Disclaimers Here

"I don't have a problem with working the night shift, Nick. I would just appreciate it if the scheduler would decide whether I'm working days or nights...not both. Man o' man...I really need some zzz's," Schanke complained, running a hand across his scalp as he tried to fight off a huge yawn.

Nick grabbed the tape and raised it, enabling the two detectives to cross into the protected crime scene. Stopping just inside, they both briefly surveyed the site. "I don't know, Schank. Seems to me, you do your best work while you're asleep on your feet," Nick teased, keeping a straight face.

"Ha, ha, Knight. Very funny." Schanke glanced toward a small crowd of locals and noted the newest arrival to the 96th attempting to question them. Nodding toward them, he stated, "I guess I'll go over and make sure Conrad asks the *right* questions." Glancing at his partner, he grinned mischievously. "That way you can huddle with Natalie."

Detective Nicholas Knight of Metro Homicide watched his partner stroll over and clap a friendly hand on the inspector's shoulder and controlled the smile that was trying to steal over his handsome features. Glancing briefly around, he moved further into the crime scene.

Nick approached the corpse and leaned down to get a closer look at the victim, only to jerk back when the strong scent of blood rose from the body. Using the controls acquired over his long, unnatural lifetime, Nick forced his predatory side down, determined to keep his nature secret. After all, he didn't want the city to realize that one of Metro's finest was a bloodsucking creature of the night -- a vampire. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then eased round the body to kneel next to Toronto's coroner, Natalie Lambert.

Nick watched as Nat took a sample from the victim's hand, then jerked his head aside when the strong scent of blood rose from the disturbed abrasions on the victim's knuckles and torn fingertips. His beast struggled to break free at the sight and smell of the sluggish fluid oozing across the cold flesh.

Relief flooded him when she bagged the victim's hands, preserving any evidence that might be there. Why is the hunger pushing so hard tonight?! Maybe the strange dreams he'd experienced over the past few weeks had unsettled him more than he realized. He looked back at Natalie as she stripped the surgical gloves off, then tried to give her a smile when she turned toward him. They both rose to their feet while her assistants completed their preparation for transporting the corpse to the morgue.

Nick saw the worried look on Nat's face and realized she had noticed his reaction to the blood. He assumed a bit of the predatory gold of the vampire must still be visible in his blue eyes when she pulled him away from the body. Laying her hand on his arm, Nat quietly asked, "Are you all right?"

Nick briefly bowed his head and shored up his control, then took a deep breath and looked back at her. Nodding, he replied, "I'm fine, Nat. The scent caught me for a moment, that's all." Glancing at the corpse, he turned his gaze back to Natalie's face. "What can you tell me about this?"

They turned back to look at the young man laying in the open body bag. Firmly in control, Nick knelt back down to look the victim over as Natalie began a brief run down of the crime scene. "His name is...was Timothy Johnston, according to the university ID we found in his wallet."

"It looks like someone beat him half to death before they decided to finish the job." Nick leaned closer to inspect the vicious slash that opened the young man's throat from ear to ear. As he leaned in, the gentle night breeze swirled by, lifting an unusual scent from the body. Curious, the blond vampire flared his nostrils, trying to identify the strange odor. In doing so, he lost track of Natalie's narration. When he realized by the surrounding silence that Natalie had paused in her run down, Nick glanced toward her with an inquisitive look on his face.

She repeated in a low voice, "I said, I believe he may have been sexually assaulted."

Absorbing that fact, he looked back at the still body and whispered, "Nat, there's a unique odor on the body. It's very faint."

Glancing up from her clipboard, Natalie squatted next to the detective and took a quick instinctive whiff. "What kind of odor? Is it sweet, industrial, or what?"

"I'm not sure." Nick closed his eyes and took another breath, letting the odors rising from the body to wash over him. Though the blood scent sang its usual siren song as it pulsed against his control, he ignored it and concentrated on the unknown aroma that was entwined with it. "It's sweet -- like..." Opening his eyes, he lookeddd at Natalie, who was watching him with rapt attention. "It's some type of cologne or perfume. The blood scent is all but obscuring it."

"I'll see what I can find out," she assured him.

