Fiction World of Darkness: Attrition - Lost to the Night - Part 3: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (complete)

[Sam Spaid]

Monday August 22nd

From Tuna Canyon Sam drove toward the city, her phone cradled on her shoulder as she called her client. "Hi, August, it's Sam."

"Hi Sam, how are things going?" August sounded a little stressed.

"Good, well, OK. Listen I was hoping you had a little time, I'd like to stop by and get that photo of Brad. I want to be able to show it around while I talk to people."

"Umm, sure. When?"

"I'm up in Malibu, so maybe an hour or so? Where should I meet you?"

"Do you know the Trader Joe's on Glendon Ave?" Sam replied in the affermative. "There's a sub place next door, Jersey Mike's. I'll meet you there."

"That sounds perfect, I could use some lunch anyways. See you soon." Sam hung up and turned out onto the PCH headed east toward LA proper. The drive took about forty minutes and parking another ten but thankfully she was able to locate a space between the campus and the sub shop.

Sam walked into Jersey Mike's Subs her stomach already starting to rumble; breakfast had been a hasty half bagel and that was nearly six hours ago. She quickly got into line, ordered a turkey wrap, despite really wanting a Big Kahuna Cheese-steak, and a bottle of water that proved foolishly expensive. "Three bucks for a water," she muttered as she sat down, irritated. She took a bite out of the wrap and was glad it tasted good, settling for a low fat, no cheese, diet option was good for her waistline, but bad for her tastebuds. What I wouldn't do for a good piece of pie.

[z-August Turner]

August came in not long after Sam, bypassing the counter entirely. She did give it a longing glance before taking the seat across from the private investigator. She already had the picture in her hand, a print off from the color printers in the library that had cost her a dollar. With a smile, she asked, "Hey, Sam, how are you?"

"Good, thanks," the woman said, taking another bite. After she'd cleared her mouth, she said, "You aren't going to have anything?"

"Nah, I ate at home." Ah, that was universal college-speak for 'I can't afford to eat out so I had some ramen before coming over'. "Here's the picture you needed. Is that good enough?" It was clearly a 'party-picture'; three guys were all leaning against one another, hoisting their drinks of choice to the camera. "That's Brad," August said, pointing to the guy in the middle. He was pleasant looking; his normality beamed out of the picture like a dim bulb, noticeable only because August's finger was pointing to it.

[Sam Spaid]

"Better than nothing," Sam replied pushing the other half of the wrap across the table. "Turkey. Have at it, I remember Ramen, that stuff was awful."

"No, I couldn't."

"I'm serious, I'm on a diet anyways." Sam sighed, "It's a better long term solution than buy new scales every week." They shared a laugh. "Go on, eat up. I have some other news for you and then I should get back to work."

"Other news?" August asked as she picked up the wrap and then tore into it.

"Yeah. I found, well I think I found, that guy Jeremy. He called himself Jay, but that was a line. Said he hadn't seen Brad before, which," Sam shrugged, "I dunno, maybe it was a well told lie, maybe not. Probably it was, but I can tell you that when I mentioned Brad having gone missing his surprise was genuine, so if it was Jeremy, I don't think he had anything to do with it." August had stopped chewing and was staring at Sam. "I'll keep looking, but that con-man probably wasn't part of it. Not all that surprising actually, most con artists have all the spine of a bowl of jello, as soon as it comes to confrontation they close up shop and flee, its easier, safer, and moving on tends to be something that they do routinely anyway." Sam tapped the photo, "With this though I'll have a better chance of finding somebody who might know something. I'm gonna start on campus, randomly, and maybe check out some of his local haunts. If you can tell me where those were, that is."

[z-August Turner]

The wrap smelled soooo good that August didn't argue further. She'd had ramen for the last two days and would be having ramen for the foreseeable future. She wasn't going to pass up a chance to eat, especially when she was down to forty dollars. "He was a business student, so the UCLA Anderson School of Management - they have a library, too. His house would be another place. There's a coffee shop on campus... Uh, in the student center. He liked to study there, sometimes. And then there's the Amphora. That was his favorite place to drink. Those were the ones that I can think of. If he had other spots, he didn't tell me about them."

