8. Amateur Sleuthing Hour

                                    

                                              
On the next Sunday afternoon, Eleanor drove her Tracker back to El Caliente. The bar was closed on Sunday, and a rare bright, sunny New England day seemed like the perfect time to investigate a vampire attack. She'd spent the night with Jo, who'd fallen asleep half-way through their Veronica Mars marathon. Eleanor didn't blame her, and they hadn't talked any more about vampires, but neither was crazy. Jo even had the bite to prove it.
                          
Eleanor hopped out of her Tracker and walked to the scene of the attack, trying to steady her shaky nerves. There was a dumpster set beside where the creature jumped Jo. In the daylight, it looked like what it was: the backside of a dumpy bar. She stared at the wall the thing pressed Jo against, but it looked ordinary.
                          
She walked up to it, so closer she could've pressed her nose against it, but there was nothing there. Of course not, or the police would've found it, she told herself. Eleanor knelt down, examining the ground, but it wasn't like the thing could've left footprints in the asphalt. She rocked back on her heels and looked up; she was in the same position the creature was when it lunged for the roof.

                          
Eleanor jumped, not even able to touch the edge. But that's when she saw something. On the worn, red tiles were two pairs of scratches—ten in total. The thing had clawed its way upwards, which was at least proof it had been there. In the dark, she didn't think the police could've seen those, and they hadn't been expecting the perpetrator to make escape-by-roof like Batman or a...well, a vampire.
                          
Jo stuffed her hands into her pockets and walked around the building, squinting up at the roof ledge. Near the front, she spied another faint pair of scrapes. Eleanor turned, facing away from the building. It headed towards the road; on the other side was a field of tall grass. Eleanor crossed her arms and screwed up her face. If she were a vampire, she would've headed towards the woods, but those were behind the bar. That's where the police had thought the perpetrator went, too.
                          
But it didn't go there, she realized. It had headed towards the field—but why? She frowned, and the answer came to her: it was heading back to its coffin. Or whatever the hell vampires lived in these days.
                          
Eleanor walked across the street and started walking through the field. The grass came up to her thighs and soaked her jeans with lingering dew that hadn't burnt away in the afternoon sun. Her feet squished into the mud, and she kept the train tracks on her right in sight. She climbed a gently sloping, pastoral hill and reached a wired fence.
                          
She squinted back, unable to see the bar. Her stomach twisted, but it was daylight. She just needed to get the hell out of here before dark, and she still had hours of time. Besides, this is what she did—she was a fast hiker.
                          
Eleanor walked the fence until she found a tree, which grew on this side, but whose branches hung across. She jumped, caught a branch, and hauled herself into the tree, shimmying across until she was on the other side; she dropped down, the ground muffling her landing. She headed for the edge of the woods, but stayed in the sunshine, circling the forest until she came upon a dirt road.
                          
There was no choice now. Eleanor took the dirt road into the forest, immediately feeling the temperature drop once she was under tree cover. There were still enough leaves that hadn't fallen that the canopy was thick. She took light, careful steps in her trail runners, listening for any sound, but it was just the usual birdsong and small animals.
                          
You're being silly, she thought. What'd you expect to happen—the vampire to pop out from behind a bush?
                          
A rumbling behind her startled her, and she jumped out of the way of an SUV. It stopped beside her, and a woman with severe, gray curls glared down at her. She said, "What are you doing back here?"
                          
Eleanor gave her most winsome, naïve smile. "Just out for a nature walk—enjoying the good weather."
                          
The woman pursed her lips. She said, "This is private property. Best if you turn around."