It was the kind of place he wouldn’t be caught dead in under normal circumstances, but tonight he was hunting and this was where his quarry had gone to ground. In over four and a half centuries, Henry had never seen so many people working so hard and so futilely at having a good time. Fastidiousness more than willpower held it in check. The smell of so many bodies crammed together, the sound of so many heartbeats pounding in time to the music blasting out of half a dozen suspended speakers, the feel of so many lives in so little space pulled the Hunger up and threatened to turn it loose. Henry Fitzroy paused just past the threshold and scanned the crowd through narrowed eyes.

It was, for the moment, the premier poser bar in the city and all the wannabes in Toronto shoehorned themselves through its doors on Friday night. The clientele were a little older, not quite as attractive although they tried desperately hard to camouflage it, and just as faceless. The staff were all young, attractive, and interchangeable. The beer was overpriced, the liquor over-iced, and the menu a tarted-up mix of at least three kinds of quasi-ethnic cooking plus the usual grease and carbohydrates. I think your husband will decide to stay right where he is.” ***The bar was noisy and smoky, with tables too small to be useful and chairs too stylized to be comfortable. “My partner’s going to talk to him tonight. Anyone who faked his own death in order to ditch a wife and five kids deserved exactly what he got.

In eight years with the Metropolitan Toronto Police and nearly two years out on her own, she’d seen some real SOB’s Simmons/O’Connor ranked right up there with the best of them. The moment you call me with a positive ID, I’ll take the information to the police and they can pick him up.” “The police thought they found him once before-in Vancouver-but when they went tp pick him up he was gone.” “Well, he’ll be there this time.” Vicki leaned back in her chair, shoved her free hand up under the bottom edge of her glasses and scrubbed at her eyes. I’ve just sent you a package, by courier, containing a copy of everything we’ve discovered including a number of recent photographs-you should receive it before noon tomorrow. He’s working as an insurance adjuster under the name Tom O’Conner.” “Don always works in insurance.” “Yes, ma’am, that’s how we found him.

Simmons? It’s Vicki Nelson calling the private investigator from Toronto?” She paused and considered how best to present the information.

Blood Price by Tanya Huff