With a nod of agreement, he rose from his crouch and stepped over to the small pile of evidence bags sitting near Natalie's bag. "Forensics through with these?" Nick asked, gesturing toward the pile.

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah," Nat replied absently, her attention on her notes. Snagging a glove from her satchel, Nick slipped it on, then retrieved the bag holding the victim's personal effects, and removed the wallet.

The detective glanced behind him when he heard muttering approaching, then gazed at Nat when she stood a moment later. He watched her smile at Schanke as the tired detective walked up to stand beside them.

"I would place the time of death at approximately 18 to 24 hours ago," Nat stated, informing both detectives as Nick removed a picture ID from the wallet and placed it in this pocket.

"Can you believe it?" Schanke stated wearily. "The guy that found him says he wouldn't have noticed the body at all if he hadn't stopped to pick up some loose change lying on the ground. Claims the newspaper and trash completely hid the body." Taking a quick breath and exhaling in disgust, he continued. "Man o' man, what's this world comin' to," he complained to Natalie and his partner.

"Just be thankful he was willing to get involved at all," Nick commented, as he dropped the wallet back into the evidence bag and resealed it.

Schanke shook his head and rubbed his hand across his face. Covering a loud yawn, he finished filling them in. "According to the few witnesses that are willing to talk to us, the kid worked at the local bar on the next street over. He was the bouncer. They claim he was an okay guy -- never pushed his weight around unless there was need," Schanke reported as he fought off another yawn.

Glancing from one man to the other, Natalie smiled. "I've got to get going. Stop by in a little while and I'll have more information for you on this case."

Handing the evidence bag to her, Nick replied, "Okay, see you, Nat."

"Talk to you both later..." came drifting back to the partners as they watched her walk toward her car.

"Okay, Natalie," Schanke acknowledged, then turned back to the victim, grumbling softly. "Yeah, if I don't pass out from exhaustion first." The harsh sound of the body bag being zipped closed drew his attention. He felt his fatigue settling heavily through him as he watched the forensics team finish their duties around the crime scene.

"Well, are you up to checking out the bar Schanke, or do you need to call it a night?" Nick teased as he moved to stand next to his partner.

"Yeah, sure Nick. I just love sleeping on my feet," Schanke retorted sarcastically through another noisy yawn.

"Just don't snore. It kinda gives it away."

Schanke made a rude noise in his throat and turned back to the crime scene. Nick watched the fatigue race across his partner's face and regretted the teasing remark. Schanke had every reason to be tired after pulling all the extra shifts lately. With an increase in the number of murders during the last few weeks, everyone was feeling the tension associated with working homicide.

Concern for his partner wove through Nick. Though Schanke could and often did grate on Nick's nerves, he felt a strong friendship for this very human man. Coming to a decision, Nick reached in his pocket for his keys, then placed his hand on Schanke's shoulder. "Schank, it's almost time for you to knock off anyway. Why don't you take the Caddy back to the station and clock out early? I can catch a ride from one of the officers here when I'm ready to leave. Just put the keys in my desk, okay?"

"Yeah? Thanks, Nick; I'm dragging the floor here. You sure you don't need me to hang around?" Schanke smiled. Nick was a good partner, even when he was being the lone wolf of the team.

"It's okay...Go on. I'll see you tomorrow night," Nick insisted.

Nick handed Schanke the keys to the Caddy and watched him walk away. Pulling his attention back to the murder scene, he glanced back at the attendants as they removed the body, then carefully checked over the crime scene. He headed down the alley, looking for any signs of the fight that probably occurred there.

Nick let his sight adjust to the dark shadows that covered the alley as he moved out of the brightly lit murder scene. The hunger surged up again when he caught another whiff of blood. Forcing it down, he began scanning the area, using all the hunting abilities of his vampire nature to track the trail of cold blood that spotted the ground. When he found the spot where the victim had first been assaulted, Nick yelled at the nearest police officer, instructing him to tag the area for forensics.

Nick had walked a short distance down the alley, when he suddenly stopped and began scanning the roofs of the nearby buildings. A vampire was near -- one he had never sensed before. Shaking his head, he decided to let it go for now. If one of the undead had witnessed something, he would eventually hear about it.