She bit, chewed and swallowed, then asked, "Is this really going to help Sam? Or... are we hoping in vain?" The girl's green eyes were troubled and expectant; Sam could tell she honestly, deep inside, was prepared to never see Brad again, or know his fate.

[Sam Spaid]

Sam sighed, and stalled for time by shoving the last bite of her half of the wrap into her mouth. She considered the question, and the apparently resigned girl before her. Hope was a wonderful thing, but after a while hope became a cliff that had only two ways down, one of which was a precipitous drop to the rocks of despair below. Sam swallowed and took a swing of her water, "I don't know if he's going to be OK. It's been a long time." Sam cut of with a suppressed wince, the last thing she meant to do was imply that August was partially to blame by waiting as long as she had to talk to the police. "But," she continued, "I hope I can at least give you and your friends the closure of knowing what happened to him. Small balm though that may prove." She pushed her chair back a little, looking ready to leave, "Of course if you want me to stop looking, well, that is your choice as well. The police may still find him, or find out what happened to him."

[z-August Turner]

"No, keep looking," August said, her voice faint. Despite her pleasure in the food before, she now sat it down, looking like her stomach was bothering her. "I have no faith that the police will put the effort into finding him. And yes, we want you to find him, if its possible. Please." She blinked, cleared her throat and began to wrap the food up to take with her. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

[Sam Spaid]

Sam nodded, she didn't think this girl was ready to give up, despite what harsh reality was telling her she had a trace of hope. "No, at this point I just need time, and a chance to ask questions, track down leads, and the like. I'll give you a call if I find anything." Sam stood up, slung her small bag over her shoulder, "Try not to worry, it won't do your friend any good and it'll just make you sick, OK?"

"OK. Thank you," August stood up as well, the remnants of the wrap surrounded by napkin and help in her hand. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Sam walked outside, blinking in the sudden sunlit brightness, and then headed for campus. "Business school, library, coffee shop," she intoned to herself as she went, mentally reviewing the suggestions August have given her. First she had to find these places, which was not a minor feat, UCLA had a large sprawling campus and was not a place that Sam had spent a great amount of time at. "Maybe I'll find one of those 'you are here' campus maps," she mumbled hopefully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

With only the second half of the day to work before the evening fell and students fled the campus for home, bars, clubs, or other distractions Sam knew she had to prioritize. Her first stop was the business school building, figuring that there would be more students there who knew Brad. Forty five minutes of asking around, sticking her nose into small study groups or hijacking solo students in the hall netted very little. Yes people knew him, but none had seen him in a couple of weeks. Classes were not in session so it wasn't entirely scandalous for somebody to take a last minute vacation prior to the start of the next semester. She thanks those who spoke with her, gave them a copy of her business card, and asked them to call her if they did see or hear from him. In a couple of cases she actually had to show her P.I.'s licence. In two instances she had to turn down offers for dinner or coffee. Sam had smiled at the first, a good looking student who probably wasn't even twenty, and had politely declined the second, a seashell bedecked surfer girl, multiple times after she had refused to take no for an answer.

The library went similarly, though far fewer knew Brad, even with the help of a photo. Mercifully Sam didn't get any propositions while she was there, not that she didn't enjoy being found attractive but the students here were kids in comparison to her; in life experience if not in age. From there Sam visited the student center, and an on campus coffee shop, and for her trouble received mostly blank stares. A couple of kids, students, knew him from the photo, but hadn't seen Brad in a while either. For all intents and purposes it was like he had disappeared from the face of the Earth, which was plainly impossible. August had said that Brad's roommate at the frat he belonged to had not seen him in over two weeks, not since he had decided to try and find the man who had swindled him. Sam didn't see the point of going over there to ask, but that kind of thinking would lead to missed clues. Reluctantly she exited the coffee shop, a bottle of cool water clutched in her hand and set out across the campus to the frat house.

Sam was crossing a vast, relatively speaking for L.A., expanse of verdant green grass when she spied a man working on the shrubbery that edged the green and a nearby classroom building. A groundskeeper; Sam felt a sly smile cross her lips. Police and detectives both knew that manual laborers, gardeners, janitors, and the like, often saw a lot more than people expected, and, better still, most people who made the arrogant habit of thinking they could get away with something often overlooked such "menial and insignificant laborers." She actually remembered a lawyer they'd arrested for killing his secretary, she told him she was pregnant and would tell his wife if he didn't pay up, saying just that same thing after an overnight janitor had supplied the crucial evidence they had needed. Her course altered and she approached the man, a little extra spring suddenly in her step as she hoped for a lucky break.

