Chapter 41

The End of the Road

Intro Song: Key to the Highway, Eric Clapton, B.B. King

The tantalizing aroma of grilled onions hung in the air as Carl wadded up the empty burger wrapper and stuffed it in with the other trash from his delicious, but very unhealthy, meal. "Sorry you didn't get a chance to eat, Mick."

Me too. "Oh, I did actually," the vampire smiled. The side trip to Hodad's to scratch Carl's itch for one of their burgers had provided him with the opportunity to get out of the truck, claiming the need to stretch his legs, and dine on the contents of his thermos while Carl fetched his food. Well-fed, he could feel his edginess retreating along with his craving for blood.

The officer wrinkled his nose as he started the engine and pulled the luxury SUV out of its parking spot. "No offense but liquid diets are just not my thing."

"None taken. They aren't mine normally, either. Took me a while to get used to it. But I do feel better, so I feel like I need to give this a decent trial..."

Carl gave Mick a quizzical look. "What… you've been doing this a lot?"

One corner of the vampire's mouth twitched. Years and years… "We do what we must."

Carl started to say something but got the niggling feeling he should let that comment slide. Instead, he shrugged. "You are one strange dude, St. John – cool, but strange."

Mick grinned but said nothing further. How he'd come to feel in any way comfortable with a police officer, in such a short amount of time, confounded him. Don't let your guard down. No, he wouldn't. But couldn't he at least allow a small part of himself to revel in the temporary camaraderie? Only if you're careful. He wouldn't be your friend if he knew about you… He shrugged off the thought. "Mind if I…?" He gestured toward the radio.

"I trust your taste in music – knock yourself out."

The private investigator again toyed with the tuner. Something low-key... As if pre-ordained, the smooth melody of Wes Montgomery's "Bumpin' On Sunset" wafted through the Escalade. Mick couldn't help but be amused, given the time of day. He leaned back into the seat, and closed his eyes, enjoying the comfortable ride, great music and surprisingly good company.

"You nodding off over there?"

The vampire's eyes snapped open. "Looks like it." Actually, he wasn't - not in a way Carl would understand. Though he appeared to be resting, his senses were fully alert, constantly monitoring. The officer was a decent person, but there was only one human with whom Mick could completely relax. Truth be told, that person was always in his thoughts.

I still can't believe she's off gaming with Logan. When Beth had first texted him with her plans for the evening, he'd thought it was her idea of a joke. But no, she was serious. It was probably bound to happen - as she became more firmly entrenched in his life, Beth would befriend vampires besides he and Josef. A sliver of worry crept in; he did trust Logan - mostly - but what of his friends or associates? What if he invited other vamps over - ones Mick had not vetted?

His phone was in his hand before he knew it, poised to text Beth and tell her to call Josef if anyone showed up at Logan's before he got back... but he stopped himself. Beth was smart, savvy, and sensible, albeit impulsive. She didn't need a babysitter. Why ruin her fun because of his fears? Logan had shown himself to be a trustworthy ally, even if his work ethic didn't always match Mick's. He and Ryder had been working hard to come up with information for him in his quest to uncover the whereabouts of the woman he suspected of being responsible for Sara Whitley's murder. In fact, Logan was tasked with providing secured lines of communication within their corner of the vampire nation. Mick pocketed the phone again - and noticed Davis glancing over at him with a grin.

"What?!"

"Nothing... just... you've got it bad, don't you?"

Mick opened his mouth... to say what, exactly? Deny it? Tell Carl it was none of his business? Just tell the truth. "I guess I do."

The officer flipped on his turn signal, concentrating on the busy intersection in front of him. "For the record, I envy you."

The vampire raised one eyebrow at the comment. "How so?"

"Well... as you said, we both have 'battle scars' - but it looks to me like you've found someone."

"And Jamie isn't 'someone'?"

"Kinda early to make that call, I think. I mean..." Davis broke off with a sigh. "Oh hell, I don't know what I'm talking about, clearly. How long did you know Beth before you decided she was worth taking the risk for?"

Mick smiled broadly as he thought back to that encounter. "I knew the minute I first laid eyes on her last year. She was walking through a freezing cold fountain… barefoot... at two in the morning. One of your crime scenes, actually."

