Friday

Day Seven – Rehab part 1



Long John was eating his breakfast of cold toast, watching as a black panther wandered past and then settled down laying across his feet. ‘Invisible things that couldn’t possibly exist seemed so real these days’ he thought. He was totally unsurprised when next he looked down to see a naked girl on his feet. ‘Seems to happen a lot these days’ his brain reminded him.



“Your plan then daughter?” Eldred asked.



“You recall I was a nurse in my old life.”



“A role you could go back to, it could have had its uses to us.” Eldred commented.



“Indeed until my life got fucked up and I became a fugitive rather than a simple victim.”



“You could still say I kidnapped you, held you in that old chapel, and that you only escaped by bashing me through the heart with a piece of wood at which point I burst into flames and vanished.”



“None of that stuff works.”



“No, but they don’t know that, and if they thought it did, it would probably help me escape one day.”



“Back to the point. I was a nurse and as such I am aware of all kinds of little out of the way medical establishments dotted around the countryside. There is one not far from here, it is a druggie rehab.”



“Ah. The jetsam and flotsam of your modern society.”



“What? No, just waifs and strays, hooked on meth or heroin or similar, they can check in for a few days, get some treatment, and a hot meal or two, and then just check out and move on. My plan is that we get some to check out of there, check into here, give them a shot of Vampyre and then, when their body is all cured, they are a ready to serve, hot to trot Vampyre Meal Deal.”



“Ah, and they won’t be missed?”



“No, they have already left society behind. Most just scratch a living prostituting themselves to get the next fix, just about the only one that might miss them would be their pimps.”



“Good. Our blood will cure their ailments and stop the cravings. And in the meanwhile we have the tins of sardines, the first of which we sampled last night.”



“What shall we start with, try for two of each, or three females and one male? I do fancy trying a nice bit of female food, it sounds divine.”



“Why bother with males? They are of little use to me, I have no desire to use a boy for anything other than food, and I would rather feed on female blood as I penetrate and absorb her.”



“Selfish old man, I want to feel my self filled and stretched, and believe me, that is something I don’t plan on you doing to me as you insist on calling me daughter. That just conjures up totally wrong images in my mind.”







DC Bentley and DC Jackson stood before the Costa Coffee machine at the petrol station. Knowing that he stopped there every morning for his morning hit she had got there before him and waited. She had been out of the office yesterday when they arrived and wanted bringing up to speed.



“They did come up with a good idea of how to look in that crypt.”



“Is that it? Crack team and that is what they came up with? Let me guess, undertaker?”



He looked at her for a moment and then went back to supping at his coffee. “Yeah, as it happens, but apart from that the discussions were mostly about it being three people or two, and whether Vanessa Hilt was in it or a victim. We didn’t really get very far.”



“Were there any discussions about Walking Dead or Vampyres?”



“I can tell you that no, that was not a topic of discussion or evaluation. What did you find out in Hilt’s email and who she has been in contact with?”



“She doesn’t have email sir, no internet at her home, no data usage on her mobile phone. In fact her mobile phone calls were only ever to work, or from work. There appears to be absolutely no one else in her life.”



“I don’t believe that for a fucking moment, in this day and age, and her a nurse? No way. She has probably got an account in another name or something, a hidden laptop or something with a dongle. Was the mobile hers or provided by the hospital?”



“Hospital sir, and they are only supposed to use it for hospital business.”



“There you are then. There will be an account somewhere, mark my words, and if there is, then somehow it is being paid for. If we trace the money, we will find her secret life unravel before us, and then we will be one step closer to finding her. Murdering bitch.”



“Sir, do I share this with…?”



“No,” Bentley interrupted, “let Serious Bones and his team come up with their own ideas, numpties.”



“You’re not fond then sir?”



“If they had come up with some clever arsed things that I should have thought of, then I would have been impressed and held my hands up, but they haven’t and they seem keen on doing is unravelling what we have achieved. Log what you are doing and what you find, but don’t raise anything you find to their attention, only mine. Don’t want you getting into trouble for not following procedure.”



“We’ll be meeting here every day then sir?”