To Catch a Vampire by Jennifer Harlow

a Vera Wang and costs as much as a small car.
    “Some prefer a clutter-free life,” Oliver says.
    “Do you?”
    “Not recently.”
    His gaze makes my cheeks flare up. “We better go to the bedroom.” His eyebrow raises and grin Number One returns. “To look for clues, creep.”
    “Of course.”
    After a histrionic eye roll, we walk down the bare hall, past the exercise room, and into the master bedroom. The bed takes up the majority of the room. Oh, bad taste alert. There’s a mirror above the bed. Besides those two features, the room’s like the rest of the place: white and dull. My first stop is the dresser, Oliver’s is the bed. He flops onto it, resting his head on his hand.
    “I wouldn’t touch that thing,” I say, opening the drawer. “Who knows how many hundreds of people have been in that exact same spot.” Nothing but expensive underwear in there. I open the next one. Designer clothes. “You could help me, you know.”
    “I try not to rifle through other people’s treasures. It is such an invasion of privacy.”
    “This coming from the man who just last week asked me my bra size.”
    There’s nothing in the dresser but at least ten thousand dollars worth of designer clothes. Next, I go over to the bed, kneeling down to get a peek underneath, which is not easy in this skirt. Nothing. After two tries I stand up, walking back to the nightstand. Nothing again but lotion, magazines, and a sleep mask. I’m about to close it when I notice a gap between the front and bottom of the bottom drawer. A hidden panel. I all but rip the drawer out, dump the contents, and watch as the false bottom gives way. As do dozens of Polaroids. Oliver sits up, suddenly interested.
    “Nancy Drew would be put to shame,” Oliver says.
    Nancy Drew would have a heart attack or join a nunnery if she found this stuff. Linda, Don, and various men and women engage in countless lewd acts with all sorts of paraphernalia. I will never look at a stapler the same way again. Eww. I pick up another one. Okay, how does that thing even fit? He must have been sore the next day.
    “Huh, um, huh,” I say.
    Oliver picks up a few photos, examining them. “Intriguing.”
    “Gross. This is just … ick. How can people, married people, do these with other people, let alone photograph it?”
    “Many couples have open relationships.”
    “Well, I couldn’t.”
    “That is because when you love, you love for eternity. You would never share that love. It is a beautiful thing.”
    I smile despite myself. He smiles back, not a grin, but a genuine smile. “What about you? How do you love?”
    “It has been so long, I do not remember,” he says with a hint of melancholy, but the smile stays in place.
    I look back down at the pictures. “How sad for you.”
    “Yes.”
    For the first time, I feel him beside me. He’s been there for seconds, but now I feel it. Bodies in close proximity and all. It makes me uncomfortable, but I won’t let him know it. “Do you think our perps are in one of these photos?”
    “I doubt it. I do not smell blood, and even if I did, they would have taken the photos with them.”
    “Thank God—” He winces. “Sorry. I so do not want to look through all of these. What do you think we should do with them?”
    “Put them back.”
    “Right.”
    Oliver and I gather up every picture, tucking them back into the drawer. Whoever ends up with this thing is in for a big surprise.
    I do a quick search of the rest of the condo but find nothing of interest. I should have known the vamps didn’t come here. Not with neighbors and thin walls. They probably have a house somewhere. Another dead end.
    “So, now what?” I ask Oliver as I close the door.
    “Now, we go to the Church.”

Six
    The Church
    No, we don’t actually go to church. For one, we’re not dressed for it; and two, Oliver would burst into flames if he set foot in one. We pull up to the lot across the street from the Lizard Lounge, which according to Oliver