by L. K. Hill
Something was smeared across it. Mud or dirt of some kind. He certainly hadn’t put it there. In one flickering motion his gun was out and the safety off, pointing toward the floor. Taking silent, measured steps, he made his way toward the back door. More smears marred the floor. They swiveled from the back door toward the multi-purpose room on the right. As he reached the corner, positioning himself to swivel around it, a thud and a gasp came from his right. Someone was in the half-bath.
He lunged around the corner, gun pointed straight ahead of him. The door wasn’t closed all the way. It leaned against the frame, keeping him from seeing inside. Keeping the gun in his right hand, his finger poised over the trigger, he gently pushed the door open with his left hand.
Kyra—dressed in her black Supra getup and spiky wig—stood in front of the mirror, hands on either side of the porcelain sink. She obviously held her entire weight up using her arms, and they shook with the effort. Scrapes and bruises covered every inch of exposed skin. Her face was puffy and bruised with blood oozing from a nasty cut below one eye and dripping down her neck. Her clothes were torn and caked with dirt. She turned her head painfully as the door swung open. Then her knees gave out.
Gabe lunged forward and caught her as she collapsed. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he let her lean back against his chest as he hauled her toward the toilet and sat her down atop it. He set his gun on the ground beside him after turning the safety back on and looked up at her. “What happened?”
She glanced at him and swallowed, but studied the ground again before answering. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
He waited until he caught her eye again. “Really? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
She only shrugged.
Gabe pushed up to his feet. “I’m going to call an ambulance.”
Her hand lanced out to grasp his wrist. “No. No ambulance.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Will you let me take you to the hospital, then?”
She shook her head. “If I wanted a hospital, I’d have gone there.”
“You’re hurt, Kyra. You need medical attention.”
“I don’t need anything more than a first aid kit.”
“You don’t know that. Did you hit your head?”
She glanced at him warily. “I…don’t think so.”
“But you don’t know.”
“I’m…almost positive—”
“What if you’re wrong?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Then I’ll set my alarm and wake myself up every two hours, okay?”
“If you have a concussion, you won’t wake up to an alarm, Kyra.”
She sighed, her face pleading. “Please Gabe? I’m sure I’m not hurt bad. If I start to feel weird at all, I’ll go in. I swear. I don’t want to deal with a busy hospital right now.”
He stared at her, thinking. Then decided to employ a different tactic. “I’m a cop, Kyra. If someone needs medical attention, and I don’t take them in, I could lose my job. Especially if your injuries are worse than you realize.”
Her eyes widened at that, and she stared at him in shock for several seconds. Good. He didn’t feel guilty lying if it would get her to take care of herself.
“I…didn’t realize that,” she finally managed. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ll just leave.”
Gabe’s mouth fell open as she pushed herself up on unsteady legs and tried to move past him through the door. He grabbed her elbow. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You can’t leave.”
“No,” she gazed up at him, one side of her face looking like it had gone a few rounds with a brick wall. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Yes, you should,” he said more gently. “It’s why I gave you the key. Come into the kitchen. I have a first aid kit under the sink. I’ll patch you up.”
“Won’t you get into—”
“It’s fine. I was just trying to get you to go see a doctor.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, but showed no other reaction to his confession. He helped her into the kitchen and sat her down on one of the mismatched chairs around his table. Retrieving the first aid kit—a clear plastic box the size of a steering wheel—he pulled out gauze and alcohol pads. She winced when he touched her wounds with the alcohol.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” he asked, leaning over her from the other chair.
“It’d only piss you off,” she muttered, and he froze.
“Please tell me you didn’t go back to that warehouse,” he said warningly.
Refusing to meet his eye, she shrugged.
Gabe threw the alcohol pad he held down on the table and sat back hard in his chair. “You promised you wouldn’t go back there until I found out more, Kyra.”
“No, I didn’t.” Her voice was steady, but small. “I promised I wouldn’t go back in, or approach it. I didn’t do either. I wasn’t anywhere near it.” She glanced up and took in Gabe’s frown. “Okay, I was near it, but several blocks away. One of the guards saw me. It was just bad luck. He had a dog. How the hell am I supposed to plan for a dog?”
Gabe grew more confused by the sentence. “What’s a dog got to do with anything?”
With a sigh, she dropped her head into her hand and massaged her temple. “Nothing. You’re right. It shouldn’t have happened. I wanted to observe the place from a distance and I…wasn’t careful enough.”
Gabe leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “How long did you observe?”
“All day.”
“Learn anything?”
She barked a laugh. “Not really. That’s what sucks the most about this,” she nodded down toward her skinned-up hands. “It didn’t even get me any real information, much less a smoking gun.”
Gabe picked up the alcohol pad and dabbed at the raw skin of her forearms again. “Nothing at all, huh?”
“None of them came out,” she said grimly. “I saw a few dozen more people go into that place tonight, and none of them come back out again.”
