Psychic Men_Hunter_Dane Investigation 3

by Adira August

  Hunter Dane caught Cam in emotional freefall with a look. Their eyes locked across the expanse of the conference table. It only lasted a few seconds, but later, Twee would swear to Natani they were talking to each other.

  They were. But not in some movie voiceover exchange of telepathy. Cam was afraid of so many things in that moment: of threat to Hunter, of the team falling apart knowing about them, of his home—his haven from the world—suddenly morphed into a dark maze of strangers and violence and suspicion.

  Hunter needed Cam strong and calm and focused and most of all, trusting him not to falter. Trusting he was as good at his job as Cam was at hurling himself down mountainsides.

  The tension dissipated. Hunt raised an eyebrow in query. Cam pulled his laptop back, and his fingers flew over the keys.

  The team watched the monitor. Camden Snow would make magic for them.

  A satellite image included the park, the local roads and trails, the location of the cave, as well as the crime scene and position of the PEV. Cam switched to a schematic of his development. His home, Morganfeld’s and Minnie Houston’s were all marked.

  “Thank you,” Hunter said. “Let’s break now and start again this afternoon. Detective Merisi, arrange a Jeffco deputy to work with you and start interviewing the residents of the development.”

  Mike Merisi considered for a moment whether or not he would tell his boss he’d already done those things. He looked at Twee. She blinked and turned back to her notes.

  His call.

  “You don’t want to hear the rest of my report?” he asked Hunter.

  “I do, when you have more information, and we can all make better sense of the data. We’ll also have the autopsy and evidence analysis by then.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “For now, copy everybody on everything you give me.” He looked around the table. “Alright, everyone?”

  “I have one more thing,” Merisi said. “Asher Gamble is a minor. His part in this is very suspicious. And his age doesn’t keep him from being a suspect.”

  He paused to see if anyone would object. No one did. “But we can’t exclude the grandfather, either. The only one we can exclude in this case is the guy who died of liver cancer in prison. So, how do I interview a fourteen-year-old when I can’t do it in the presence of his suspect guardian grandfather?”

  “You can do it because they aren’t suspects, detective,” Natani said. “No one’s a suspect so you’re not Mirandizing anyone. You’re getting a picture of the community, seeing if anyone knows the victim and if anyone saw anything unusual. Determining if the vehicle was stolen or lent or sold. There are no suspect interrogations now. You understand?”

  “Oh, I hear you,” Merisi said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And that would have been fine last night. But now that the Lieutenant has shared his story, how will I convince a future judge or jury the kid wasn’t a suspect without saying I believed his dead father predicted this guy’s murder? How does this boy having prior knowledge not make him a suspect?”

  No one answered.

  “Looks to me like there’s a whole herd of elephants in this room, and they’re about to trample our case. I just don’t want my career destroyed along with it.”

  “What do you think is the biggest issue?” Hunt asked him.

  Mike Merisi was not known for his calm demeanor. Professional on the street, interviewing a witness, doing the job, he was given to strong feelings and passions when he was with the team. No one was surprised when he sat forward and jabbed a finger toward Hunter Dane.

  “Why didn’t you tell me all this last night when you handed me the goddamned crime scene?”

  “You know the answer to that, Detective. At the time, there was no connection between the events. The information would have colored your perceptions. ”

  “Perfect Danian logic. But you’ve now made it impossible for me to talk to the boy. And anybody, and I mean any other cop in the world would have questioned him last night.”

  “What do want to do?” Hunt asked Merisi. “You processed a crime scene but haven’t established relationships with the possible witnesses or logged any evidence. Do you want to leave the team? Go back to patrol?”

  Merisi didn’t answer.

  “It’s okay if you do, you know. Working cases with people of privilege often involves treading a thin ethical line. Not everyone is comfortable walking that line. So, what do you want to do?”

  Merisi picked up his notebook and cell, and stood. “I’ll be back when you and Snow are eliminated as suspects.”

