(96) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir

Lenny watches from the depths of the trees. Evening. Sun nearly set. The sound of the cycle alerts him. Company coming but why?

It comes into view. Blonde male driving with a real skinny kid, from what he can see, behind him. They stop at the edge of the clearing.

His guest is gone at the moment. The one who named himself George. He had taken to hiking. Long walks. Trying to piece together flashes of memory but failing so far.

He listens as the couple talks quietly. But not so quietly that he can't hear them.

"After this we're going back," the blonde man says. "If he's not here we'll start again tomorrow."

The kid nods. "I'm not giving up, Pete."

The man pats his shoulder. Shakes his head. "I'm not expecting you to. I wouldn't if it was Vik missing, or Mychael. Someone has to know something."

They start towards the cabin.

Lenny steps silently towards them. Intercepting them.

"This is private property."

"We just have a question," the man says. "We're looking for a friend who's gone missing. We're very sure he had an accident and that someone found him."

"And didn't take him to the hospital?" Lenny raises an eyebrow questioningly.

The kid speaks up. "Have you seen him, or heard anyone talk about finding him. Please, it's important. If you have..."

"Who are you to this man?"

"We told you, friends," the man says, scowling. "All we want is to know where he is and if he's all right."

Lenny looks him over. "You look like a cop to me, so even if I had seen him, which I haven't, I for sure wouldn't be telling you."

"Me, a cop?" The man snorts in derision. "Far from it, buddy. Real far from it. I'm just helping Del here look for him."

"Why should I believe that?" Lenny crosses his arms over his chest. Stares hard at the man.

"He's here, isn't he, or was." The kid's eyes flick around. Looking for signs. Lenny sees he's not really a kid. Just looks like one, because of his size.

"Was, but he's not here now." Lenny says. Not a lie but not the truth either.

(95) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir

(Del)

"How do we know...?"

"That it was him?" Pete stooped, picking up one of the smaller rocks to show me. There was paint in the long scratch across it. Paint the color of Trev's bike.

He squatted, examining the ground closely before standing again, his eyes moving back and forth slowly over the area between where we were and the river. Then he walked a few yards further down and stopped, beckoning me to join him.

"I think, I'm fairly certain, that he didn't go into the river. Obviously I'm no expert but that looks like blood to me."

I would have laughed if I hadn't felt so panicky. He of all people would know blood when he saw it—well him and Vik. What he said was blood was on a plant in the shade of one of the trees, well protected from view and the weather. The ground was dampish, as it had been all along the edge of the river. He knelt down on one knee, searching for something and nodded.

"A footprint, going that way." He pointed towards the access road that joined the highway. "It could be his, someone who found him, or nobody's in particular. But if I had to make a guess, from the depth of it, we can eliminate him. I'd be more inclined to think someone found him and carried him from here to their vehicle."

"Which means he could be anywhere out there." I swept my hand out, encompassing the area this side of the highway. "Or...or somewhere else entirely."

"Unfortunately, yes. Come on." He headed towards the road, watching the ground as he did. "There's another one, same shoe, just as deep." When we arrived at the edge of the road he paused and then smiled slightly. "See there? What does that tell you?"

I felt like a student taking a final exam as I looked at the footprint at the edge of the road. He waited patiently as he watched me.

"It's pointed away from the highway for one." Biting my lip I thought about that. "Wait... All right. If someone had a car here, or a truck, and they did have Trev, he must have opened the door to put him inside and a car door opens this way," I mimed it, "meaning the car had to be facing west, also away from the highway."

"Very good, Del. So, in theory, Trev went straight when the highway curved here to accommodate the side road and ended up down there. From where the blood was, I'd say he managed to get that far before he passed out. Then someone either saw him, or his bike, and came down to check things out, picked him up, and carried him to their car. Since the car was facing in that direction, the person had come off of the highway, heading west. I'm not sure how much that narrows our search but at least we have a starting point now."

(94) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir

(Del)

"Logic dictates he went off the highway south of here," Pete said as we pulled out of Lecompte. When I asked why he explained, "North by much, and whoever snagged his bike would have headed up to Alexandria to sell the parts because it's a real city. Or I would have if it'd been me."

