“Don’t bullshit me, Mavis. You’ve got a microcassette recorder under the bar so you can listen to people’s conversations.”

Mavis pulled the recorder out from under the bar and reluctantly handed it over to Robert. “This is the solution to the time problem,” Robert said. “We read the invocation into this before the genie comes out of the woods. When and if we get the candlesticks, we play it back. This thing has a high speed for secretaries to use when typing dictation.”

Brine looked at Travis. “Will it work?”

“It’s not any more risky than anything else we’re doing.”

“Who’s voice do we use?” Robert asked. “Who gets the responsibility?”

The Djinn answered, “It must be Augustus Brine. He has been chosen.”

Robert checked his watch. “We’ve got a half hour and I still have to pick up my cameras at The Breeze’s trailer. Let’s meet at the U-PICK-EM sign in fifteen minutes.”

“Wait—we need to go over this again,” Travis said.

“Later,” Brine said. He threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table and headed toward the door. “Robert, use Howard’s car. I don’t want this whole thing depending on your old truck starting. Travis, Gian Hen Gian, you ride with me.”

33

RIVERA

During the drive to Pine Cove, Rivera was nagged by the idea that he had forgotten something. It wasn’t that he hadn’t reported where he was going; he had planned that. Until he had physical evidence that there was a serial killer in the area, he wasn’t saying a word. But when he knocked on the Elliotts’ front door and it swung open, he suddenly remembered that his bullet-proof vest was hanging in his locker back at the station.

He called into the house and waited for an answer. None came.

Only cops and vampires have to have an invitation to enter, he thought. But there is probable cause. The part of his mind that functioned like a district attorney kicked in.

“So, Sergeant Rivera,” the lawyer said, “you entered a private residence based on a computer data base that could have been no more than a mailing list?”

“I believed that Effrom Elliott’s name on the list represented a clear and present danger to a private citizen, so I entered the residence.”

Rivera drew his revolver and held it in his right hand while he held his badge out in his left.

“Mr. and Mrs. Elliott, this is Sergeant Rivera from the Sheriff’s Department. I’m coming in the house.”

He moved from room to room announcing his presence before he entered. The bedroom door was closed. He saw the splintered bullet hole in the door and felt his adrenaline surge.

Should he call for backup?

The D.A. said: “And so you entered the house on what basis?”