Werewolves Don't Wear Cowboy Boots

Chapter 9: "Why yes, Deputy Blaser, vampires are real"

"If this is a ridiculous scheme to ask me on a date-" Bridget said as she climbed into James' truck.

He looked affronted at the very idea, and gave a shake of his head as he put the truck into gear. "It's a lot more important than that, I think. Do you mind if you show me how to get to the party house?"

Bridget gave a slight shrug. "I can try."

"Great." James tapped the steering wheel for a moment or two and then looked at her with a small smile. "Also ... I don't have to scheme to ask you anywhere. You already asked me." He reached over and turned up the volume on the classic rock playing on his radio today.

They said little enough on their drive. Bridget found the landscape entirely unfamiliar in the light of day, and she struggled to backtrack the path she'd walked from the house to the convenience store. Finally, a creepy statue of a boy with a dog stood out amid the all-too-similar brick houses, and soon enough she pointed up the street to a two-story house with harsh lines and large windows. "It was that one, I think."

James drove by slowly, glancing at the address. "Bridget .... Are you sure about that?"

She sent him her most annoyed look. "Do you want me to call Kenzie and ask-"

"No." He gave a quick shake of the head and pulled to a stop on the side of the road, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth as if deep in thought. "There's a poster for a missing girl, and one of the last places anyone saw her was at that house at the same party you were at."

Bridget glanced back uncertainly. "Do you think we should be sitting almost right in front of it, then?"

James considered and then shook his head. "No, probably not." As he put his truck into gear, a neighbor walked by on the sidewalk and James raised two fingers off the steering wheel in a wave.

"What are you doing?" Bridget hissed, trying her best not to stare at the stranger as they drove toward the stop sign at the end of the block.

"Waving," James said calmly. "I didn't want to think we were suspicious. I think we should go to the police. I have the name of the deputy I talked to, and you could talk to him and-"

"No." Bridget said firmly, glancing behind them as if she were afraid a pack of vampires might be following. "I'll not be talking to any police."

James glanced at her, then shook his head and said nothing until he'd parked the truck next to a tiny little park with a gazebo. "You said you saw blood all over a bathroom." Bridget motioned as if to say, 'And?' So he went on. "You see blood, and then a vampire tracks you down and tells you that you've seen too much, right? And then we find out a girl just happened to go missing after she went to that party? Bridget, they must've killed her. Now her family is worried, and you have information that could help."

She'd crossed her arms as he made his speech, and when he was done she shook her head stubbornly, her red ponytail dancing back and forth. "And if you tell them?"

"Well, then they-"

"Then," she cut in, waving a hand to motion for him to be quiet, "you send police officers into what might be a den of vampires. Do you think they train for vampires? How do you think that would go? Or," she was picking up steam now and leaned toward him, "do you think we should tell them first? Do you think they'll take a couple of teenagers seriously when we walk into the police station and explain to them that vampires are real?"

She looked quite smug as she sat back against the door and waited for James to respond. He kept a grudging sort of silence for a moment or two, then sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Right. Fair point. So what do we do, then? We can't do nothing. I mean, I'm no detective, but I kind of looked into some missing persons cases, and I wonder if she's not the only one. She's the first one from around here, but there have been some others that are from just far enough away that people might just say, 'Oh, just another runaway,' but close enough that it would just be a day trip for any vampires living in the area. And then there's the livestock issue. There were some chickens killed not long ago, and it could have just been a big cat or something, but what if it's them? Like maybe when they can't get to people, they feed on livestock instead?" He gave Bridget an odd look as she tensed up. "What's wrong? You haven't had any problems, have you?"

She gave a quick shake of the head. "What? No. We don't have chickens."

"Oh, right. You just ... anyway, I just mean we should do something." He leaned back against the seat, slumping down with a downtrodden expression.

Bridget watched him, then said, "I might know someone who can give us some ideas." She fished her phone out of her pocket and thought, 'Maybe he'll even take me seriously this time,' as she dialed and waited for an answer.

"Murphy's Garage," said an infuriatingly cocky voice on the other end of the line.

She blew out an annoyed breath and pulled a piece of loose string on her pants. "It's Bridget, Rory. Where's Bran?"

"Out," Rory said simply, a smirk in his voice. "How's that hunter boyfriend of yours?"

"He is not-" Bridget's eyes flicked to James, and she took a breath and began again. "Don't ask about things that are none of your business. I need to talk to Bran. It's important."

"Mhmmm. I'll be sure to let him know."

"Rory..." She put a note of warning in her voice as she heard clanging in the background.

"What's that love? Hard to hear you just now. I'll tell O'Neill you called."

"Rory, don't you dare-" And then the line went dead, and Bridget tossed the phone down with a growl.

James lifted one eyebrow and watched her with an expression both amused and cautious. "So ... that didn't go very well?"

******

Note: So maybe Mondays are my new days to post things?