  “Keep me informed,” Hunter told him.

  CAM CAUGHT UP TO Mike at the elevator. “Hey.”

  “When you said you were involved with someone, you could have told me it was Dane.”

  “Not without talking to him first.”

  “Uh-huh.” The elevator door opened and Merisi stepped inside.

  Cam put a hand against the door, keeping it open. “We good?”

  The elevator dinged a protest at being restrained. “Was Dane the only reason you said no?” Merisi asked.

  Cam let his eyes track over Merisi’s body. “Do you switch?”

  Mike felt his face heat but didn’t look away. “For the right guy.”

  “Then, yeah, he is the only reason,” Cam said. “But Hunter Dane is the reason I do everything.”

  Cam let go of the door. Merisi put a foot out and stopped it.

  “Tell him or don’t, but Twee and I cleared you two last night. What you should know is your neighbor, Houston? She’s hinky as hell. The Lieutenant didn’t want to hear it, so, far as I’m concerned, fuck him. He can wait. But Carol has all the information.”

  Cam considered this.

  “You can let him stew until I get back, if you want. I have to get some pictures up there in daylight, and I’ll never tell him you knew.”

  Cam’s thoughts went to finding Hunter sprawled on the couch snoring, instead of next to him in bed this morning.

  “That’s an evil smile,” Mike said, grinning.

  “Tempting, “ Cam said. “But we have Natani’s blood pressure to consider. Tell you what—give me a half hour and then text me the news.”

  They parted on a fist bump.

  October 8th, 2012

  * * *

  “It’s this fucking internet!”

  A lot of things had changed in the decades since Think Tank Man had devised the plan to make a laughingstock of any researcher who claimed to have proof of psychism while the government-supported research continued. His brown hair was mostly gray, he wore bifocals and his knees were stiff in the morning. Only the rolling hills of Maryland were the same.

  One CIA man had replaced another, several times. Since each was barely distinguishable from the last, that wasn’t really a change. Neither was the government’s refusal to implement his programs as he visualized them, then blaming him for the subsequent and highly predictable difficulties. And he did as he had always done—ignored them.

  He worked at a slate-topped table set on a concrete base, setting dominoes precisely in an intricate design.

  “Are you even listening to me?” CIA demanded. “Stop playing and fix this.”

  “I’m not playing. This takes priority over Jason Furney,” he said.

  “Dominoes have priority?”

  “You’re in a panic over something I’ve already foreseen and accounted for in the social mechanism. As soon as anyone claims they’s proven God, there’ll be a veritable tidal wave of cyber tin hats thrown at them,” he said, moving to the other side of the table.

  When he picked up a new box of dominoes, they moved against one another, emitting a mellifluous unstructured music. “If it goes viral, it will simply be fodder for late night monologues. Trash news will scream it in satisfyingly ludicrous headlines.”

  “But they aren’t saying they’ve ‘proven god’.” CIA objected.

  “No, but the headli
nes will.” Light over the table projected the pattern in clean red lines and curves onto the surface. Think Tank placed the dominoes along them. “We really need a robot to do this.”

  “You realize everyone hates working with you,” CIA observed.

  “I can’t recall ever working with anyone.”

  “How do you know what the headlines will say unless we’re planting them?”

  “Understanding what the images mean requires clicking through and reading research.” He frowned and nudged a domino into place. “People won’t do that. The sites will create clickbait. ‘Science Proves God’ or ‘Fringe Scientist says She recorded Ghosts’ or whatever. It’s irrelevant.”

  “What is that, anyway?” CIA asked. “Fringe science? Is it just paranormal?”

  Think Tank straightened and moved away, considering the design.

  “It’s a phrase we made popular to discredit any qualified researcher who strayed too far into our path. It’s like any epithet, racial, national, all that. The words don’t mean anything specifically except ‘you’re worthless because you belong to a group’.” He shrugged. “We considered several options. I was rather partial to ‘looney laboratory’ because we could play the Looney Tunes theme music and rejuvenate ‘That’s all folks’ as a catchphrase. Limbaugh would have loved it.”

