by E. J. Larson
As at their first meeting, Detective Fremantle, who was largely responsible for personnel planning at the Fairfield Police Department, chattered blithely away. He didn't bother to follow what she was saying, limiting himself to a friendly smirk. She wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise to contribute anyway. The resolute redhead pushed him by the arm into the elevator, pressed the button, and prattled on. On the fourth floor, she directed him through the corridors, talking incessantly the whole time. As she moved, her curls bounced up and down. Curls that reminded him of the elf again. But work was not the place to dream of her.
“I'm going to introduce you to your new team leader now,” she finally announced, drawing his attention back to her. She stopped in front of a door and knocked loudly. Without waiting for an answer, she opened and pushed him forward. An office with several empty workstations welcomed him. Two colleagues looked up from their flat screens.
“Detective Winder, this is your new addition, Tyler Ducharme.” She gestured towards the older of the two dark-skinned colleagues, who looked a little lost in the oversized office.
“Hi, great that it worked out already today,” he gave after a raspy clearing of his throat. “Thanks, Lynn.” He handed Tyler one hefty paw, placed the second on his shoulder and gave him an engaging smile.
“Welcome to the team, Tyler. I'm glad to have you join us. This is Will Evans,” he gestured to the other man in the room who tentatively raised a hand over the screen. “I'm Mason.”
“Will, can you give Tyler a rough introduction to our case already? I'll get us a round of coffee and then we'll get to work. Agreed?”
Tyler nodded. Coffee sounded good. The weight of his hand disappeared from his shoulder. He glanced after Mason and saw him slide out of the room with a fatherly smile and Lynn Fremantle hastily following. A flash of light on the far wall of the room caught his attention. The entire wall glowed with a soft dark blue light. One by one, text and pictures appeared on it. He had never seen a screen like that before.
“Our equipment is the best in the country,” the gaunt Will explained with a wry smile.
“My old department couldn't afford that,” Tyler replied with a smirk.
“There's no shortage of money here, but the work is still like anywhere else. It just looks a little more whacky.” Will shrugged and stepped up beside him in front of the wall. “We're supposed to be handling a missing persons case. Thirty-year-old journalist Delia Gupta disappeared seven weeks ago. Have you heard anything about that yet?”
Sighing, he shook his head.
“I've only been in town a few days.”
Will held out a worn copy of the Fairfield Chronicle to him. He eyed the paper, which he had bought himself the day before. This issue, however, had an article outlined in red pen. Tyler skimmed the lines.
SEVEN WEEKS OF FAILURE
FOR THE PAST SEVEN WEEKS, THE AUTHORITIES OF OUR CITY HAVE NOT LIFTED A FINGER TO SOLVE THE DISAPPEARANCE OF DELIA GUPTA. I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT A YOUNG WOMAN - AN ACTIVE MEMBER OF OUR SOCIETY - IS DISAPPEARING UNDER THE EYES OF THE POLICE WITHOUT A TRACE. YOU EVEN?
NO, I RATHER BELIEVE THAT NOBODY CARED ABOUT THE EXISTING TRACES. HOW CAN SEVEN WEEKS GO BY WITHOUT ANY CLUE AS TO HER WHEREABOUTS OR FATE?
THOUSANDS OF CITIZENS OF THE CITY HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR HER. BUT THE MEMBERS OF OUR POLICE FORCE, INSTEAD OF DOING THEIR JOB, WASTED OUR TAX MONEY TO KEEP THEIR COFFEE MACHINES RUNNING.
HOW COME YOU GUYS DIDN'T FIND ANYTHING?
THIS IS THE QUESTION THE FAIRFIELD POLICE DEPARTMENT HAS TO FACE NOW. A LARGE-SCALE POSTER CAMPAIGN BY AN ANONYMOUS SUPPORTER YIELDED QUITE A FEW CLUES THAT OUR POLICE COULDN'T FIND OR DIDN'T TREAT WITH CARE. THEY SHOULD HAVE DONE SO, BECAUSE IT'S THEIR DAMN JOB TO FIND THE MISSING PERSON. TO GIVE THEM ONE LAST CHANCE, THE CLUES COLLECTED WILL BE TURNED OVER TO THE FPD TOMORROW.
THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO SOLVE THE CASE BEFORE FIRE AND STORM DESCEND UPON THE CITY.
“What's that?” he wanted to know from his new colleague. “A threat? A prophecy?”
Objectively, it was a letter to the editor from a single outraged citizen denouncing a grievance. To the Fairfield police, however, it seemed to mean more. He looked back up at Will, waiting for more information. After all, he wasn't here to read the paper.
“I don't know, but it doesn't sound good, does it?”
“Is there any truth to the allegations? Did someone not do their job?”
Mason returned with a coffee pot.
“Freshly brewed, to give you a positive first impression of us,” he explained, grinning broadly. Setting the cups down on a free desk, he conjured up a milk carton from somewhere behind his own desk. “How far did you get?”
“Just the article,” Will returned. He pointed his index finger at the huge display on the wall. “That's her.”
The photo of a smiling woman grew on the display until it took up almost the entire height. Tyler found her spontaneously sympathetic and suddenly the cold facts became a story that interested him.
“The family has a significant part in our prosperity, which is why this case has a special meaning. We're all equal, but some of us are more equal, if you know what I mean.” Will gave him a searching look, but Tyler showed no emotion. “She missed an awards ceremony and was subsequently reported missing by her family. As you can imagine, nothing happened at all for now. She was, after all, a grown woman, free to come and go as she pleased.”
“And then what?” Tyler tried to push the issue. He tapped his finger on the newspaper article. “How is it that we know absolutely nothing?”
Will shrugged. “That's the question of all questions.”
“That's why we're standing here today,” Mason explained like an emcee. He took a deep breath and looked urgently at Tyler. “We are the independent body charged with completely reopening this case. The allegations that are being made could lead to a political earthquake. As of today, we will form a unit that will work to find out what happened to the woman. It is also our specific task to find out if there was any misconduct in the investigation so far.”
Tyler put the paper down, folded his arms behind his back and looked up at his new supervisor. He understood what he was being asked to do, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with his new role.
“May I speak frankly?”
Nodding paternally, Mason encouraged him. “Please, Tyler.”
“I've spent the last six months in the middle of such a political can of worms and I'm not comfortable with the role I'm being asked to step into here. This was supposed to be an unencumbered fresh start for me and it doesn't feel like that right now,” he said, voicing his concerns.
“I understand your concern, Tyler. I really do, but you also have to understand that I have to work with all the resources I have at my disposal. This investigation can't be conducted by anyone who comes from the regular staff of the Fairfield PD. No one would investigate their longtime colleagues and be objective enough about it that it would meet the requirements.” Mason looked at him sympathetically, but he was clearly unwilling to let him go. “What we can solve before Internal Affairs comes on the scene can save a lot of colleagues their jobs.”
“You and I may be able to see it that way, but our colleagues certainly won't be grateful to us for it,” Tyler objected again, shaking his head as he looked back and forth between Will and Mason.
“It could get ugly, I'm aware of that. But that is our job.”
He looked unflinchingly into Tyler's eyes. There was no hint of reproach in them for his rebellion. Mason understood exactly what was bothering him, but Tyler also understood that someone had to do the job. He just didn't see how it could fall on him again.
“In a city where money runs down the streets in abundance, secrets are the ultimate currency. We are here to find out who had enough to hide to prevent the disappearance of Delia Gupta from being solved.”
Will looked down, embarrassed. Mason's statements put his new job in a completely different light. So that w
as why Lynn had recruited him. Slowly it dawned on him. She wanted him because he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Her role in his life wasn't, as he'd hoped, that of the noble savior pulling him out of his pit. Instead, she had entirely different motives. She needed an investigator to push into her pit. And here he sat now-in the middle of Fairfield's dirt.