"How are we going to find the spot?"

"We'll start with any places the road curves significantly. If he was tired, he may not have seen it until too late."

"Like there?" I pointed to a place a few hundreds yards ahead of us.

"Exactly."

Pulling the bike on to the shoulder he climbed off, going to the edge to look down. "If it was here, there's nothing to show for it but I'll go down closer just in case."

A few minutes later he came back, shaking his head. I nodded. It would have been too easy, finding it on the first stop, though I had hoped.

We continued slowly down the highway, staying as close to the edge as possible. Two more stops, with no better results than the first one, and I was starting to wonder if we were on the wrong track. Pete must have been of the same opinion, because he pulled up to a spot where a side road entered the highway, telling me after this one we might just try walking the length back to Lecompte.

"At least," he pointed out as he got off the bike yet again, "we only have to check one side, since we can presume he was on his way back home when the accident happened, from the timeframe of the punks stopping at the scrap yard."

I watched as he stepped to the edge of the embankment.

"Let's hope it wasn't here, the river runs real close. If he ended up in it," he shook his head as he climbed down the embankment. A minute later he was back. "We may have lift off."

I shuddered. After what he'd said moments ago, I didn't like that idea at all. He moved the bike as close to the side of the road as possible, locked it, and I followed him down.

"Look there." He pointed.

I could see what he meant. A few feet from the edge of the river the rocks were torn up. Some of them scraped and others with the dirt side up. He nodded towards the embankment and I could see where something had been dragged up it.

Release day for 'You Can Never Walk Away'!

You Can Never Walk Away

http://www.jms-books.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29_94&products_id=2001

 

When his lover is killed while they're on a job, Kegan goes into seclusion, vowing never to return to the Agency, the covert organization they worked for. His handler has other ideas, tricking Kegan into coming back, then partnering him with Gage to find and eliminate Ash, a rogue operative.

Kegan and Gage locate Ash only to discover he's on the run because he found out that Patterson, the head of the Agency, is not what he seems. When the three men team up to bring Patterson down, will their budding personal relationship save them -- or get them killed?

EXCERPT:

"Still no sign of him," Morse said when Gage came into his office, four days after the James murder.

"He'll show eventually. He'll want to know who the hell is trying to --" Gage stopped talking when Morse's intercom beeped.

"You have a call on line two," the receptionist told Morse. "He wouldn't give me his name. Instead he said to tell you he was an old acquaintance who hasn't talked with you in a couple of months."

Morse thanked her, then answered the phone. "How may I help you?" he asked.

"Find out who the bastard is who's impersonating me," a rough voice replied.

Smiling, Morse said, "Welcome home, Kegan."

"I'm not home," Kegan told him. "Far from it."

"Then welcome back."

There was a low laugh before Kegan said, "Same song, different words. I'm not back—yet. I might never be."

"Would it be too much for me to ask if you're in the city?"

"I am."

"Can we meet somewhere? You name the time and place."

After a brief pause, Kegan said, "The boathouse at the park. Ten P.M. Any tricks and I'll be gone before you know I was there."

Genuinely puzzled, Morse asked, "Why would I try to trick you?"

"Because you're you. It's what you do."

"Good point. All right, I'll be there at ten. Alone."

* * * *

Kegan watched from the trees on the other side of the lake, scanning the area around the boathouse. He wanted to be certain that Morse hadn't planted someone to witness their conversation -- and perhaps do more. The park had closed to vehicular traffic at nine-thirty, meaning anyone approaching the boathouse had to do so on foot. Morse did, precisely at ten, going up the steps then across the main room to one of the arched openings that looked out over the lake, resting his hips against the railing.

Moving stealthily, Kegan rounded the lake -- ever aware of his surroundings, and any possible watchers -- until he was at the steps. Sensing that they were alone, he joined Morse, staying in the shadow of the arch.

"It's been a while, Kegan," Morse said with a nod of his head. "From the look of you, you've been keeping fit."