  He moved slowly to avoid unnecessary vibration and continued setting tiles in a sharp curve.

  “Science only advances by pushing the boundaries. Studying what most people with degrees in one of the sciences ignore. ”

  Think Tank very carefully adjusted the apex piece. “Let ‘em go,” he said. “The news’ll race through the internet. In seventy-two hours, the images will be fixed in the public’s mind as ridiculous, and so will anyone who posts them. Problem solved with no CIA intervention. As for the other”—he shook his head, it was no use talking sense to dumbasses— “go tell everyone to calm down. For once, the CIA should take the advice they pay me for. Let it be. Make sure you retain the original images and make the ‘corrected’ analysis.”

  CIA contemplated the dominoes for a few minutes. “Fine,” he said. “But before I go, tell me, since you’re so smart, what do the images mean? Really?”

  “Hamlet was right.”

  “‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy’?” CIA made a disgusted sound and went to the door. “I’ll tell them to follow your plan. But I only advise.”

  10:00am - Diane Natani

  * * *

  “As far as this unit and the city are concerned, I am Human Resources and you will sit the hell down, Lieutenant.” Diane Natani stood behind her desk pointing firmly at an empty visitors chair. The other was occupied by Camden Snow.

  Hunter sighed and closed the door behind him. He sat down. She pinned him to the chair with a glare.

  “There are two things that will be a waste of time and energy here,” Hunter told her. “The first is getting all emotional about this-”

  “Oh! I’m a woman so I’m all emotional? I’m pissed as hell!”

  “Anger, or ‘being pissed as hell’, is an emotional response not restricted to any gender. The second thing is citing rules and regs about fraternization with subordinates. You know as well as I do the whole department is one giant fuckathon.”

  She collapsed back into her seat, rubbing her eyes. “I know.” Her hands fell to her lap. “Well, at least you can’t knock him up.”

  “Is HR allowed to say stuff like that?”

  “Shut up.”

  She handed Cam a form. “Sign this. It says you had a consenting sexual relationship before you were hired. It states your continued employment is no longer a decision over which Lieutenant Dane has any influence, whatsoever. I am now your direct supervisor.”

  She threw Hunt a sour look. “And I swear I’ll get the Mayor to dump your sorry ass before I ever let Snow leave.”

  “Ms. Natani?” Cam asked. “You do realize I’m a multimillionaire and don’t need this job, right?” He turned a delicate shade of pink.

  Diane Natani had long been intrigued by Camden Snow’s mix of self-effacing demeanor, confident performance, and a subtle but distinct air of authority over Hunter Dane that surfaced occasionally. She’d always attributed it to Cam being an Alpha male, type A superstar who’d never had a boss before.

  But learning of their relationship, she wondered if Cam brought into the office something a lot less subtle away from the office. She found the idea of Hunter Dane as bottom a singularly cheerful one.

  “Mr. Snow, the fact that you don’t need the job makes me wonder if you took it under undue influence. However, your reasons are your own and your work is outstanding. Signing that notification allows Lieutenant Dane to continue in his position and be immune to disciplinary action about the fact of your relationship.”

  “May I use your pen?” Cam asked. She held it out. He signed and pushed the form and pen back to her.

  “Thank you. Now, as your boss, I have two orders for you, Mr. Snow. First, if anything makes you feel uncomfortable on a personal level, you are to tell me immediately. Second, do whatever the lieutenant says that doesn’t directly contradict any order I might give you. Questions?”

  He shook his head and made to rise, but she held out a hand, and he sank back. “One more thing for both of you.” She blew out a breath, tapping the pen on the desktop.

  “You two need to stay off this investigation until you’re cleared. Hunt, do not give orders. Not even disguised ones.”

