They made their way up the stairs to J-bone’s apartment, neither of them trusting the decrepit elevator. Chris pulled her weapon, as did Flint who stood to the right side of the door out of harm’s way. Chris, to the left with her back pressed to the wall, reached to try the door. Locked. Her master key wouldn’t get her in here. The locks were ancient mechanical anachronisms. Flint raised an eyebrow when Chris produced the metal key J-bone gave her and unlocked the door.
“I go in, you back me.”
“Okay,” Flint said with a nod.
Chris pushed the door open and eased inside with her stunner leading the way. The room was empty. She covered a door to the right as Flint slid past her keeping her back against the wall. Flint entered the room while Chris covered her.
“Clear,” Flint said.
Chris pivoted around to the left. She pushed open the next door and found the bathroom. Sandy was kneeling on the floor in her underwear with her head hanging over the toilet bowl dry heaving.
“Police. Turn toward me slowly and show me those hands.”
“I feel like shit,” Sandy said, her voice echoing from the toilet bowl. “What the hell did I do last night, and who did I do it with?”
Flint peered around the door-jamb. “Not much is she?”
She wasn’t. For someone that the entire city’s police department wanted to find, Sandy looked remarkably ordinary. Whatever J-bone had used on her had made her sick, but even without that she wasn’t much to look at. From J-bone’s enthusiastic appraisal, Chris had expected more. Black tangled hair was plastered to Sandy’s sweaty brow, and the tan he spoke of could have come out of a bottle for all Chris knew.
“Nice tattoo,” Flint said.
Chris ignored that. She wasn’t interested in butterflies. She holstered her stunner and pulled Sandy to her feet where she swayed and blinked in confusion.
“Are you Sandy Hodges?”
“I’m gonna puke.”
Chris stepped back. “Not on me. Are you Sandy Hodges?”
“Last time I looked I was,” Sandy said clutching her head. “I need a Doctor.”
“What you need is to put some clothes on and come with me.”
She frog-marched Sandy into the bedroom, and deposited her on the bed. The room stank of stale sex and smelly socks. She would be sure to tell J-bone when she saw him. She found Sandy’s clothes tossed around the room. Flint leaned against the wall looking faintly disgusted while Chris dressed Sandy as if dressing a child. By the time she was done, Sandy had realised where she was and what had happened.
She wasn’t happy.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Police,” Chris said. “You’re wanted in connection with four murders.”
“I ain’t done nothing.”
She snorted. “As if you could.”
“Bitch.”
“That would be me,” Flint said raising her hand briefly. “Know anyone by the name of Tony by any chance?”
Sandy’s face crumpled. “Oh Lady... he’s dead! Tony’s dead!” she wailed, and burst into tears.
“Oh for crying out loud.” Chris aimed a glare at Flint. “Sandy... Sandy!”
“What?” Sandy asked, still sniffling.
“I’m taking you in. You’re not under arrest unless you want to be, but you are coming with me to answer some questions.”
She pulled the crying woman to her feet and walked her out of the room.
A media circus confronted them when they stepped onto the street. How in the nine hells had they found out about Sandy so fast? No one but Ken and Flint knew they were coming here. Keeping a firm hold on Sandy’s left arm while Flint took her right, they marched the unresisting woman down the steps toward the car.
“Lieutenant Humber!” Ed Davis yelled. “Our viewers want to know how you intend to find the perpetrator of five shifter murders. They have a right to know how you will protect them.”
“No they don’t,” she growled still advancing and making him back up. “Now get out of my face before I arrest you for obstruction.”
Davis ignored the threat and thrust a microphone at Sandy. “Miss Hodges, would you like to say a few words?”
“I ain’t done nothing,” Sandy said sullenly.
“Ah yes...” Davis’ smile faltered for an instant. “Perhaps you would care to comment on these grisly slayings of the innocent members of our community?”
“No one is innocent in this city.”
