Part 15

Charlie’s truck reeked of stale cigarettes, garlic, and old coffee. The stench slammed Bounds in the face as he got into the passenger’s seat, a more effective wake-up than any alarm clock.

“Stop honking the damn horn! You want to wake up the whole street?” Charlie raised a dark eyebrow, her eyes as bruised black as the night before. At least they weren’t any darker, thought Danny.

“Sleep well?” she asked, a cigarette dangling unlit between her chapped lips. Her eyes roamed over his outfit, but she finally pulled up off the horn. The silence was like a shot.

“Like a baby,” he said, not pointing out that babies rarely slept the night through.

“Are you wearing a turtleneck?” she asked. Bounds felt there was no right way to answer this question. He just didn’t have a lot of black clothing in his wardrobe. He was still wondering how he’d explain painting his white sneakers black to Joan. At least he’d found an old pair of black slacks that still fit. Charlie snorted once, but the sound held no contempt.

“You’ll do,” she said, hitting the dashboard lighter and gunning the engine. Her own outfit was built for cover: black hiking boots, black pants of an indeterminate material, black tank top, and the eternal leather jacket. She even had a black snowcap covering her bleached hair and black fingerless gloves on her hands.

“Nice outfit,” said Bounds, forgetting his vow to Joan about being friendly. Charlie lit her cigarette and leaned close to his face, breathing deep. Bounds saw familiar houses flashing by at an alarming speed. Then he realized Charlie was sniffing him.

“You didn’t eat enough garlic,” said Charlie, steering with one hand, fumbling with the glove compartment with the other, and squinting against the smoke filling the car. Bounds tightened his seatbelt.

“You’re speeding,” he said. Charlie smacked the glove compartment with her fist. It fell open, scattering bulbs of fresh garlic across Bounds’ lap.

“I told you to eat garlic,” she said as if he hadn’t spoken. “What part of that did you have trouble with?” There was a moment, when Charlie took both hands off the steering while to unpeel a clove of garlic, in which Danny saw his entire life flash before his eyes.

“Could you maybe slow down, please?” he asked, his voice high.  Charlie made a disgusted noise, but eased up off the gas a little. Danny stopped bracing his legs against the floor of the car.

“You said please,” she explained in response to his surprised expression. She tossed the clumsily peeled bulb into his lap. “Eat that.”

Bounds was fairly certain that no other potential Chief of Police was forced to eat garlic at dawn while being driven around town in the stinking car of a certifiable maniac.

“I already ate three spoonfuls of garlic powder,” he protested. He didn’t feel the need to mention he’d felt like a complete ass standing in his kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, dressed like a thrift-store cat burglar and choking down the gritty crap.

“Doesn’t work,” said Charlie. “Tried it. You need fresh garlic. A lot. Eat it, or I can’t bring you with me.”

Some people love eating raw garlic. They snack on it with gusto, much to the horror of their loved ones. Daniel Bounds was not one of those people. It was worse than the powder, and a bad way to start an already unpleasant day.

“Where are we going?” he asked, once he’d forced down the last crunchy bite.

“The entrance to the sewer system is on the edge of town,” said Charlie.

“Do you have any water?” asked Bounds, trying to swallow around the taste of garlic. Why did he always end up feeling sick when Charlie was around?

“No,” said Charlie, tossing the butt of her cigarette out the window. “What do you know about vampires?”

“Besides the fact that they don’t exist?” Bounds really felt sick. He was also fairly certain that vomiting in front of Charlie again wouldn’t improve their working relationship. He rolled down the window, breathing in the crisp morning air. Bound watched the last few houses pass by, giving way to large open fields dotted with horses. The sun was peeking over the ridge that gave the town its name. It was going to be a beautiful day.

“What a helpful and constructive answer,” said Charlie, ignoring the lovely scenery as she plowed past it. “Danny, trust me when I say that I am even less thrilled by this turn of events than you are.” Bounds found this harder to swallow than the garlic. “However, I tend to give Foster the benefit of the doubt, for my own reasons. He’s hell-bent on you succeeding him. And as I have no say in the matter, I’m going to trust his judgment.”

She lit another cigarette. The smell made the garlic taste worse. “You are my responsibility for the duration of this excursion. I know you don’t like me. I can’t say I care. You still have to listen to me. Otherwise, there is a very good chance that you will die today. And that would complicate my life in ways I don’t need.”

Despite his developing theory that someone had been dosing the town’s water supply with acid, Charlie’s words made Bounds nervous. She spoke with such utter conviction. She believed what she was saying. She believed that they were doing dangerous work involving vampires. The Chief believed her. And Bounds wasn’t ready to write his mentor off as senile just yet.

“I know the usual stuff,” he said, shifting in his seat. The car really was filthy. “I’ve never been much into scary movies.” Charlie shielded her eyes from the morning sun, sudden and fierce, and the curve of her lips was satisfied and weirdly sensual in the glowing light.

“You don’t know shit, Bounds,” she said, and Bounds would have bet his house she’d been waiting all morning to say that.