Detached

by Elicia Hyder

  “Celebratory beers later,” he said with a wink.

  With a forced smile, I straightened my jacket and walked into the conference room.

  Gregg had reclaimed her seat between Terrence Henley, lieutenant of the narcotics division, and—holy shit—Joseph Magnus, the chief.

  I only knew the chief by reputation. He was a native of Sapphire Lake, but he’d moved south many years ago to take a job with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. He’d worked his way up the chain by putting away some of the most hardened criminals in the state. He was the favorite to win sheriff in Las Vegas when he moved back to his hometown to work with us.

  That was six months ago, and aside from one very formal introduction, I’d only interacted with him in passing. He hadn’t been part of the interview process for this promotion thus far.

  “Corporal Nyx.” Henley stood, offering me his hand. I shook it, and he nearly crushed my knuckles. He was a tall, stout man with a dimpled bald head. Intimidating as hell but fair—or so everyone who served under him said. “None of us thought you’d be here today.”

  “Well, sir, I hope that shows how much I want this job.”

  He smiled. “It certainly does.” He gestured across the table. “Have a seat. We won’t keep you too long.”

  I started for the chair Morris had obviously just vacated. It was pushed back and catawampus on the other side of the table. “I hope you’ll all forgive me if I do a lot of squinting and taking my time with questions.”

  “They said you had a nasty concussion,” Gregg said.

  “And a lot of staples,” Henley added.

  I turned my head so they could see. They both winced.

  Gregg put her hand over her heart. “I’m thankful it wasn’t worse.”

  “Me too.”

  Gregg folded her hands on the tabletop. “As you know, Corporal, we’ve narrowed down the candidates for the open narcotics position. We’re very pleased to have Chief Magnus with us today, here by his own personal request.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Essex had something to do with that. The two men had played golf together the weekend before, and Essex had personally prepared me for today. Essex was a good friend and an even better boss—but he was also a meddlesome son of a bitch when he wanted to be.

  “I’m honored you’re here, Chief,” I said.

  He nodded but didn’t speak. He hadn’t said a damn word since I walked into the room. Instead, he watched me carefully, sizing me up the way most men do in this field.

  I handed each of them one of the portfolios I’d made. “I hope you don’t mind, but in addition to my resume, I’ve listed all my qualifications and commendations for you to consider.”

  “Very good,” Gregg said as I passed one to her.

  Even Henley gave an approving nod.

  When I handed one to the chief, he put it down without looking at it. “You were in the military, correct?”

  “Yes, sir. I was with the Army for eight years.”

  “And a Ranger, I hear.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  This was definitely my boss’s doing.

  Gregg was looking at my file. “Chief, she was one of the first female graduates of Ranger school in history.”

  “I’m aware. Very impressive.” From his demeanor, I was surprised he thought so.

  Henley and Gregg were busy reading through the list in their reports. “You were assigned to counterintelligence?” Henley asked, a note of wonder in his tone.

  This shouldn’t be new information to him. It wasn’t the first time I’d applied for this job, but maybe Essex was right. If I didn’t put my achievements in a bullet-pointed list, no one would pay attention to them.

  “Yes. Just before I got out, I became part of the newly formed RMIB—”

  “RMIB?” Henley asked.

  “Sorry, the Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment Military Intelligence Battalion in Fort Benning, Georgia.” Getting all that out made my headache worse. “We specialized in surveillance, recon, and cyber warfare.”

  “You sure you wouldn’t be interested in working cybercrimes here?” Henley asked.

  I bit back a smile. “No offense, but here in Sapphire Lake, cybercrimes means figuring out which website Granny put her social security number into because an email said the IRS was going to arrest her.”

  He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  “What about CID?” Chief asked. “Criminal investigations is the natural step for someone of your rank.”

  “Investigations involves a lot of office work and talking to people. I don’t think that’s where I’d be most effective.”

  “Let me ask you a question, Corporal.” Henley steepled his fingertips. “It sounds like you were pretty happy in the military. Why’d you get out?”

  Was he for real?

  Even Gregg turned all the way toward him, her boggled eyes begging the same question.

  Henley looked confused. “What did I say?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I guess I’ve mistakenly been under the assumption that my history was some sort of highlight on the gossip mill around here.”

  I had been all over the news when it happened, after all.

  His confusion morphed into annoyance. “Luckily, I’m not part of the gossip mill, so please enlighten me.”

  Gregg opened her mouth to answer, but I held up a hand to stop her. “It’s OK. I don’t mind telling it.” I shifted on my sore ass, shielding my eyes against the halogens. “To be honest, sir, leaving the Army was never my plan. I loved my job and had planned to stay as long as they’d let me. But just after I joined the Seventy-Fifth regiment, I was involved in a fatal motorcycle crash. I suffered a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder, and a cracked spine.”

  That was the glossed-over version anyway. The drop of Gregg’s gaze told me she knew the rest of the story.

  Henley tapped a pen against the tabletop. “There was a fatality?”