“Well said,” Chris murmured under her breath and opened the passenger door. “In, and mind your head.”
“Five dead, Lieutenant, and you’re no closer to the one responsible than you were on day one.”
Chris’ eyes narrowed. Did Channel 5 have a mole in the Department? Someone had told them where she would be. Davis had known to find her here when no one but Ken and Flint knew that, and he knew about Tony—the fifth victim.
Chris climbed into the car. “The investigation is proceeding satisfactorily. With Miss Hodges’ help, an arrest is just a matter of time.” She slammed the door barely missing Ed’s fingers as he hastily withdrew his microphone.
“Nice ambiguous statement,” Flint said dryly.
“Thanks,” she said with a genuine smile.
They were both smiling as they left the media behind.
A couple of hours later they were no longer smiling. Chris’ head pounded and her shoulders felt knotted with tension. Even Flint looked a little tight around the eyes. Sandy had propped her elbows on the table and was nursing her third cup of coffee. She took a sip and then a drag on the nicstick, before adding to the blue haze in the room through her nose.
Chris waved smoke away from her face. “Let’s be clear. You’re saying the man you were with in the alley, Tony Dietz, was killed by a guy with a bat.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“And you’re going to stick with that?”
“Why shouldn’t I when it’s the truth?”
Chris climbed to her feet and paced away the ache in her backside. She dialled the air conditioning up to high in an effort to suck some of the smoke out of the room. The haze began to clear as the temperature plummeted. Flint hugged her arms and began to shiver. Chris frowned, unsure why that bothered her, but shrugged it away as unimportant. When the air cleared, she reset the thermostat and turned back to Sandy.
“I’ll tell you why: we are not stupid. No matter what you hear on the news I can assure you of that. Tony’s throat was torn out—”
Sandy flinched.
“—and now he’s dead. Just like Daniel Bryce, Steven Derrico, Andrew Fain, and Vincent Fairman. Do I have to tell you what each of these men had in common? They all knew you!”
Sandy gaped in surprise.
Chris hadn’t tried this approach before and smiled grimly at the shock on Sandy’s face. Sandy’s hands shook as she reached for the pack of nicsticks to light another. Chris flew across the room in two strides. Her hand flashed and slammed down on the pack. She shook her head slowly and withdrew the smokes.
“I’ve tried to be nice and you give me nothing but lies. No more privileges, no more friendly questions, Miss Hodges. You will tell me what you know of a man named Ryder, and you will be really truthful, or I’m going to make it my personal mission in life to make yours pure hell!”
Sandy flinched and began to sniffle.
Craaaack!
Chris’ hand stung from slapping the table. “That won’t work; we’re all girls together here. Try the tears on the guys, not me.”
“Bitch,” Sandy hissed.
“You said that before. It’s time you told me something new. Who is Ryder, how do you know him? Why did he attack Tony Dietz and not you? Where can I find him?”
“I don’t know him very well… I swear I don’t!” Sandy said as Chris’ face darkened. “He came sniffing around the office a couple of months ago asking questions. He was nice to me. He took me out for coffee lunchtimes and we chatted.”
“And you went
with him just like that?”
“Well… yeah.” Sandy looked down, embarrassed to admit it, but then her face darkened with anger. “I didn’t know he was a killer! He’s good looking and takes care of himself. He’s different to the guys I usually hang with.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know… it was like he knew what I was thinking. Yeah, like he knew exactly what to say and do, to make me happy. I liked him. He was kind to me.”
Flint glided forward silently. “But something happened, something that warned you off.”
“Yeah,” Sandy said miserably. “I didn’t even notice at first, but he was interested in my work. I was flattered. I’m only a shipping clerk for the Lady’s sake, but he made it seem important. I told him stuff.”
“Stuff?” she asked, glancing at Flint. “What kind of stuff?”
