Allyn and Ransom – 9

 

 

Ransom nodded. "What we have—and that's presuming these disappearances are even related—is three young people who vanished after being at a social function for the city's elite. Young people who should have been able to fend off an attacker—"

 

"Except you said Ellis was seen leaving the masked ball with someone," Allyn interjected. "So no attack there."

 

"Presumption, Allyn," Ransom replied. "He might have thought he was safe—especially if they were supposedly going home together—then been attacked later by the man."

 

"True. Why them? Why them?" Allyn murmured questioningly, drumming his fingers on the table.

 

"That is what I've been asking myself since I made the party connection," Ransom said.

 

"Are there any other disappearances that match, as far as the type of people missing?" Miranda asked.

 

"Meaning kids in their twenties, in good shape, and…? Well, that's about it."

 

"And late at night," she said. "Because that's when they disappeared. Right?"

 

"Right."

 

"No one's gone missing after going to a bar?"

 

"Not that I've been told about. Oh there's the occasional 'My son or daughter went out with friends last night and hasn't come home yet' from worried parents or the same thing from a roommate. But they've all shown up eventually, usually after going home with someone and forgetting—or being unwilling—to let their family know what's going on. Since they're all of age…" Ransom shrugged.

 

Miranda snapped her fingers. "How far apart are the kidnappings, if that's what they are?"

 

"Every weekend for the last three," Ransom replied. "But I suspect that's because parties and charity events only happen on a weekend."

 

She nodded. "I suppose."

 

"Obviously, since you haven't mentioned it," Allyn said, "there aren't any bodies or any ransom demands."

 

"No. It's as if they walked out the door and vanished into thin air."

 

Miranda grinned. "Alien abductions."

 

"Get real," Allyn said, trying not to laugh.

 

"Hey, we exist. What's to say aliens don't as well? They want to study prime examples of humankind and who better than young, healthy men and women?"

 

"If that's the case," Allyn told her, "why not go for athletes or some such?"

 

"They'd be missed, silly."

 

"Like these three aren't?"

 

"I meant like…like written up in the newspapers. Star athlete vanished without a trace." She looked questioningly at Ransom. "Have these guys hit the papers or the TV news?"

 

"Yeah, Patterson has, thanks to daddy dearest. There was a brief mention of Dawson in the local news section of the paper. Ms Stevens? Nothing. I guess I should be thankful about that." Ransom shook his head. "At least the reporters haven't connected the dots, so I don't have them breathing down my neck, making this into some sort of federal case."

 

"I bet the bigwigs would just love that," Allyn commented. "Headlines about young people vanishing from galas or charity events would put a hell of a crimp in their social calendars."

 

"No kidding," Ransom muttered. "Including yours. What would you do if you couldn't spend your sizable inheritance on fancy clothes or costumes to go to these shindigs?"

 

Allyn hissed in a breath, saying angrily, "That was unwarranted and you know it. First off, we're not rich because we inherited our money. We've been around long enough that investments we made years ago have paid off."

 

"Making you one of the idle rich," Ransom retorted. He looked as if he regretted his words as soon as he said them, but he didn't back down. "At least I work for a living, rather than squandering my time at clubs or living the high life."

 

"Well la-di-dah, aren't you the sanctimonious one." Allyn came to his feet, telling Miranda, "Now you know why the two of us broke up. Mr. High-and-Mighty here doesn't approve of my—"he made finger quotes, "—life style." With that said, he stormed out of the room.

Allyn and Ransom – 8

 

 

"Only three?" Allyn looked at Ransom in disbelief. "In this city I'd think it would be three a day—minimum."

 

"At least," Ransom agreed. "The difference with these three—Patterson, another young man, and a woman—is that they were last seen at large social events. Patterson at the masked ball, Mr Dawson at the 'Moonlight Gala on the River', and Ms Stevens at the soirée to raise funds for a local charity."