  He nodded. She rolled her eyes. “Use your words, Detective.”

  He shrugged. “You’re doing what I would do. I should have told you weeks ago. Months, really. I’m on board, Diane.”

  Diane Natani visibly relaxed. “Thank you. Mr. Snow?”

  “Yeah… um, here’s the thing.” He handed Natani his cell phone showing a series of texts from Merisi.

  She read. Then she grinned. “If I order you to keep this strictly to yourself, you have to, you know.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Cam said, smirking.

  Hunter launched himself over the desk and snatched Cam’s cell away from Diane.

  “That little bastard!” Hunter laughed. “I knew I picked the right guy for the team.”

  “He and Twee uploaded their reports last night,” Cam said. “That’s why I went home early.”

  “You knew he’d cleared us last night?” Hunt’s tone bordered on outrage.

  Cam shrugged. “Next time, wake me when you get home.”

  EARLY ON, CAM HAD eschewed a desk for a conference table he could spread out on. When Twee got her lab, she’d ordered one more lab table than was strictly necessary. Cam loved it. A man who hated sitting around, he moved freely around the tall table when not half-perched on his tall swivel chair. He often had three monitors working at once, with multiple apps and web pages open on each.

  When Hunt and Cam finally came out of Diane Natani’s office, they found Twee perched on the chair at Cam’s table, rotating back and forth, humming to herself.

  “I thought you were going to get started on the backpack,” Hunt said.

  “I’m briefing you!” She seemed delighted by the prospect and spun herself all the way around. “You want here or the low table?” she asked Cam.

  When the team got its conference table back, breakfast pastry and lunch orders filled the central space where printers and case file boxes previously sat. It was their social as well as business gathering place. Twee always called it the “low table.”

  “Natani!” Hunter called and sat down at the head of the low table. Cam grabbed his laptop and took his regular spot at the other end facing Hunter.

  Natani came out and stopped at the coffee station. “You bellowed?”

  Cam loaded the monitor with new images, and she brought her coffee over. “Hang on, I gotta grab my pad.”

  “So if all this was done last night,” Hunter asked anyone listening, �
��Where the hell did Merisi just go?”

  “Back up to Houston’s, from what he told me,” Cam answered. “Said he had to get some pictures in daylight.”

  LEON WAS WEARING clothes when he stepped out of the two-seater PEV to greet Merisi. He’d texted Mike to meet him in the same small lot Deputy Wes had brought them to yesterday, to show them the jogging trail. Mike wasn’t sure he was relieved at the sight of chinos and rayon, or not. The image of a naked Leon in daylight seemed a treat to him. But he did have the feeling Leon was relieved to be dressed.

  For the first time in his life, Mike Merisi wondered if his feeling came from a sense he would call psychic.

  “Sorry ‘bout not having you up to the house, but Minnie’s not feeling that well,” Leon told him.

  “I might have to come back if I can’t tell what you can see from the deck.” Mike locked his unit. “Sorry Ms. Houston is sick.”

  They got into the PEV. “She has bad days and good.” Leon waited for Merisi to fasten his seat belt before switching on. “She’s getting on in years, though she don’t show it much. Look in the console; there’s a digital camera. Does video and single frame. Use it, if you want. You can take the card with you.”

  Merisi found the small device which was similar to one he used at his old job to document building lots and works in progress. This one had a blank memory card.

  “Are we going to pass Asher Gamble’s house?”

  “Yep, on the right. Last one before Minnie’s. Look for a big bunch of boulders seem ‘bout to fall right down the hill. House is up through the trees.”

  Mike caught glimpses of a few houses through the forest upslope to the right. To his left, a fine view of the valley showed through treetops lower on the slope where the hill dropped off. There were also houses below, and bits of the jogging trail visible.

  “Where’s Camden Snow’s place?”

  “We were right by it. First one to the left of the pull-off. Street’s a circle drive around the development.”