Kinsey chewed at her bottom lip so hard Ray had to resist the urge to chide her. “I don’t know.” The blonde tossed her hands in the air. “I guess I don’t know anything.”
Before Ray could offer even a gesture of comfort, Jordan twitched on the slab, drawing all of their attention to him. A moment later, his clouded eyes cleared, a deep inhale filling his chest with air.
Kinsey lurched forward, but Gerri beat her to it, cutting off the smaller woman as she bent over Jordan with a toothy smile. Sure sign he was in deep trouble. “Hello there, sunshine,” she said. “Have a nice death?”
Jordan swallowed, smiled in return, hesitant. “Still have a headache,” he said in a tiny voice.
“What a shame.” Gerri grasped his shirt and jerked him into a sitting position while Kinsey muttered angrily and Jordan meeped in pain. “I’m all broken up over the fact you put my friend in mortal danger. Now, I’d like to know why. And who killed that guy.” Gerri spun him around by her same grip, pushing Jordan forward so he got a good look at the decomposing body.
“Gerri, that’s enough.” Kinsey’s tone rang with anger, but Ray felt sorry for her. It would take far more than that to break through Gerri’s temper. Kinsey might not like it, but nothing worked up the detective like threats to her friends. Ray knew how she felt.
Gerri ignored Kinsey, all of her attention on Jordan. “She’s wearing your blood, asshole.” She shook him, hard enough to make his head bob on his neck while Kinsey absently, nervously, wiped at the dried blood on her face. “She could have been killed.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He didn’t apologize to Kinsey, though. Ray didn’t miss his words were for Gerri. Never trust a man, especially the sweet, charming ones.
“It wasn’t his fault.” Kinsey really needed to get some perspective. And though it hurt her to call on Mummy at any time, it seemed the perfect moment to let her bitch out.
“Kinsey.” Cold, imperious, sharp edged. And impassive all at the same time. Classic Mummy. “You need to step back. Now.”
Her friend’s hurt couldn’t make it through Mummy’s icy exterior. But, she did obey, just as Ray thought she would. Everyone did
Everyone but Gerri. Who stared at Ray a long moment with her own chill calculation in her eyes before returning to Jordan.
“I want answers,” she said. “Start talking.”
Jordan nodded, gulped, glanced sideways at Kinsey who stared at the floor, shoulders hunched, hands tucked into her back pockets. “His name is Ryan Beecher. My best friend.” Kinsey twitched at Jordan’s no-nonsense tone of voice. Ray released her Mummy mask and wondered. If it was Gerri or Kinsey, she’d be sobbing, even as a professional around death. Jordan didn’t seem all that broken up about it. Or, maybe Gerri’s rough handling made him nervous enough he was too scared for tears. “And I have no idea what happened to him.”
“Liar.” Gerri shook him again, sending him sliding from the slab. “Don’t lie to me, Jordan. I can always tell.” Why then did the detective seem so angry and yet so anxious at the same time?
Her trick gut must have been on high alert. Kinsey’s quick flash of sadness killed the rest of Ray’s need to be impassive. She crossed to her friend and tucked her arm around the blonde’s slim shoulders, pulling her tight to her. Kinsey didn’t resist, but she didn’t soften, either. That troubled Ray more. Had she damaged their relationship by trying to protect Kinsey?
Gerri had her phone out, was tapping keys. Lifted it to her ear. “Yeah, it’s Meyers. Run a name for me. Ryan Beecher.” She glared at Jordan a long moment.
“New York,” he said at last.
“New York.” Gerri paused. “I’ll wait.” She released Jordan, leaning back against the slab with her free hand tucked around her waist, still scowling his direction. He turned to Kinsey, hands out. Ray let her go when the blonde pulled free.
“I didn’t lie,” he said, soft, mournful. “I swear I don’t know what happened to Ryan.”
Kinsey hesitated, bless her. “Gerri’s never wrong,” she said, some of her own coldness in her voice, though Ray could tell she struggled with it. “Never.”
