Page 31 of Burn Falls

Martin and I came to an agreement that I would act as an informant for him. If he and his partner were working a case, I’d help him by reading files and reviewing surveillance tapes on my nights off. And because I wasn’t scared of shit, I’d sometimes wear a wire and compel people to tell the truth and admit their crime.

The Seattle Vigilante never made a reappearance or came forward, and soon enough, people forgot all aboutme.

2013 – Still in Seattle

In the ten years that Martin was a cop, he’d made it all the way to Lieutenant. His case solving record was impeccable—given my help.

But now my ten years in Seattle were up.

“Work on one more case before you leave,” he begged.

We were sitting in chairs on his deck in his backyard, drinking two fingers of a whiskey we’d just discovered, O’Bannion Burn, while his wife andtwodaughters slept. The oldest was almost ten, and the youngest was five. I was still working at Hope Haven but had given my thirty-day notice three weeks ago. It was time to make my move, so I’d rented a temporary apartment in Anchorage until I was able to find a job and then move into a more permanent place.

“You think I can solve a case in a week?” In the years we’d been working together it had happened, but it wasn’t the norm.

“I’m not sure, but I need you to do this for me.”

I smirked and took a sip of the amber liquid. “You’ve asked a lot of me in the last ten years.”

Martin chuckled low. “Your dad would be proud though.” I had told him my story about turning and how I’d had to kill my family. Martin was right, my father would be proud that I’d become a doctor and that my best friend was the best cop in the city.

We were silent for a moment. “Your mom would be proud of you too,” I finally said.

He nodded. “That’s what I want your help with.”

I tilted my head slightly toward him. “Excuse me?”

“The last case I want you to look into is my mother’s death.”

“Mart—”

“I know what you’re going to say, that the case is twenty-five years old, but I need this, D. I’d hate myself if you left without at least looking at the file.”

“I don’t want to let you down.”

“That’s not possible.”

We were silent again, both sipping our whiskey until I finally agreed. “Fine. Bring me the file tomorrow night, but if I can’t solve this for you, I don’t want to see you cry.”

Martin chuckled. “I’m going to cry regardless. My best friend is leaving.”

“I can turn you, and then you can go on the run with me,” I joked.

“No thanks. I plan to be Chief one day.”

True to his word, Martin brought his mother’s cold case to my apartment after my shift the next night. After I showered, I decided to dig into the box to review everything there was about the case.

I took each item out, piece by piece, reading and examining each thing. First was an evidence bag that contained a cigarette butt. Martin had told me that he’d sent it to the lab after he became a detective to test the saliva, but there was no hit.

Next was another evidence bag that contained a small black piece of leather. I pulled it out of the clear bag, noticing a drop of blood on one side. Again, Martin had sent it to the lab with no hits. Before placing the leather back in the bag, I sniffed the blood. Every human had their own scent just like fingerprints. It went deeper than the oils of one’s skin, so much so that everyone’s blood had a different aroma. To the human nose, all blood smelled like copper or iron, a metallic odor, but a vampire could tell you if it was sweet, salty, fruity, whatever. And when I smelled the blood on the piece of leather, I smelled copper with a hint of nicotine and blue cheese—a strange combination.

Other than those two evidence bags, there was nothing else. No prints or hairs left behind except his mother’s, and Martin couldn’t pick anyone out of a lineup when he was six.

Next, I took out the report by the detective that was assigned to the case. After reading it, I listened to Martin’s taped interview. “Hey, buddy. I’m Detective Buckley, and this is Detective Roberts. We want to ask you a few questions about what happened tonight.”

“Okay.” I smiled as I heard six-year-old little Marty speak.

“Do you know who was in your house tonight besides you and your mom?”