[Owns-The-Night]

Another beautiful day in L.A. Dec grumped as he squatted by some flowering bushes, the sun overhead making him want to lay down and nap in some partial shade. Dressed in workboots, worn jeans and a tank-top that after a day of work was somewhat less-than white, the 'scariest fucker on campus' (not his own words) was currently head down and ass-up as he reached deep into the scratchy bush down near the roots, trying to get at the bag of empty beer cans that some genius had decided to throw in there rather than use a bin. It pissed him off, it really fucking did, especially when he felt sharp twigs scraping and poking at his skin like wannabe thorns. Unaware that he was in someone's sights, figuratively speaking, Declan got down on his knees and shuffled around so he could shove his arm in to the shoulder, unwittingly presenting his backside to a certain P.I. as she approached. Sam could hear the groundskeeper swearing sotto voce as she drew near, a string of curses grumbled out in a voice deep enough that it sounded like growling.

"C'mon-you-asshole-fuckin'-sonofabitch-fuckin'-thoughtless-AHH-OW-cocksucker-gotcha!" With a certain amount of triumph, Dec pulled out a clump of trash from deep inside the bush and sprang to his feet in a move that was as graceful as it was aggressively athletic. He turned towards his cart to deposit the garbage, then noticed the woman immediately as she crossed the last of the distance to him. She didn't look like a student, though there were some here who were in their mid-twenties to early-thirties. Of more import was the fact she was approaching him, obviously for a purpose. Her stride had that bounce to it that denoted 'here is something I've been looking for'. Casually, Declan stepped to his cart and dropped the trash into the bin there before removing his gardening gloves and turning to greet her. Tucking them into his back pocket, he removed his shades as well, then wiped the few streaks of blood from his arm where the bush had scratched a little too deep. Then he watched the woman expectantly to see what she wanted, the silver of his eyes glinting molten in the sunlight.

[Sam Spaid]

Sam slowed as she saw the man go ass up under a bush, reaching deep and grunting with effort. She blushed a little at that thought, a double entendre of a sort. It's not that nice of an ass, Sam admonished herself. The man rose suddenly, a bag of garbage in his hand, forestalling the need for Sam to find a way of getting his attention, or simply standing there staring at his lower half. She flushed a little more, glad of the sun at her back, it would hide her face in shadow at least a little. He turned and saw her approaching, still a few strides out. She came to a halt before him, little more than a step or two away. He dropped the trash into a bin on the nearby gardeners' cart and took off his gloves and sunglasses. When the sun glinted silver off his eyes Sam took an involuntary step backwards, it was reflexive, and afterwards should couldn't put her finger on why she had done it. She used the movement to shift her stance, one hand on her hip, the other reaching for the folded up photo in the pocket of her jeans skirt.

"Hi," she said, as friendly as possible. In the sun, with her hair in a ponytail, her canvas sneakers, skirt and shirt over a tank top, Declan couldn't quite place her age. Mid-twenties? Thirty-something? Her eyes betrayed a depth of experience that conflicted with her looks. "Name's Samantha, I'm a P.I., would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" she said, coming right out with it. Sam, was a woman in a man's profession, at least traditionally, and she'd learned a certain amount of social assertiveness that few would attribute to such a little woman.

"Sure," he replied easily enough, apparently unperturbed at her forthright opening.

Sam pulled the print of the photo out of her pocket and held it out to him. His eyes shifted from her to the paper and she took a moment to give him a longer look. She swallowed, he was rather pretty, with a physique of lean muscles under sun-tanned skin. The corner of her mouth quirked down however, he was young, barely older than the kids at the school, and everything about him conveyed a rough around the edges attitude that was everything Sam didn't like in a man. "The man in the middle, he' a student here. His name is Brad Tolliver, and he's gone missing, about two to two and a half weeks ago. I was hoping maybe you'd seen him, anything at all you can tell me may help."

