(92) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir

(Del)

"So this is the first place where someone used his cards," I said, looking at the shops on the main street of Lecompte.

"Yep. At a restaurant called,"—Pete checked the list—"Lea's, and for gas. We should check them out first, to see if it was him or someone else."

"Would they really remember someone from a few days ago?"

"Probably not but it's worth a try. Trevor's pretty distinctive. He'd stand out, especially in a small town like this, so at least we might be able to find out if he actually was the one using the cards."

I had to agree. We went to Lea's first. It was past lunchtime and the place was still busy. Something about their pies, from the sign I read. Pete found us seats at the counter and when the waitress came over he ordered us each a slice of pie, apparently their specialty. Then he asked her if she'd seen a man in here in the last week, tall, long black hair, with a fang earring—explaining that he had gone missing.

She said no but that she'd ask the others. By the time we'd finished she returned to tell us that no one had seen him. He thanked her and we went from there to the gas station.

The owner was an older man, dressed in well worn coveralls. He listened to Pete's description and shook his head.

"What was he driving, that might help."

Pete looked at me and I described Trev's cycle. By the time I'd finished the man was frowning.

"Hate to tell you, young man, but unless I miss my guess, that's the one a couple of punks tried to sell for parts at the scrap yard down the road a piece. From what Bobby Joe told me, it was so trashed there was nothing salvageable on it."

My heart sank. Pete gave my shoulder a quick squeeze before asking if there was a hospital close by. The man told us the nearest ones were in Alexandria, about fifteen miles away.

After thanking him, and getting the address of the scrap yard, we went there. Bobby Joe was able to give us a sort of description of the two dudes who had hauled the cycle in, in the back of their truck. Unfortunately he hadn't noted the license plate numbers, which made Pete growl, though under his breath so only I heard him.

It was Trev's bike, what was left of it.

"If he survived the crash he, had to have been in bad shape," Pete pointed out softly.

"I won't believe that he didn't. I can't believe he died. We have to go to the hospitals." I was close to tears but I wouldn't let them fall. Not yet. Not till we knew one way or the other.

"We'll call first, Del. No sense heading up there without knowing if anyone found him. My opinion, the fact that those punks had his bike says that he managed to walk away somehow." As we got on Pete's bike, he told me we were going to get a motel room for the night at least. Maybe longer, depending on what we learned.