Page 8 of Taste of Blood
“Just give me some information. You notice anyone suddenly disappearing around here lately?”
He shrugs. “People disappear all the time.”
“I’m talking regulars.”
“You a cop?”
“No. Just someone trying to help. I heard a rumor that some of the people who work around here have vanished without warning.”
He grins humorously. “No one I know has disappeared, but we’re not exactly valuable commodities, now are we?”
I know there are underground blood dens run off the books. Dante’s tried to weed them out before, but they tend to pop up every now and then. If the organizers get caught, it can mean a death sentence, depending on how generous my boss is feeling.
Not that there aren’t sanctioned blood dens, because, just like human brothels, there are. Other than the high class ones only the rich can afford, the Crimson Guild operates several cheaper ones. Regardless of who’s running them, humans who work there are vetted and compensated. No one is pulled off the street against their will.
This could just be a simple case of human trafficking, which is frankly none of my business. Although, after what Luca said about the men he saw, I doubt it. Maybe I should bring it to Dante’s attention, have him put a couple of guys on it, though I’d have to find a way to do it without implicating Luca. The last thing I want is to put him on my boss’s radar.
“That all?” the homeless kid asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I glance down at the holes in the toes of his shoes and pull another twenty out of my wallet. It may have been a long time ago, but I remember what it was like to do without. “Here. Go buy yourself a pair of shoes.”
“You’re kidding, right?” he scoffs. “This won’t buy shoes these days.”
“It will at the thrift store, you little ingrate.”
He shoves the money in his pocket and settles back in the doorway, dismissing me. I cross the street and find the coffee shop Luca mentioned, ordering an espresso and grabbing a seat by the window. It’s just after nine, so I have a little bit of a wait, which will give me time to get a feel for the rhythm of the place.
Though he’s no longer that skinny, frightened kid I encountered four years ago, I recognize Luca as soon as he walksin. He’s grown about half a foot, matured in the face, though he’s still on the thin side. He picks up a coffee then joins me at the table. I noticed he seems jumpy as he tears open and dumps two packets of sugar in the cup before finally speaking.
“Thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure…I mean, I figured you’d have more important things–”
“Hey, I told you to call me if you needed me,” I interrupt his nervous rambling. “Tell me more about what’s going on.”
He runs a hand back through his dark hair and bites his lip. “It started about three weeks ago. First it was Ronnie. Fine one day then didn’t show up for work the next. My boss, Angelo, figured maybe he was sick, though Ronnie had never missed a shift in the two years he worked there.”
He looks around like he’s afraid someone is listening, then takes a sip of his coffee. “He gave it a day then sent his son over to Ronnie’s place, but there was no answer when he knocked. A couple of days later, same thing happened to another server, Mikey. That’s when I started noticing these two guys hanging around.”
“Where were they?”
“Mostly in the alley behind the restaurant. I’d see them when I took out the trash.”
“Did they approach you?”
He shakes his head. “No. They just sort of were loitering there, like they were waiting for someone. When they weren’t looking one night, I snapped a picture with my phone.”
He pulls it out and thumbs to the image, shoving it across the table. I don’t recognize either of them, but they look like bad news.
“I remembered the things you told me to watch for. It’s them, isn’t it?”
I shrug, handing him back the phone. “Send me that picture.” When I get the text, I save the image then attach it in a text to Dante.
Are these guys yours?
I don’t expect him to answer right away–he probably had a late night–but he’ll get back to me as soon as he wakes up. He knows I wouldn’t reach out to him unless it was important.
“How many people have disappeared so far?” I ask Luca.
“Three from our restaurant, and two others from Nicko’s down the street. My, um, friend works there. The rest of us don’t go out alone anymore.”
