Chapter Twenty-Eight

Topside: La Mesa, San Diego, five days later, December 30th

The front door of apartment6D started to open…

John Waterson shoulder-rammed himself the rest of the way inside, sending Ria stumbling back with a sharp gasp.

He slammed the door shut behind him. "You really should check your peephole before you open the door," he grated between his teeth, the rage he'd been nurturing for a month adding a scratchy menace to his voice. "You never know who might be lurking outside."

"I did check. I just figured I needed to get this over with," Ria said forlornly. "I knew you'd come for me sometime."

"Yeah, well, where the hell have you been?" he demanded. He fucking hated stakeouts, and being forced to watch Ria's apartment building on personal time had only fueled his vile mood.

"Oklahoma," Ria answered. "I took my sister home to my parents, then stayed for the holidays."

That's right, abracadabra, the Mendoza case had been solved by Elsa's miraculous return. No ransom given over, no explanations offered from the kidnappers, just—zam!—Elsa stork-dropped back onto Ria's doorstep. Sure. Anyone who believed there wasn't more to the case than that, John had some beachfront property in Florida to sell them. Real cheap.

"I'm sorry about what I did to you, John," Ria said, giving him a pleading look. "But I didn't have a choice! The man who kidnapped my sister made me."

The man in question was the sociopath with the scar on his lip who'd abducted Kendra Mawbry six months ago the night John had been shot. SDPD had acquired a description of the perp from Elsa upon her return, although clearly Ria had always known who the bad guy was. Thanks for nothing, angel face.

"Your blood was Elsa's ransom," Ria continued. "My sister's kidnapper said he'd r-rape and kill Elsa if I didn't get him a pint of your blood."

John froze. "What…? You mean specifically my blood?"

Ria nodded. "I overheard him talking to one of his men about it, and I guess there's something in your blood he wants. Needs. Some…element."

John took a quick step back as his heart ground to a shuddering halt. The night he'd been in the hospital after being shot, Dr. Edward Sevilli had approached John with the results of a blood test. A strange element popped up in your blood work, John…nothing identifiable as strictly human. John had been trying to convince himself this "element" was a mistake, but now here it was again.

A swallow worked its way down his throat. How in the world had Scar Lip known about John's so-called inhuman element? And what did he need it for? Shit, the maniac must know what it was! "What is it?" he growled at Ria. "What's in my blood?"

"I don't—"

She let out a squeak when he snatched her up by the arms. "What's the element?" he yelled, shaking her. Finally a chance to get some answers! "Tell me!"

"I don't know," she cried out, her face draining of color. "I really don't, John, I swear!"

He released her and jerked around, forcing several deep breaths that seemed to quake his lungs on the way in and out. "Dammit," he hissed. On top of his physical decay, now he was starting to lose it upstairs. He dragged an unsteady hand through his hair. Jesus H. Christ in a hot house, once again this case was back to blood. He had to get this figured out before he actually did go certifiable.

It was time to contact his mother.