by L. K. Hill
Shaun’s lips moved, but Gabe couldn’t hear anything over the din, and there was no reading them under that thick mustache. Gabe pointed to his ear and shook his head to show he couldn’t hear. Shaun nodded and waved him forward.
Moving to the front of the room wasn’t any easier than trying to exit. After several unsuccessful attempts, Gabe shrugged and crawled over the top of tables and chairs. Climbing over the front-most table to stand in front of Shaun was nearly his undoing. His shoelace caught on a chair and he plunged forward. Had he not caught himself at the last moment, he would have landed on his face on the floor. Despite his lucky save, he spent several seconds teetering on one knee and unable to control his facial features.
By the time he untangled his legs, swung around to plant both feet on the floor and stood up, Shaun was watching him critically.
Gabe cleared his throat. “Uh…lots of bodies in here tonight.”
Shaun nodded and went back to studying his map, brow creased in concentration. “Thanks for coming in, Gabe. I know it’s your night off.”
Gabe shrugged. “No big deal. Sounds like it’s gonna be an intense shift.”
Shaun nodded. “To say the least. I meant what I said about putting our detectives over those from other precincts. You’ve worked homicide for—what? Two years? Three?”
“Three.”
Shaun nodded. “You may have more experience dealing with the Sons of Ares than anybody in the city.”
Gabe ran a hand through his short, dark hair. Anywhere else in the country, three years as a detective would be seen as relatively little experience. This was Abstreuse City, though. Few detectives stayed longer than a year. The area was just too dangerous. Sane men—especially those with families—transferred as soon as positions in other cities opened, or they gained enough experience or clout to pull some strings. Gabe, however, had no family, and no particular desire to move on. Even the worst places in the world needed good cops. “That may be true, Sir,” he said. “But I don’t know DEA procedures. At least, not well.”
Shaun shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. You’ll be working with other DEA operatives. You can rely on them for procedure. Really this won’t be a case of one person in charge of another. Just agencies working together. I need your eyes, Gabe. You’ll see things others won’t.”
Gabe nodded. “So where do you want me?”
“Go to the situation room. Report to a detective named Watson.”
Gabe quirked a smile. “Seriously?”
“Unfortunately. Did you remember to bring that box of files I wanted?”
“I did. They’re in the trunk of my car. You want me to get them?”
Finally they were the only ones left in the room. Shaun turned and headed for the door. “No hurry. Talk to Watson first. Then bring them to my office.”
Gabe followed him out. “Will do.”
An hour later, Gabe jogged toward his dark sedan. The well-lit parking lot was packed with extra vehicles tonight, so Gabe had been forced to park on the far side of the lot, which was much darker than the area near the building. He sighed. The box he’d brought for Shaun was heavy. It would be a long hike back lugging thirty pounds of files.
Using his keyless entry, he popped the trunk in the darkness and leaned in, glad his trunk had a dim orange light in it. A soft, cool wind blew through the lot, ruffling his shirt and bringing the scent of a rank dumpster with it.
“Psst!”
With a frown, he straightened up, his heart beating faster. Had that been a whisper? Or just an imagined movement? They were deep in the city here, but stray animals—especially cats—were common sights. Gabe was the only human in the parking lot, as far as he could tell. Deciding he’d imagined it, he reached for the box again.
“Psst! Hey you! Over here!”
Snapping upright, Gabe put a hand on his gun, wondering what awaited him in the shadows. The voice had come from off to his left, but the whisper made it hard to pinpoint. He couldn’t even tell if it was masculine or feminine. Twenty feet from his car, he stopped.
“Over here,” the harsh whisper came again. “By the dumpster.”
Gabe’s eyes found the blue, industrial-sized dumpster in a shadowy corner of the lot. Probably what he’d smelled earlier, it was situated at the mouth of a narrow alley that ran to an intersecting street in the distance.