[Owns-The-Night]

When she first introduced herself, saying that she was a P.I., alarm bells went off in Declan's head and he shifted his feet slightly, becoming quiet still and watchful in his body language as visions of nutjobs who liked to sacrifice girls, but had a rich daddy ran through his mind's eye. Then she held out the photo and he relaxed a little, eyes flickering over the image as he reached out to take it. Watching the handsome face, Sam noted that he really was sorting through his memory, trying to see if he'd seen the boy. Most times, a person glanced and, if the face didn't leap at them, shrugged and said no. Those silver eyes, however, were intent.

"Two weeks and change?" he asked without looking up. His voice was calmly inquisitive, and Sam nodded as he glanced up at her again. His voice was deep and even, a contrast to the growling cussing she'd heard a few moments before. Finally he handed the picture back. "I've seen this guy, but not lately. Brad... yeah." he nodded. "I remember that name and face. I'm Dec, by the by." He squinted somewhat in the sun, deep in thought. "Sometimes these kids, pressure gets to them and they start to hang with the wrong crowd. Mom and pop are far away, or don't care, or the kid feels they don't care which amounts to the same mess. Before ya know it, they're hangin' out down on Santa Monica pier and watchin' Psychedelic Mordor on acid. That guy, though?" he indicated the photo in her hands. "He doesn't have that look. Didn't when I last saw him, either." He shook his head ruefully. "Wish I could help more with that, Samantha. Sorry."

"When did you last see him?" she pressed, smiling prettily (she hoped). The groundskeeper pondered for a moment.

"About three weeks ago. He was over on the north lawns, sittin' with some buddies, readin' and goofin' around. I remember that cos it was my lunch hour, and I was nappin' in the shade." Dec smiled back, a lopsided half-grin that was uncalculated as it was charming. Samantha was pretty cute, and earnest in her tone and body language. The vargr was sensitive to that. She wasn't here for him in any way, so he saw no reason not to be helpful. Brunette with green eyes. Hmmm. It's gettin' to be my favorite flavor. Older woman, too. Well, older than me, I'm guessin'. "I'm... kinda goin' out on a limb and sayin' you probably get asked this all the time... But how's a lady like you get into findin' missing persons? I'm curious."

[Sam Spaid]

"Dec, eh? That's an unusual name, short for anything?" she asked, avoiding his question.

"Declan. Do you always avoid questions with other questions?"

"I wasn't," she began. The protest died on her lips, his casual grin as disarming as it was apparently unintended. "I was a cop, for a while," she said, a touch of regret just barely touching her words.

Sam frowned, "Not that that had anything to do with this missing student." She put her hand out, and gently took hold of the photo from him. He'd answered her question, though his information did nothing to help her. Sam was about the leave when she recalled her other active "case", if one could call it that. In fact they could be connected for all she knew. She slid her hands into the pockets on the rear of her denim skit, which pushed her chest out a little more. A bright smile, smiles always came easy to Sam, and she recaptured Dec's attention. "Do you know anything else that may help? Any suspicious characters around campus? Any gangs?" she asked, innocently enough, he eyes would have sparkled had the sun not been behind her.

[Owns-The-Night]

A faint good-humored snort greeted that question. "Lady, this place has rich kids and party brats from all over. They all have habits, ranging from movie piracy to hardcore drugs, so suspicious characters are practically part of the ecosystem, down there in the 'parasite' niche, though some of 'em take post-grad studies in 'predator'. There was a girl nearly killed in some hokey ritual last week. Some moron Satanist or somethin'. Hell of a thing." He smiled back at her, leaning against his cart as his eyes played over her face attentively.

"What about gangs?" Sam pushed a little, rewarded with a faint smile and a shake of his head.

"Used to be a few that'd come here to deal and stuff. Not anymore. People say it's because the campus cops got their act together and started actually policing." he said with a shrug. "Whatever the reason, the place is safer from yer run of the mill street trash than it used to be."

"You don't sound like you like the police here." Sam said lightly, flashing him another smile. Dec rubbed the back of his neck, grinning ruefully.

"Ahh... They're okay. I've nothin' against 'em. They're definitely doin' a better job than when I started here, that's for sure. Used to be gang punks everywhere at night. Now yer lucky if they drive past on the highway." He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "So I've another question for you."

