Time of Death by J. D. Robb Page B

substantial bribe. “Well, if we got the DNA in the system, I can find it for you.”
    “I did a standard search, crapped out.”
    “Global?”
    “Yeah, do I look like this is my first day on the job? But I didn’t run deceased.”
    “Blood from a corpse? How’s that going to end up in some mope’s veins?”
    “Not in his veins, in a damn vial he palmed off on me. Can you do a global search, deceased donor?”
    “Sure.”
    “How fast?”
    He wiggled his spidery fingers. “Watch and learn.”
    He went back to his station, the long white counter with comps and screens and command centers. Sliding back and forth on his stool, he began to work—verbal orders, manual keys.
    While he ran the searches, Eve drew out her ’link and tried Feeney.
    Her old partner and the captain of EDD popped on her screen. He had a Danish in one hand, and a mouth full of the hefty bite missing from it. “Yo.”
    “Roarke’s on his way in. Put him to work. I’ve got a ’link trans, voice mail, from a vic while she was being attacked. Lost the trans almost as soon. It’s dark, it’s jumpy, but if you can clean it up, I might burn this bastard quick.”
    “Take a look.” He swallowed. “This your vampire?”
    “Come on.”
    “Hey, before your time I took down this asshole who was grave robbing, then sewing body parts together. Thought he could make himself a Frankenstein. Weird shit happens. He take another one?”
    “Yeah, early this morning.”
    Contemplatively, Feeney took another bite of Danish. “McNab said he pulled out a syringe and gave you blood right on the spot.”
    “Yeah. There was a screwup there. Looks like mine. I’ll fill you in later. Anything you can do on the trans, Feeney, I’d appreciate.”
    “Your man gets here, we’ll do some magic. Meanwhile, you go up against this guy, wouldn’t hurt to take a cross along.” He lifted his eyebrows when she just stared at him. “Kid, weird shit happens because people are fucking crazy.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    She clicked off just as Berenski made a sound of victory. “Got your blood. And I’m forced to say, ‘Damn good call, Dallas.’”
    “I’m forced to say, ‘Damn fast work.’”
    “I’m the best. Pensky, Gregor.” He tapped the ID picture on his screen.
    Square face, Eve noted. Small eyes, pinched mouth. The data put him at two-ten and six-one, with a long sheet of violent crimes.
    It also listed him as dead for nearly a year.
    “How’d he get to be a corpse?” Eve demanded.
    “Son of a bitch.” Berenski pursed his thin lips. “Been running DNA on a DB.” He called for the data.
    “Body found in the woods in freaking Bulgaria, where it was believed he headed after escaping from a work program on his latest visit to their version of the State Pen.” Eve shook her head. “Work program for a guy with this kind of sheet. Bludgeoned, partially dismembered, and how about this, exsanguinated. Peabody, let’s get the full ME’s report on this. I’m betting among his other injuries, there were a couple of puncture wounds in his throat.”
    “This vampire shit’s creepy.”
    Eve glanced at Berenski. “It would be, if vampires existed. What happened to science?”
    He jutted out what he called a chin. “You got science, you got the para side of it. I’d be sharpening stakes if I were you, Dallas.”
    “Yeah, that’s on my list.”
    “Really?” Peabody asked when they got back into the car.
    “Really what?”
    “The stake-sharpening detail.”
    “Peabody, you’re making my eye twitch.”
    “I know it’s out there, but you have to consider all the information. Blood from a corpse. Vampires are corpses, essentially. No trace of Vadim on the first vic, scientifically at this point in time.”
    “Because he switched the fucking vials.”
    “Okay, okay.” Peabody held up both hands, palms out. “But if you bought into the vampire lore, he could’ve sired this Pensky guy, then—”
    “Then his body wouldn’t have