“Your first task is to get the records from the ground floor.” Mason clapped his hands together. “We were officially assigned the case by the Chief of Police last night. The colleagues who have been working on the case so far are out of the picture. We need all the records that have been gathered over the last few weeks. And the package from the letter writer should arrive today. We've got a lot of paperwork ahead of us. Let's get it done.”
“Um, Chief, about that,” Will interjected. “There's something I really need to do. Is it okay if I wrap this up for a minute before we dive into work?”
Inwardly, Tyler groaned, knowing exactly what was coming. This stunt was beyond un-collegial - whether Will actually had something to do or if this was just an excuse to avoid going into the lion's den. He couldn't be that afraid of his colleagues to let his new partner down on his first day, could he?
“Okay, then Tyler goes alone. It's only paper, after all.”
Yes, he could. Tyler spared himself pointless backtalk. Mason didn't have much of a choice as boss if he didn't want to take Will to the cleaners right off the bat. He needed the backing of the team if he was going to solve this case. Of course, Tyler wasn't keen on the task either, but it had to be done and there was no one else around but him. Under those circumstances, it would be hard for him to make friends at work. The vast majority would hate him on principle alone because they hated his role, and very few people were able to separate role from person.
Will grabbed his shoulder bag and left the office. When he would be back, he didn't say. He might not come back at all that day. Tyler let the pent up air of discontent escape through his nose.
“I really understand your disappointment, but I can't make it any easier for you. It certainly wouldn't be any help if I went down with you.”
“Absolutely not,” Tyler hastily agreed. After all, that would look like he needed a protector from his colleagues and would further weaken his position. “Ground floor did you say?”
“Ask for Detective Parker.”
16. Jasper
HIS SMARTPHONE LAY next to the mouse, which he used to align the objects on the screen. He had thought of everything, but something didn't fit into the overall picture. The design was not harmonious. But no matter how long he stared at it, he couldn't figure out which part it was. Actually, he wanted to be done with this task long ago, but the lack of sleep was getting to him. He just wasn't 18 anymore, Jasper thought shaking his head. He'd been working two full-time jobs for over a week now, helping his friend Carter fix bugs in his game. Milo had even fallen asleep with the gamepad in his hand last night. Twice.
Neither of them could keep up this workload much longer. He had emailed Carter that morning because he thought he recognized a pattern in the mistakes. When his phone rang at that moment, he knew it was his call back. Carter.
“Jazz, I read your message. I wish I could say you were wrong,” gushed his mate. “But unfortunately it is true. Analysis of our logs proved conclusively that this job was done by an insider. There were no attacks on our network that could have destroyed our backups. Absolutely out of the question. I was hoping there was a security hole in the system somewhere, but there isn’t."
After the initial flurry of talk, silence fell on the line.
“Sorry, man.” Jasper could understand Carter's disappointment. He wanted to be able to trust his team without reservation, but now that trust had been irretrievably shattered. “Do you have any idea who it was? I thought about it for a long time last night. But at some point, I was sure that the hole pattern wasn't a coincidence. Your insider was out to disrupt the fun of the game to the maximum. Whoever it was knew the turning points in the story and the crucial battles. I'm sure it's someone who knows the whole game. Not someone who just threw in a bit here and there.”
Silence again spread through the line.
“Carter, are you still there?” Jasper asked uncertainly.
“Um, yeah. I just had an idea there.”
His mate sounded absent-minded. He understood that this attack was on Carter's mind. Someone was threatening his professional livelihood and this person was one of his confidants. However it turned out, it would undoubtedly get ugly.
“Why would someone do that to you?” Jasper blurted out his most pressing question. “What did you do?”
“While my ex isn't as enthusiastic about me as she used to be, I can't imagine her wanting to kick me in the balls that hard. But I would imagine that…" Carter broke off. “No, I don't want to believe that either. We may not have broken up entirely amicably, but he wouldn't do that.”
“Who?” inquired Jasper.