"Sure." Sam said easily, liking the way he spoke his mind, liking the way he paid attention to her even while he was talking. Something about those silver eyes was unsettling, and he seemed rough around the edges, but once you got him talking Declan didn't seem too bad. Plus, of course, his warm, lopsided smile could cause a nun to kick the habit.

"You doin' anything tonight?" he asked bluntly. "I'm not talkin' dressing up and hittin' the Four Seasons, but how's a beer and burger sound? If you're not workin' later, that is." He watched her expectantly.

[Sam Spaid]

Sam blinked, "Uhhh...." She was too stunned to even register the question, the proposition, at first. Did he? He thinks I'm cute? Sam couldn't recall the last time somebody who hadn't know her before she'd had Tim had hit on her, let alone asked her out for a date. She felt stupid for being so stupefied, but the whole thing can came broadside at her from nowhere. Hadn't it? Sam realized she was standing there like a clod. "What?" she asked, and then immediately regretted it. Declan started to repeat the question, but Sam shook her head. "No. I... no." She took a step back, crossing her arms in front of her defensively. "I ... can't.

If he was offended he hid it well. "Can't? Or don't really want to?" Declan asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Uh oh! I don't know that one! Sam frowned, and then realized that she was frowning and frowned some more, before realizing she was just making matter worse. I do know that one damnit, and he's not that good looking, she chided herself. Yeah, he kinda is, she rebutted. Fine, but he's not my type and you know it. Sam blinked and realized she was arguing with herself, making excuses that didn't need to be made. "I, uhh... already have a man in my life." He started to ask something else, but she continued,"His name is Timmy, he's seven, and I don't get to see him except after work and on weekends, because I work too much." She offered an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, but I just can't."

[Owns-The-Night]

"No need to be sorry." Dec shrugged easily, the crooked grin giving way to a genuine smile. "Yer boy needs his mom more than I do. Nothin' bad about that. It's not like I'm not a little disappointed, mind." he added with an impish gleam in his eye. "But yer okay, Samantha." He held his hand out for her to shake, and with a smile, she did. "Let me know if I can be any more help, okay?" he told her earnestly. "Hope you find the kid."

"Thanks." Sam replied, relieved that he wasn't pressing her, asking why she couldn't get a sitter or, even worse, why they couldn't go do something all together. Like any mother would want a strange man she'd met once near her child. Whether Declan got that, or whether he was just gracefully accepting the brush off, it marked as a point in his favor. "And don't worry, I'll be back. If I have more questions, I mean." she added hastily before stepping back a few paces and turning to go. "It was nice meeting you, Dec."

"You too. Take care." Dec watched her as she left, evaluatingly as was his nature, but not indecently so. Wonder if she'll look back, he wondered idly, watching with his arms folded as he leaned against his cart, silver eyes glinting in the sun. If she looks back early, then she's worried. If she looks back when she's almost out of view, then she's interested despite herself. C'mon... she's almost at the corner there...

[Sam Spaid]

Coward! You could totally have gotten a piece of those big strong hands with, like, no effort at all! Sam clenched her teeth and kept walking. I am not some slutty kid anymore. I have a son, and he's more important to me than ... than that! She was almost to the corner, fighting to not look back at and give Declan the wrong idea. So sad, you can't even say it. You want sex. You want a man between your legs. Do not. Do too, and there's nothing wrong with that. Sam sighed, she was acting like a teen, and it was ridiculous. She could feel the itch between her shoulder blades of his eyes on her, he'd watched her walk all the way across the quad.

She stopped. Closed her eyes and took a deep breath, cursing softly. Then she turned and started back the way she had come.

[Owns-The-Night]

Score! Wait, no. She's coming back. Declan frowned a tiny bit - Samantha didn't seem like the type who'd change her mind that fast. Make him wait, then drop by after a week or two, perhaps. But this was different... Ahh, it's business. 'If you think of anything, here's my card'. Betcha ten bucks. Bummer. She's a class act, though. Single mom, working to pay the bills, and cares about the kid more than enjoying single life. As an orphan and as a wolf, Dec had a certain amount of regard for parenthood. Decent parents, in any case. Bad parents ought to be smacked upside the head, in his view. But maybe he was a little biased. He thought ungrateful kids needed a kick in the pants too.

