* * * *
Gideon would never have found her in a million years. The vampires of Chicago were—most of the time—creatures of habit. They lived in the same areas, chose the same neighborhoods for kills, hung out at the same demon-safe venues. They rarely broke from these patterns, and all Gideon thought as he stood outside the greenhouse was that Tricia was one gutsy demon. There would be few options for hiding when the sun was out. Nobody would ever think to find her here.
It was easy to break in, not so easy to figure out where to start first. The greenhouse was huge, and felt even larger with the echo of the rain on the glass roof resounding between its walls. Gideon picked up one of the directory brochures and thumbed through it, ignoring the layout of the plants in favor of locating the security offices. Tricia might not have a reflection, but modern technology was a bit more sophisticated than mirrors these days.
More importantly, Gideon was not a stupid vampire.