“My former business partner. We broke up a few months ago because we had too different goals. Since then I've been running the shop alone and everything was going well until this ... thing.”
“This thing you call a thing was an underhanded attack on your business. I think you should put your energy into finding the culprit. Your developers, Milo and I will do the rest. I think in three days we'll be done and you can meet your release date.”
He hoped he was right so he could get a good night's sleep. Jasper glanced at the clock. Novalee had scheduled him for a client meeting and his design still wasn't ready. Actually, he had wanted to get off work a little earlier that day, but if he continued to make such sluggish progress, he could forget it.
“Carter, I gotta go. Get in touch if you need any more backup or want to beat someone up. I'm up for anything.”
He smirked and began to wonder how serious he was about his own words. Jasper didn't pick a fight, but he understood his friend's anger. For a good friend like him, he would. Still, he hoped Carter didn't decide to take advantage of that part of his offer, of all things.
“Take care, man. I don't even know how to thank you guys.”
No sooner had he hung up and turned back to his design than his impatient colleague came strutting down the hall.
“Are you thinking about our appointment?” she asked tentatively this time without bursting into his office from the hallway. He hummed assent and let his gaze wander back and forth between the clock and the design. He still had a little time left. If he could manage to fix the glitch before they left, his end of the day might be within reach after all. Maybe he could go straight home from the client meeting. He desperately needed two hours of sleep before he and Milo started pulling all-nighters again.
He looked at the individual layers of his composition and analyzed them. The font position was in order. The background was consistent with the overall picture. The fonts also matched. Was it perhaps the size? He had taken the usual steps to ensure a harmonious relationship between the individual font elements. But by now he was sure that something had gone wrong.
“Are you coming now?”Novalee urged him.
“Why don't we take the car and then you can stop stressing out?” He multiplied the font size of his headline by his usual factor of 1.62 and drew his brows together skeptically. “That doesn't fit.”
“We can't find a parking lot there that we'd have to walk any less far from than if we started right here. Why don't you do that later? It doesn't matter now.”
Her voice sounded pressed. He knew she had this quirk with excessive punctuality, but he just didn't want to see that he should walk to this client appointment. They had the company car for such trips, after all.
“It does matter. There's something wrong with this type.” Defying his words, he rose from his desk chair. “To keep you from cracking like a punctured egg yolk, I'll put off fixing it until later.”
“Thank you.”
That was rare, Jasper noted. Had it ever happened b
efore that Novalee thanked him?
As far as he knew, FU.Ture was an absolutely average event agency. There were at least four of them in town. They organized company parties, product releases, press events, concerts, weddings, and whatever else came up in town. What was so special about this agency had to be something personal.
“Spit it out. Why do you want it so bad?” he finally echoed when they were already halfway through Fairfield's nightlife district. Novalee walked with springy steps. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was as excited as she was for a first date. But that was impossible.
Novalee smirked audaciously. Another expression he'd never seen on her before. His interest grew.
“I happen to be quite well informed and know that there is a job waiting for us there that should make even you all antsy,” she hinted.
“Nothing's going to get me antsy anytime soon, doll.” Whatever she was implying was certainly not something Jasper was appreciably interested in.
“So you wouldn't be keen on doing a national campaign for Fairfield Fashion Week then?” Her raised brows seemed to be just waiting for him to fall to his knees in awe, but he wouldn't do that. However, he had to admit that the task did appeal to him - on an artistic level.
“Hmm, all right. We can do that if you really want.” Emphasizing nonchalance, he shrugged a shoulder and then took a verbal counter-attack. “But since when are you interested in fashion?”
She looked down at herself and pursed her lips into a pout. Today she was wearing black jeans and white blouse she had tucked into the front of her waistband. It clearly showed that she was making an effort to implement styling cues, but this look was not modern.
“I'm not,” she replied in a huff. No matter what she said in response to that dig, it was wrong. She knew that. Still, she couldn't help herself. She always had to talk back.
