Page 23 of Crimson Storm

“Maybe she’s not home?” Shane suggested.

“Maybe. I mean, she didn’t have a boyfriend last time we talked but it’s been a month since then—maybe six weeks. The good news is she keeps a spare key right...”

I flipped up the front panel of a decorative wall hanging to one side of Larkin’s door and removed the key from its hiding place. “...here.”

“I used it last time I visited,” I explained. “My plane arrived a little early, and she was still at the—”

Here I stopped. Larkin might not want me sharing information about her current employment status with a stranger. She found the job a little embarrassing.

Once, she’d had a prestigious position as a researcher with the Center for Hematology and Liver Disorders. But then her human employer had gotten nervous about having a vampire working around such important blood samples and fired her.

His fear must have been a common one or highly contagious because she’d been unable to locate another job in her specialty—or in any other scientific capacity.

When her savings had run out, she’d done what so many others of us in her position had done—swallowed her pride and taken whatever work she could get.

“... still at work,” I finished my sentence generically for Shane’s sake then turned the key in the lock and opened the door.

The first thing I noticed was the stale air. Larkin was a big fan of opening the windows and letting in the fresh air—day or night, year round.

“Something’s wrong,” I said to Shane as we moved into the apartment and he lay first Kelly then Heather on the long, red leather sofa. “She’s not here.”

He turned and did a visual scan of the room. “How do you know? Maybe she’s just sleeping and didn’t hear us?”

“No. I’d be able to sense her. The apartment’s empty.” I walked over and swiped a fingertip through the dust atop one of the side tables. Larkin was also a neat freak. “She hasn’t been here for a long time.”

A rapid pulse tapped the inside of my neck. Where could she be?

There was a small possibility the restaurant where she worked had put her on the dayshift—it had no exterior windows—but that was unlikely. The primary benefit of hiring vampirish workers was having the nightshift covered with no complaints.

Even if shewasat work, that didn’t explain the dusty furniture and stale air. I whirled around, searching the room, then ran into the kitchen.

No food bowl on the floor. No Drak.

That settled it. And settled my nerves a bit.

“I think she must have gone away on a trip. Her dog, Drak, isn’t here.” Bending to check the lower cabinet closest to the refrigerator, I added, “His food’s gone. The water and food bowls too.”

“Could she have moved out?” Shane asked. “Maybe the new tenant didn’t know about the spare key?”

“No. These are her things.”

I walked over to her fireplace mantel and picked up a framed photo of the two of us, offering it to him. “See? This was taken last year in Los Angeles. Her name’s Larkin.”

He studied the picture. “She’s beautiful.” Glancing up to meet my eyes he added, “You look like you could be sisters.”

I turned away to hide my embarrassment at his compliment. Vampires were still capable of blushing.

“No. Just friends. She was the first friend I made when I moved to California. She showed me around, taught me about living in a big city.”

He snickered. “You were a country mouse, huh?”

“That’s an understatement. Larkin’s the total opposite. She grew up here in San Francisco before... you know, turning. We were neighbors in LA before she moved back here.”

“Cool. So, I assume she won’t mind you all staying here? You should probably lie low until I find out whether Uncle Terry’s found Glenn’s body and reported the attack.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” I said. “Kelly and Heather were so thirsty they couldn’t stop themselves. They’re pacifists like me. None of us meant for him to end up dead.”

He nodded. “I know. Glenn brought it on himself. He’s always been a little rough—he and Uncle Terry. I never imagined they’d become kidnappers, though. Or be violent.”

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