57.

I was leaving the hotel suite to see my children for the first time in a week when my cell phone rang. It was Sherbet.

"You did good work, Mrs. Moon."

"What do you mean?"

"Based on the evidence in the trash can a judge granted us a search warrant. We went through the house yesterday and today we arrested Rick Horton. We found enough incriminating evidence to convict two men for murder."

"I'm not sure that analogy makes sense."

"It doesn't have to. You know what I mean." He paused. "You are a hell of a detective."

"That's what they tell me."

"So why don't you sound happy?" he asked.

"I am very happy. One less killer walking our streets."

We were silent. Sherbet took in some air. "You don't think we got the right guy, do you?"

"I was hired to find out who shot Kingsley Fulcrum," I said. "Did you get Horton's phone records?"

"Of course."

"Could you fax them to me."

"Why?"

"Just humor me."

There was a long pause. Static crackled over the phone line. Finally, I heard him sigh deeply. "Where do I fax them?"

I gave him the number to the courtesy fax machine at the hotel's business center.

"How many months back do you want?" he asked.

"Four months."

"You don't have to do this," he said. "The case is closed."

"I know," I said. "But this detective never sleeps."

"Well, not at night, at least. And Mrs. Moon?"

"Yes?"

"Someday we're going to discuss the eyewitnesses that claim to have seen a man rappel down from your balcony."

"Sure."

"And we're definitely going to discuss the kid who worked at Vons who reported seeing a winged creature carry off a man."

"Sure."

"I don't have any idea what the fuck is going on, but we will talk again."

"I understand," I said. "And detective?"

"Yes?"

"You might have a better idea than you think."

He paused, then hung up.

58.

It was the first time I had been back to my home in over a week.

The house itself sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, with a chain link fence around the front yard. Early on I had hated that ugly chain link fence and wanted it torn down. Danny argued against it stating it might prove useful. He was right. The fence kept my young children away from the street, corralled puppies and kittens, bikes and loose balls, and was perfect for stringing Christmas lights along. It was also used as a sort of giant pegboard. We attached posters, artwork and ribbons to it. Advertised their lemonade stands and the birth of any puppies or kittens. I missed that damn fence.

Last year, Danny made us get rid of our dog and cat. The kids were traumatized for months. I think Danny secretly feared I would kill our family pets and feed from them, although he never admitted his concerns to me.

Anyway, now the fence was bare and there were no children playing in the yard. No balls, and certainly no puppies or kittens. Danny's Escalade was parked dead center of the driveway. Usually he parked to the far left half to give my minivan room on the right. He didn't have to worry about that now.

I parked on the street, headed up to the house. The sun was still out and I felt weak as hell, but that wouldn't stop me.

Danny yanked open the door as soon as I reached the cement porch. He stared down at me gravely. He couldn't have seemed less happy to see me. He was as handsome as ever, but that was lost on me now. I only saw his fear and disgust.

"I only have a few minutes, Samantha. These meetings are terribly inconvenient for me."

"Then leave," I said.

"I can't do that."

"Why?"

He stepped in front of me. "For the protection of my children, that's why."

I pushed him aside and entered my house. "Where are they?"

"In their room. You have only a few minutes, Sam. The babysitter will be arriving and I am leaving on my date."

I tried to ignore his hurtful words. Mostly, I tried to keep calm and my voice from shaking. "We had agreed on two hours, Danny."

"Things change, Sam," he said dismissively, and I caught the undercurrent of his words. Things change...and so do humans. Into vampires.

He led the way forward and rapped on the children's door. "Kids," he said stiffly. Danny never had a way with our kids. They were always treated like junior assistants, interns or paralegals. "Your mother is here. Come along."

The bedroom door burst open. Little Anthony, with his mess of black curls, flung himself into my arms. Tammy followed a half second later. Their combined weight nearly toppled me over. Squatting, I held their squirming bodies in my arms. Anthony pulled away and I saw that he was still clutching his Game Boy. Neither hell nor high water would separate him from his Game Boy.

"When are you coming back, Mommy?" Anthony asked.

Before I could answer, Danny stepped in. "I told you, son, that your mother is not coming back. That she is sick and she needs to stay away."

I almost dropped the kids in my haste to stand and confront Danny. "Sick? You told them I was sick?"

He pulled me away into a corner of the living room, out of range of the children. "You are sick, Samantha. Very sick. And if I had my way I would report you and have you committed�Dfor your safety and the safety of everyone around you."

"Danny," I said carefully. "I am not sick. I am a person like you. I have a problem that I am dealing with. The problem does not control me. I control it."

"Look, whatever. It's easier for the children to accept that you are sick. I'm going to have to demand that you play along with this, Sam."

I stared at him some more, then headed back to the kids. The three of us sat together on the edge of Tammy's bed while they both chattered in unison. They wanted assurance that I would not die, and I guaranteed them that I would never, ever die. Danny rolled his eyes; I ignored him.

And much too soon, I was back in my minivan driving away, crying.