Blood Pact

being protected under the ridge of brow bone, remained centered, collapsed to pinprick dimensions. There was no reaction of any kind to light. Nor, for that matter, to any other kind of stimuli by any other part of the body, and Catherine tried them all.

    Accompanied by low level respiration, the heart continued to beat between seven and eight times a minute, undetectable had she not been specifically searching for it. These were the only signs of life.

    She'd heard of Indian fakirs putting themselves into trances so deep they appeared to be in comas or dead and she supposed this was a North American variation on that ability; that when her intruder had found himself trapped, he'd lowered his metabolism to conserve resources. Catherine had no idea what he'd been hoping to accomplish as he seemed, at the moment, totally unable to defend himself, but she had to admit that, minor point aside, it was a pretty neat trick.

    Finally, she had number nine help her remove his leather trench coat and, rolling up his shirtsleeve, she pulled two vials of blood.
    She'd intended to take three but, with the intruder's blood pressure so low, two used up all the time she was willing to allow. Closing the box, she headed for one of the tables at the other end of the lab. Running the blood work might give her some answers to this trance thing but, even if it didn't, she could always use the information later should the intruder happen to die.

    "Look, Detective Fergusson, I'm aware that my mother died of natural causes before the crime was committed and I realize that this makes her a very low priority but . . .”

    "Ms. Nelson." Detective Fergusson's voice hovered between exasperation and annoyance. "I'm sorry you're upset, but I've got a murdered teenager on my hands. I'd like to find the asshole who offed him before I've got another body bag to deal with.”

    "And you're the only detective on the force?" Vicki's fingernails beat a staccato rhythm against the pay phone's plastic casing.

    "No, but I am the one assigned to the case. I'm sorry if that means I can't give your mother the attention you think she deserves . . .”

    "The cases," she snarled, fingers curling into a fist, "are connected.”

    Behind her, leaning on the open door of the phone booth, Celluci rolled his eyes. Even without hearing the other end of the conversation, he had some sympathy for Fergusson's position. Although she could be surgically delicate with a witness, Vicki tended to practice hammer and chisel diplomacy on the rest of the world.

    "Connected?" The exasperation vanished. "In what way?”

    Vicki opened her mouth then closed it again with an audible snap. My mother has been turned into a monster. Your boy was killed by a similar monster. We find my mother, I guarantee we find your perp. How do I know all this? I can't tell you. And he's missing anyway.

    Shit.

    She shoved at her glasses. "Look, call it a hunch, okay?”

    "A hunch?”

    Realizing that she'd have had much the same reaction had their positions been reversed, her tone grew sharply defensive. "What's the matter? You've never had a hunch?”

    Anticipating disaster should the current conversation continue, Celluci used a shoulder to lever Vicki back from the phone, then dragged the receiver from her grip. Scowling, she allowed his interference with ill grace and the certain knowledge that antagonizing the Kingston Police was a bad idea.

    "Detective Fergusson? Detective-Sergeant Celluci. We've determined that one of Dr. Burke's grad students, a Donald Li, at least superficially fits the description of Tom Chen. We'd appreciate it if you could call the registrar's office and have them release a copy of his student photo so we can check his identity with the funeral parlor.”

    Detective Fergusson sighed. "I called the registrar's office yesterday.”

    "And they released the photos of the medical students. But Li isn't studying medicine and they won't release his picture without another call from you.”

    "Why do you think Li's involved?”

    "Because he works for Dr. Burke, as did Marjory Nelson.”

    "So. What make you think Dr. Burke's involved?”

    "Because she appears to have the scientific qualifications to raise the dead as well as access to the necessary equipment.”

    "Give me a break, Sergeant." Incredulity fought with anger for control of Fergusson's voice. "How did you come up with raising the fucking dead?”

    Good question, Celluci admitted, ignoring a glare from