[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
He'd written down the numbers and names from Rue's book, just in case his memory played
tricks with him. One of the numbers was self-explanatory "Mom and Dad," she'd written by
it. "Les," she'd written by another, and that was surely one he would have to explore; a single
man might be a rival. The most interesting numbers were by the notation "Sergeant Kryder."
She'd labeled one number "police station" and the second number "home."
Pineville looked like almost any small town. It seemed to be dominated by one big business
Hutton Furniture Manufacturing, a huge plant that ran around the clock, Sean noted. The sign
in front of the library read Camille Hutton Library, and the largest church complex boasted a
whole building labeled Carver Hutton II Family Life Center.
The tire company was owned by a Hutton, and one of the car dealerships, too.
There was no sign crediting the Huttons with owning the police force, but Sean suspected that
might be close to the truth.He found the station easily; it was right off the town square, a low
redbrick building. The sidewalk from the parking area to the front door was lined with azaleas
just about to bloom. Sean opened the swinging glass door to see a young policeman with his
feet up on the counter that divided the public and private parts of the front room. A young
woman in civilian clothes short and tight civilian clothes was using a copier placed against
the wall to the left, and the two were chatting as Sean came in.
"Yes, sir?" said the officer, swinging his feet to the floor.
The young woman glanced at Sean, then did a double take. "Vampire," she said in a choked
voice.
The man glanced from her to Sean in a puzzled way. Then he seemed to take in Sean's white
face for the first time, and he visibly braced his shoulders.
"What can I do to help you, sir?" he asked.
"I want to speak with Sergeant Kryder," Sean said, smiling with closed lips.
"Oh, he retired," called the girl before the young man could answer. The man's name tag read
"Farrington." He wasn't pleased at the girl's horning in on his conversation with the vampire.
"Where might I find him?" Sean asked.
Officer Farrington shot a quelling glance at the girl and pulled a pencil out of his drawer to
draw Sean a map. "You take a left at the next stop sign," he told Sean. "Then go right two
blocks, and it's the white house on the corner with the dark green shutters."
"Might be gone," said the girl sulkily.
"Barbara, you know they ain't left yet."
"Packing up, I heard."
"Ain't left yet." Farrington turned to Sean. "The Kryders are moving to their place in Florida."
"I guess it was time for him to retire," Sean said gently, willing to learn what he could.
"He took it early," the girl said. "He got all upset about the Layla LeMay thing."
"Barbara, shut up," Officer Farrington said, his voice very sharp and very clear.
Sean tried hard to look indifferent. He said, "Thank you very much," and left with the
instructions, wondering if they'd call ahead to the ex-sergeant, warn him of Sean's impending
visit.
Sergeant Kryder had indeed gotten a call from the police station. His front light was on when
Sean parked in front of his modest house. Sean didn't have a plan for interrogating the retired
policeman. He would play it by ear. If Rue had written the man's phone number in her book,
then the man had befriended her.
Sean knocked at the door very gently, and a slim,clean-shaven man of medium height with
thinning fair hair and a guarded smile opened the door. "Can I help you?" the man asked.
"Sergeant Kryder?"
"Yes, I'm Will Kryder."
"I would like to speak with you "about a mutual friend."
"I have a mutual friend with a vampire?" Kryder seemed to catch himself. "Excuse me, I
didn't mean to offend. Please come in." The older man didn't seem sure about the wisdom of
inviting Sean in, but he stood aside, and Sean stepped into the small living room. Cartons
were stacked everywhere, and the house looked bare. The furniture was still there, but the
walls were blank, and none of the normal odds and ends were on the tables.
A dark-haired woman was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a dish towel in her hand.
Two cats rubbed her ankles, and a little Pekingese leaped from the couch, barking ferociously.
He stopped when he got close to Sean. He backed up, whining. The woman actually looked
embarrassed.
"Don't worry," Sean said. "You can never tell with dogs. Cats generally like us." He knelt and
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]