Free The Power by Cynthia Roberts Page A

vampire theory that seemed to be developing over it. It was laughable really.
    “And what did you tell me? Oh, yes. Arthur Miller was bled dry by a vampire.” Jack flashed an amused grin to Dr. Harold, who sent him a long, angry scowl in return.
    “Well, he was certainly bled dry.” She hissed. “And the only wounds that the man sustained, besides the bruising on his chest and back, attesting to the fact that he was shoved and by a great force into the wall that we found him leaning against, were the two gaping holes in his neck, just the size of incisors.”  She put to Jack smartly.
    “Human incisors?” Jack cocked a dark brow curiously.
    “A bit larger actually.” Dr. Harold turned the victim’s head with the slightest bit of effort. Carefully, she pointed to the deep holes in the neck, holes about an inch or so apart. They wer e clean cuts, Jack thought. Whoever had done this had done it so carefully that they had not dropped even one drop of blood, at least not any that they had been able to find. 
    “This makes two, Jack.” Dr. Harold told him what he already knew. Jack grunted, and looked away.
    “And no other object could have made these marks? No wild animal on the loose?” he was reaching, he knew that, but at least he wasn’t shouting vampires!
    “A wild animal would have made more of a mess, Jack. There would have been blood everywhere.” Dr. Harold made a wide circle with her arms, her hands shaped like claws. “There would have been claw marks of some kind as well.” she pointed out. Jack supposed she was right. It made sense, but if an animal hadn’t done this, then what had?
    “And no human could have done this either, I suppose?” Jack scratched at the morning whiskers forming on his chin. He had left the apartment early, forgetting to shave after he had gotten out of the shower.
    “I don’t see how.” Dr. Harold said thoughtfully. “There would have been blood somewhere at the scene.” she was looking thoughtfully at the body wh en a thought occurred to Jack.
    “They moved the body! Arthur Miller wasn’t killed in that alley!” he snapped his fingers together as if he had just figured it out.
    “No, Jack.” Dr. Harold called after him in disappointment when Jack turned to leave. “There were witnesses if you will recall.” she pointed out.
    “Gang members.” Jack countered swiftly over his shoulder.
    “A young man who was scared too death and still in shock when I arrived at the scene.” she snapped fitfully.
    “Or putting on a good show.” Jack came back with as he came to the glass doors that would lead him back outside.
    “Where are you going?” Dr. Harold shouted out the door after him.
    “To question my witness.” Jack called without glancing back. Jose Gonzales knew more than he was letting on, Jack thought, and he would be damned if he let the boy off the hook that easily. This was the second murder that had happened in his jurisdiction in the last week. That was two too many.
     
                  “I done told you, man.” Jose Gonzales slapped his short-fingered hand down on the metal table before him angrily. “I saw what I saw.” his deep brown eyes burned into Jack’s soft amber ones. Jack had a good mind to tear the boy limb to limb, to box his ears a little until the kid confessed to all, but Jose Gonzales wasn’t budging, and Jack had been interrogating him for the past hour.
    “You saw a woman?” Exhausted, Jack decided to humor the kid.
    “She was no woman, man.” Jose shook his dark, gelled head from side to side. His dark eyes were wide as if in shocked memory. “I mean, I thought she was at first, but,” he whistled beneath his breath. “She wasn’t human, man.”
    “Not human?” Jack repeated tightly as he leaned back, cradling his chin in his hand and meeting Jose’s troubled gaze. “Then what was she?”
    “I already told you. She drank his blood! What the fuck you think she was, Santa Fucking Claus?” Jose