Kegan shrugged. "It gave me something to do."

"Bored?" Morse asked, almost smiling.

"I had my moments," Kegan replied before getting down to why he was there. "What do you know about the murder of the drug company VP?"

"I know who did it, if that's what you're asking. Gage Dekker. At my orders."

"Yeah, I figured you were behind it. Why Dekker?"

"The man needed to be eliminated. The company he worked for was manufacturing and selling counterfeit drugs to several dealers in the city." Morse pointed one finger at Kegan. "I decided, why not kill two birds with one stone. Get him out of the picture and hopefully bring you back at the same time. I was well aware, if you learned about it, and how he was killed, you would want to find out who was impersonating you."

"Damned straight." Kegan shook his head. "And I fell for it." He paused, looking out across the lake. "Why Gage?"

"He knows your style well enough to imitate it accurately."

"Nope. I would never kill someone so publically. At least not up-close-and-personal, the way he did."

"True. But if he hadn't done it that way, the method would never have been made public. We needed witnesses who would tell the cops, and the press, what they saw. We got what we were aiming for; although it took you long enough to react."

Kegan nodded. "I rarely kept up with the news -- the outside world. No phone. No computer or TV. Sometimes I'd pick up a newspaper. It was just luck that I did this time and saw the story."

"You really did go into seclusion. But then I knew that. If you had kept your phone and used it, or gone online --"

"You'd have found out where I was before I hung up or shut down." Kegan began to pace, pausing to look at Morse once or twice. "Why do you want me back? I fucked up my last assignment and Tony died because of it." He heard the pain in his voice when he said Tony's name, and felt the ache in his heart that had never truly left him.

 

(93) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir

(Del)

"No one by his description at this one either," Pete said as he called the last hospital listed in the phone book. We'd split the list, hoping for something. Trev wasn't at any of them, hospitals or clinics, anywhere close to Lecompte.

"Now what?" I asked him, lying back on my bed staring up at the cracked ceiling.

"Now we get some sleep and in the morning we go searching for the crash site." He flopped down on the adjoining bed and looked over at me. "Del, we're going to find him one way or another."

I turned my head to glance at him. "How? Even if we do find where he crashed, we know he's not there now. He could be anywhere. If he's alive. Gods, please let him be alive and just lost or...or..."

"Or with someone who maybe found him. If he was conscious, it's quite possible, knowing him, that he refused to go to a hospital, especially since he would have been carrying his sword. That would be a bit hard to explain. He did have it with him, right?"

"Always." I sighed. "But who would let him make the decision if he was hurt as badly as the bike?"

"Think positive Del. If he was thrown from it he could have just sustained minor damages."

"Then why hasn't he called?"

"That, Del, we won't know until we find him. If he staggered away, well." His mouth tightened. "There's bayous out there as well as farm land, fields." He was looking at his iPhone as he talked, checking MapQuest or whatever. "A few scattered houses." 

"This is a wild goose chase, isn't it Pete?"

"Absolutely not! We know more than we did before we got here, and tomorrow we'll find where he crashed. Then we'll go from there." He snorted and I looked at him, wondering what was so amusing. "I can see us hiring out a bloodhound, just like in the movies, to track him."

"Actually, you know, that's not such a bad idea."

"Del, they need something of his to sniff, I think. You can't just say 'Find Trevor' and they take off." He thought about that. "On the other hand, if there's still any blood there..."

I nodded. I didn't want to talk about that, even though I knew it was a definite possibility. He reached across the space between our beds and patted my arm.

"We won't do him, or ourselves, any good if we don't get some sleep. So go shower and get to bed."

Managing a small smile I asked, "Is that an order?"

"Damned straight. And don't even think about whapping me upside the head young man."

I actually laughed then, looking at him as I slid off the bed. "If we were different people and the circumstances were different, I might take up that challenge."

He grinned. "That could be interesting. Now, off with you. And if I'm asleep when you come out, do not wake me. The alarm's set for six."

Twenty minutes later I was curled up, trying to sleep. I heard Pete say softly, "We're going to find him Del."

I prayed he was right.