LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Killers have been known to show up at these things,” Arnie explained.

      “You’re kidding!”

      Ned shrugged. “It happens.”

      “Why would he take a chance like that?” Vickie asked.

      “Who knows? To thumb his nose at the cops? To hear what people are saying? Like I said, who knows what goes through a killer’s mind.” He dropped a couple of dollars on the table, then rose. “Take it easy, girl.”

      “As always,” Vicki replied.

      “Give my best to your mom when you talk to her again,” Arnie said.

      “I will.”

      She watched Ned and Arnie leave the diner. They were both nice guys. She had dated Arnie a couple of times. He was a wonderful man and she had tried hard to fall in love with him but there just hadn’t been any spark between them, at least on her part. Now, they were just good friends. Ned was married and the father of twin boys.

      Scooping the greenbacks from the table, Vicki dropped them into her pocket, then carried the cups into the kitchen.

      “You should give Arnie another chance,” Gus said, winking at her.

      “You sound just like my mother, you old goat,” Vicki replied with an affectionate grin.

      “Hey, since your papa passed on and your mama moved away, you are my business.”

      “I know, I know.” Gus Jacobson had been her father’s best friend. Since her father had passed away and her mother had gone to St. Louis to help Karen with the kids, Gus had adopted Vicki. Not that she minded. It was nice to know that, even though she was all grown up, she still had someone in town to look after her.

      “Tell Bobbie Sue her order’s up, will ya?” Gus asked.

      “Sure.”

      Leaving the kitchen, Vicki came to an abrupt halt when she saw that the stranger had arrived and was sitting in his usual place in the back booth. Strange, how that particular booth was always empty when he arrived.

      As though drawn by an invisible cord, Victoria walked toward him. As usual, he was all in black from the top of his head to the boots on his feet. Not for the first time, she noted how well the color suited him.

      He lifted one dark brow as she neared his table. “The police were here.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

      “Yes.” She wondered how he knew Ned and Arnie had been there. Had he been lurking outside in the shadows, peeking in the window?

      “Did you call them?”

      She hesitated a moment before replying. “Yes.”

      “Why?”

      She had no intention of telling him what she suspected. Indeed, she was trying to come up with a good lie when his gaze locked with hers and she found herself telling him the truth.

      “Because I saw you leave here with Sharlene and that other woman, and now they’re both dead.”

      “Ah. And you think I killed them?”

      “Did you?” It was a foolish question. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to call them back. What if he said yes? What would she do then? What would he do?

      She stared at him. Was he capable of committing such a heinous crime not once, but twice? Would he keep coming to the diner if he had? Would he be at the funeral?

      His eyes narrowed, his gaze boring deep into hers. “You would not believe me if I said no, would you?”

      “I…I don’t know.”

      With a nod, he slid gracefully from the booth. It was the first time she had stood next to him. Only now did she realize just how tall and broad he was. Power emanated from him, making the hair raise along her arms and her nape, sending a prickle of fear down her spine.

      His gaze moved over her one last time and then he left the diner without a word.

      Vicki stared after him, wondering who and what he was and if she would ever feel safe again.

      Chapter 4

      Tom Duncan picked up the three-day-old newspaper, his eyes narrowing as he perused the headlines:

      BODIES OF TWO YOUNG WOMEN FOUND

       POLICE FEAR SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE

       IN PEAR BLOSSOM CREEK

      He quickly read the account, noting that there had been no sign of rape or physical abuse, no signs of a struggle. One of the women had been a resident of Pear Blossom Creek, the other a transient. Both had been single, both had been redheads, both in their early twenties. According to the newspaper account, the police suspected a serial killer, but Duncan knew better. It wasn’t the work of a serial killer, but a vampire. And he had a sneaking suspicion he knew just which of the Undead was responsible.

      After checking the time, he picked up the phone next to his bed and put in a call to Edward Ramsey.

      Ramsey answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”

      “Hey, Edward, it’s me.”

      “Duncan! It’s good to hear from you. How is everything?”

      “Same as always. Listen, have you heard anything about Falco lately?”

      “You mean Dimitri Falco, slayer of innocent women and children?”

      “Yeah.”

      “He was one of Kristov’s, as I recall? Hunted only redheads, right? Always took a lock of their hair for a souvenir.”

      “That’s him.”

      “I haven’t heard a word about him since he gave us the slip four years ago.”

      Duncan grunted softly. He and Ramsey had spent six months hunting for Dimitri Falco. They had scoured Russia, but the wily vampire had managed to stay one jump ahead of them the whole time, and then it seemed like he had vanished from the face of the earth.

      “Wait a minute,” Ramsey said. “Didn’t Adams claim he destroyed Falco in South America last year?”

      “Well, if he did, there’s another vampire out there following the same M.O., and he’s turned up in a little nowhere town in the Midwest called Pear Blossom Creek.”

      “Are you there now?”

      “No, but I’m headed in that direction.” Duncan paused. “So, how’s life, or death, treating you these days?”

      “It gets easier every night.”

      Duncan remembered talking to Ramsey after they had destroyed Khira. He had asked Edward what he missed most now that he was a vampire. Ramsey had replied that he missed his humanity, the warmth of the sun on his face, the ability to have a son to carry on the Ramsey name. He had said the worst of it was the aloneness he felt sometimes, the sense of being separated from the rest of the world. And then he had smiled. It wasn’t all bad, Ramsey had said. His senses were sharper, he didn’t have to worry about catching the flu or growing old, he could read minds and control thoughts, move from one place to another almost before he knew he wanted to.

      Duncan thought of that now as he asked, “Do you ever miss the hunt?”

      “All the time.”

      “How’s Randolph working out?”

      “He’s doing all right. You would have done better. Oh, Kelly says hi.”

      Duncan grinned. “Hi to Kelly. What do you hear from Marisa and Grigori?”

      “Not much. Last I heard, they were in New York. Listen, Tom, call me if you need me.”

      “I

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