  “Yes, sir.” A vice gripped my throat. “My fiancé and I were sideswiped by a car trying to pass us in the outer emergency lane. We were both thrown across the road. I was thrown past the oncoming truck. My fiancé was not.”

  Silence.

  “I’m sorry, Nyx, I didn’t know,” Henley finally said. “I hope they caught the bastard who hit you.”

  “No, sir. It was a hit-and-run.”

  Henley sighed and shook his head.

  “After the accident, I was medically discharged, and I returned to Nevada to recover with my grandparents.”

  “Your grandmother passed recently, didn’t she?” the chief asked.

  “Yes, sir. In the spring from stomach cancer.”

  “I was sorry to hear it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Was the accident what made you want to become a cop?” Henley asked.

  I almost laughed. A lost bet to Essex over a drunken game of darts was the actual reason I’d become cop. But I didn’t think that would help my interview.

  “It was part of it,” I answered instead.

  Gregg closed my report. “No one could argue that you have the talent and experience, but why narcotics?”

  It was a fair question. I sat on my hands to keep from fidgeting.

  “Narcotics is regularly the most active department here. They’re drugs, vice, gangs, and organized crime all rolled into one. I’m ready for more challenging assignments, and I feel I’ve gone as far as I can with patrol.”

  Gregg looked at the chief. “She made SWAT right out of FTO, faster than anyone in this department’s history.”

  Magnus nodded.

  “I know it isn’t a full-time position, but have you not been satisfied with SWAT?” Henley asked.

  “SWAT has been great. I hope to be able to continue with them if the schedule allows . . .”

  Henley’s brow rose. “But?”

  “Sir, I’ve trained my whole adult life to take down the worst villains in the world. I’d like to be trusted with taking down the worst here in Nevada.
”

  “I fully agree,” Gregg said. “Is there anything you can think of that might prevent you from fulfilling the role according to the rigid standards of this department?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m excited for the challenge.”

  Gregg was all smiles. It was obvious I had her vote. “That’s all the questions I have,” she announced, then looked at Henley and the chief. “Anyone else?”

  “I’ve asked all I need to,” Henley said, closing my report.

  Chief Magnus was studying me, perhaps searching for any sign that I wasn’t up to the task. He sat forward. “I’m squared away too. It was nice to see you again, Officer Nyx.” He reached across the table.

  “You too, Chief.”

  “I know I speak for all of us when I say take care of that head, and if you need anything, let us know.”

  All the stress in my heart fizzled as I shook his hand. We’d made it through the entire interview with none of them bringing up my parents. Perhaps now that Elias was gone, that stress would be permanently behind me.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in!” Henley called.

  Valerie Leon from the administrative office stuck her head inside. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt.” She was a perky Black woman with a bright smile and horn-rimmed glasses.

  Chief waved her in. “You’re not interrupting. We’re just wrapping up here. What do you need?”

  “I actually have a message for Corporal Nyx, and I was afraid she might slip out before I got to tell her.”

  The commanding officers looked as perplexed as I felt. “Go ahead then,” the chief said with a curious smile.

  She hesitated.

  “It’s OK,” I said. “What is it?”

  “We received a phone call from the warden’s office at the state penitentiary. Your father was found brutally murdered in his cell this morning.”

  Chapter Six

  “I was this close.” I held up my fingers an inch apart and flipped the passenger’s visor down with so much force it smacked against the windshield. I slumped in the seat and covered my eyes with my hand.

  My head was killing me.

  “I’m sure you’re worried about nothing,” Essex said. “Everyone knows you weren’t associated with him. Don’t overthink it.”

  I shook my head. “Leave it to Elias to exit this life waving his freak flag one last time for all my superiors to see.”

  “Did they say what happened to him?”

  “I need to call the warden for details, but Valerie used the word brutally, so . . .” I shrugged, fighting to not care. “I guess he finally got what he deserved.”

  “You really feel that way?”

  “Elias was a madman. Everyone thought so, especially everyone in that boardroom today.”

  “Not everyone thought that.”

  “Elias confessed, and he apologized to the family during the trial.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a madman to me. My stepdad said Elias was really remorseful. He didn’t want anyone to die.”

  “The Green River Killer cried in court. It doesn’t mean he was innocent.”

  “True, but just remember, we don’t all believe the worst. I’m sure that’s true for the brass as well.”

  “Rumors are the only thing people believe now. Anyone around more than thirty years ago is either retired or dead.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s true.”

  Before he died, Essex’s father had been chief over the same officers who’d arrested my parents—and the one who’d died because of them.

  Ironically, our family association had been the conversation starter when Essex and I first met. That night at the bar, he’d approached and had offered me his palm. He’d asked, “See anything in our future if I buy you a beer?”

  Unimpressed, I’d lifted my own bottleneck to my lips. “If you only knew how not funny that pickup line was.”

  “I know exactly how not funny I am.” He’d leaned against the bar. “Tyler Essex, son of James Essex, chief of police in 1988, and I’d like to buy you a beer anyway.”

