No. I don’t. The idea that the scum who bought those tapes would get away with it and move on to other victims turns my blood to ice. On the other hand, exposing Trish to more humiliation if she’s made to go to court to testify against any of them is just as bad.

Darryl smiles at my distress, knowing the reason for it. The smug expression on his face is too much. It makes me angry enough to forget about the garlic infusing his blood. I don’t know what kind of effect drinking from him will have, but in a flash of anger, I don’t care. I bend over him, growling, and actually have the skin of his neck in my teeth when Frey lashes out with a paw. The blow sends me tumbling off Darryl. In a flash, I’m back.

Like animals fighting over a bone, Frey and I face off. I want to finish Darryl. Drain him. Make him die screaming. I want it so badly I’m willing to fight Frey for him. Every muscle in my body, every cell prepares to do battle. I’m on all fours, like the panther, and the sounds coming from my throat are as ferocious as the ones coming from his.

A spark of something human flashes in Frey’s eyes. He is snarling, lips curled back to expose fangs as long and sharp as daggers, but he doesn’t advance. He watches me, motionless. His breathing becomes soft susurration, the only sound in the room. Next to us, Darryl lays frozen in terror, his heartbeat so frenetic it echoes in my ear as if it were my own.

A voice I barely recognize erupts from my own mouth. “I want to end it.”

Frey moves so fast, I have no time to react. He breaks Darryl’s neck with one snap of powerful jaws.

And for Darryl, it’s over.

Chapter Forty-Three

I’m not sorry he’s dead.

Frey crouches over the body. He watches until I back off, and then he turns away, too. He slinks toward the window and leaps through. When I look outside, I see him lying under the canopy of a shade tree, head resting on front paws like a pet tired after a long day of play.

I rest my cheek against the glass. The coolness is a balm on my feverish skin. I’m waiting for the vampire to retreat and the human Anna to reappear. It takes longer than it should. Is this an indication that I’m becoming more animal-if that’s in fact what being a vampire is all about-and less human? Not a comfort.

Finally, my pulse slows and my blood cools. I return to Darryl’s body and stand over it. He has a look of surprise on his face. I try to dredge up pity or compassion. I can’t. He was a child pornographer, he killed Trish’s mother and admitted being an accomplice to Barbara Franco’s murder. He deserved what he got.

But I have to clear my head and decide what to do next. Bradley is out there as well as the two who killed Barbara and molested Trish. My original thought to torch the place would be the easiest way to destroy the computers and the videos, not to mention a way to explain Darryl’s death. But there may be evidence on those computers to tie Bradley in with Darryl-bank records or e-mails, maybe. As it stands now, my word is all that I have to offer as proof that Bradley is involved.

I have to take the computers. I trudge back to the bedroom. Besides the laptop Darryl took from me earlier, there are three computer systems and a digital camera. I also find a box of disks and some files in a cabinet in the closet. I bring everything into the living room and pile it on the coffee table. I’ll pull the car around to load up.

When I look for Frey, to let him know what I’m doing, he’s no longer under the tree in the backyard. No matter. If he’s not waiting for me at the car, I’m sure he’s somewhere nearby. How far can a panther get in broad daylight? Or a near naked man, for that matter?

I reach into my pocket for the car keys.

The pocket is empty.

Shit.

I glance around the living room.

They could have fallen out of my pocket in here, or outside when I was dodging bullets.

I don’t find them near Darryl’s body or in the bedroom. That leaves only one alternative. I yank open the front door-and find myself face to face with Bradley. He’s not alone.

“Well, well,” I say. “Special Agent Bradley.” I look past him to the two young thugs at his side-thugs I recognize from Beso de la Muerte. “And you’re Darryl’s friends. Come on in. He’s inside.”

The expression on Bradley’s face is part confusion and part distrust. He looks past me, but from this vantage point, Darryl’s body is hidden from view.

I step back. “Come in.”

Bradley steps around me, carefully, as if afraid physical contact might have an unpleasant effect.

He has no idea.

He hasn’t uttered a word. And neither have his companions. They stand awkwardly outside, not moving to join Bradley. I don’t know whether they’re shocked because they didn’t expect to see me at Darryl’s or afraid because they know what I am.

I hear a sharp intake of breath behind me and know Bradley has found Darryl.

“You two better wait out here,” I say, shutting the door before they can react. I snap the deadbolt in place. Let them run. I know where they live.

I rejoin Bradley in the living room. He’s knelt down beside Darryl, his fingers probing for a pulse. When he hears me behind him, he makes a fumbling move to get up, at the same time reaching for the gun under his jacket.

But I stop his hand with my own, forcing his arm up and back.

He resists at first, but all I have to do is lean into him to get the desired result. If he continues to fight, I’ll snap his arm off at the shoulder.

He knows the drill. He stops fighting and sags against me to relieve the pressure. His breathing becomes sharp, shallow gasps of protest. “You’re breaking my arm.”

I use my free hand to slip his gun out of its holster and toss it out of reach. Only then do I let him go, shoving him so hard he stumbles backward. He lands in an awkward heap on the couch.

He straightens up, grabs his shoulder and tries to knead away the pain. His eyes travel to Darryl’s body. “Who killed him? It looks like he’s got a broken neck.”

“You want me to show you how it was done?”

His expression alters from unsure to calculating as he looks over the stuff on the coffee table. “You plan to turn this over to the police?”

“Does that make you nervous?”

He smiles. “Why should it? There’s nothing to connect me to Darryl. I came here to serve a warrant.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. “Right. Without your partner. And those two outside are undercover cops, I suppose.”

He shrugs and then winces. His hand goes again to his shoulder. “I have no idea who those two are. They were here when I arrived.”

He’s too smooth. I have nothing to use as leverage against him, and if he did confess, with no witnesses, how would I prove it?

The only chance is the one I’m going to have to take-turn the computers over to the police. Maybe Darryl wasn’t as careful to shield Bradley as he thinks.

I roll my shoulders. “Guess we’d better call Chief Williams, then, huh? Let him sort it out.”

He tilts his brow and looks up at me. “How are you going to explain that?” His gaze drifts to Darryl and returns to me. “It’s no secret you’ve been protecting that kid, Trish. What’s to stop the cops from deciding that you killed Darryl, especially when they see what’s on those computers?”

He seems to be gearing up for something. I stay quiet and wait for him to continue.

He leans toward me. “I can fix this. You could walk out of here right now. I’ll get rid of the computers. Darryl’s body, too. I’ll go back to Boston. It will be as if none of this happened.”

“What about Trish? She’s suspected of killing her mother. Can you fix that?”

He jerks a thumb toward the front door. “Those two outside. They killed Barbara. We can fix it so they’re blamed for Carolyn, too. In fact, I can set everything up. Get them to confess and then arrange an accident.”