Gerri’s expression softened slightly before she looked away. “Yeah, go. Uh-huh. That much? Got it.” She hung up, tucking her phone away. “Looks like Mr. Beecher has a rap sheet as long as yours, Jordan. You two like your little jaunt in Los Angeles?”
Jordan shrugged, wiping at the crusting blood on the side of his face. “Not so much,” he said. “Was Ryan’s idea. I was along for the ride.”
Gerri didn’t comment on whether he was telling the truth or not, so Ray assumed he was. “How about Vegas? You two didn’t last long.”
He looked suddenly uncomfortable, feet shuffling on the floor as he looked down. “It was all Ryan, I swear.” Jordan sighed, sagged, though Ray still didn’t trust they were seeing the real him as he met Gerri’s eyes. “We were partners, ever since we were kids. Started out in New York. Things kinda went sideways, so we hit Los Angeles, thinking we’d get a new start. I wanted to go legit, to work things out, but Ryan. He had a nose for the biz and he didn’t want to work alone.”
Kinsey’s hurt look was back. Not a good sign. She had a “rescue the poor puppy” expression that meant trouble.
“Ryan was wanted for questioning in a murder investigation in Los Angeles.” Gerri wasn’t letting up.
Jordan nodded. “He grabbed me, middle of the night, said the cops were looking for him. He didn’t do it. At least, he said he didn’t, that someone set him up.” Gerri’s jaw unclenched a little. Were her indomitable instincts believing him? “We took off, landed in Vegas.”
“Another fresh start?” Ray couldn’t help her own cynicism, endured the short glance from Kinsey, a tiny grin from Gerri.
Jordan’s hands tossed against his sides. “I hoped so,” he said.
“But.” Gerri sighed heavily. “What happened?”
“What always happened. Ryan found work with people he should have avoided and dragged me into it with him.” He held Kinsey’s eyes as he spoke, imploring. “You have to believe me, Kins.”
Did she now? Ray sighed softly as the blonde nodded, crisp enough her ponytail bobbed.
“I do, Jordan,” she said with enough challenge in her voice the brunette prepped for a fight. But none came. Gerri just stared, silent and watchful, while Jordan squirmed.
“So, it’s Ryan’s fault someone is trying to kill you.” Gerri’s question held no emotion, flat and hard.
He bobbed a nod, hesitated. Looked at the floor. “I think I know who it is. The past finally caught up to him. Ryan…” he met Gerri’s eyes at last. “Someone shot the leader of the O’Reilly crime family back in New York. And they think it was him.”
***
INT. – SILVER CITY MORGUE - DAY
Gerri’s stomach tightened at the mention of the O’Reilly’s. They were a smaller clan, but notorious for their violence and wicked tempers. “Alroy O’Reilly. Ten years ago.” She’d been in Boston then, heard of the death, the manhunt for his killer, though she doubted very much if the cops looked as hard as they told the media they did.
Jordan’s nodding was getting on her nerves, his over-eager attempt to appease her, the worst sort of weakness in her eyes. She hated her mind said maybe he was a good match for Kinsey, and hated even more the trouble she was having reading Jordan Michaels like she could with others.
“So, the O’Reilly’s tracked Ryan here to Silver City, killed him and have been trying to kill you ever since?” Gerri shook her head, wishing her instincts would stop waffling. Was he telling the truth or wasn’t he? She’d guessed earlier he was lying, her cop training saving her. Only then did she realize just how much she’d come to rely on her gut feelings and that made her nervous. “How do they know they failed the first time with you? Why keep trying?”
“I screwed up,” he said. “Woke up after they shot me in the chest and went home to my apartment. Someone was waiting for Ryan, I assume. He must have still be
en alive.” Jordan’s sorrow finally made an appearance, and though her gut said it was real, she still didn’t trust him. “They’ve been chasing me ever since.”
“All right.” Gerri straightened up, reaching for his arm while Kinsey made a move to protest. “We’re going downtown now.” She exaggerated the statement directly to the blonde. “Where you’ll be safe. At least until I can figure out what to do with you.”
“What are you going to tell the captain?” Kinsey wasn’t letting this go. And while she admired her gumption, this wasn’t the time or place to be challenging Gerri.