 

"Dawson and Ms Steven's families aren't raising hell like Patterson?" Allyn asked.

 

"They're obviously worried, but they don't have Patterson's pull. Ms Steven's was working as a server at the charity fundraiser. No one saw her leave. Mr. Dawson was last seen going toward the lot where he'd parked his car. He was alone, according to witnesses, although one of them overheard him on the phone, saying he'd 'be there in ten minutes'."

 

"Are the society events the only thing tying the three missing people to each other?" Miranda asked.

 

Ransom replied, "As far as we've found out to this point."

 

"You cross-checked the attendee lists to see who went to all three?"

 

"Yes, Miranda. I do know my job," Ransom replied with some asperity.

 

"And?"

 

"These were all big parties. A lot of the same people attended all three."

 

"One more question." Allyn looked hard at Ransom. "As far as I know, Ellis is a human. Were the other two as well?"

 

"Yep. Why do you ask?"

 

Allyn shrugged. "Just want to make certain someone isn't targeting paranormals."

 

"How likely is that to happen?" Miranda said.

 

"It's happened in the past," Allyn told her. "Ran and I wouldn't have met otherwise."

 

"When?"

 

Allyn cocked his head, glancing at Ransom. "Fifty years ago?"

 

"'Bout that, yeah." Ransom smiled at Miranda. "You were just a pup then, so you wouldn't remember."

 

"But you're going to tell me. Right?" she replied.

 

"Not now," Allyn said before Ransom could start the story. "We've got other things to worry about." He shot a look at Ransom. "So three people missing…all in their twenties?"

 

"Yes."

 

"They weren't kidnapped because they're rich, if that's what happened, since you said the girl was working as a server. No school connection?"

 

"Nope." Ransom took out a notebook, flipping the pages to the one he wanted. "Patterson is a grad student at Loyola. Dawson goes to Tulane, and Ms Stevens was taking night classes at UNO."

 

"Hmm. Church? Clubs? Not nightclubs but umm…nature clubs, book clubs, biking ones?"

 

"No to all those. Believe me, Allyn, I've done my homework."

 

"There has to be something they do in common that caught their abductor's eye. I mean, other than go to society events. After all, Ms Stevens was only there to work, not to party."

 

Miranda tapped her fork on her plate, getting annoyed looks from her brother and Ransom. "Sorry," she said. "I was just thinking. What do they look like?"

 

"Stevens is blonde. Patterson has dark hair. Dawson's a redhead. None of them are overweight or anorexic. They don't wear glasses or contacts. They don't have tats or any other distinguishing marks," Ransom told her.

 

 "Just your average twenty-somethings." She tapped the fork again. "Healthy?"

 

"Yes, ma'am." Ransom grinned at her. "Healthy as horses. Dawson belongs to a gym. Patterson and Ms Stevens run, according to their parents."

 

"So even though the two men are from wealthy families, they still keep in shape," Miranda said.

 

Allyn snorted. "What does money have to do with that? You and I are in great shape, Miranda, and we're richer than Croesus."

 

"But we have genetics on our side." She lifted an eyebrow at him. "In your case, it's a damned good thing, since your idea of exercise, except for the occasional workouts you so grudgingly do, is dancing at clubs."

 

Ransom chortled. "Still doing that, huh?"

 

"Occasionally," Allyn admitted.

 

"Like every other night," Miranda told Ransom. "Or more."

 

"And we're way off the subject," Allyn muttered, shooting his sister a sour look.

Allyn and Ransom – 7

 

Allyn left Liam's condo just as the sun was rising, going to pick up his Ferrari from the secure parking garage where he'd left it the previous evening. He arrived home just as Miranda was coming down for breakfast and joined her, with the intention of heading straight to bed afterward to catch up on lost sleep.

 

They were halfway through their meal—with Miranda telling Allyn about her evening on the boat with John—when their houseman, Peter, appeared.