Gabe squinted, trying to make out shapes in the darkness. A silhouette, darker than the surrounding murk, stepped out from behind the dumpster. Small in stature, the figure was either a woman or a youth. Baggy, shapeless clothing gave no hint to the contours beneath. He couldn’t see long hair, either, but when the figure looked toward the precinct building, the distant lights flashed off eyes bluer than he’d ever seen. They were electric, and Gabe wondered if they could possibly be real.
“Do you need help?” Gabe asked, raising his voice to be sure the figure would hear him.
“I need to talk to you,” the harsh whisper came again. The figure kept looking up and down the alley, as though afraid to be seen. “Come over here.”
Half amused, half wary, Gabe put his hand more conspicuously on his gun. “Why don’t you just step into the light for me?”
“No! I can’t be seen talking to the cops.”
With a grunt, Gabe took a few steps closer to the dumpster. He wasn’t about to walk into a dark alley on faith that this person wouldn’t harm him. The precinct was only a few hundred feet away, and Gabe was a decent-sized man, but there was no guarantee the shadowy figure wasn’t armed.
When he stopped short of the alley, the figure breathed out in frustration, looked up and down the alley again, and finally emerged, stepping in front of the dumpster. The light was faint, but he could see her more clearly now.
It was a woman, though not a very feminine-looking one. Black, baggy sweats and a matching hoodie were an effective camouflage against the night. He supposed that was the idea. The sleeves of her hoodie were pushed above her elbows—not surprising considering the warmth of the night—and even in the dim light he could see small, inflamed puncture marks in the crook of her elbow, many with dark, ugly lines—no doubt a sign of inflamed veins—leading out from them. Black, spikey hair cut in a way one usually only saw on grade school boys did nothing to show her gender, either. Her face might have been pretty if it wasn’t so pale. Dark circles under her eyes and gaunt cheeks showed poor health, though her face glistened, as though she’d recently been sweating. It made her skin look thick and splotchy.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asked.
“Is this precinct participating in the raid on the Carmichael District?”
Gabe blinked. How on earth could she know something like that?
The woman studied his face before nodding. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said briskly. “You’ve got to put a stop to it.”
Gabe’s mouth hung open for a moment. For a junkie, she picked up on body language quickly. Suddenly lying seemed like a great idea. “Listen ma’am, I’m not sure what you mean. Anything of that nature is police business—”
She waved her hand as though it was of no consequence. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to confirm anything. Just stop the raid.”
“Ma’am—”
“It’s a trap. They’re going to ambush you.”
Gabe stared at her. “Who?”
She let out her breath in a gust of exasperation. “The gang. Sons of Ares? In the Carmichael district? They know you’re coming. Everyone in the Slip Mire seems to.
“How do you—”
“I don’t know what they’re planning, but you can bet it will be messy. They’re better prepared than you could imagine. They hate cops, so either they’ll try to kill you or just do some really gory damage. The Sons of Ares aren’t exactly known for being cuddly.”
Gabe laughed, in surprise more than anything else. “Listen, I don’t know how you know all this, but I’m going to need you to come into the station and speak with my superiors.”
/> “No!”
He hadn’t moved toward her but she danced back several steps as though he had, only stopping when she backed up against the dumpster. “If that was an option, I wouldn’t be skulking creepily in the parking lot,” she said drily.
He did step toward her this time. “Ma’am—”
“No!” She retreated farther, stepping around the dumpster. “I came to warn you, and I have. What you do with the information is on you.”
Gabe stared at her, utterly at a loss as to how to react.
“Just do it,” she hissed. “Or all your cop buddies are going to die tonight.” She spun on her toe and started down the alley.
Anger flared in Gabe’s chest and he lunged forward, covering the remaining distance between them in two quick strides and grabbed her arm. No one threatened the lives of his fellow officers and just walked away.
Even as his fingers closed around her arm, she swung around, throwing a punch. He ducked it, easily grasping both her wrists in his hands.