“Stuff I shouldn’t have. He said he was a writer and I believed him. Someone like him, he should be something like that, you know? I showed him a manifest he asked to see, but Tony found out. Tony is my friend… was my friend. He told me Ryder wanted to hurt the company and not to see him no more. I didn’t want to lose my job, so I did what he wanted. Tony said he would take care of Ryder with some of his boys.”
“Tony handled security for Hatch?”
“What else would a shifter be good at?”
Flint’s eyes narrowed. “You think Tony went after Ryder to hurt him… maybe as a warning?”
Sandy nodded miserably.
Chris frowned thoughtfully. Tony Dietz worked for Hatch as his enforcer, and the other dead shifters were his so-called security team. The term bang and burn team was so offensive wasn’t it? Ryder had been sniffing after something, but Dietz and his boys had nailed him. Why they hadn’t killed him puzzled her, but she couldn’t see how it mattered now. Ryder had got himself hurt and wanted revenge. He was taking the shifters on one by one. Only Marty and Jay still lived. She wasn’t certain about Marty. From the recording found at Vincent’s apartment, she tended to doubt it. So then, Jay would be the next victim. According to Collard’s files, Jason Kirkwood still lived with his parents, something that had turned out to be false.
Sandy was their first real break on the case. They knew Ryder’s name—if it wasn’t an alias of course, but more importantly, they knew what he looked like from Sandy’s description of him. Armed with that data, they had a real chance of finding him before he reached his next victim. She was determined to get to Jay first.
“Right, one last time from the beginning for the record,” she said nodding to Flint to insert a fresh disk in the table consol.
She led Sandy through her statement, and then had her sign and date each disk. Flint sealed them in their cases—her thumbprint activated the electronic seals.
Sandy’s eyes followed the discs as Flint handed them to Chris. “What happens to me now?”
Chris motioned for Sandy to stand. “Protective custody until this is over. You’ll be safe.”
Sandy stood and they escorted her out.
* * *
4 ~ Target Sighted
Ben Kirkwood was being a pain in the arse. At their previous meeting, Chris had questioned him on the whereabouts of his son and received, if not useful information, at least cooperation. This time however, he was less than eager to speak with her.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Lieutenant,” Kirkwood said, busily reorganising one of the shelves in his store. The business was family owned with only one employee in addition to himself. His brother manned the register while Ben restocked the shelves. “Like I told you before, Jason and I don’t talk as much as we used to. We lost touch after he moved out. He’s his own man now.” Kirkwood’s eyes slid briefly to Flint’s, and then fearfully away.
Chris frowned at the byplay, not understanding it.
Ken took up the slack. “The last time we spoke you mentioned some of Jay’s friends. Have you heard from any of them since then?”
Kirkwood’s eyes flickered. “No, nothing from them.”
He was lying. She didn’t know what about exactly, but he was. She was a good judge of expression and body language; it came in handy during interrogation. Ben Kirkwood was afraid, not of them specifically, but of their questions. He was reacting to Flint very oddly indeed. Every time he answered a question, his eyes would seek hers as if looking for approval. Did he know her?
She shook off her preoccupation to concentrate on business. “Perhaps you’ve heard from Marty?” she said, fishing for something useful.
“Marty Preston? No, can’t say I have. Of course with Jason gone, he doesn’t come around as much as he used to. Him and that girl of his were always dropping in at one time or another, but not since Jay... left.”
“The girl would have been Sandy Hodges?”
“Sandy? No, I don’t think that was her name. It was Becky or Rebecca something.” Kirkwood straightened after restocking a lower shelf. “Becky Cain or Caines... no that’s not... Cairns! Rebecca Cairns was her name. She works in one of the clubs.”
“Would that be Area 51 by any chance?” Ken asked, glancing at Chris to see if she had caught the significance.
She nodded thinking about the stamp on Fairman’s hand.
Kirkwood grabbed cans from the box at his feet and continued loading the shelves. “I don’t recall her ever telling me its name, but it might have been. She might have told me, but I wouldn’t have been interested enough to remember it. Nice girl though. Why would someone like her want to hang around a monster club like Area 51?” He shook his head in puzzlement.
