Stacy: The vampire

Abrax tried to hold back, but it was impossible not to laugh—Steven really didn't look his best.

"Try showing your badge, man."

"They should respect me! I'm trying to protect them!" Steven said indignantly.

Abrax laughed even more.

As they approached a less crowded corner, a blonde woman with enormous breasts and a mini skirt walked past Abrax and said,

"Hey, handsome, are you lost? I can help you!"

Abrax was a good-looking guy—actually, very good-looking. He smiled and turned on the charm:

"You sure can, but I think this matter isn't really for you. Tell me, fair maiden, who takes care of you?"

The woman's eyes widened, and she answered, clearly offended:

"No one takes care of me—I take care of myself! You're not from around here. Guys like you don't hang around guys like him," she said, pointing suspiciously at Steven.

"You must be cops. I'm out of here before you arrest me."

Adam was quick:

"Did you know Dahlia?"

The woman stopped and looked back.

"You're here because of her? Because of what happened to her?"

"Yes, that's why we're here. We want to know where Mack Del Rio is. Can you help us?"

The woman stared at them for a moment. Then Steven showed his badge. She took it, ran her fingers over it, and then said,

"He stays in that building—the tacky blue one." She pointed to a rundown building at the end of the street.

"Dahlia was nice. We weren't close friends, but she was nice. Lock that piece of trash up. Hell, he can die in prison for all I care."

The two detectives approached the building quietly. From the glass of the entrance door, they couldn't see anything inside.

They rang the doorbell, and after some time, a huge, tattooed man answered.

"What do you want?"

"We want to talk to your boss. Preferably right now," Steven said, steady as ever.

The man didn't try to stop them—he let them in. The place reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Farther inside, in a room with an open door, stood a man.

He wore a moss-green velvet suit. He was tall and skinny, smoking an enormous pipe. His scruffy red beard matched his hair, but it was clearly dyed. He wore purple-tinted sunglasses and a beret the same color as his suit.

"He looks like he walked straight out of Slavic folklore," Adam muttered in awe.

"Or straight out of hell. Who knows," Steven replied.

The man was talking on a brick-sized cell phone. When he saw the detectives, he gave a wide, yellow-toothed smile, said his goodbyes, and spoke:

"Well, well, look who we have here—my cop friends."

Adam and Steven shrugged and stepped forward.

"So, you're the famous Mack Del Rio. We've heard a lot about you," Steven said sarcastically, and Adam caught on to his tone.

"Famous? Me? Oh no, I'm just a humble worker, just like you," Mack said with a smug grin.

"Well, I wouldn't call selling other people's pussies a job, but who am I to say what is and isn't work, right?" Steven shot back.

"Make it quick, officer. What do you want to know? I didn't do anything, I'll tell you that right now," Mack said, raising his hands in a mocking gesture.

"That's for the police to decide. And right now, my friend, you're in deep trouble. A body was found yesterday in the garden of Saint Junipero. Witnesses say they saw you with the victim a week ago—you beat her so badly she lost her tongue. I guess hitting a defenseless woman wasn't enough for you. You had to come back and finish the job. Then you dumped her in that garden. Was it remorse? Did you think someone from the church would save her?"

Mack's grin, as yellow as gold, instantly disappeared.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, officer."

Steven then threw a picture of Dahlia onto the table and asked,

"Are you sure? I have witnesses who can place you with the victim. It won't be hard to find others who saw your car near the church. Come on, Mack, tell the truth. Maybe you didn't mean to kill her, right, Adam?"

"Yeah, maybe," Adam chimed in, playing along. "Maybe our dear Mack here just wanted to scare the girl, and things got out of hand. Accidents happen, don't they, Steven?"

"Of course. Maybe she was being a real pain in the ass, and you tried to teach her a lesson. But you went too far. You regretted it, so you left her in the church garden. That was nice of you—you knew she'd be found, that someone would call for help," Steven added.

Mack forced a smile, but his eyes were welling up, like a volcano ready to erupt.

"Come on, Mack. This girl deserves closure. You know we're not leaving here without it," Abrax said.

For a brief second, Adam analyzed Mack's exaggerated expression. He was good at this—reading faces. He could often tell where the truth ended and the lies began.

Mack Del Rio was telling the truth—but he was also lying.

"You know what I think? I think you should come with us to the station. We can talk better there," Steven said.

Mack's smile faded, and his voice, once smooth and slippery, became firm:

"I'm not going anywhere. And if I were you, cops, I'd get the hell out of here."

"In that case, I'm going to have to cuff you and take you by force," Steven said.

"You can try, officer. I doubt you'll succeed," Mack replied, bringing his finger to his lips and letting out a sharp whistle.

Immediately, the huge man who had answered the door entered the office. Not just him—another one, who looked like his twin.

Steven didn't have time to pull his gun before one of the brutes slammed him against the wall. Adam was luckier—he headbutted the other one, knocking him down, and quickly pinned him with his gun.

"Looks like we're at a standoff, huh, boys?" Mack said, then added, "Meet the Hammer brothers. Generally, they're adorable, but they don't like it when someone tries to arrest me."

"If your lapdog doesn't let go of my partner, I'll blow his brother's brains out right here in front of you," Adam said, his voice full of menace.