Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [33]
“How do I get to the hospital to see my dad?” Jason asked.
“We’ll put you in a limo, and if we have to we’ll get you a police escort,” Dubois said.
“Why?” Jason said, unusually suspicious for him.
I answered it, “Because a limo with a police escort will draw off part of the press that is hanging around for the bachelorette party tonight.”
“You really do think I’m going to throw you to the wolves, don’t you?”
“Oh, I like wolves,” I said, “it’s the reporters that scare me.”
Gray Suit said, “I don’t think there’s any way to get you quietly to the hospital. In fact, we should send people ahead to warn the hospital so the reporters don’t get into Mr. Schuyler’s room.”
“Good thinking, Peterson, as always. Call our liaison at the hospital.”
Peterson, aka Gray Suit, took out a cell phone and went toward one side of the room. Apparently for some privacy for the call.
Another phone sounded. Dubois got a slim one out of her pocket and started talking into it.
Chuck said, “You’re a federal marshal, for real?”
“For real,” I said.
He looked me up and down, not like a man will, but like he was sizing me up for other things. Things that had nothing to do with sex.
“You’ve got a gun at the small of your back. It’s lying sideways, not up and down, so it’s almost invisible.”
I nodded. “And you missed it completely when we first met.”
“My bad,” he said.
“Sloppy,” I said.
“It won’t happen again.”
“What won’t happen again?”
“Me thinking you’re just a…girlfriend.”
“You always hesitate before you say girlfriend, Chuck; what do you actually start to say?”
“You won’t like it.”
“I’m betting I already know the phrase that’s on the tip of your tongue, Chuck.”
Jason was watching us, the way he did sometimes when people were doing something that interested him or puzzled him. He’d watch, file it away, and talk to me about it later. Sometimes much later.
Chuck glanced around, and when he realized that both Dubois and Peterson weren’t in earshot, he said low, “Piece of ass, I won’t make the mistake of thinking you’re just a piece of ass.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you were thinking.”
15
WE ARRIVED AT the hospital in a style that even Jean-Claude couldn’t have managed. The city wouldn’t have given him a police escort unless he was being arrested. But we got one to St. Joseph’s Hospital, with its nearly brand-new trauma unit. The trauma unit was in the Summerland wing of the hospital. I smelled an amazingly large donation.
It took us awhile to get past the upper brass of the hospital, who had spilled out to the sound of sirens and the limo. Hell, we had some of the suits with us. Peterson was in charge instead of Chuck, which was a step up, but it was still an understandable mistake on the hospital administration’s part. If someone had given me enough money to put a wing on my hospital I’d be nice to them, too.
In the lobby, while we were trying to explain that Jason was neither of the Summerland twins, I saw a portrait. It was an old-fashioned painting of a man in a black cloth suit, white shirt, stiff collar, and dark yellow mustache. But underneath the strange clothes and facial hair, it was Jason’s face.
I actually walked toward the portrait without meaning to. Jason’s blue eyes stared down at me from this stern-faced stranger.
Jason came to stand beside me. I looked from him to the painting. “Creepy, isn’t it?” he said.
“It could be you in a few years, if you did the mustache.”
“Meet Jedediah Summerland. He was the head of the religious community that came here to get away from the worldly temptations. He was a very self-righteous guy, but strangely a lot of families that trace their ancestors back to when he was alive have a lot of kids that look eerily like him.”
“A lot of cult leaders seem to have a weakness for women,” I said.
He nodded, then smiled, though it left his eyes empty. “Jedediah was actually killed by vampires. Apparently he tried to convert them to the Lord, and they didn’t like it. Frankly, I think he tried to seduce the wrong undead lady and paid the price.”
He turned to me,