by RJ Blain
“She’s the one who can’t help being stubborn,” the DA muttered.
“She also can’t give you the pictures without a warrant because of the confidentiality clauses in our contract. I know which pictures I can give you without violating our contract terms. She doesn’t. If you want those pictures, you need a warrant. Got your laptop handy, Sassy?”
“I have yours handy, too.”
I chuckled, unsurprised my partner would lug around both of our laptops just in case I might be coherent enough to need my piece of shit. “Yours runs faster. Get the pictures loaded so the circus can go home.”
The cops relaxed, and the tension in the room eased to tolerable degrees. Maxwell chuckled, and he took a post near the door, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The circus came to visit you and ask questions. Let’s start with an easy one. How are you feeling?”
“These painkillers are great.”
“Sounds like it. What do you remember about the accident?”
“A semi took offense to my truck and rammed me into the median. I don’t remember anything after that.”
“Your truck is deceased. The semi flipped you into oncoming traffic, and frankly, we’re considering it a miracle there was only one fatality. Someone speeding rammed into you head-on and was instantly killed. You got lucky. Your truck had spun after flipping, and they’d crashed into the bed,” Maxwell informed me.
I grimaced. “I’m not sure I want to see the pictures,” I admitted. “How many pieces was my truck in after that?”
Sassy sighed and perched on the edge of my bed. “There was enough left of it to make it a bitch getting to you. They had to tear the cab apart to get you out. I abused my power of attorney privileges to file your insurance claims. Mr. Stuffy over there wants to put one of his asshole hotshots on the case when they catch the bastard.”
“Semi hit and run?” I guessed.
“He sure did, and he left a confetti mess all over the highway. You were assigned the letter x and a date, too.”
Great. I’d become a statistic, although I’d dodged death unlike the mother and child at Park Lane. “Which date?”
“June 21st.”
“That’s odd.” It was especially odd as that was my parents’ anniversary date. “What are your thoughts?”
Sassy shrugged. “Not sure yet. We’re working on it.”
“Well, it’s Mom and Dad’s wedding date.” I pointed at myself. “Yours truly was born nine months later.”
Mark snorted. “Anniversary, twerp. I beat you out of maternal prison six years earlier. I’m just generous and don’t mind sharing my birthday with you.”
There was only one thing left for me to tell my brother. “You suck, Mark.”
“I suck so much I flew all the way back from Canada to visit you. How can I help with the investigation?”
“Stay out of the way,” I ordered, as did most of the cops and the DA.
Mark scowled and waggled his finger at me. “You must have planned that. I’m hurt.”
“No, you’re just a bossy know-it-all.” I directed my gaze to his gun. “Armed with a ridiculous rifle.”
The DA shook his head and laughed. “If you want to make yourself and that ridiculous rifle useful, babysit your brother until we find out if he’ll be targeted again. Also, I trust you have the appropriate paperwork to carry that in public places?”
“You mean my gun isn’t the appropriate paperwork?”
“Mr. Clinton,” Robert warned.
“I have all the authorizations I need to take the gun off the base and into public spaces. I’m currently badged as part of the military police and I have blanket jurisdiction for Texas. Word down the line is they want this terrorist shut down, and yes, the military is classifying this killer as a terrorist, and we’ve gotten nods from the CDC and the FBI to be involved. They want this guy dealt with. Immediately.”
“And that leads us right back to you, Aaron,” Maxwell announced. “Did you see the semi’s driver?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Notice anything unusual?”
I thought about it, and I remembered to avoid nodding before irritating my healing throat. “The only thing I noticed was he was driving slow, and when I got into the passing lane, he went back to highway speed. I found it annoying. I’d meant to ease off and just wait for my exit at that point, but I got boxed in by impatient drivers behind me and a traffic snarl ahead.”
“Waiting for a truck like yours?” my brother speculated. “How bad would the crash have been if Aaron had been in the right-hand lane?”
“Easily lethal,” Maxwell replied. “Both sides of the highway in that area have concrete barriers and heavy traffic. The median was still the worst place to have the crash, but the exit lane wasn’t exactly safe, either.”
Sassy handed me her laptop, and I went to work sorting through the photographs, creating a file for those without Sharon Gray in them and another for images I’d need to doctor if the DA wanted them without a warrant. “Here’s the deal, Robert. I can send you the images that don’t have confidential information in them without a warrant, but I’m toeing gray territory. If you want these pictures as evidence to present in court, I request you get a proper warrant and official copies. That said, if you’re not against me doctoring the images, I can remove my client’s interests from the photographs and still let you get information on those in the crowd. If you want the full images, you’ll need another warrant, one that can legally invalidate the confidentiality clause with my client.”
“I’ll get the warrant for the general photographs by the end of the day. Please send me the doctored images, but make it clear they’re doctored so I can acquire a warrant for those, too,” the DA replied. “That should cover your professional reputation.”
I found the nice version of the DA creepy at best. “Since when did you care if my professional reputation remained intact? On a good day, I piss in your cereal because I’m good at my job.”
