Bloodlines by Dinah McCall Page B

looked away, assuming it was a delivery gone bad, just as Foster hoped.
    Once he was out on the street, he discarded the box and lengthened his stride. He stopped once at a corner drugstore, exiting shortly carrying a small sack, then proceeded a few blocks farther before checking into another hotel.
    The desk clerk was an obese female of indeterminate age, who eyed Foster curiously. He stared back, morbidly fascinated by the faint green tinge to her hair and the number of fleshy folds in her face as he counted out the money for another room. She took the money without comment and handed him a key. Again, he had only paid by the night. If nothing else went wrong, he should have his money in a couple of days and be long gone.
    Â 
    Trey finished reporting to Lieutenant Warren, but his anger was obvious as he went back to his desk.
    Chia Rodriguez was finishing a report when Trey slumped into his chair, then rubbed his face with his hands, as if trying to scrub away something foul.
    â€œHey, Trey, what’s up?”
    â€œToday I hate my job,” he said shortly, then got up from the chair as quickly as he’d sat down, grabbing his coffee cup as he went.
    Chia followed him to the break room.
    â€œIs it the Sealy case?”
    He nodded.
    She sighed. “God. I can’t imagine something likethat happening to one of my kids. I look at them every night and pray that I’ll be able to keep them safe long enough to grow up.” Then she grimaced. “Then there are the nights when I’m afraid to close my eyes for fear they’ll disappear when I’m not looking. On those nights, I sleep on the floor outside their door.” Then she laughed weakly. “Pretty crazy, huh?”
    Trey put down his cup and turned around.
    â€œDamn, Chia, that’s scary. You’d be a good spokes-person for birth control.” He turned away again.
    She pulled a face, then made a big deal out of leering at his backside to make up for the fact that she’d just shared something personal with him.
    â€œNow, Bonney, you know how women are. PMS and shit like that gets us all crazy sometimes for no reason. Besides, with buns like yours, it would be a crime to the human race not to pass them on.”
    He grinned because she needed him to, but he didn’t feel like smiling. Truth was, he could identify with her fears and had an overwhelming urge to hug her, but she wouldn’t like it and everyone else would take it the wrong way, so he let the notion slide.
    Thankful that Trey was letting her change the subject without comment, she poured him a cup of coffee, then topped off her cup.
    â€œHere, stud…drink up. Caffeine always makes the world a little easier to bear.”
    â€œFrom your lips to God’s ear,” Trey muttered, then lifted his cup in a toast before taking a sip, after which he made a face. “This stuff is terrible.”
    Chia reached in front of him, snagged the last doughnut from a plate, broke it in half and handed one piece to him.
    â€œThat’s what these are for,” she said.
    Trey eyed the dried-out pastry, then shrugged and dunked it into the dark, greasy-looking brew as Chia took hers and swaggered back to her desk.
    Trey ate the doughnut without tasting it and took the coffee like medicine. He would need all the fortification he could get to make it through the next day and get the Sealys to the lab. Then he thought about the notes he’d taken from Marcus and pulled them out. He didn’t know what time it was in Milan, but he was going to try the number that Marcus had given him for Terrence Sealy.
    Back at his desk, he dialed, then picked up a pen and began doodling on a notepad as the phone started to ring. He counted the rings up to seven and was about to hang up when a woman answered in a breathless voice.
    â€œCiao.”
    Trey frowned, frustrated that he hadn’t counted on the language barrier.
    â€œIs this the Terrence Sealy