He couldn’t forget Bonita Washington’s assertion of freezer burn on the severed arm, which, as it had turned out, belonged to Rylee Ames, the last victim.

Unless Ariel was the last one to go missing.

Until Kristi…

He took a shortcut to the campus. The rain was heavy now, coming down in sheets. News vans and cop cars were parked around the gates of the All Saints grounds, where, it seemed, every officer on the campus security force was visible. Students were far and few between, but klieg lights had been assembled by the news teams, and reporters dressed in rain gear stood with microphones at the ready.

All in all it was a damned circus.

The campus of All Saints wasn’t officially a crime scene, at least not yet, but the presence of the police and the news teams announced to the world that a killer was on the loose, one who considered the private school his personal hunting ground.

“Not for long, you prick,” Jay muttered as he drove to the old house where Kristi lived and felt a second’s relief when he spied her Honda parked in its usual spot. Maybe she was home. Maybe she’d lost her cell phone. Maybe…Oh, God, please. He shoved open the door of his truck before it had even stopped rolling. “Stay,” he ordered Bruno, then ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his key already in his hand. He was on the third floor in an instant, unlocking the door, throwing it open.

“Kris!” he yelled, stepping inside.

It was dark and quiet, the smell of old candles in the air, the window over the sink open wide, a stiff breeze stirring the curtains.

His stomach clenched and he reached for a gun.

“Drop it! Down on the floor!” a female voice ordered. Mai Kwan stepped out of the shadows, directly in his path, the pistol in her hands leveled straight at his heart.

“Vampires?” Montoya, in the passenger seat, stared at Bentz as if the older detective had lost his mind. Light flashing, siren screaming, their Crown Victoria with Bentz at the wheel was flying up the freeway toward Baton Rouge. “Are you serious? Vampires? As in blood-sucking creatures that morph into bats and sleep in coffins and can’t be killed without silver bullets or a stake through the heart or some kind of crap like that?”

“That’s what he said.” Bentz squinted into the night and drove as if Satan himself were on his ass. The rain was thick, his wipers slapping it aside as the police band radio crackled and spat. In the distance streaks of lightning sizzled through the sky.

“You believe this?”

Bentz felt Montoya’s gaze drilling into him. “What I believe is my kid is missing and some crazed son of a bitch has her.”

“But vampires?”