“I cared when you lost your primary stream of income doing the right thing and going against the defense’s wishes to cover up their client’s crimes. I’ll swing by the firm blacklisting you and make it clear that I’ll be informing the general public about their unethical practices and efforts to circumvent the law. They won’t bite. They never do. But I’ll have word spread around about the case where you chose the law and justice over the contract. Costs me nothing, costs them a lot, and makes it clear they need to pay better attention to their ethics rather than their win percentages.”
While I wanted to say the same about the DA’s office, I kept that thought to myself. “Remind me later not to piss you off, Rob.”
“You piss me off whenever you walk into the room, but I don’t hold it against a man for doing his job well. I just get ticked you always manage to get in my way.”
I grinned, unable to deny the accusation. “Why are you here, anyway? It’s not like you to pay personal visits when you could grab one of your minions to do it for you.”
“Whoever did this is going to rot in prison for a long time since I can’t get the death penalty in Texas. That’s why. I may not like you most of the time, but you and his other victims deserve justice. You’re my only living clue in this mess, so we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in the future. I suggest you get used to it.”
I foresaw numerous headaches in my future. On the plus side, Sassy would bristle daily, providing me with an unmatched view and superb entertainment. “In good news, you know if I’m working a case and the fucker is guilty, you’ll find out about it. I don’t like making your job harder, but the punishment should fit the crime.”
Rob sighed, but he nodded. “I do respect that. Just so you’re aware, I have filed for a warrant for your client list for the past six months, and it’ll include a demand for the complete content of the contracts. I should have the approved warrant in a few hours.”
Great. That’d make my life a mess for the next while, as part of our contr
acts involved notifying them if we were served a warrant revealing any information about our clients. “Sassy?”
“I’ll get the contracts sorted and start the notification letters,” Sassy replied. “Twenty-four hours to get everything sorted. Honestly, most of the work is done, but I have to give our clients twelve hours to challenge the warrant with the judge, not that it’ll get them anywhere. I’ll make the calls as soon as we’re done here and shoot them emails to cover our end of things.”
“I can work with twenty-four hours,” the DA replied. “I’ll have the warrant served in the afternoon to make things easier on you. I’ll ping the judge and let him know you’re aware you’re being warranted and are gathering the information we need and fulfilling your contract terms. He wants to move on this as much as we do.”
Sassy tapped the top of her laptop’s screen to get my attention. “Anything else you want me to prep for them?”
“Only if we’re warranted. How are we on outstanding contract issues?”
“Just the one.”
I gave Sassy a great deal of credit; she didn’t even glance at Maxwell.
“That one’s mine, and I’ve already disclosed I’ve hired you to gather extra information through legal means. I was scolded by the chief, but as long as you stay legal, all tip-offs will be pursued.”
“Rob, can we exclude Maxwell’s contract from the warrant?”
“While it’ll be gathered as part of the warrant, I’ll hold it aside. I’ll inform necessary parties only as needed. That said, I want a copy of the intel.”
I arched a brow. “Max?”
“Give it to him. His office is digging through old cases for links, and I’d be giving him the intel anyway. I’m all for efficiency. Whoever this guy is, he means business.”
I worried at that; since waking up in the hospital, everyone had been careful to avoid mentioning the Park Lane case to me directly. “Was there another killing?”
Maxwell sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately. Three more mothers and four kids, and we suspect one of the kids was an unintentional target; the main victims were one shot instant kills. We’re speculating the killer wasn’t sure which kid was his actual target and decided on the fly to add to the body count. The first shot fired wasn’t lethal, but the second was. The triple homicide happened this morning and will be on the afternoon news.”
Shit. Once was a maybe, but four mothers and five kids killed was a trend—and evidence of a probable serial killer with an agenda. “A number and date at each shooting location?”
“Correct,” Maxwell confirmed.
I sighed, able to think of only one legal but questionable method I could help the investigation along, and the woman who could pull it off sat beside me. “Sassy?”
“What?”
“You know that colony of cranky cats I often complain about?”
“If you mean my family, then yes, I do.”
“Have them hit up the local wolves and suggest this asshole might go after their puppies next.”
Sassy’s eyes widened. “That’s a ruthless tactic to open with. I like it. Anything else?”
“You still friends with any of those lionesses you bitch about because they can roar and you can’t?”
“I’m friends with most feline lycanthropes in the state. Everyone loves me. Why?”
“The cops are going to need a lot of tips to catch this fucker, and I think it’s time I proved to you that cheetahs can win—if they’re of a feline bent on the hunt. You’ll have to do most of the work until I can bust out of this joint, but I’ll help as I can.”
“You’re literally asking me to herd cats.”
I laughed. “Yes, I am.”
She spat curses, tossed a few hisses in my direction for good measure, and snatched her laptop, packing it away while protesting my cruelty between breaths. She howled over my evils for the entire hospital to hear, stomping towards the door.
I, along with everyone else in the room, took a few moments to appreciate the view.
I counted to thirty before chuckling. “That’s one hell of a woman.”