He emerged from the alley and crossed the street to the run-down bar wedged between an empty storefront and a boarded up building. There was an old sign mounted just above the door that read, 'Jake's Place'. "Hmmm." Nick pushed on the front door, but it was locked. He wasn't surprised, considering the lack of activity on the street. Flashing blue lights tended to clear out an area pretty fast in this part of town. Hearing a heartbeat inside the bar, the detective beat on the door to draw the occupant's attention. He heard that same someone slowly moving toward the door, so he quietly waited, scanned up and down the street, noting any possible areas of concern.

Nick looked back at the door when it was cracked open and an angry brown eye peeked out at him. Nick held his badge up before the anonymous person had a chance to speak. "Metro Police. I need to speak with you a moment," he informed the human still hidden behind the door.

After a few seconds of hesitation, the door was partially closed and the rattle of the security chain being removed could be heard. Nick stepped into the poorly lit room when the door started to slowly creak open again. He turned toward the person who had let him in.

The man shut the door, then turned away, and dropped the mop he had been holding into a bucket. Rolling it past Nick as he headed toward the bar, the old man asked over his shoulder, "What can I do for ya."

"I'm Detective Knight. I need to ask you a few question, Mister...?" Nick asked, following the older man as he walked toward the lit area of the room. Whoever he was, he was dipping into the assets; the man reeked of whiskey.

"The name's Jake Carter. I own this establishment," the fellow slurred slightly, then began to clean the tables and stack the chairs. He stood about 5'9" tall, with a torn, dirty T-shirt covering his lean torso. Faded jeans and an old pair of military field boots finished off his look. His broken, guttural voice matched his overall appearance.

Nick circled around to stand in front of the man and began to question him about the victim. Pulling the picture ID of Tim Johnston out of his pocket, Nick held it up. "Mr. Carter, do you recognize this young man?"

When the owner didn't look up, Nick nudged him in the shoulder. "Mr. Carter... I need you to look at this photo and tell me if you know him." Nick's voice dropped a notch as he felt his anger rising at the indifference the man was showing.

Carter sighed, then glanced over at the photo Nick was holding. "Yeah, I know him."

"Do you think you could tell me about him?" Nick retorted when it was obvious Carter wasn't going to volunteer any information. He was growing very annoyed with this man. When Carter looked up at him, Nick caught his eyes and applied some old-fashioned vampire hypnosis to get the information he wanted. He wasn't going to waste any more of his time on this person.

"Yeah...I know him. Name's Timothy Johnston. Works here as a bouncer...part time. Tonight was his night off," Carter mindlessly responded as Nick impatiently waited.

"Have there been any problems lately? Anyone giving the kid any trouble or making threats?"

"Nothing ...oh, wait..." Carter drawled. "Late last week, new guy came on to him...Tim busted him good. The fucker said he was comin' back to get him."

"What's this guy look like?"

"Bout 6 feet, brown hair, medium build, mustache, jeans and T-shirt."

The detective considered what Carter had said. "What time did Timothy leave last night, Mr. Carter?"

"About 3:30. Slow crowd...Let him go...a half hour early," Carter replied. The vampire relaxed his mental, then reached over, and caught the grimy bartender as he stumbled slightly. "Wwwhat happened?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Perhaps you ought to sit down for a few minutes, Mr. Carter." He eased the unsteady man into a nearby chair. Turning to go, Nick hesitated, then glanced back at the bar owner, who was dragging a dirty sleeve across his face. "I would suggest you lay off the booze tonight, Mr. Carter. You've obviously had enough," he remarked as he headed out the door. Stepping into the shadows, Nick checked for any observers on the quiet street, then leaped into the air.

He pulled his wallet out and removed the spare ignition key that was tucked inside. Smiling, he shook his head at the circumstances that had convinced him to start carrying a spare key. Rode Schanke for a week about him forgetting to leave my keys in the car, he thought, with a growing smile. "I can't pick them up if he's got them in his pocket, that's for sure," he muttered to no one, still smiling at the memory.

Swinging the car door open, he slid behind the wheel, started the car, and eased the green Cadillac into the light early morning traffic, heading for the Coroner's Office.

To Chapter 2

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