“Let go of me!” Her insanely blue eyes, only inches away now, oozed defiance.
“Who are you?” he kept his voice firm, controlled. “What’s your name?”
“I said, let go of me!” She struggled fiercely. When she couldn’t free her hands, she started kicking, landing a solid blow to his shin.
“Listen,” Gabe growled through gritted teeth. “Stop!”
She obeyed, regarding him warily, her eyes darting back and forth again.
He gazed down into her face and took a deep, calming breath. She looked like a Mireling. People who lived on the street there had criminal mindsets. They needed positive encouragement to keep them talking. “I’m glad you came to tell me, but you can’t just make allegations like this and then disappear.”
“Why not?” she growled.
Gabe let out his breath in frustration. “Because I have no way of knowing if you’re telling me the truth, or where you got your information from.”
“And if you drag me into that police station, you’re gonna get me killed,” she hissed. “Now let go!”
He did this time, and so suddenly that she stumbled backward a few steps before righting herself. When she straightened, she walked backward, away from him. “I’m sorry,” she said more quietly. “It’s all I can do.”
“Gabe?”
The voice came from several rows over, nearer to the building. When the woman heard it, she spun on her toe and tore down the alley, disappearing into the shadows. She was fast for having so little height.
“Gabe?”
“Over here, Tyke.”
Tyke Burrel made his way to where Gabe stood. His yellow hair looked like straw with the fluorescent lights of the station blazing behind him. “What are you…looking at?” Tyke asked, following Gabe’s gaze down the now-empty alley.
“Nothing,” Gabe murmured, before turning to his fellow detective. “What are you doing out here?”
Tyke shrugged. “Shaun said you were bringing in stuff from your car. Thought you might need some help.”
Gabe sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Gabe? What’s wrong man?”
“You can help me with the files, but I need to talk to Shaun. Now. We have a problem.”
Chapter 3
Twenty minutes later Gabe and Tyke stood in Shaun’s office, along with Shaun himself, another detective named Cora Williams, and Kent Tanner, the head of the task force leading the raid.
The door of the small, box-like office was shut, but preparations for the raid were visible through the windows, which looked out on the hallway. The soft rumble of dozens of voices came, muffled, through the walls, along with the thuds of footsteps. Gabe wrinkled his nose. No matter how many air fresheners Shaun’s wife sent to work with him, his office always smelled like a freshly sharpened pencil.
The four men stood around Shaun’s desk. Cora sat in a chair against the wall with her legs crossed, her dark hair held out of her eyes by sunglasses that hadn’t been necessary for hours. All of them were frowning at Gabe.
“And that’s it?” Tanner yelled. “That’s all she said?” Squat and solidly built, Tanner was completely bald, but his eyebrows jumped all over his shiny forehead when he became passionate about something. Like now.
Gabe shrugged uncomfortably. “It wasn’t a long conversation. She took off.”
“Well why the hell didn’t you stop her, Nichols?” Tanner’s face had turned a particularly alarming shade of crimson.
“I tried.” Gabe said. “Grabbed her arm and everything. She was determined not to be dragged in here.”
“Well you should have dragged her in here.”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “I think she’d have screamed rape if I’d held on any longer. And if she had, we’d be in this same room and you’d be lecturing me about not setting off citizens that can make the department look bad.”
Tyke guffawed, but quickly schooled his features when Tanner’s glare transferred to him. Shaun put a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. “He’s got a point, Kent.”
Tanner took a deep breath, but shrugged Shaun’s hand off irritably. He seemed to get angrier again just looking at Gabe. “You’re asking me to call off the raid on the word of a junkie, who’s just disappeared the night. We’re talking about a year’s worth of work, here, Nichols. How do we know she was being truthful? How do we know she wasn’t just smashed?”
“I don’t see that it matters either way,” Gabe sighed.
Tanner’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “Excuse me?”