Carl frowned in concentration for a moment before his face brightened. "Two A.M.? Fountain? Let me guess. 'Vampire slaying rocks L.A.' That's when you two first met?!"

"Yep. That's the one." Met again.

"I could have killed Beth for that one!" Davis groaned, conjuring up images of the unpleasant scene he had had with his commander. "She got me into a world of trouble with my boss over that headline." He flipped on the turn signal, following the GPS directions. "Well, I'll be damned. Josh told me you two met at a crime scene, but I didn't realize it was one of mine. He failed to mention that." Davis grinned wickedly over at his companion. "I guess that means that, technically, I set you two up. You owe me a drink, St. John!"

Mick deadpanned, "Using that kind of logic, I would think I actually owe that psycho grad student a drink."

Both men laughed.

"So, I have a serious question, Mick. After whatever hell you went through with your first marriage... how did you... I mean, what made you decide to take a chance with Beth?"

Mick took some time to consider his answer. He regretted his earlier slip that had let the detective know he had once been married - and he didn't want to give this smart professional more concrete information. Still, he had committed the error, so he had to say something...

Careful not to dip too deeply into the murky waters of his past, he hesitantly began, "I'm no different than you, Carl. After my wife and I split – and the marriage was definitely hell - I went on... sabbatical... for a long time. I had a few encounters, but as far as real relationships… nothing. Not until Beth, that is. Believe me, I was resistant. I found out she had a boyfriend, and I had my own garbage to deal with. I told myself we'd only be friends, and nothing more..."

He stopped, frowning in Carl's direction. "Look... for the record, Beth and I...we weren't… together…when she was with Josh, I mean, absolutely nothing, until... you know..."

Davis detected the concern in his companion's voice and his desire to defend Beth. Just like that night at Club Valis. "I'm going to say something here, Mick. And I hope you aren't offended. But, seriously man, even Stevie Wonder could've seen that Beth had the hots for you that night at Club Valis."

He shifted in the driver's seat, checking the Escalade's GPS again to see how many miles they had left before reaching the border patrol station, and then glanced sideways at St. John to see how his comment had landed.

The smile Mick threw the detective's way was almost shy. "Don't give me that, Carl. The woman was on a mission that night – but it wasn't me. It was the story." He suppressed images of Beth showing up later that evening at his penthouse, coming on to him in a big way - behavior that belied his words. That was just the drug talking then...

"Dead serious, my friend. You sure didn't have to be a detective to see that. Why do you think Josh reacted like he did and had me drag you away?! Sure wasn't my doing! Anyway, if you ask me, she and Josh were on the way out way before he died."

Mick leaned forward. After Josh was buried, Beth had told him she ultimately would not have married him, but he was curious in spite of himself... "Why do you say that?"

"I've known Beth for a while - in fact, Josh introduced me to her not long after they first started dating." Carl checked the in-dash map once more, and then added, "I'm gonna be honest. Man-to-man here. Beth has put herself in some dangerous situations more than a few times and I don't think Josh could keep up with her. That was my girl? I'd have been worried sick over her meeting after hours alone with some nutty professor, or running around all hours of the night chasing a story about a possible serial killer. I mean, hell... she even got Josh to take her along when Fayed was served. She had no business being there. She isn't a cop. What if one of his henchmen had gotten an itchy trigger finger? He was really overstepping by giving her so much access and information."

The detective continued. "Don't get me wrong. I like Beth a helluva lot. But I think we've both seen firsthand how single-minded and driven she can be. I just didn't see her being the 'little woman' helping him out with his career, if you get me. I don't think they were ultimately a good match. . I just think he was in over his head. The situation with their anniversary party - Josh told me about it. I mean, your woman ditches you to spend the evening at the morgue? She's telling you it's game over." He shook his head. "I don't want to speak badly about him, God rest his soul. Josh was a good guy - and no one deserves to die like that." He glanced over at his companion. "Don't think I don't appreciate what you did that day either, Mick - I watched you pull out tricks I've never seen before, trying to save him. You do realize you're a bit of a legend with the emergency response teams now, right?"

Mick grimaced. Great, just what I need.

