Lisa Jackson's Bentz And Montoya Bundle Part 174

"Yes, ma'am. Them things ain't cheap."

Talk about highway robbery. Sure they were the expensive ones, but really, how much could they cost brand new? "Great," she said with an undertone of sarcasm. "Great," she said with an undertone of sarcasm.

"So what did ya do?" Randy asked, adjusting his trucker's hat and trying a little too hard to be friendly. "Forget your locker combination?"

Yeah, that's me, just a dumb woman with a bad memory. "Something like that," she said, then handed him two twenties, waited for her change, and declined his help in carrying out the long-handled tool. "Thanks, I got it," she said, slipping the ten into her wallet and the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "Something like that," she said, then handed him two twenties, waited for her change, and declined his help in carrying out the long-handled tool. "Thanks, I got it," she said, slipping the ten into her wallet and the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

"Now, if them there cutters don't work fer ya, y'know, because y'all are a woman and they're meant for a man, then you might want to rent a hacksaw or a sawzall." He nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "That'd do the trick."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, silently bristling. It wasn't as if she were some tiny little frail stupid thing, for G.o.d's sake, but she kept her sharp tongue in check as she hauled the bolt cutters outside. At eighteen, she'd hadn't exactly been an Einstein either, and there was just no reason to get into it with the clerk.

She'd considered asking Jay to help her with her new project. She suspected he might own a pair of bolt cutters which could have saved her the thirty bucks, but she wanted to limit his involvement. First of all, he was misinterpreting her interest in him. He seemed to think she was angling to date him and that was not not what she'd intended. So it was a good thing to keep him at a distance. He'd ask too many questions and what she was doing was bordering on illegal. As it was, he'd be in plenty of hot water if he was caught getting the information she wanted from the school and police records. If he even did that much for her. She wasn't certain that he'd cross that line and so she hadn't shared everything Lucretia had told her about vampires and cults. It was hard enough to get Jay on board without getting into the surreal, goth stuff. what she'd intended. So it was a good thing to keep him at a distance. He'd ask too many questions and what she was doing was bordering on illegal. As it was, he'd be in plenty of hot water if he was caught getting the information she wanted from the school and police records. If he even did that much for her. She wasn't certain that he'd cross that line and so she hadn't shared everything Lucretia had told her about vampires and cults. It was hard enough to get Jay on board without getting into the surreal, goth stuff.

Besides, she told herself as her running shoes crunched in the gravel of the Rent-It-All parking lot littered with battered pickups and a couple of monster trucks, some things were for her to do by herself. And breaking into the storage unit holding Tara At.w.a.ter's personal things was one, despite what Randy, the eighteen-year-old expert, thought. She slid behind the wheel and started the car. Dust had settled over the windshield and the interior of the car was warm, the sun visible through high, thick clouds. Kristi found a pair of sungla.s.ses in her glove box and slid them onto her nose. She backed out of her parking s.p.a.ce, trying and failing to avoid potholes in the dirty gravel. She pa.s.sed a jacked-up truck covered in mud, where a man lit a cigarette as he packed a chainsaw in the back.

"Idiot," she muttered under her breath, then eased her Honda onto the side road and headed for the freeway that cut north from this section of low-slung, commercial buildings on the southeast part of town toward the All Saints campus.

Her plan was only partially formed, but she was rolling with it. Having Tara's things tucked away in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the house she was renting was a G.o.dsend. She'd turn everything over to the police for evidence, of course, but until they were interested, she figured whatever was in the storage unit was fair game. She'd already found out the type and make of the combination lock Irene Calloway had used to secure Tara's things, then had spent two hours going to three different hardware stores before she'd found a lock that appeared the same.

Now she was ready.

A huge Suburban pa.s.sed her covered in LSU stickers. A tiger fan, A tiger fan, she thought with a faint smile. Kristi considered Louisiana State with its huge student body in Baton Rouge. Wouldn't a larger campus make for a wider, less-noticeable hunting ground? Why girls at All Saints? she thought with a faint smile. Kristi considered Louisiana State with its huge student body in Baton Rouge. Wouldn't a larger campus make for a wider, less-noticeable hunting ground? Why girls at All Saints?

Because whoever is doing this is comfortable there. He's either a student, a member of the faculty, or an alumni. LSU or another campus is unfamiliar. Whoever is doing this is intrinsically connected to the college, knows how to get around, has hiding places, blends in.

She felt a little frisson of fear slide down her spine. She was convinced that there was a monster stalking the ivy-clad brick buildings of All Saints, a psycho who had, so far, gotten away with his horrendous deeds.

"Not for long, b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she said, and glanced down at the speedometer. She was flying, driving nearly twenty miles over the posted limit. She eased off the throttle and glanced in her rearview mirror, certain she would see flashing red and blue lights, but no highway trooper was following her. This time, she'd gotten lucky. Good. She couldn't afford a ticket.

