Dan turned and looked straight into the blue eyes of the man who had been his mentor at work for the past eight years. The man he trusted as his friend. Ron was a laid back, gentle guy. This was the first time Dan had ever seen such stern resolve in those normally carefree blue eyes.  He suddenly felt a spark of his old self and a buzz in his pocket. 

“If it’s Weller don’t answer,” Ron said.

“Its Detective Martinez, I don’t remember putting her number in my phone…. “

“Put her on speaker,” Ron said. 

“This is Dan….”

“Mr. Okada, I’m at Sean O’Rourke’s apartment. How fast can you get to Beacon Hill?”

“Ten minutes.”

Detective Martinez was already sitting in Sean’s brown leather recliner with her feet on his matching ottoman when they arrived. She sipped her latte and looked right through them. 

“Do you know what we found when my team searched this apartment?” She asked.

They both looked at each other and kept their mouths shut.

“Not a damn thing!”

They both relaxed their shoulders.

She jetted out of the chair and moved toward them, picking up what looked like another journal from the glass top coffee table. She shoved the journal into Dan’s chest.

“Open it and read the first damn sentence.”

Dan knew not to mess with her. He looked at the inside front cover. It was another of Henry Cahill’s journals.

“August 26, 1996. Boston Gazette reporter Sarah Devers has been missing since Saturday. She was last seen at a local Vampire themed club called, Rouge where she was investigating the Vampire cult scene.”

“What is with you people and this vampire obsession?” She asked. 

“So you found nothing about embezzlement?” Ron asked.

“Bingo, where is the damn money?”

Dan just shook his head.

“Sean had nothing to do with this. Why don’t you investigate that prick, Weller?”

A huge grin swept across her face. 

“If you want to help your friend, you should help me.”

“What can we do?” Ron asked.

“Get me access to Weller’s computer. I’m guessing he has two sets of books.”

Dylan tried to focus as snow flakes fell on the windshield.

“How is our friend,” he asked the old man in the passenger seat.

Elia looked back. “He’s sleeping. We have another four hours before the wolfsbane wears off. But we will need to give him another dose before he gets on the plane.”

Dylan looked back at the snowy road ahead. A cold jolt of electricity went up his spine.

“Something is wrong,” he said.

“I feel it too. Could it be him? Is it Wilhelm?”

They both looked straight ahead toward a man in dark clothes with blonde hair walking toward them.

“Oh fuck it’s him,” Dylan said as he sped up.

“You can’t run him over he will stop us…”

Wilhelm put his right hand forward, the force of his power hit the SUV head on.

Dylan was losing control on the car. He felt it lift off the ground and roll over. The air bag exploded onto his chest as the vehicle slid sideways on its roof crashing into the White Pines on the side of the road.

He looked over at Elia who was out cold with blood streaming down his left cheek from a gash in his head. He had to move fast. The driver’s side door was sealed against a huge pine. He ripped off his seat belt and jumped into the back seat stepping on their sedated guest who was unshaken by the accident. He threw off the right back passenger door and sped out. He picked up the door and threw it at Wilhelm, who was now only three hundred feet away. He ducked and kept coming.

“Is that all you got, vampire? Hand over the O’Rourke boy and I will let your magician live.”

“Elia has always had a death wish so you can kill him.”

Wilhelm stopped. Dylan smirked when he saw the puzzled look on his face. He looked straight through his adversary’s cold gray blue eyes. Nothing, nothing in there, still, just like in Munich.