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Dolph reached into his pocket and got out his ever-present notebook. “She’s been identified as one Charlene Morresey, twenty-two, works as a stripper-worked, as a stripper. Yes, she did smoke, but she told one of the other girls she was going outside for a breath of fresh air.”
“We know she probably didn’t know the vamps.”
“How so?”
“She came out to get some air, not to visit.”
He nodded and made a note. “There’s no sign of a struggle, yet.
It’s like she came out here for air and just walked over there with them. She wouldn’t do that for strangers.”
“If she was under mind control, she would.”
“So one of our vamps is an old one.” Dolph was still making notes.
“Not necessarily old, but powerful, and that usually means old.” I thought about it. “Someone with good mind control powers-that I’m sure of-age,” I shrugged, “I don’t know, yet.”
He was still writing in his notebook.
“Now, can I move the Dumpster and move the body around, or do you still need the techies to get back in there and do their thing first?”
“I had them wait for you,” he said without looking up from his writing.
I looked at him, tried to learn something from his face, but he was all concentration and business. It was a step up that he’d had the techs wait for me. And that he’d called me at all. Before his time off, he’d tried to get me barred from crime scenes. It was a step up, so why was I still wondering if Dolph was capable of letting his personal life go long enough to solve this case? Because, once you’ve seen someone you trusted lose it completely, you never truly trust them again, not completely.