He concentrated on wrapping her injured arms while he thought. “You sure they aren’t using some other exit you haven’t seen?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t been inside—not more than two feet inside, anyway—so I can’t vouch for secret, underground entries, but I know the back entrances aren’t being used. I’ve kept an eye on them. They’re boarded up, the hinges rusted out, covered in cobwebs. No signs of foot traffic at all.”
Gabe nodded. “I haven’t learned much, either. I found out who owns it—a California-based freight company that hasn’t actually used the building for months. I’ve been trying to get a hold of the owner. He hasn’t called me back, yet.”
“Is he local?” Kyra asked.
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t know. He has a local address, but his phone’s area code is out of state, so it’s hard tell. He may just keep a house here for when he has to work in Abstreuse. I won’t know until I talk to him.”
She nodded. Her eyes looked haggard.
“Tell me what happened today,” he said. “I want to know.”
For the next ten minutes she told him of the two men who’d passed her hiding place with the dog and how one of them was waiting when she emerged. Gabe listened while he finished cleaning and bandaging her injuries.
“…And I kept running. Lost him around M Street. It was a busy night—lots of people—so I slipped away in the crowd. I thought about going to Sadie’s, but I figured this, “she pointed to her face, “would freak her out even more than it did you, so I came here.”
“But, you said this happened at three a.m. Four hours ago. What have you been doing all this time?”
Her face went still. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again, obviously trying to frame her response.
Gabe didn’t give her the chance. “It took you four hours to lose the guy? No wonder your legs gave out in there. You’ve been running all night.”
She shook her head. “
Not always running. Going all night, yes. But it was a lot of starting and stopping. Running and hiding. Running again.”
“Why didn’t you come straight here?”
“Because I didn’t want him following me here. It could have put you at risk. If he’d looked up the address and found out I’d come to the house of a cop, he could have blown my cover wide open. I had to be sure I wasn’t being tailed anymore before coming.”
He sighed. “You’ve got to be more careful, Kyra.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I know.”
“And apparently,” he gathered up the used swabs and gauze pads, sweeping them off the table and into his hands, “I need to be more specific when I extract promises from my CIs.”
One corner of her mouth turned upward.
After throwing away the bandages, he turned back to find her staring out his kitchen window. The sky had turned a pale shade of blue while they’d been talking. “Mind if I use the bathroom to take off my makeup?” she asked.
“Of course not. Go ahead.”
Pushing up on wobbly legs, she turned toward the bathroom. He put a hand out to steady her and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just tired after all the running. I think I have a lot of stiffness to look forward to tomorrow.” She waddled down the hall and disappeared around the corner. The sound of running water followed.
It occurred to Gabe that he ought to offer her something to eat. She was probably starving. A quick glance through his fridge revealed exactly what he’d feared: a fat lot of nothing. Orange juice that smelled fermented. Condiments that hadn’t been used in two years. He settled for bottled water and some granola bars he found in the cupboard. They were expired by a couple of weeks. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too stale.
“You hungry?” he asked when she came back into the room. She hadn’t gotten all of the black off her eyes. Streaks of white still showed at her hairline. Overall she looked much healthier—much better—as herself than as Supra.
“What do you have?” she asked, brushing her sandy blond hair back from her face. She didn’t sit at the table again, but rather leaned against the counter.
“Granola bars,” he said, wincing.
She laughed softly, accepting one, and the bottled water. “That’s fine. Thank you.”
“Look,” he stood up, glancing out the window again. “You’re exhausted, and may or may not have a concussion,” he glared at her pointedly and she rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you crash here? If I can’t wake you up when I get up for work this evening, you won’t be able to fight me on going to the hospital, will you?”
She smiled and glanced around his place. “Stay here? I guess it beats walking back to the hotel.”
“Well, I’d drive you back if you want to go. I just figured…you can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She gave him a don’t-be-stupid look that pulled him up short. “Because you’re so much smaller than me and can fit so much better on the couch?”
“Uh, well—”
“Can you even stretch out on that couch, Gabe?”
“No, but—”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m only staying if I get to take the couch.”
Gabe threw up his hands. “Fine. Take the damn couch.”
She grinned and, after a moment, he returned it. “So are you gonna be gone when I wake up?”
She shrugged. “Probably. When do you wake up?”
Her voice was still flippant, so he ignored the question, stepping closer to her instead and putting a hand on her waist. “In all seriousness, Kyra. You could have called me. I would have come and picked you up so you didn’t have to run a marathon. Why didn’t you?”
She shrugged. “It just…wouldn’t have worked. There wasn’t a good time to stop. I wasn’t near either of the pay phones. I didn’t want to use my cell.”
“You said you’d use the cell if your life was in danger.”
“I will,” she said calmly. “But I didn’t feel like that tonight.” His disbelief must have shown on his face because she went on quickly. “I know it sounds crazy, but after the first attack, he never got close again. I ran, hid. It wasn’t exactly fighting for my life. I knew if I kept going, I’d lose him sooner or later.”