“I’ll think of something.” Gerri pushed past the blonde, already planning to talk to her later, to make amends. But, for now, she had this idiot who kept dying to deal with. First things first.
Jordan turned, calling out to Kinsey over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later?”
Gerri glanced back, caught the doubt on her friend’s face. Good, let her doubt him. And, if he turned out to actually be innocent in all this, Gerri would be the first to apologize, buy him a beer and wish them well.
Somehow, she didn’t think that was going to happen. Cynical, all the way.
***
EXT. – SILVER CITY STREETS – DAY
Gerri was in the middle of pushing Jordan’s head down and stuffing him in the back seat of her Charger when her phone rang. She slammed the door on his mournful expression and answered it.
“Ger.” She hadn’t heard from Eric “Flashman” Ortega in a bit, not since she asked him to look into dog fighting for her. Turned out it was a dead end anyway.
“Flash.” Gerri climbed in the front seat. “What do you need?”
“I’m here for you, girl, every day of the week.” He sounded oddly cheerful and Gerri grinned. She liked Flashman, had since the night her old partner, Detective Joe Mutch, introduced them in a dank alley while Flashman faked puking on her favorite boots. Hilarious, the two of them. Now Joe was gone and Flash was her go-to guy.
“Tell me you got something good.” Gerri pulled away, cutting off a car in traffic, flashing her badge at the man who gave her the finger.
“Depends on your definition, Red.” He was laughing at her, absolutely. “Heard you caught the case of the dead guy in the salvage yard trunk.”
“That’s me, all decaying corpses, all the time.” She didn’t often get a chance to joke around, not with a partner like Jackson Pierce. She wondered as Flashman went on if he’d ever consider dumping undercover work and come join homicide. He was a partner she could ride with.
“Word’s out it was a hit,” he said. “The Divinities.”
Gerri’s happiness evaporated, though it turned to satisfaction. She’d been looking for something to pin on the motorcycle gang she still believed affiliated with the Collective of All Souls. “Source trustworthy?”
“I wouldn’t have called if she wasn’t.” He paused, the sound of street noise coming through the receiver before going quiet. He must have moved inside, because his voice was clearer, sharper, the background gone. “From what I heard, dead dude and his partner ripped them off for a half mil.”
Gerri slammed on the brakes, the same guy who flipped her the bird laying on the horn before skidding around her. She ignored the other driver, jerking the car to a halt at the curb before getting out. Jordan stared up at her when she yanked the back door open, manhandling him out and up against the side of her car. “Half a million, you say?” She grinned at Jordan. “Stolen from the Divinities bike gang?”
“You okay there, Meyers?” Flashman sounded slightly concerned. “You’re repeating the obvious.”
“Just making sure the message is delivered. Anything else?”
“That ain’t enough for you?” He snorted, the sound of the street returning. “Redheads.”
Gerri hung up, tucking the phone away as she continued to smile at Jordan with her temper showing clearly in her eyes. He needed to see just how pissed she was he was still lying to her. “Where’s the money?”
He shook his head, not fighting her, hands up. “I swear, I don’t know,” he said. “It was Ryan’s heist. He never told me where he hid it.”
“Thing is,” Gerri said in a calm, conversational voice, “if you don’t tell me details that might help me find out who killed your friend, I might just turn you loose and let them keep putting bullets in you. Just to see how many it takes for you to actually die.”
Jordan swallowed convulsively. “I’ll be good, Detective. I promise.”
Her gut writhed and fought. Why was she having so much trouble reading this guy? It seemed like every other second her instincts snapped at him, then settled and went calm again.
Gerri stuffed him back into the car and slammed the door. She didn’t speak to him until she was pulling out into traffic again. “If I find out you’re lying to me,” she said, “I’ll be the one putting bullets in you.”
Her radio squawked. “Dispatch, this is Unit 9A48. We’re on a 6A on Mercer and Donaldson.”
