The Spinoza Trilogy by J.R. Rain Read Free Book Online Page A

did—because I inevitably had to—I could practically see the detective’s eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead. I had never met Sparks or heard of him, but I had a mental image of a man shaking his head and his eyes rolling up.
    “Vampire slayer?” he said.
    “ Yes,” I said.
    “ As in, you know, vampires?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ Okay, now I’ve heard everything.”
    “ Sadly, now you have.”
    “ And you have a picture of this girl?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ Good. Swing it by the station and we’ll give it to our guys.”
    “ See you then.”
    We hung up, and I continued driving north through the heart of California, past acres and acres of farmland. I had heard once that California farms fed most of the world. Out here, driving up this empty stretch of highway, it was easy to believe.
    And as I sat back and dug in for the rest of the drive, I idly considered the possibility that perhaps Veronica had really witnessed her parents being killed by a vampire.
    Now I almost regretted not working the cheating spouse cases. Almost. No matter what, Veronica was a minor and she needed help.
    One way or another, I was going to help her.
     
    * * *
     
    Four hours later, and using my GPS navigation to direct me through the busy streets of San Francisco, I soon pulled up to the SFPD Main Station. Shortly after that, I was directed up into Detective Sparks’s office.
    The detective was pretty much as I had imagined: average-sized, thick around the neck and shoulders, and balding. We shook hands, chatted briefly. He took Veronica’s pictures and made colored copies of them and gave them to one of his men. The images were then uploaded and broadcasted to various officers. Within minutes, Veronica’s mug was everywhere.
    I left the station, feeling as if I had somehow betrayed the girl, denying her the chance at retribution.
    Maybe, I thought. But more than likely she was going to hurt someone, including herself.
    I checked the time. 1:00 p.m.
    The book signing was in one hour.
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    Apparently this James P. Storm was a pretty popular guy. A line filled mostly with titillated women wended itself through the store, out the front door, and around the building.
    I was in the wrong business.
    Many of those standing in line were clutching various books. I noted that most of the covers were darkish and gloomy and seemed to scream vampire.
    Inside, the Borders was everything a super bookstore should be, and perhaps a little more. This one, it seemed, had three stories. That’s a shitload of books.
    I silently vowed to read more someday. Maybe then I’ll finally figure out what the hell a Kindle is.
    James P. Storm was nowhere to be found, having yet to make his grand appearance. As I cruised the bookstore, following the long line of excitedly chatting women, I looked for Veronica. Would have been nice if I found her standing there wielding a stake, but no such luck.
    At the front of the line, which ended up at the second floor in the mystery section, I found myself at a long table draped in a red table cloth and stacked high with gloomy-looking vampire books. A life-sized cardboard cut-out of James P. Storm leaned against an easel next to the table.
    I walked over to the cut-out. Storm wasn’t a bad-looking guy. Certainly nothing to write home about, although he seemed to take himself a little too seriously for someone who simply wrote vampire novels.
    And that tan. Sweet Jesus. The man looked practically radioactive.
    I tried to imagine him pouncing on Veronica’s mother and father, ripping open their throats, and drinking from them. I couldn’t do it. Mostly, I couldn’t imagine him tearing himself away from a tanning bed.
    I checked the time: 1:50.
    His Royal Tannedness would be appearing soon, no doubt to the delight of those waiting in line for God knows how long. I moved away from the table and checked out the security set-up. A single policeman was standing off to the side, near an “Employee