Lady of Virtues was a private institution.”
“So? There have to be records. Somewhere.” She picked up her plate and carried it to the sink. Hershey was only a step behind. “And someone knows about them.”
He knew where this was heading, and he didn’t like it. “The church.”
“Bingo.”
He picked up his plate and set it on the counter next to the sink, where she was running water. “You want me to talk to the nuns out there?”
“You don’t have to do it. I will.”
“Abby,” he said softly, touching her arm so that she glanced up at him. “Maybe it’s time to let this go.”
“You want me to just forget that I have a brother or sister that I’ve never met?”
“The baby might not have made it.” They’d been over this ground before, but as always, she was stubborn as hell.
“Then let’s find out, okay?” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and tossed it at him. He caught it with one hand as she pointed a long finger at his nose. “Look, Detective, I’m getting to the bottom of this. I can’t go on living the rest of my life not knowing. So either you help me or I go it alone. Your choice.”
“Okay, okay. I know. I’m with you.”
“Good.”
“I’m just telling you we might not find anything, or, if we do, you might not like it.”
“So what else is new?” She let out her breath and held up both hands. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to pick a fight.”
“You didn’t.”
She smothered a smile. “I tried.”
“And failed miserably,” he teased.
“You’re impossible.”
“At least.” He snapped the towel at her rear. “Besides, I’ll get even with you later.”
“What? In the bedroom?” she asked, eyes widening in mock horror. Splaying the fingers of one hand over her chest, she added, “Whatever do you have in mind?”
“You’ll see…”
To his surprise, she reached around him, unclipped the small case attached to his belt, and in one swift motion dangled the metal cuffs in front of his face as she kissed the lobe of his ear. Her teeth scraped the diamond stud he always wore. “And so will you, Detective….”
CHAPTER 6
The Reviver was agitated. Ready. Every nerve screaming through his body.
It was time.
At last.
He couldn’t wait.
Anticipation propelled him. Bloodlust snaked through his veins.
On silent footsteps, he crept through the undergrowth and followed a sagging, dilapidated fence line. Dressed for battle, his weapons belted to his body, he edged ever closer to his prey. A fine mist rose, adding another layer of camouflage to the already dark night.
In the distance, across a lonely field, he spied the farmhouse, windows glowing faintly. His pulse quickened. He told himself to be careful, to tread lightly; he didn’t want to make a mistake and suffer the wrath of the Voice.
Not this time.
God had spoken to him, and His instructions were clear.
Stealthily he slipped around a spindly pine tree.
A sharp hiss cut through the night.
His hand went to the knife at his belt before his eyes adjusted and he spied the thick, furry body of a raccoon. It had reared up on its hind legs, its nasty little teeth bared, its masked eyes glaring at him defiantly.
Stupid animal. It would serve the fucker right if he sliced its throat, killed the damned creature out of spite and left it for vultures and crows.
But he couldn’t risk anything that wasn’t planned. He had to remain focused. His orders had been succinct. The Voice of God had been specific and strong, telling him exactly what to do while the other irritating, whining voices had buzzed like white noise. The killing would begin soon enough.
Eyes glittering, the raccoon lowered itself onto all fours and lumbered awkwardly deeper into the underbrush and brambles, as if it hadn’t known how close it had come to death. His lips curled, and his fingers itched to grab his hunting knife.
Good riddance.
As the vermin disappeared from sight, he focused his attention to the house where his victim was waiting.
Unknowing.
With renewed purpose, he stretched the sagging barbed wire, slid through the opening, then took off at an easy jog across the open field. The night was cool for May. Rising clouds of mist swirled from the damp ground, and the air was fresh and clean from the recent rain, filling his nostrils with the smell of moist earth.
It had been a long, rewarding day.
And he’d caught glimpses of her.
Eve.
Beautiful.
Seductive.
Deadly.
Oh, to want her, to feel her pliant, soft body beneath his. To smell her. Taste her. Feel the heat of her skin rubbing anxiously, eagerly against him. He would love to hear her moan, see her writhe in fear and ecstasy as he mounted her, claimed her, thrust so deep into her she’d gasp and the cords of her beautiful neck would stand out…inviting. He would do anything he wanted to her beautiful body, and she would accept him, understand their destiny. She would kneel before him, licking her already wet lips…ready to take him in.
He felt his cock twitch, threatening to harden, and he clamped his jaw tight.
There was no time for this kind of fantasy, not yet.
Later…Oh, yes, later…
For now, he had to concentrate.
He had work to do.
She would wait.
He knew where she was.
Earlier, he’d followed her. After assuring himself that she had indeed driven into the city and not to this remote farmhouse, he’d turned off the freeway on the outskirts of New Orleans, doubling back a bit and driving unerringly to a spot where he could park his truck. His pickup was now hidden behind a dilapidated old barn on a forgotten piece of soggy farmland near the swamp.
From the truck’s hiding place, he’d walked nearly two miles through thickets, woods, and open pasture. He’d seen the massive