A customer wandered up to them and interrupted the questioning. “Ben, sorry to interrupt, but I can’t find the maple syrup.”
“Its on the bottom shelf next to the... hang on, it will be quicker if I show you.” He turned to Chris. “Won’t be a minute.”
“Take your time,” she said sourly. After all, they were only trying to a catch the killer of five people here. Kirkwood took her words at face value and left with his customer trailing him. She turned to Flint. “What’s with you and Kirkwood?”
Flint tried to look puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant.”
“I mean the way he looks at you before answering questions. It’s as if he’s looking for permission or something. What gives?”
“You’re imagining things.”
“She’s right,” Ken said. “Every time we asked him something he looked at you before answering. He’s acting like you’re his boss or something.”
That was it exactly. Kirkwood acted as if Flint would punish him for saying the wrong thing.
“Maybe he’s reacting to my innate authority.”
Chris snorted.
Kirkwood rejoined them after escorting his customer to the checkout. “If there’s nothing further, Lieutenant, I have work.”
She gritted her teeth to stop herself from snapping at him. “We all have our work to do, Mr. Kirkwood. You’re making mine harder. I need to find Jason before the killer does. If you know where he is, you’d do well to tell me now.”
“But I don’t know where he is.”
“We have reason to believe your son may be in danger. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Have you any idea, any at all, where he would go if he felt threatened?”
Kirkwood glanced at Flint again, pleading for reassurance. “None at all. Jay stopped confiding in me a long time ago. I’ve helped you all I can, Lieutenant. Now, if you don’t mind I’ve got to get these shelves stocked.”
What in the nine hells was wrong with this guy? She had met some callous people in her time, but few of them had frustrated her as much as Ben Kirkwood had managed to do. Didn’t he care about his son? Didn’t he care that a killer like Ryder was after him? She shook her head and sighed wearily. She would have liked to take him in for a nice little sweating session, but she doubted anything would come of it.
“Call us if you hear from your son, Mr. Kirkwood. It really is in his best interests.”
Kirkwood nodded not looking up from his work.
Her lips thinned at his lack of interest. She led her partners outside.
“He’s holding back,” Ken said opening the car door.
“Oh yeah, he knows something all right,” Flint agreed, climbing into the back. “You think he knows where Jason is?”
Chris started the car and pulled into traffic. “Could be, but let’s concentrate on Jason’s pals for a minute. If Marty is alive, what are the odds he’s with his girlfriend?”
“Pretty good I’d say,” Flint said thoughtfully. “Area 51 then?”
She nodded. “Area 51 it is.”
Area 51 was closed to the public at this time of day, but that proved no hindrance. Her badge could have unlocked the doors with its embedded master key, but that was unnecessary and somewhat confrontational. She did confrontation well, but only when called for; anything else would dilute the effect when she really needed it. A quick word with a harried employee sweeping the forecourt outside the ticketing booths was enough to see her and both her partners inside.
Chris made her way into the club avoiding more Area 51 employees wielding brooms as she did so. Broken glass and trash littered the dance floor. Above her head hung a bewildering array of lights, holovid screens, and other electronic mood enhancement devices. Some of them looked vaguely illegal, but she knew that if she checked they would all scrape past a public health and safety inspection. One or two of the devices would be illegal out of state. She knew that for a fact.
“So this is a monster club,” Flint said, looking around in disapproval at the mess. “I’m not impressed.”
“You would be if you’d been here last night, dear lady.”
They turned to find a stocky man coming to meet them. Chris judged him with a single look: roughly one-seventy-five centimetres tall, one-eighty pounds, forty-five years of age—maybe a little older—his hair was grey-streaked but mainly dark. He approached with a smile on his face and was already reaching to shake hands. He was wearing his bright green shirt untucked over maroon pants; garish yes, but not out of place considering the surroundings.
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