were ambushed. You barely made it out yourself. And you made your way here to my wife with no intention other than to comfort her because her husband, your best friend, was dead and not coming back."

He looked past him at his wife who rose from the swing and began walking around in the yard, looking into the baby's face. "Why would I be angry at you? At Lilah? Why would I be angry at the fact that the two people I loved more than life itself fell in love with each other?"

Lilah had walked over and lowered herself and the baby onto a blanket that rested on the grass underneath another shaded portion of the tree. "Robert was born seven months later. By then it was realized why we no longer saw you, and I understood and respected it. You stand here full of regret, but I want you to know one thing, Mick. It doesn't matter if that boy is yours or mine, or what happened between you and my wife. It's all in the past now. I've made my peace with it, my friend."

Ray pulled him into an embrace. He returned it, holding it until they both burst out laughing.

The boisterous sound attracted Lilah's attention. She looked up from where she had laid her son on the blanket and saw her husband and his friend looking at her. She smiled in pleasant surprise and gave them an enthusiastic wave.

"Come on, Mick." Ray pushed the screen door open with his crutch. "It's time you met your godson."

#

Alexandra Sanders nodded her thanks to Allison as she accepted the beverage from her. "After that son of a bitch snuck up into my offices pretending to be a federal agent, I spent a week and a bunch of unbillable man hours trying to find him myself."

She held the glass and gently swirled the ice and beverage with a finger. "I was about to give up on the whole thing, so you can't imagine how happy I was when I found out my new hire was inquiring about the same person. I was so happy that after I had Hayley ping Allison's phone for her location, I thought I'd rush over here and get an explanation for myself."

Sanders looked from Beth to Allison, sitting side by side on the couch. Receiving no reply, she finally took a sip of her drink. "Hmm. Thank you for the whiskey," she said. "Now, who's first? I'm dying to find out what's going on."

Beth held a hand out to Allison to prevent her from commenting. "I asked Allison to look into Rehnquist because … because he kidnapped someone."

Sanders' eyebrows raised slightly. "Really? Who?"

Allison answered before Beth could stop her. "A friend of the family. I just found out myself. Beth ran the name by me and I remember the story you told me while we were flying to Japan. I wanted to see if I could help."

Sanders leaned close, peering at Beth intently in silence. "I have no rules against my employees offering friends the services of my company to friends, Miss Turner. But I have to ask this: why isn't Mick St. John helping you? This seems like more in his wheelhouse."

"This is a personal matter, Miss Sanders," Beth answered, more quickly than she had liked. "I'd prefer if he wasn't involved."

Sanders slowly sat back in her chair and took another sip of her drink in reflective thought. "I want to share something with you two ladies. Since we're in sharing mode right now. The reason I asked why St. John wasn't handling this was because this Rehnquist character allegedly had evidence putting him at the Gemma Tejada murder scene this past summer."

Beth remained still, but Allison's mouth fell open slightly. "Tejada?"

"I know you were looking into him because he wanted your brother dead, Allison." Sanders knocked back the remainder of her drink in one gulp and placed the glass on the coffee table. "I'm still somewhat surprised that you didn't continue to pull on that thread."

Allison kept silent as Sanders turned her attention to Beth. "I was never convinced that St. John had anything to do with Tejada's murder, but it got me to thinking. Tejada's crew was implicated in trying to kill you at least once, and when they weren't able to get you, then they went for Josh Lindsey, the assistant district attorney. Allison's brother. Your boyfriend. It's no secret that St. John saved you the first time. He fought to save Lindsey. Everything he did has me wondering if he did have something to do with Tejada's murder. If he did, I wondered if he also had anything to do with Ben Talbot's murder."

Beth hesitated in responding at first, noting a brief glimpse of sadness that fell on Sanders' features. The pause was enough time for her to rise to her feet and slip her hand in her jacket. "I had a couple of screenshots of Rehnquist printed before I came over," she said as she pulled several photographs from an inner pocket. "I don't know what you have planned, but if there's anything I can do to help, my company is at your disposal."

She dropped the pictures on the coffee table. Giving the two women a nod, she turned and made her way to the door. Before she opened it, she looked back at Beth.

"I didn't make it to where I am today without the skill of deduction, Miss Turner. I look at you and see nothing but sadness. You don't have to tell me why. I think I know. But I'll tell you this: I don't know why, but I don't think St. John had anything to do with Ben's death. Maybe Tejada's. If he did have anything to do with that pendejo's murder, I have five words for that: an eye for an eye."

She opened the door and stepped through. Before closing it, she added over her shoulder, "So for what it's worth, I hope you find St. John."

Beth and Allison both looked at the closed door and each other in shock for what seemed like an eternity. "How does she know?" Beth finally queried.

Allison shrugged. "She's Alexandra Sanders. How could she not know?"

#

Doctor Ellis held up Mick's right eyelid and shone a light into the pupil. He nodded in satisfaction and gently lowered Mick's head back to his chest. "He's ready," he announced, glancing behind him. "No matter how hard he fights, he should be susceptible to any command given, compelled to answer any question truthfully."