Davis began to feel uncomfortable with the conversation. Why was he being so chatty with St. John about such personal matters? "I'll shut up now."

The vampire turned Carl's comments over and over in his mind, absorbing what he'd heard, fascinated at the outside perspective on that situation. He'd had some remnants of guilt over getting involved with Beth so soon after Josh's death. Some small part of him had also feared that he was a consolation prize – the person who happened to be there when she needed someone to turn to in her grief. Hearing Carl's impressions gave him a new perspective.

"To answer your earlier question," Mick finally said, speaking quietly. "I almost blew it with Beth because I was too damn afraid to step up and tell her how I felt - too afraid to make a commitment. When I thought I'd lost her, I realized that nothing – not my ex, not what I'd been through - nothing mattered more than being with her. I knew then I was ready."

"How long were you divorced though before you got with Beth? How long a period of mourning are we talking?"

You wouldn't believe me if I told you... "Man, it seems like it was fifty years. In all honesty, I was a real mess for a long time. I would have pitied any woman who might have tried to have a serious relationship with me those first few years. Then..."

He shrugged. "Well, when you meet the right person, I guess you know. I never used to think that but meeting Beth made me a believer. I knew she was the one a long time before I worked up the courage to say so."

Carl nodded. "Okay, I feel you on that. So... you think you gonna take the plunge again? Is she 'THE one'?"

Mick laughed out loud. "Damn, you ask hard questions, Davis! I really don't know. Just saying the word 'marriage' makes my throat close up - but honestly, if I don't do it with Beth, I'm not sure who I would do it with. On the other hand, who says she would even want to? This is Beth we're talking about." As soon as he said the words, he realized with a start that he truly didn't know if she would want to marry him. You have no idea how complicated this all is, Carl.

"The women I've known almost always wanted to. They wanted a ring, a date, and a dress...at least in my experience. And then come the other things - security, a house, children..." Davis bit back his rising anger as he remembered the conversations he and Lisa had had about having a family when they were first married. He didn't want to poison this conversation with his own bitterness. "Anyway, I'm happy for you. Maybe I'll get lucky someday."

Don't be too happy for me, Mick thought, Carl's words cutting deep. I can't have a lot of those things with Beth... This wasn't just about him, however. The detective clearly had many of the same fears he had about entering into another serious relationship, albeit for very different reasons. It was time to redirect the conversation…

"What about you? You've been getting to ask all the questions; it's my turn now, Davis. You haven't said much about yourself - what is it gonna take for you? I mean, you sound pretty damn cynical."

"The jury's still out on that one, Mick," Carl answered, more candidly than he'd intended.

The final turn off of the I-905 East onto Britannia Boulevard ended the conversation as well as this leg of their journey. Each man dealt with his thoughts privately as Carl swung the Escalade into the lot that dead-ended the boulevard. The black luxury SUV stood out starkly amidst the rows of white jeeps and nondescript government buildings.

"Drab and gray - yeah, this is Federal all right," Carl quipped as he clambered out of the Cadillac.

Mick remained silent, second-guessing himself now that they had reached their destination. What the fuck am I doing here?

"Don't worry," the detective offered when he saw Mick hesitate. "Remember, we're just doing follow-up. We'll probably be here no longer than we were at SDPD. These Federal boys don't like wasting any more time than they have to with the likes of us. And they couldn't possibly be any less hospitable than those assholes we just left back there."

"Hope you're right," Mick responded tightly. "At least, about the hospitable part." There was definitely something going on at that meeting with the San Diego detectives that wasn't right. Particularly with David McGowan. It was more than just being edgy about this case. He just hadn't yet figured out what - or more importantly, why. Maybe I'd better have Logan run a check on that guy. He took solace in the thought that soon this whole blasted trip would be done, and quickly messaged Beth with just that sentiment before following Carl into what looked like the main building.

The two men were greeted by a pleasant receptionist. Once their identities were confirmed,, the young man made a quick call. Within moments, a stocky black man came to the front. He was dressed in the standard olive uniform, an official Border Patrol badge prominently displayed on his shirt.

"We've been expecting you two - I'm Agent Scott Thomas," he extended his hand first to the officer.

"Lieutenant Carl Davis, Los Angeles PD, and this is Mick St. John, a licensed private investigator working with our department."