My brother rolled his eyes and everyone else in the room shook their heads, likely suspecting I’d lost my mind. To be fair, I likely had.
Chapter Seven
Sometime after the third round of questioning, which boiled down to telling them I didn’t remember each and every time, I conked out on my inquisitive guests, most likely in mid-sentence.
I couldn’t remember.
Another round of testing confirmed I wasn’t going to fall over dead, and thanks to a blend of magic and medicine, I escaped the hospital five days following the accident. Most of the time I spent either by my lonesome, with my brother, or with Sassy. Sassy ultimately got suckered into handling my affairs, which kept her out of the hospital more often than not.
The day of my release, my unwanted brotherly attachment, accompanied by his baby rifle, wheeled me out of the hospital as the institution couldn’t handle the thought of me walking out of the place like they’d actually cured me.
“You could’ve let me wheel myself out,” I muttered.
All in all, I thought I’d earned a good sulk.
“And lose the chance to rib you over this for years?”
“That would be nice, now that you mention it. Can I get up now?”
My brother pointed at an SUV parked nearby. “That’s my rental, and no, you can’t drive.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m too drugged to drive anyway. Where are we going?”
“To hell. Mom and Dad demanded the presence of all offspring for dinner. They’re not convinced the hospital has been feeding you appropriately. They’re probably right, as you’re even scrawnier than usual.”
I lurched to my feet, ditched the blasted wheelchair, and limped to Mark’s rental. “What happened to going home? Where I live, not where the people who spawned us live.”
“There’s a cat infestation, and I’m tired of being hissed at by pissy cheetahs. There was a wolf flirting with a panther the last time I checked on your place.”
A wolf was flirting with a panther in my apartment? While I’d asked Sassy to involve the wolves, how had it devolved to interspecies flirtation in my apartment? Oh, right. I’d asked Sassy to herd cats.
My fault. I should’ve known better than to expect anything else.
“Why was a wolf flirting with a panther? Wolves aren’t felines, Mark.”
“He was willingly conspiring with a cat. And, I gotta say, that lady is packing heat in all the right ways. I’d be interested in a round with her if she wasn’t the marrying type.”
“You are such a slut, Mark.”
“I know. It’s great. Anyway, I’m sorry, but we’re going over to our parents’ place. For the sake of our eardrums, pretend you like it.” Mark unlocked the vehicle and hovered until I climbed inside. “You doing all right? You look like death warmed over.”
“I’m alive and only spent two days comatose. I’m great. And don’t you even think about expressing any concern to a doctor I might not be ready to leave the hospital. I will take your baby rifle, shove it up your ass, and fire.”
“Noted. And technically, you were only in a coma for thirty-one hours, and you regained consciousness much faster than expected. Were they able to confirm lycanthropy infection? The asshole doctors won’t give anyone but you or your power of attorney the results, and Sassy refuses to ask.”
“I refused the second test,” I admitted. “The first test, taken when I was brought in, was negative. They’ll test again in a year, but they’re estimating a ninety percent chance of infection. The doc wanted to claim it was basically a guarantee, but some people have natural immunities to the virus and he didn’t want a lawsuit. My white blood cell numbers are completely haywire, which is a solid sign of infection in his opinion. But then he acknowledged I suffered from enough internal injuries it could just be my body fighting off every infection known to man right now.”
“So, he has no i
dea and was just spewing shit out of his ass trying to sound fancy.”
“Basically.”
“Joe’s an army medic. Get him to check you over. He knows every trick in the book for field operations, so if you’ve still got something wrong with you, he can patch you up properly. He also has the right virus strain, being your kitten’s brother and all. Once we’re at our parents’ place, I’ll ping the base and see if he’s in the area. If so, I’ll ask for him to come pay you a visit as soon as he can get free from his duties. My bet’s on the white blood count being from all those internal injuries you managed to survive. Good job on that, by the way.” Mark started his rental. “If you’re not up for visiting our overbearing parental units, I’ll give you to the cats.”
I debated which was most likely to kill me, resigning myself to the reality of having dinner with Mom and Dad. “I’m more likely to handle the overbearing parental units than the felines destined to freak out the instant I step through the door.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“The doctors want me to go back in for another round of lycanthropy testing next week, claiming internal injuries and potential other infections making a mess of early detection with the added bonus of increasing my chances of infection. I politely declined, using that quack’s own complaints against him. If Sassy’s father bled on me enough to infect me, according to him, his virus might try to heal my injuries, tap itself out, and go into hiding while recovering and replicating. As such, it won’t be detected even next week, and since it’s incurable, I see no need to be poked and prodded for lycanthropy on top of the other poking and prodding they need to do. I managed to annoy everyone with that one.”
“You’re good at annoying people, especially when you use their own logic against them.”
“I thought I was being nice, saving my insurance company several thousand dollars of unnecessary testing.” I stretched my legs and settled into my seat, debating if I wanted to take a nap. “I’m not up for the traditional beer, but I’ll let you kick my ass at a game of pool if Dad still has his table. You can fill me in on your intel about this serial killer at the same time.”
