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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHANEL

Abuzzing sound erupted, shaking me out of my sleep. The vibration under my pillow pulled me from my sweet dreams. The California King bed felt so comfortable before the noisy interruption. I shoved my hand under my pillow and fumbled for my phone. My eyes focused on the cell phone screen. My stomach dropped when I saw the Minnesota area code. I read the name and felt my chest tighten. Detective Crowley was calling. I rose from the bedsheets.As soon as I answered, I wished I would’ve declined the call.

“Hello?” My voice was a faint whisper, though I knew it would take much more than this to wake Zand during daylight hours.

“Ms. Taylor? This is Detective Crowley from the Bloomington Police Department.”

His formal tone sent a chill through me. I slipped from beneath the silky sheets and scurried across the cold hardwood floor, out into the hallway where I could speak freely.

“Yes, Detective. Is something wrong?” I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

“We need to speak with you. My partner and I are at the Chicago Police Department. Can you come in this morning?”

“Right now?”

“Yes. There’s been a development we need to discuss with you.”

“A development?” What could that mean? I hated how secretive they had been since the beginning of this mess.

“It’s about Alonzo.” Crowley said, and that wasn’t enough information for me to figure it out.

“How soon can you get here?”

I glanced at the time: 7:13 AM. “I can be there in about an hour and a half. I just need the address.”

“Thank you, Ms. Taylor. I will text the address to you. Ask for me at the front desk when you arrive.”

I waited for Crowley to end the call first. I was alone in the hallway with an irregular heartbeat. A development, the vagueness of it made my imagination run wild with possibilities, none of them good.

I walked back into the bedroom. Zand was lying motionless on his back, on his side of the bed. While sleep his face lost its intensity. His skin seemed softer and almost childlike. He was still fine as hell, but he looked peaceful when he was getting some Z’s.

I had grown used to his daytime absence. He needed at least four hours of sleep and I wasn’t going to wake him with this when I didn’t know what this was. I was a big girl and could handle this on my own. He wouldn’t even know I was gone until he woke up in a few hours. Hopefully, I would be back before that time came. I wasn’t trying to spend hours of my day at a police station.

I drug myself into the adjoining bathroom. The shower ran hot as steam filled the massive room. I washed quickly,trying not to think about what the detectives wanted from me. Crowley’s voice didn’t give anything away.

When I closed my eyes to rinse my face, I saw Lonzo. I remembered his last expression before he died. There was the shock and the realization that he would not survive. He saw Zand, the vampire, and he had to know he would die. I snapped out of the memory and opened my eyes, forcing the image away.

I was moving too slowly. I rinsed myself off and stepped out of the shower. After toweling myself dry, I dressed in dark jeans and a gray sweater. My hands shook as I applied minimal makeup and scooped my hair up into a ponytail. I needed to calm down. I grabbed my cell phone and played the song Calm Down by Rema featuring Selena Gomez twice before I exited the bathroom. Did that calm me? Maybe a little bit.

Downstairs, the loft was quiet and vast. Morning light filtered through the windows of the living area. The smell of coffee lured me into the kitchen. Coffee. I needed it. The rich, dark aroma wrapped around me.

“Good morning, girl?” Morgan muttered, with sleep clinging to her voice. She stood by the island sipping from a coffee mug. Her hair was covered in a silk bonnet. She looked at me with prying eyes.

“Morning.” I tried to sound upbeat.

“You completely dressed and not in bed with your man. What’s up?” She already sensed something was wrong.

“I got a call from Detective Crowley. They want me to come to the police station.”

Morgan’s lips twisted. “These fools still here in Chicago?”

I nodded, pouring coffee with hands that didn’t feel entirely steady. “They said there’s been a development in Lonzo’s case.”

“What kind of development? They the dumb asses that let him slip out of an ankle monitor and escape from Minnesota.”

“They wouldn’t tell me over the phone.” The coffee was too hot, but I sipped it anyway. It gave me something else to focus on. “I have to go in and talk to them— again.”