Exasperated, Gabe leaned forward to rest his palms on the desk. “Think about it, Tanner. Either she’s telling the truth or she’s not. If she is, we have to call off the raid. If she’s not, then she has an ulterior motive, she’s high, or she’s just crazy. Either way, she heard the information from somewhere, which means it’s out there. She knew everything: the Sons of Ares, the warehouse district, the date, the time. How would she know all that unless someone told her?”
Tanner dropped his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“He’s right, Kent,” Shaun said quietly. “You know he is. We have three SWAT teams and thirty detectives going on this raid. If there’s any truth to what this young lady said, can we really risk wiping out two departments full of people in one shot?”
Tanner heaved a great sigh, suddenly looking haggard. Gabe felt for him. Not that Tanner needed to take it out on him, but Gabe couldn’t imagine the frustration of seeing a year’s worth of work shot to hell. “Of course not,” Tanner said. “If Nichols had dragged this woman in here we could have at least determined her mental state, but…”
“I don’t think she was high,” Gabe said, just before deciding it probably wasn’t the best time to say it.
“Why not?” Shaun asked from behind Tanner.
Gabe shrugged uncomfortably. He hadn’t come to the conclusion until this moment, and he didn’t know how to explain why he thought she’d been totally lucid. “I…she…spoke…forcefully,” he managed.
Shaun arched an eyebrow. Tanner looked at Gabe like he was nuts. “Oh…kay.”
Cora spoke up for the first time. “I agree with Gabe: it doesn’t really matter if she was high or not, or even if she was high earlier today. Even if she was just repeating something she heard in a sky-high stupor, the information’s still out there. It came from somewhere.”
Gabe shot Cora a grateful look for rescuing him.
Looking dejected, Tanner nodded, turning to Shaun. “Call off the raid. Send everyone home.” He swiveled to thrust an index finger in Gabe’s direction. “Before you leave, I want you to get with a sketch artist and get us a likeness of this woman.”
Gabe frowned. “Why?”
“Why do you think, Nichols? If this information is on the street, there’s a leak in the department, and she may know where it is.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Tyke asked.
Tanner glared at Tyke briefly. “Even if she just came out of the goodnes
s of her heart to tell us about something she randomly heard…if she told us that, she may be willing to tell us more. We should take her on as a CI. I want her found.”
With that, he turned and left the room. Shaun followed him out, face unreadable. When the door closed behind them, Cora turned to Gabe. “Why don’t you think she was high?”
Gabe shrugged. “She just didn’t act like it.”
“You said she had track marks on her arms,” Tyke said.
“She did,” Gabe nodded. “I’m not saying she’s not a junkie. She just didn’t act like she was under the influence out there.”
“But,” Cora stood and pushed some hair behind her ear. “How so?”
Gabe hesitated, trying to put his impressions into words. “She wasn’t exactly calm, at least not after I tried to get her to come inside, but before that she was. She was confident, firm, logical. Not jittery or paranoid like you’d expect.”
“She’d only be paranoid if she was having withdrawals,” Cora said. “If she’d just gotten a fix before coming here, she would have been relatively calm anyway.”
“Maybe, but would someone who’d just shot up be so cool talking to a cop outside a police station, while sporting her needle marks for him to see? I just think she should have been more worried, you know?”
“She was afraid to come into the station,” Tyke pointed out.
“Yeah, but any junkie would be. This woman didn’t want to get into trouble, but she certainly wasn’t afraid of me, either.”
Cora gave him a flat-eyed stare, and he put his hands up defensively. “Not that I’d want her to be afraid of me, but think about it. We’re talking the back alley of a police precinct here. Plenty of unies going in and out; squad cars everywhere. I’m two, maybe three times her size, and with a gun on my hip to boot, and she pretty much shook her fist under my nose and gave me what-for. Does that sound like the behavior of a junkie to you?”
Tyke and Cora both jutted out their chins, considering.
“She spoke with almost—I don’t know—familiarity?”
