The Dark Sire Issue 2 (Winter 2019) | Page 77

“Yes, you’re free to search the room if you’d like.” I walked over to the open French window and peered down on the crowd that had formed in front of the hotel, the cause of all the city noise and bustling that awoke me from my slumber. Three cop cars formed a circle, yellow tape had been posted, and crowd control was pushing onlookers back. The smell of blood was on the air, as was death. “Mr. Kade, can you come away from the window, please?” “Of course. I was wondering what the commotion was. My apologies.” I closed the window and sat in the dove gray armchair next to the bed. “Did you hear anything last night or see anything this morning? Anything at all?” “No, sir. I was back to the hotel by ten, latest, and went to bed shortly thereafter. I didn’t wake for the day until I heard the sirens outside, and you knocking at my door.” “I see,” he said as he wrote in his notebook. “Do you have a number that we can reach you at, Mr. Kade?” “It’s an out-of-state number.” “I expected so. Where are you from and what brings you to New Haven?” “I’m a doctor in L.A.” I gently stood – careful of my movement as Detective Syke’s eyes bore down on me – and picked up a silver monogrammed business card holder with my initials. “My card.” 75