She took the exit closest to the campus and wound through the side streets, then parked in her usual spot near the staircase leading to her unit. Rather than head upstairs, she found the door leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt laundry and storage facilities and unlocked it with one of the original keys she'd gotten from Irene Calloway. The stairs leading downward were dark and creaky, the walls made of ancient cement, the few windows small and grimy and shrouded with cobwebs, their thin threads littered with the drained, brittle carca.s.ses of dead insects.

"Lovely," she said as she turned a precarious corner. Three steps later she was in the bowels of the building. At least the bas.e.m.e.nt was dry. There were stains on the walls indicating that water had at one time or another seeped through old cracks, and areas where an attempt had been made to patch the damage with little or no success.

On one wall two washers were already churning, and one of the dryers was spinning and heating, something inside its drum clanging with each rotation. Kristi didn't dare try to break into the storage cage now, when someone might catch her. She didn't want to explain herself. She planned to wait until the middle of the night and bring down a couple of boxes, though the thought of being here in the dark, with only a few spa.r.s.e overhead lights, was nerve-wracking.

She left the bas.e.m.e.nt, climbed up to her apartment and grabbed her laptop. She had a few hours before her shift started at the diner, so she planned to work at the local coffee spot where she could connect wirelessly to the Internet and listen to the buzz of conversation. She'd already figured out that Bayou Coffee, on the far side of the campus near Wagner House, was the most popular with the All Saints students. She slid her computer into her backpack, snapped her hair into a top knot, and pulled on a baseball cap, then took off.

From her door to the coffee shop's took twenty minutes and, as luck would have it, two Asian students were leaving a small table near the window. Kristi snagged it, dropping her backpack onto one of the wooden seats, then stood in line to order a vanilla latte and a raspberry scone. As an espresso machine shrieked and steam rose over the groups of patrons, Kristi waited for her drink and surveyed the crowd. She recognized a few kids either from cla.s.s or just running into them in the student union, library, or walking across campus.

Thankfully, no one turned gray before her eyes.

She was just picking up her order when the door opened and a tall, leggy girl with straight brown hair that fell halfway down her back walked inside. She looked familiar and Kristi placed her as someone in her cla.s.ses who usually sat near Ariel O'Toole. The girl studied the tables as if searching for someone.

"Hey," Kristi said as she pa.s.sed the girl. G.o.d, what was her name. Zinnia? Zahara? Something with a Z...

"Oh, hi," the girl looked like she was having trouble placing Kristi.

"Zena, right? You're a friend of Ariel's?"

"Oh...yeah?"

"I'm Kristi, you're in a couple of my cla.s.ses. Grotto's vampyrism and Preston's writing."

"Huh..." Zena said without a hint of enthusiasm, and Kristi could tell that the girl still wasn't connecting the dots, which may have been just as well.

"Have you seen Lucretia?"

"Stevens? Oh, uh, not since last week, I think. I've been kinda busy getting ready for the play."

"You're in the drama department," Kristi guessed, and the girl visibly brightened.

"Yeah."

"With Father Mathias?"

"Uh-huh. I'm not really into the morality play thing, but hey, it's a start. He promised me if I did well, I would be considered for something deeper. I think they're doing Tennessee Williams in the spring. A Streetcar Named Desire A Streetcar Named Desire maybe, and I'd love to play Blanche DuBois." maybe, and I'd love to play Blanche DuBois."

"Who wouldn't?" Kristi said, though she had no interest in anything remotely to do with acting or being on stage. "So what's with the morality plays?"

"I don't know," she said with a lift of one shoulder as she eyed the oversized menu of coffee drinks suspended over the baristas' heads. "Just Father's thing, I guess." She stepped up to the counter and ordered a chai-tea latte and a m.u.f.fin.

Kristi could tell Zena wasn't interested in more conversation, so she walked back to her table and opened her computer. With one eye on the screen and the other on Zena, she picked at her scone.

Before Zena's order was up, the door opened and Trudie arrived. Her round face was red and she seemed breathless as she spied Zena. She hurried up behind her and gave her own order. Within five minutes the two friends had scoped out the busy shop and were hovering near a booth being vacated by two young mothers and their babies. One infant was contentedly sucking on a pacifier while the other one was making noises that indicated he was winding up for an out-and-out wail. His mother was working feverishly to strap him into his stroller and get him outside. Her friend, with the calmer boy, wasn't as frantic, but the minute the women had wheeled their tiny charges away from the table, Trudie and Zena nabbed it and sat down.

Kristi strained to hear part of their conversation, but only picked up a few words. She made out "Glanzer." As in Father Mathias Glanzer. And "morality." Probably the play. Zena was all about the play. And then she thought she heard the word "sisters." But nothing more.