  Intrigued, I’d glanced at the empty barstool beside me. “Have a seat.”

  I’d expected to drive him away with the same icy attitude I offered everyone those days, but two minutes into the conversation, he’d managed to make me laugh. We’d closed down the bar together, cementing our friendship for life.

  “How much do you know about that night?” I asked, braving the questions I’d contemplated asking him for years.

  “Not much beyond the official story.” Essex looked across the car at me. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to ask your take on it but didn’t want to overstep.”

  I appreciated that about him.

  “I doubt I know much more than you do. They’d been conning people out of money for a couple of years when Mal started drugging customers with hypnox. She marketed it as an out-of-body experience for people to communicate with lost loved ones. Of course, they didn’t meet their loved ones. They met my father, or as they called him, ‘a spirit guide’, who told them whatever they wanted to hear.”

  “How’d he pull that off?”

  I lifted my shoulders. “That’s the question everyone wanted to know.” It was a lie by omission, sure, but the less Essex knew the better.

  “The police started watching them, and they sent an undercover officer in to investigate. The officer took the drug and never regained consciousness. When he didn’t check in with his team, they geared up to raid the place. But they were too late. Elias blew up the house with the cop still in it.

  “Mal got out but was taken into custody when she fled. Elias was carried out by firefighters, but it was widely believed he meant to burn himself up with it.”

  “Did he ever say why he set the fire?” Essex asked.

  I shook my head. “I never really gave him a chance.” Something I was starting to regret, given my newfound trouble sleeping. “Everyone always assumed it was to keep the truth of whatever happened to that officer from coming out.”

  “The truth of why his body was torn apart?”

  I nodded.

  “Is your mom still in the business?” he asked.

  “As a psychic? No. One of the conditions of her parole was that she never practice again.”

  He grinned over at me. “You believe in that stuff?”

  “Psychics?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No,” I answered with a laugh.

  It was true I didn’t believe in most things in the “psychic” business. But that’s not to say Mal didn’t have extraordinary abilities. She could a thousand percent see spirits. It’s what drew Elias to her to begin with.

  A true medium, Mal could not only see spirits that haven’t yet passed on, but she could also see spirits inside the Boundary. She and Elias met when he was detached.

  And unless, by some miracle, my out-of-body episode in the bathtub was some byproduct of a head injury, I could detach now too.

  Fuck.

  Nausea churned in my stomach.

  “Do you ever see her?”

  “Mal?”

  He nodded.

  “She was at Gran’s funeral with her new husband or whatever he is, but other than that, she only pops in and out when she wants something. Now that Elias is gone, I expect my brother or I will see her soon.”

  Mal knew the gift would pass to Elias’s firstborn. She’d want to use his heir the way she had used him. And depending on who she showed up to see first would determine how much she knew about Ransom’s legitimacy.

  For that reason, and for the first time ever, I was mildly interested in seeing my mother.

  “Are you going to the prison?” Essex asked.

  “I don’t know. I need to talk to Ransom.” I pulled out my SWAT phone. “Mind if I call him now?”

  “Of course not.”

  I tapped the number in my call history. No surprise, Ransom didn�
��t answer.

  “I don’t know why I bother,” I muttered, dropping the phone onto my lap.

  “We could drive over there.”

  “Nah. He’ll call me back when he gets around to it.”

  “Didn’t you tell me once that Ransom is an MMA fighter?”

  “Former MMA, yeah.”

  “What was his name?”

  “The Sandman.”

  “That’s right. How far did he go?”

  “He was working his way up to a title fight when he got booted out.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “Failed some drug tests.”

  It wasn’t the whole truth, but Ransom was my brother, and I didn’t let anyone talk shit about him—even myself. He’d actually built a very lucrative career in the fighting world when he started testing positive for cocaine and marijuana. During one suspension, he was busted for possession on the Las Vegas strip.

  After bailing him out of jail, Celise gave him an ultimatum: either clean up his act and return with her to Sapphire Lake or find a new family. He’d promised he’d change, but he couldn’t leave Vegas because of his contract. As soon as his suspension was up, he was back in the octagon. Celise kept her word and moved with Milly back upstate.

  Ransom fell apart then. Parties, drugs, gambling . . . the works. After another stint in jail, he finally returned to Sapphire Lake, and by some miracle, Harlan Drexler had given him a job. Celise still divorced him—Who could blame her?—but she didn’t completely cut him out of her life or Milly’s, which we were all thankful for.

  “Is Ransom still taking care of your grandfather?” Essex asked.

  “Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t more Paps taking care of Ransom, but yes. Paps moved in with him when Gran died. They live down the street from Celise, the nurse you met at the ER.”

  Milly had a room at both of their houses. When both parents were at work, she stayed at Ransom’s with Paps. For now, it was the perfect arrangement. Ransom and Celise slept while Milly was at school, and in the afternoon and evenings, she was always with at least one of her parents.

  My phone rang. Ransom’s name was on the screen. I tapped answer and put it to my ear. “Why do you even have a phone?” I said instead of a greeting.