 

"Allyn, Miranda, there's a gentleman at the front door who says he needs to talk with you."

 

"Did he give you a name?"

 

"I suspect he already has one," an amused voice said from the breakfast nook archway. A tall, muscular man with brown, sun-streaked hair and hazel eyes stood there.

 

"Shit!" Allyn said, jumping to his feet with the intention of leaving the room post-haste. "What the hell are you doing here, Ransom?"

 

"Now is that the way to greet an old friend? I'd have waited until your man said it was okay to come in, but I knew that would be your reaction, Allyn."

 

"The infamous Ransom Carlyle, as I live and breathe," Miranda said in a deep—and very feigned—Southern accent, fluttering her eyelashes. "What brings y'all to this part of our fair city?"

 

Ransom chuckled. "More like outside of the fair city, Miss…Miranda I believe." When she nodded, he turned and said, "Allyn, please sit down."

 

Allyn clenched his hands but did as Ransom requested, giving a nod to Peter to let him know it was all right for him to leave. Then, glaring at Ransom, Allyn asked, "Why are you here?"

 

Grinning, Ransom replied, "To see your handsome face again? Not really, although that is a definite perk."

 

"Cut the…the flattery, if that's what you think it is. We ended things a long time ago."

 

"About fifty years ago, by my count," Ransom said. "To answer your question, I understand the two of you were at the big masked ball a couple of nights ago."

 

"We were. It was a blast," Miranda replied.

 

Since Ransom was currently a detective with the NOPD, Allyn had to presume the question related to something that happened at the ball, so he nodded in agreement with Miranda.

 

"Did either of you see this young man while you were there. And more to the point, did you see who he left with?" Ransom put a photo down on the table.

 

"I didn't see him there, but then the place was very crowded," Allyn told him. "I do recognize him. Ellis Patterson. His father's some bigwig, from what I remember."

 

Ransom smiled sourly. "Very much so. He reported Ellis as missing and has been raising hell because we don't have half the force going door-to-door looking for him."

 

"So you're questioning everyone at the party to keep Mr. Patterson off your back. It took you long enough to get to us," Allyn said.

 

Ransom nodded. "I'm working through the list from A-to-Z. Warwick is one of the last names on it."

 

"Did anyone see Ellis?" Miranda asked.

 

"A lot of people did," Ransom told her. "But only two—friends of his—actually saw him when he left. Their description of the man he was with leaves something to be desired. Tall, with dark hair."

 

Allyn snorted. "That could be half the men at the ball. Why are you involved with finding Ellis, other than his father putting the pressure on? I thought that was something missing persons took care of."

 

"Normally it would be. However, Ellis Patterson is the third young person in the last month to have vanished without a trace."

 

Allyn and Ransom – 6

 

 

Grigore was restless—and frustrated. He knew how to relieve the frustration. Find a person willing and able to sate his sexual needs. That, however, would require that he leave the estate—something he was loath to do at the moment. Not until he knew that his latest victim hadn't been seen with him. He had chosen the young man at random as he'd left the masked ball two nights ago. He hadn't been his first choice. No. The handsome man in lavender was the one who had interested him. Grigore almost propositioned him when the man followed him across the ballroom. There had been something different about him. Something intriguing and yet…

 

Who are you? What was the power I sensed? Would you make a good playmate for my game? Perhaps. But how do I find you again?

 

He paced the great room of his manor house, paused to pour a glass of wine from the decanter on the credenza then hurried to what some might call his media room. To him it was only the place where he could keep up with happenings outside his personal realm which might affect him to one extent or another. At the moment, he needed to find out if the young man he had abducted to play his game was listed among the many missing persons in the city.

 

He tapped the On button for his computer, waited the requisite time for it to come to life then went online. It didn't take him long to find out that his victim had been the scion of a prominent—and wealthy—businessman.