Kristi decided she was lousy at eavesdropping and was about to leave when Lucretia, wearing a long black coat and five-inch heeled boots, swept through the side door. Already a tall woman, she was now well over six feet. Kristi considered confronting her ex-roommate. After all Lucretia had asked for her help, then had been avoiding her. But Kristi decided she'd wait and see what happened. Maybe Lucretia was meeting someone here. Her lover, or boyfriend, or fiance or whatever? Or maybe she was just grabbing a cup of coffee on the run. Whatever the reason, Lucretia, never particularly cheery to begin with, was looking perturbed and frustrated, her features bordering on haggard. As she stood in line, she ran a hand through her curly hair and stared up at the menu as if she'd never read it before. Or as if she were lost in thought, a million miles away.

Kristi lowered her head to her laptop. Still wearing her baseball cap, her face partially hidden by the computer screen, she thought she might avoid being detected.

No such luck.

Just then Lucretia glanced away from the menu, zeroing in on Kristi. "You!" Lucretia gave up her position in line to stalk across the tiled floor, nearly knocking over the cart holding a display of Christmas mugs and coffees that were marked down to half price. The cups with Santa and Frosty on them wobbled and Lucretia righted them in time. "Are you following me?" Lucretia demanded.

"What? No. I've been here for half an hour."

"You're sure?" Lucretia asked, glancing over at Trudie and Zena who, engrossed in their own conversation, hadn't yet noticed her.

"Pretty sure," Kristi said dryly, more than a little annoyed. "I have called though. Left you two messages."

"I know, I know. I-I've been busy. Look-" She placed her hands on the table in front of Kristi's computer and leaned closer. "I made a mistake." Her voice was a sharp, nearly inaudible whisper. "About those girls."

"You mean Tara and-"

"Yes, yes!" she said emphatically. Her throat moved, as if she were swallowing hard. "I should never have told you about...about everything. I was wrong. Okay? I'm sure that all of the missing students will turn up eventually. When they want to. After all, they were all known runaways."

"But you said that you knew them, they were your friends-"

"Not my friends," she bit back. "I said I knew of them. And now I'm telling you I was wrong. So...just forget it. I made a mistake. You lived with a cop for a father. You know how they are. If there was really something criminal going on, the police would be all over it, so just drop it, okay? And...don't call me anymore."

"Are you all right?" Kristi asked.

Lucretia blinked. "Of course. Why?"

"You look pale."

"Oh, G.o.d." Lucretia gulped and stared at Kristi as if she'd seen a ghost. "So, what? Are you going to tell me I'm in danger? Like Ariel? She told me, y'know. Thinks you're a flippin' head case. What the h.e.l.l is that all about?"

Inwardly, Kristi cringed. She knew she should have never confided in Ariel, figured it would come back to bite her. "Obviously, you and Ariel are close."

"She knows you were my roommate, for Pete's sake. I introduced you, remember? And then you act all weird. As if she's in black and white."

"Sometimes, I..." Oh, what was the use? How could she explain that there were times when people appeared colorless, as if they were drained of blood.

Drained of blood...

Kristi's heart thudded uncomfortably as she made the connection to the vampire cult. But that wasn't certain...no, the woman on the bus who had died hadn't been in Grotto's cla.s.s. "It's just a strange thing that I see."

"Strange like a psycho, so stop it, okay? And leave me the h.e.l.l alone. Face it, Kristi, you're odd. Maybe it's because of everything you've been through, but you're definitely out of step."

"You asked me to look into this," Kristi reminded her, her voice and temper rising. The older couple at a nearby table glared at them.

"You're causing a scene," Lucretia hissed. "G.o.d, I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"Into what?"

"Nothing!"

Lucretia rolled her eyes and reached up to push her hair from her face. As she did, her sleeve slid and Kristi got a glimpse of gauze taped over Lucretia's left wrist.

"What happened?" Kristi asked, indicating the bandage.

Lucretia turned chalk white. Her hand fell to her side. "I had a little accident. No big deal. I...oh, h.e.l.l, I'm kind of a klutz in the kitchen," she said, and it was obviously a lie. "But I'm okay. Really. And that's not the point. What I'm asking, no, telling telling you to do, is forget we ever talked before about...you know." you to do, is forget we ever talked before about...you know."

"The cult-"

"I was wrong, d.a.m.n it!" Lucretia blurted out. "And now I want you to back off."

"You said that already, but..." Kristi trailed off. She was talking to dead air as Lucretia had already swung around and was hastening to the booth with Trudie and Zena. Trudie made a big deal of sliding over as Lucretia talked with them for a minute or two, before taking her place in line again.