"Really?" the agent asked as he shook Mick's hand. "We don't see too many independents around here... at least, not legal ones anyway." Thomas caught the P.I.'s puzzled look. "Sorry... a little bad border humor there. Would you please follow me, gentlemen?" He turned, and walked past the reception station, the L.A. investigators following close behind.

"Well, at least this one's civil," Mick whispered to his companion.

"So far… still, be on your guard," Carl advised in equally low tones. "We're dealing with Federal here and they can have a stick up their ass over nothing."

The walk ended at a conference room, where another man waited, standing as soon as the trio entered the room. He was a slender Asian man, taller than his fellow officer.

Thomas made the introductions. "Gentlemen, this is Agent Anthony Yuen. Tony, meet LAPD Lieutenant Carl Davis, and Investigator Mick St. John. They're here for the Los Angeles DA's Office about the incidents we've been having out here."

The border agent shook the visitors' hands. Though he was cordial, his dark gaze lingered slightly longer on the investigator. This must be the one McGowan called me about. He waved his hand over the dark wooden conference table, wasting no time in chitchat. "Let's get to it, shall we?"

Yuen grabbed a short stack of manila folders and handed one to each of them as they took their seats. "In there, you'll see our summaries of what's been happening with the so-called border murders."

Carl questioned the phrasing "So-called?"

Thomas fielded the answer. "First off, to be clear, this particular string of homicides actually has been taking place in Campo... which is less than fifty miles from here. Although it is close to the U.S.-Mexico border, it isn't the main San Ysidro location that most people automatically think of. Also..." the agent hesitated briefly. "We aren't sure 'murder' is completely accurate either."

The lieutenant narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? These people were murdered."

"Oh yes, indeed, they were killed," Agent Thomas quickly amended. "But the M.O. is what is particularly disturbing and makes us question if this was just about murder. See, out here, your major sources of mayhem typically involve coyotes and the drug trade. The decapitations - well, swing a stick, several cartels use that as a calling card. Shooting someone, cutting his head off - fairly quick if you know what you're doing. But burning people to ash? That's the real sticking point for us. That kind of fire would take time and would call attention."

He frowned down at the paperwork spread out in front of him. "I cannot see these guys wasting time standing around while burned to nothing - it doesn't make sense to us, at least not from our experience. As far as coyotes, well, you don't want to be known for doing that. Since their bread and butter is smuggling illegal immigrants into the U.S., it would seriously decrease the number of people who would want their services. They make their money on large groups and repeat business. Murder simply isn't a good marketing plan – especially not when it involves children."

"Also," Yuen interjected, "the drug operations are getting more and more modern. They aren't using the same crossings as, say, illegal immigrants. These guys now are increasingly more likely to use forged passports, underground tunnels, even entry points off the Pacific Ocean, to pipe in narcotics. Far cleaner and more efficient than older methods. Oh, there are still shootouts and murders, but... nothing like this."
The agent frowned, exchanging glances with his partner. "Even for them, this is over the top. So, we are thinking they are either very specific warnings... or executions."

"And the children?" Mick asked. Those small bodies haunted him.

"We're guessing they were either a warning – or a punishment. But that's all it is at this point – a guess." Thomas summarized the situation. "The bottom line, gentlemen, is that, statistically, fewer and fewer illegal crossings are being done in the desert proper - be it for purposes of drugs or migration. It's just not worth the risk like it was a few years back. And, as we've said, these guys are becoming incredibly sophisticated. And that's why all this just doesn't fit."

The information had Carl's mind reeling. This made sense in light of the findings as explained by Chief Medical Examiner Dyson. She'd made it clear that the vast majority of victims had absolutely no indication of drug usage or handling. The victims did not appear to be mules, movers, or addicts, as far as they could tell.

Who would commit those kinds of killings? And, why? The lieutenant went through his mental index of likely explanations. Suddenly, a startled expression crossed his features as a thought occurred to him. "Could we be talking... some kind of cult?"