 

Ellis Patterson, son of Jack Patterson, was reported missing after attending the masked ball held at the Harveston manor in the Garden District, the news article reported. He was last seen by two of his companions in the presence of a tall, dark-haired man as the pair drove away from the ball. The witnesses described the vehicle as a either a black or dark blue Mercedes coupe with, they think, out-of-state plates. So far, no one has come up with a firm description of Patterson's possible abductor other than that given by his friends. If anyone has any information they are asked to call the NOPD.

 

Grigore chuckled. Their description of the car was correct. However, it wasn't his. He had appropriated it from home of a passing acquaintance who, he knew, was out of the country at the moment—and had returned it once he had the young man sedated—using his own car to drive back to the estate.

 

By the time they'd gotten inside the manor house, Ellis had regained consciousness. Grigore had enthralled him, ordering him to undress. Afterwards, he'd implanted the idea in Ellis's mind that he had fed from him—an idea which had served to terrify his victim even more than he'd been already. Then, Grigore had locked him in a room in the basement created especially for the game.

 

If a victim had any sense at all, when they finally came to, they would find a way to leave—either through the small window high on the exterior wall or via the "carelessly" unlocked door concealed behind a rack of shelves. At that point, the hunt was on. If they didn't escape the room—then Grigore still fed well, although with not as much pleasure as when he hunted down his prey, the way he had done with Ellis.

 

Grigore finished reading the news article, and several others that also concerned the missing young man. In none of them did he find anything which said he would be recognized when he went into the city again. Still, he would wait for the weekend. Then he would visit a gala of one sort or another, where the elite flaunted their perfect lives in an attempt to prove they were far superior to the average man.

 

When he'd first returned to the city a while back, he had done as always—culled from the down-and-out living on the streets—those who wouldn't be missed. Now he went after the callow, narcissistic youth, male or female, with nothing better to do than idle away their nights in revelry.

 

He was the hunter, not the hunted. It had always been thus and he had no intention of that changing through his own stupidity—or frustration.

Allyn and Ransom – 5

 

 

"Ha. Thought you could hide from me?"

 

Allyn turned, smiling at Liam. "Now why would I want to do that?"

 

"Because there are so many beautiful men here?" Liam waved his arm to encompass the club.

 

Allyn had to admit he was correct. It seemed to be the sort of night that brought out every man worth looking at. Perhaps because there's a full moon? He could believe that.

 

"You, however, are the most beautiful one of all," Liam whispered, while taking Allyn's hand to lead him to the dance floor.

 

"You flatter me," Allyn replied, laughing.

 

Liam grinned. "Will it get me everywhere?"

 

"Not certain about that. But it will get me into your bed, I suspect."

 

"And into your heart?"

 

"Liam," Allyn cautioned. His lover knew it wouldn't happen. It was one of the rules of the game. No emotional attachments. Allyn had learned long ago to dismiss any man who seemed to care too much. Sex—good sex—was fun and relieved the boredom. Anything more became an entanglement he didn't want and wouldn't allow.

 

"Sorry," Liam murmured. Wrapping his arms around Allyn, he began to sway to the music. Allyn moved with him and soon the dance became one of seduction on both their parts. Yet each man restrained himself, knowing that anticipation only heightened how the evening would end.

 

It was late, well past midnight, when they finally decided to retire to Liam's place. As they walked down the still-crowded Bourbon Street, Allyn saw a man dressed in black ahead of them and his thoughts instantly went to the previous evening. His pulse sped up, as did his pace. He wanted to see if it was the same man.

 

"You are in a hurry," Liam said, grinning lasciviously, his arm tightening around Allyn's waist. "We're almost there."

 

At the same moment, the man turned and disappointment washed over Allyn. I knew it really couldn't be him. But damn… He felt Liam steer him around the corner and quickly snapped out of his funk. Liam might not be the man in black, but he was certainly what Allyn needed right now. He stopped long enough to give Liam a sultry kiss before they continued down the street to the building housing Liam's condo.