“What if you hadn’t? What if your body had given out, first?”
Her expression darkened. “I’m in pretty good shape.”
His eyes dropped to her torso before he could stop himself and he flushed. This really wasn’t the time.
“Call me next time,” he said, forcing himself to look at her face. “Don’t,” he said quickly when she opened her mouth to object. “Downplay the danger you’re in. That may work on others, but I’ve worked homicide in the Mire for three years. All it does is make it seem like you don’t realize how dire things are.”
“I do,” she said firmly. “I appreciate the concern, but I have it under control.”
He took her wrist gently and held it up, indicating the heavily bandaged forearm. “This is not under control.”
She met his eye for a moment, then looked away, pulling her wrist out of his grasp.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she looked back at him. “But I don’t know what you want me to say. I’ll be more careful? I’ll be more vigilant? I will, but...” She shrugged.
Her face only inches from his, she gazed up at him pleadingly. Her eyes were blue, but not the electric blue of her Supra contacts, nor the pale, distinctive sea blue eyes she usually boasted. Now hers were a dark stormy blue, so dark they seemed almost black. Gabe suddenly became aware of how close they were. One of his hands still at her waist, the other holding her wrist, their bodies pressed against one another. Kyra raised her eyes to his. An openness he hadn’t seen before shone out from her eyes. An utter lack of fear.
Gabe leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t pull back.
The instant his lips brushed hers, his phone, clipped to his belt, went off, blaring a classic rock ring tone. The noise was so jarring in the quiet kitchen that Kyra jumped, gasping. Gabe put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Just my phone.” He took it from his belt and nearly declined the call, but it was Shaun calling. Shaun knew his sleeping schedule and never called at this time unless it was an emergency.
He gave Kyra an apologetic look. “I have to…”
She waved a hand at him. “It’s okay. Go ahead.” Running a hand through her hair, she moved away from him and he a pang of regret tightened his chest. He stabbed the green button on his phone angrily.
“Hey, Shaun.”
“Sorry to wake you, Gabe.”
“You didn’t. What’s up?”
“Thought you would want to know that I got the report on Mallory Butler’s son. The one who died the same night she did?”
Gabe glanced at Kyra. She’d paced to the other side of the kitchen, her back to him. “What does it say?”
“Definitely not SIDS. Your CI was right about that.”
“What then?”
“The medical examiner tagged the death as suspicious, but the autopsy was inconclusive.”
Gabe sighed. Of course it was. “Care to expound on that?”
“Would if I could, Gabe,” Shaun sounded chagrined. “I’ve been staring at this report for twenty minutes. It’s all a bunch of medical terminology. I can’t make heads or tails of it, other than the official, listed findings. You may want to talk to the ME about it.”
Gabe made a mental note. “Okay.”
“Actually, that’s why I called you,” Shaun said. “The ME who did the autopsy is Noah Tripoly. The traveling examiner from Vegas? He only gets down here about once a month, and he’ll be here on the 13th. He’s sure to be busy, so if you want to talk to him, you’d better put in a request for a few minutes of his time early, before everyone else who wants his expertise does.”
Gabe nodded. He’d att
empted to talk to Tripoly before for other cases. It seemed if you didn’t call him and schedule some phone or face time at least three days prior to his arrival, he was already completely booked. “I’ll do that. Thanks Shaun.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Gabe hung up the phone and Kyra turned to look at him. A sudden awkwardness descended. “Sorry about that,” he held up the phone briefly before setting it on the counter.
She shrugged. “It’s probably just as well, Gabe.”
He turned fully to face her. “What do you mean?”
She glanced around uncomfortably, then looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not sure us…” she thrust out a hand toward where they’d been standing before his phone rang. “I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”
His stomach dropped, but he kept his voice even, watching her face closely. “Why not?”
She half shrugged and spread her hands, as though at a loss for words.
A stab of disappointment that felt more like anger lanced through his chest. “Yeah. I get it.”
Her head snapped up in surprise. “It’s not that I’m not interested, Gabe.” She gave a little, self-conscious chuckle and muttered, “Believe me.”
He couldn’t stop the grin from stealing across his face. “What then?”
Her brow furrowed in distress. “I just…know myself very well, Gabe. I put my life—all of it—on hold to find my brother. I have to stick to that. If you and I started seeing each other, I know it’s all I’d want to do.”
His smile widened. “Not really seeing a problem with that.”
She smiled too, spots of color appearing in her cheeks for the third time since they’d come into the kitchen. “You’d distract me. Hey, you keep telling me I need to be more careful, and you’re not wrong. If I’m distracted by…anything really, I won’t be on my toes when I need to be.”
The smile slid off his face and he sighed. It would be downright hypocritical for him to argue with that, much as he wanted to.
“I just,” she shrugged again, eyes on the floor. “I have to focus on Manny right now. Not myself.” She peeked up at him warily.
