Not Mansano, Cantillo, Campbell, or even Carter. Just Detective Anderson, the man who had interviewed Zeke, treating him as a suspect. Lying bastard. He had met his share, but it was worse, as his fate hung in the balance, not something as trivial as a deadline.

Red clouded his vision.

Had he taken his meds? Before leaving his parent's apartment, he remembered popping a pill into his mouth. It could've been the day before...

Just to be sure, he took the bottle from his pocket. Getting the cap off took some work with his shaky hands, but he finally did it.

After dry-swallowing a capsule, Zeke paced Carter's living room in circles, like a dog. He worked over the details, connecting pieces here and there where he could.

He imagined his handy dandy note-cards in front of him, and he shuffled through them, placing clues next to each other where they made sense.

Based on Carter's notes, she had seen or known that Anderson was at the 1905 address. The building was run-down, inviting derelicts, not detectives, not unless they were making an arrest. Her notes indicated no such thing, but Zeke couldn't rule it out, either.

That arrest scenario would make more sense had Carter's car not been found at 1905. Too much of a bad coincidence. Not like good coincidences existed, anyhow. Carter must have stumbled upon some of Anderson's dirty dealings, followed up on a tip, and died for her troubles.

However, that still didn't explain her re-appearing act.

Zeke plopped into the computer chair, wishing the computer was still around. Then he could look up the funeral details and know if it was her running around Tampa, or a vamp twin. Was Carter cremated? Buried?

It was something Raffi could easily find out. Suddenly, he missed her. Then he considered how she fit into everything. Campbell he understood to be a flunky, but it wasn't clear if his cousin was innocent, or pulling all the strings. But, family was family. He was convinced Raffi knew that.

"Could you be any dumber?"