Karl shrugged. "Just something I read in a magazine, is all. But it makes sense. No disrespect, boss, but that thing with the rifle is just too complicated to be real likely."
McGuire didn't get mad. "I wasn't pushing it," he said. "It was just a thought. And if that's not what happened, then why is some magician dropping a dead vamp on a couple of cops?"
"We might have the beginning of an answer once I hear from Cecelia Reynolds," I said. "She's doing the post on the vamp and I asked her to look for those symbols carved on the body."
"Oh, right," McGuire said. He rummaged through the mess on his desk and came up with a phone message slip, which he handed to me. "She called while you were in with the Rat Squad. Wants you to call back."
I got out my cell phone. "You mind?" I asked him.
"Nah, go ahead."
I called the number that Cecelia had left. It rang five or six times, and I was just thinking that I was going to have to leave a voicemail message when she came on the line.
"This is Dr Reynolds."
"Stan Markowski, Cecelia. I'm calling-"
"-about your vamp, right." Cecelia's phone manner tends to be kind of brusque.
"You called, so I'm assuming you found-"
"-weird symbols carved into the corpse. Yeppir, we got 'em. In the back, between the shoulder blades. Almost certainly post-mortem."
"Were there-"
"Three of 'em? Yep, just like you predicted, Stan."
"Okay, I'll need-"
"Photos, check. Ronnie already took 'em. Close up, middle distance, side angles, the whole nine yards. Give me your-"
"Email address?" Two can play this game. "Sure, here it is."
I gave her the address I use for official business. Cecelia promised to get photos to me within the hour, then hung up.
I told McGuire and Karl what she'd said.
"Which means that's number four," Karl said. "Just like you figured, Stan."
McGuire looked at me. "Somebody was trying to send you guys a message."
"That's not all they were doing," I said. "Remember, I sped up kind of sudden, to avoid hitting a cat that was crossing the street."
"Yeah, that's right," McGuire said. "I hope you told Internal Affairs about the cat – they'll probably wanna interview it."
"So it was a hit," Karl said. "The body was intended to go through the windshield, right on top of us – along with all that broken glass."
"Yeah," I said, "and that's where this gets really fucked up. The esoteric marks on the corpse means it's Sligo – or whoever's been offing all these vamps." I hadn't forgotten about Vollman – not after Prescott said this hard spell had to be carried out by a vampire/wizard.
McGuire nodded, then made a "Go on" gesture with one hand.
"But now we've got another hit attempt, using magic. We've been operating on the assumption-"
"But somebody who's involved in the vamp sacrifices just tried to kill us," I said. "And that means, one of our assumptions was wrong, either about Sligo or Longworth…"
There was silence in the little room before McGuire finally put it into words.
" Or the two of them are working together."
I needed sleep badly. My skull felt like it was packed full of wet cotton, and I knew that any heavy thinking was out of the question before I grabbed some z's. And in light of what we'd been discussing in McGuire's office, some very heavy thinking was going to be in order.
Karl and I left the building together, like we usually did. There wasn't much conversation along the way. We were both beat, and besides, whatever there was to say, we'd already said it in McGuire's office.
As we reached the cracked asphalt of the parking area I said, "I can probably function okay if I get six hours – how about you?"
"That seems about right, I guess." Karl didn't sound happy about it, and I didn't blame him.
"Then why don't we plan to come back on shift at-"
"Stan." Something in Karl's voice brought me to full alertness in the space of a quick breath.
"What is it?"
"There's somebody near your car, but on the other side of the fence."
I slowly pushed my sport coat back and reached for the Beretta on my right hip. A second later, I heard the soft click as Karl thumbed back the hammer on the Glock he carried.
"What're you packing?" I asked softly.
"Silver, cold iron, and garlic-dipped lead, alternating," he said. "You?"
"Straight silver," I told him, "but it's been blessed by the bishop."
Now that Karl had warned me, I could dimly see a single figure standing in the street, practically pressed up against the fence just opposite my Toyota. Whoever it was must have seen us notice him, but didn't try to hide or run away. He just stood there, waiting.
As we walked forward, Karl and I separated, so as not to give whoever it was a twofer target. The parking area was warded, and those wards had been amped up considerably since somebody had gotten in with a couple of Medusa statues. But it's impossible to guard against all possible spells, and the wards might not stop someone outside the fence with a gun. No system's perfect.
We had almost reached my Toyota when I realized who it was, standing on the other side of the fence. "It's all right, Karl," I said, and holstered my weapon. The still figure spoke for the first time.
"Hello, Daddy."
• • • •
"You know, you could've come into the fucking station house if you'd wanted to see me, instead of lurking around the parking lot like this," I said. "It's a public building – you don't need to get permission." I'm not sure if I was being pissy because I was tired, or because of the momentary fright she'd given me.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your brother officers," Christine said, the sarcasm more in her voice than in the words. "And as for lurking, that's what we undead do best – but I guess you know that."