Officers Mills and Purcell’s call sign, Mills’s steady voice announcing they were out of their unit and investigating, requiring assistance. And, they were close. Gerri swerved without thinking, grabbing the receiver. “This is Unit 9H48, a block out. What’s your situation?”
“Possible 187, Detective,” Mills said, sounding relieved. “Sounds like it’s up your alley.”
187. Code for homicide. Typical. Gerri replaced the receiver and glared at Jordan through the rearview mirror. “You’re going to stay in the car,” she said as she pulled over behind Mill’s marked unit. “And you’re going to be a good boy until I get back.”
Jordan shrugged. “Like I have a choice.” Sullen, at last. This she could work with.
“You want to die all over again?” He met her gaze, his dark and angry. “You put my friends in jeopardy, I take notice. Die on your own time. And not on my watch. Now, sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
Gerri’s phone rang for the second time as she climbed out of the car and headed for where Mills waved her on. She didn’t glance at the screen, just hit talk. And wished she had.
“You can’t just hand him over to the police.” Kinsey’s voice shook. “He’s one of us.”
“In case you missed it,” Gerri said, tired of the conversation already, “I am the police. Kins, please. Let me handle this. Unless you want him to keep dying over and over again?”
The blonde went silent. “I guess not,” she said. “I’m coming to the precinct.”
“No,” Gerri said, gesturing to Mills to give her a second, the stench of death wafting out of the end of the alley. Great, another body left to percolate in the California heat. Yumtastic. “You’re going to either go home and wash the blood from your face then go to work or take the damned day off and stay away from Jordan Michaels.” She could feel her friend’s resistance through the phone. “Kins,” Gerri said, softening her tone, turning to look down the street at the oncoming traffic, a motorcycle shining in the sun leading another pair of bikers coming her way. “He’s trouble. You know it.” Two more bikes appeared, triggering a kick to the gut so strong Gerri was already turning, diving for Mills, before she understood why. She crashed into the officer, carrying her to the ground, just as the sound of gunfire ripped through the afternoon, shattering the supposed bulletproof glass of the back of her Charger.
Gerri glanced back, watched Jordan’s body dance from the impacts, and swore as the motorcycles peeled off long before she could right herself and get off a shot.
The Divinities struck again. In broad daylight. Now, how was she going to explain the dead guy again?
***
INT. – SILVER CITY MORGUE - DAY
Ray was more than a little tired of sending Robert out on errands while she waited for this wanker to come back to life. She prodded Jordan with one finger, irritation pulling her eyebrows together. It didn’t help Kinsey hovered with concern on her sweet face.
Concern was highly overrated when it came to Jordan Micha
els.
“Fetch me a cuppa, will you, darling?” Ray gestured toward her office. “I just put a pot on before Gerri brought him in here.” He was bound to wake up any moment if she was a judge of reconstructed flesh. She’d seen him come back to life before, figured he was close enough if she could distract Kinsey, she’d get a moment alone with him.
The blonde looked petulant a moment, before smiling. “Sure, Ray. Thanks for taking care of him.” Oh, if only Kinsey knew. Ray had every intention of taking care of him.
All the way out of their lives. At first, she thought he might be a good thing for the anthropologist, a way for her to loosen up, to become a bit more worldly and educated. A broken heart wasn’t exactly a terrible thing in the long run and would mean Kinsey would be more likely to drink a whole lot of wine with her when it was over.
But, as Kinsey crossed to Ray’s office and Jordan drew a shallow breath, one of the multiple bullet holes oozing a little still, she decided this particular broken heart wasn’t worth losing one or both of her friends over. The moment Jordan’s eyes cleared, she bent over him with a scalpel in one hand and her words hissing from her mouth.
“You tell the whole truth, so help you God,” she pressed the blade against his cheek, “or I’ll make dying the least of your worries.”
He gaped up at her, still fighting for air. The bullets had pierced his lungs, keeping him silent for the moment. Just the way she wanted him. Ray had been angry before, of course she had. But never had she felt such a surge of protective fury as she did in that moment, and imagined it must be what Gerri felt like all the time.
Try Dying (Episode Six: The Nightshade Cases) Page 4