He waited for her to return, head tilted to one side and curiousity on his face.

[Sam Spaid]

Sam couldn't believe it, he was still watching her as openly as could be. As she neared she could see that his expression was one of curiosity and not some kind of smug self satisfaction. At least he doesn't think he's already got my pants half off, she thought. No leer there, just a bit of bewilderment. Sam wasn't surprised by that, she'd walked clear across the quad before turning around, and heading straight back. Wish I could hear his thoughts.

She walked right by him without a word, and as she started moving away in the other direction, she turned, gaily walking backwards, and saw him turn to follow her as she did. Her mirth at his now confused expression bubbling up as a laugh. With the sunlight illuminating he features she looked younger, more alive, Declan caught a glimpse of how she must have looked ten years before, a slim petite little firecracker. "Wrong way," she said to him, "Ooops!" Laughing she spun round and continued on towards Fraternity Row.

[Owns-The-Night]

Dec watched in amazement, which gave way to a frown as he realised he'd been had, which in turn gave way to a wry chuckle as Sam walked back off, this time in another direction. He shook his head, eyes never leaving the petite figure that now had an added bounce in it's step, and mused on the fact that he did not, in fact, know everything there was to know about women. Not for the first time, either. Damn, but she'd looked good laughing, too. In typical Declan fashion, he decided to tell her so.

"It's a good look on you!" he called after her. Samantha glanced back curiously, seeing the groundskeeper grinning at her. "That laugh." he clarified, his deep voice carrying easily across to her. "You got me, but it was worth it."

[Sam Spaid]

"You're welcome," she called, trying not to giggle. The grin on Sam's face spread wider as she all but sashayed away across the quad. She felt better than she had in years. No, that's not right, not better, just more like a beautiful woman, she thought. She realized she hadn't felt that way in a long time, not really. Thank you stranger. Thank you Mr. Declan. Sam hit the edge of the quad and resumed a more normal walking pace. She kinda felt bad for being a bit of a tease. So sad. You know he enjoyed it, and you still won't let yourself of easy. Sam shook her head, it didn't matter either way, she doubted she'd ever see him again anyway. You could if you wanted to. Even if only for a night. Maybe even if only for an hour. Or ten really worthwhile minutes. Sam found herself flushed, blushing from the embarrassment she was causing herself to herself, but also feeling excited, alive. Something is wrong with me, she thought. Damn right there is! "He's still not really my type," she said, crossing the street. True though that may be for the long term her general mood in the past five minutes said that she was wrong where the short term applied. Sam started looking for the house with Delta-Iota-Kappa on the outside. Brad's frat and the club August had mentioned were her last chances to maybe get some kind of non-supernatural lead on the missing student. With effort she put Mr. Declan the gardener out of her mind and focused on the job.

[Sam Spaid]

Later

Sam headed back to her car, her route was indirect, meandering through the campus green spaces as the sky turned the color of flame in the west and the shadows lengthened into grotesque mockeries of the objects they were cast by. As she had suspected the other boys at Brad's frat, Sam couldn't call them men the way they had acted, had not seen Brad since his roommate had last seen him. Whatever happened he hadn't come back for clothes, sleep, or meals. The evidence was getting worse for Brad's survival, but Sam wasn't one to give up.

The club had been somewhat similarly useless. Nobody there had seen Brad in weeks either, thought one of the bar tenders mentioned, after some incentive, that another man had also been asking about Brad. Sam had gotten the mystery figure's description; Jeremy. Apparently he was looking for Brad now as well, probably hoping to avoid being implicated if Brad were found dead later. Sam considered tracking the man down again. Maybe she could get some real answers from him on a second round of questioning. Ultimately though, if Jeremy were also looking for Brad it meant that he didn't have any information that way useful to Sam; nothing that would change the obvious next course of action for Sam.

She looked around as she walked. No sign of Declan the gardener. She wasn't sure if she was relieved by that or disappointed; maybe both. It didn't matter, not really. Her standing date was at home waiting for her, and that was a recipe for as good a night as any as far as she was concerned. Tomorrow she would start again, and find Brad for certain. She hoped that she found him alive and unharmed, telling a client that their loved one was dead wasn't something that Sam looked forward to.