"Excellent, Doctor." Malcolm stepped from the dim corner of the room, looking down at Mick's stilled form. "Now, do me a favor and release him."

Ellis gave Malcolm an uncertain look. "Are you sure, sir? I'm sure about his mind, but not his strength."

"If a vampire doesn't feed after two to three days, he begins to feel the withdrawal." Malcolm pulled the strap free from Mick's right wrist. "With an average hundred-and-four degree day here, and the once-a-day beatings, that time is cut in half. He is in no condition to put up any kind of fight, believe me."

Ellis unstrapped the other wrist and stepped back. "Anything else?"

Malcolm shook his head while he slid a chair in front of Mick's. "Lucas will take you to our hotel in the city. You're to be back here by nine tomorrow morning."

When Ellis departed the room, he sat down in the chair, using the back to support his arms as he stared up at Mick. "Finally. Here we are. All alone. Now we can talk."

Mick remained silent. His breathing was labored. His eyes strained to open. "My family has been experimenting for decades to eliminate some of the weaknesses our kind inherits as a price of our existence. Fear of fire, fear of lead, fear of sunlight. Coraline and Lance are but two examples of our success. But you already know that."

He rose to his feet and circled Mick, running his hand across the back of his seat. "One of my associates came across this solution that's running through you now. It's a combination of a truth serum and a relaxant that is strong enough to weaken the immune system of any vampire. The wounds you have would have been healed by now if you fed and properly cared for. Instead, you're going on three weeks and they still look fresh."

As if more proof was needed, he ripped opened Mick's shirt, exposing the stake wound suffered the day he was taken. The hole still looked as if the stake was recently removed. "I admit, you're stronger than I give you credit for. I've experimented on twenty or thirty of our kind, tweaking the formula until it was just right. The longest anyone has lasted was five days. We started you on our mix a week ago. Doctor Ellis was kind enough to examine our concoction and add his own spin to keep you just on this side of life."

He reclaimed his chair and assumed his original position. "The truth serum bit, that was my own design. Strong enough to weaken the resolve of the strongest vampires. But this batch, I made especially for you. It's messing with your head right now. I know. You have been a mumbling fool since I walked in the door."

His tone grew serious as he continued. "We'll get into everything soon, I assure you. I wanted this to be special because we're kindred spirits, you and I. Bound once by a marriage to one of my own you claimed you once loved, but then hated because of the gift she gave you. You tried to kill her, you tried to kill her brother, you had him sent back to Paris in chains like a dog!"

Mick barely stirred, despite the fierceness in Malcolm's tone. Malcolm rose again, kicking the chair out of his way with such fierceness that it fell to pieces before it collided with the wall. He reached over and bodily snatched Mick's head up, leaning down until his lips brushed against St. John's ear.

"So I thought it's time for truth between us," he whispered. "Starting with the one question that I've been wanting to ask you for a while now. The one that might actually light a fire under you."

He paused. "What is Beth Turner to you?"

#

Coraline Duvall paced back and forth behind her desk at her flat, a secluded dwelling on the outskirts of Paris. Every time she glanced down at the screen of her laptop, she swore under her breath.

Ever since Josef called to tell her what Malcolm had done, she had searched the world over for him and Mick. Claudia Oxford, Malcolm's executive assistant in Paris, refused to divulge any details as to his whereabouts. Lance found out about her inquiries and simply laughed, the black orb for a right eye reflecting her growing despair.

She distracted herself by continuing her mission to perfect "The Mortal Cure," the compound that was created to revert any vampire back to a human. She herself successfully fooled Mick for weeks while under the effects of the compound, and would have lasted even longer if she was not "staked" by Beth Turner, who believed she was a vampire. The attempt caused her former friend, the late Cynthia Xavier Davis, to intervene by making her into a vampire again, saving her life.

In order to continue the process of perfecting the compound to a more permanent solution, she gained access to the manifest of materials, ingredients, and equipment necessary for its production as well as directing shipment from warehouses to laboratories all over the world.

Coraline only had a few projects that required her attention, so an order for ingredients for a serum mimicking the effects of sodium pentothal and a paralytic dose capable of weakening vampires easily caught her eye. But what filled her with dread was that instead of the order being delivered to the family's main lab in nearby Auvers-sur-Oise, directions were left to have everything shipped to a very familiar location in Los Angeles.

Coraline did not need to guess who was the recipient.

The decision to act was an easy one to make, but one she knew she must act on with care. Malcolm's group of associates, led by Claudia, were loyal to a fault. Even though she and her twin brother David were not sired by Malcolm, Coraline knew they held more favor in his eyes than she and Lance ever could.

Reaching a decision, she reached for her cell phone resting by the laptop and dialed a number. Seconds later, a man answered. "Belle Fleur*. What can I do for you?"

Coraline glanced down at the laptop again. "I need your help."

*Belle Fleur (French) - Beautiful Flower

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