Yuen cocked his head. "California deserts have been host to strange things. We've just about seen it all, so I wouldn't rule it out." He shifted uncomfortably. "We're not saying that it can't be a drug cartel - the players are always subject to change. Hell, for all we know, another group is moving in, trying to stake territory, though we haven't heard anything like that recently. Just... keep your minds and options open. That's what we're trying to do."

Mick propped his chin in one hand as he processed what the agents were saying. At the morgue, he had detected the distinctive scent of vampire in the ashen remains, confirming his worst suspicions. Someone was killing vampires in the desert, or at least disposing of them there... but what about the human victims? What is the connection? What am I missing? His speculation was made more difficult by the very nature of vampires - solitary creatures, given to secrecy, even from one another. As he had once said to Beth, "There's not like a big clubhouse where we all hang out."

A cold tendril of worry began to creep through him - could the same people responsible for the near-fatal attack on Victoria, and the disappearance of other New York City vampires, now possibly here in California? That attack had involved silver, this was fire, but still...what was the likelihood that sudden, secretive offensives against vampires on two coasts were coincidentally happening at almost the same time? Victoria certainly thought there was a dangerous conspiracy against them.

Fire. His mind spiraled further down this thought trail, furiously connecting the pieces. An explosion - an intense fire - had killed Sara Whitely and her human caretaker. Cremation, even for vampire bodies, required a large, concentrated heat source. There were human remains burned as well - and the medical examiner had said that the fire needed to cause that kind of damage to bodies had to be intense. Flamethrowers? They were certainly not easy to get...

Dr. Dyson had determined that the accelerant was gasoline, which is a common substance... The fire at Waverly Place... Eugene Divan, the forensics investigator, had made it clear that O2 tanks had fueled the blast. Oxygen in tanks could be used as bombs - but too dangerous to use for controlled combustion - and ordering flamethrowers may win you a visit from the ATF...

Yet, he'd read something in on-line articles about oxygen tanks during his research on the Waverly fire, something that didn't seem relevant at the time. What was it? He frowned, running through a mental checklist.Oxygen tanks - they were built for high-pressure contents. In the hands of someone knowledgeable, those tanks could probably become makeshift torches. Getting the tanks? Not hard to do, and very legal.

Was he seriously considering that whomever committed these atrocities had built a homemade flamethrower or torch? Yeah, you are. Just like with bombs and home silencers, it probably required no more than a quick Internet search and a trip to Home Depot. Get enough of them at one time and you would have an effective weapon. The P.I.'s mind was whirling; he felt like he was missing some vital clue, some clear connection between the crimes on both coasts that was just beyond his grasp...

"Mick, you alright?"

The vampire jerked his head. "Huh? Yeah, sorry, gentlemen, just thinking... trying to put it all together. "

Davis nodded. "Me too." He focused on the agents sitting across from him. "I think it's time we had a look at the scene."

Thomas glanced at the wall clock as he pushed his stocky frame back from the table. "It's almost 7:30... it'll be getting dark before long so we should get going." As all four men rose from the table, he finished, "You can follow us out there - it's along I-88 North, right before the Mexican border." With a single motion, he scooped up his file from the table, pivoted, and headed out the door, trailed by his partner.

Carl and Mick needed no further prompting. They followed their hosts out to the lot, then watched from their SUV while the border patrol agents jumped into one of the waiting fleet vehicles and headed out.

"Okay, we're going to Campo... I-88... can you get the GPS set up just in case we lose these guys..."

"Got it," Mick grunted, "Campo, California … 46.7 miles."

"Good... now let's get out there, see whatever it is we're gonna see... Thank god we're almost at the end of this road." Carl smiled. "How about a smoke and drink later to celebrate this all being in our rear view mirror?"

"Hmm... cigar, scotch, jazz... very tempting," the P.I. responded noncommittally. "We'll see."

The Escalade accelerated smoothly from the lot, following the agency jeep to the day's final destination. Within the SUV, the vampire retrieved his weapon from the glove compartment, where he had stashed it during the visit to the border agents' headquarters. He had all the proper credentials for carrying a concealed weapon, but it didn't seem worth the potential risk of confrontation that bringing it into the federal facility might have generated. Now, however... he checked the clip, then snapped it back into position, the loud click reverberating in the vehicle.

Just in case.

End song: Bad Moon Rising, Creedence Clearwater Revival