Kristi wasn't sure what to think. She knew Lucretia had been ducking her. That much had been obvious, but to pretend that their conversation basically hadn't happened? After talking about missing, possibly abducted, coeds and vampires and cults? What was that all about? And the bandage. Kristi would have thought it was no big deal, but Lucretia's reaction said otherwise.

Had someone warned Lucretia off?

The hairs on the back of Kristi's arms raised.

Someone found out she talked to you and they're threatening her. And someone's following her, scaring her spitless. Even hurting her. That's why she's hiding a bandage.

Kristi glanced at the table where Lucretia now sat with the other girls and caught her ex-roommate staring at her. Lucretia's face was drawn and white, her lips pursed, and she looked worried as h.e.l.l. She met Kristi's eyes for the briefest of seconds, then looked away. As she did, her face turned the color of cold ashes.

Kristi's heart nearly stopped. What the h.e.l.l was that all about?

Maybe it's nothing, she quickly a.s.sured herself. she quickly a.s.sured herself. You've been seeing a lot of this, haven't you? No one has died...yet. You've been seeing a lot of this, haven't you? No one has died...yet.

She swallowed hard.

Lucretia's color returned. As if it had never washed away.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Kristi. Maybe you are are the freak! the freak!

She thought about the conversation with Lucretia, how her ex-roommate had wanted her to forget everything they'd discussed before. Why?

Someone got to her.

Kristi folded her computer closed and packed up. She left the coffee shop without meeting Lucretia's eyes again, but she'd be d.a.m.ned if she was going to back off. If anything, she was more committed than ever to finding out what had happened to Dionne, Monique, Tara, and Rylee.

It was only when she'd unlocked the car and slid inside that she realized what else was off about Lucretia. Not only did she look worried as h.e.l.l, not only had she tried to convince Kristi to back off, but she was no longer wearing the ring on her left hand, the one she'd been so coy about. Kristi had looked at her hands as she'd leaned over the table and they'd been bare. Even the nail polish missing, her fingernails bitten down.

Have you been following me?

Lucretia's accusation echoed through Kristi's mind.

Not yet, Kristi thought, Kristi thought, but maybe that's not such a bad idea. but maybe that's not such a bad idea.

"I already told you, I don't know which professor Lucretia Stevens is dating," Ezma said as she tossed her ap.r.o.n into the bin for dirty clothes. "Maybe it was just a rumor."

"So who told you?" Kristi wasn't about to be derailed. It was nearly eleven P.M. P.M. and both she and Ezma were getting ready to leave. and both she and Ezma were getting ready to leave.

"I don't know...oh, wait...it was someone from school, I think, a professor." She snapped her fingers to jog her memory. "Oh, who was it?" Her face was drawn into a deep knot of concentration. "Oh, Lord...Oh, I got it!" She looked up, her eyes bright. "I was waiting tables right here, and I overheard two women gossiping. Let's see, it was Dr. Croft, the head of the English Department, and, oh, h.e.l.l, who was she sitting with that day?" She rubbed her chin. "I think it was the journalism instructor. The new one."

"Professor Senegal?"

"That's who it was, but I couldn't hear much. They kept their voices low, especially when I was anywhere nearby. I was kinda surprised. I mean people gossip, of course, but Dr. Croft's the head of a department and this is a pretty public place. Oh, well..." She lifted her shoulders, then smoothed out the bills she'd gotten for tips, counting them and leaving some for the busboys.

Kristi did the same, handing the girl who had cleared the tables a percentage of her tips. She and Ezma walked out of the restaurant together. The night was clear and cool, the air crisp as Kristi climbed into her Honda and Ezma slid onto the seat of her moped and strapped on her helmet. A few seconds later, the motor bike was humming out of the lot.

Kristi started the car. Though she usually walked to work, today she'd been late, so she'd driven the short distance. Before she put the Honda in gear she tried calling Dr. Grotto again and was immediately asked to leave a message on his voice mail. Kristi didn't bother-the guy already had two from her. Obviously he wasn't picking up his calls or he was singling her out and ignoring her. Nah, that didn't make sense.

She drummed her fingers on the wheel and decided if she didn't hear from him by Monday she'd have to do a sit-in at his office, force him to talk to her. There were also the Internet chat rooms. Maybe she could test the waters with DrDoNoGood, if he showed up. Flirt with him, pander to his ego. So far she hadn't turned on the video cam on her computer, preferring anonymity, but maybe it was the only way to reach him. She could buy a cheap wig, colored contacts or gla.s.ses. She had to do something to get the creepy professor to start a conversation with her.

Shoving the hatchback into drive, she nosed out of the parking lot. Gunning the engine, she drove ten miles over the speed limit on the way home. She was anxious to gain access to the storage unit containing Tara At.w.a.ter's things.

Maybe she would finally learn something about the missing girl.