by Mary May
Jaxon pressed her back against the cold brick listening for any movement in the alley. It was silent. She palmed her pistol, quickly swinging into the opening, scanning quickly up and down the short alley, her pistol following with her eye movements…it was empty! Walking down the length of the alleyway, she scanned the walls looking for somewhere he could hide. But there wasn’t any place a man his size could hide. There wasn’t even a dumpster to crawl into. Craning her head upward, she looked at the rooftops of the buildings. But they were empty as well.
“Keep it up, Creep! I will get you!” she yelled out. A movement on the ground caught her eye. Something was being tossed around by the slight breeze. She walked over and put her foot on it to stop it from going any further; then bending down she picked it up. Giving the empty alleyway one last look, she walked back to her car.
CHAPTER 2
Jaxon sat in her old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub neck deep in frothy strawberry- scented bubbles. The tub alone was the reason she had bought the house. It was the one girly thing she allowed herself. She imagined even if she had been born a man, she would still soak in bubble baths. They were that wonderful! She studied the object that she had picked up in the alley. It was a feather, a large feather. That was odd enough in itself, because she couldn’t imagine any birds in this day and time that would have such long and wide feathers. It was nearly a foot and half long and five and half inches at its widest point, but the size wasn’t the strangest thing about it. It was the color, or colors. Because it wasn’t just a single color -- it was every color. Whatever she held it up to, that was the color it became. It shone with an iridescence that she had never seen before. It even smelled good, like fresh snow and open meadows. She tried dunking it in the bathwater and it would come out dry. So, it was waterproof and would change colors to match its surroundings. Getting out of the tub, she set it on the bathroom counter. She would take it down to Mollie in the morning. If anyone could explain what it was, it was Mollie and her wall of super computers…
“I have no idea what this is, Jaxon. I haven’t been able to run a single test on it because I can’t get a sample from it.” Mollie looked frustrated and excited at the same time. Her spiky red hair seemed almost electrified in her excitement.
It had now been a week since Jaxon dropped the feather off into the very capable hands of Mollie Gillespie. Mollie was the forensic guru of the Detroit PD. But what she was saying now didn’t make a lot of sense.
“Why couldn’t you get a sample from it? Just cut a piece off.”
After much rolling of her brown eyes, Mollie handed Jaxon a pair of scissors. “Oh, gee, now why didn’t I think of that? Here you try it, Smarty Pants.”
Jaxon took the scissors and tried to snip a piece off the tip of the feather, but it would just bend. She tried cutting it through the shaft and again it would just bend around the blade.
“See? I have tried cutting, burning, sawing -- I even soaked it in nitrogen oxide, you know, the stuff that freezes everything, and nothing affects it. It’s indestructible! I can’t even tell you if it’s organic or synthetic. I have never seen anything like it! Where did you find it?” Mollie asked.
Holding the feather in her hands, she ran it through her fingers. It was still soft and supple and not a smudge of dirt could be seen on it. Jaxon held it up and sniffed it.
“It still smells good, even after everything you did to it, and I found it in an alley.”
Mollie smiled as she reached for the feather and sniffed it. “Oh, it smells like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies!”
Jaxon shook her head. “Girl, you have been smelling all your chemicals too long. It smells like fresh snow and open meadows.”
“Noooo, it definitely smells like cookies!” Mollie argued.
Jaxon looked at Mollie through narrowed eyes. “How are we smelling completely different scents from one item?” Suddenly she got up. “Follow me.”
Jaxon walked up the stairs to the main level and asked everyone to smell the feather. For every person, she asked she got a different response.
“Smells like roses.”
“Smells like my grandfather’s pipe tobacco.”
“Smells like the perfume my mother wore.”
“Smells like a new car.”
The responses were as different as the person smelling it. It appeared that whoever smelled the feather would smell their favorite scent.
Jaxon was sitting at her desk still puzzling over the feather when Commander Rawlings walked up to her desk with an apprehensive look.
“Malone, I want to tell you that we have found your new partner.” When Jaxon opened her mouth to inform them she didn’t need or more importantly want another partner, Rawlings held up his hand.
“I know that no one can ever replace Mitch, but you need someone. You can’t continue to go out alone. It’s against department policy. He is waiting to meet you in my office.”
Knowing she was out ranked, Jaxon put the feather in her desk drawer then got to her feet to follow him without comment. She knew none was needed or expected. Replacing Mitch was inevitable, but she didn’t have to like it.
The commander opened his office door, allowing Jaxon to enter first. A man with hair so blonde it was nearly white was sitting with his back to the door.
“Detective Sloan, this will be your new partner, Jaxon Malone.”
When the man stood up and turned around, Jaxon felt her stomach muscles tighten. It was Shadow Man! She would know that white hair and dark glasses anywhere. The man smiled and extended his hand toward her. She hesitated before taking it, feeling a strange electricity run up her arm at the brief contact.
“Detective Malone, it’s good to meet you. I have heard some pretty impressive things about you,” Sloan commented.
Rubbing her hand on her thigh to stop the tingles, she smiled tightly as she held his gaze. “I bet you can do some pretty impressive things yourself.” Like disappear from dead end alleys, she thought. She wasn’t going to let him know that she knew exactly who he was until she figured out his game.
He shrugged. “I’m just your typical detective, I suppose. Nothing special.” She could tell he was studying her from behind his mirrored Ray Bans. She nodded back at him.
“Yeah, well, welcome to the team, I guess.”
Chapter 3
Three days later Jaxon was driving the streets showing her new partner the city. She tried to keep her eyes on the thick Detroit traffic and not eyeball Sloan, but he didn’t make it easy. He was the most unusual-looking man she had ever seen, and she hadn’t even seen that much of him. He always wore his gray hoodie and kept his sunglasses on constantly. Sloan was freakishly tall, and with his spiky bleach-blonde hair he kind of stood out in a crowd. She had tried to find out something about him, where he had transferred from or about his family, but he was very good at deflection. He would answer a question with a question about nine times out of ten.
“I’m sorry to hear about your former partner. That had to be rough, losing him like you did,” Sloan said in his deep voice.
Slowing down to stop at a red light, Jaxon nearly bit her tongue off to keep from telling him there was no way she was discussing Mitch with him. Casting a quick look his way, she saw that once again he was watching her from behind those sunglasses.
“Do you ever take off those glasses? It’s nighttime, you know.”
Reaching up, he took them off but kept them in his hand. “I keep them on because my eyes tend to make people uncomfortable.”
She looked at him. “Really? Why?”
When he faced her, she sucked in her breath. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen with a dark blue ring around the iris that was so dark it almost looked black. But beyond that his gaze seemed to see right into her soul into every memory or thought she had ever had. She quickly turned back to face the road. “Oh, I see. They are very unusual, but they are nothing you should have to keep covered,” she commented lightly, trying to slow her racing hea
rt.
He slipped them back on and faced the windshield once more. “It’s easier this way,” he replied.
Gripping the wheel tightly to keep her hands from shaking, Jaxon mentally shook her head. His eyes were like a mirror, except you saw your soul instead of your reflection.
Over the next couple of weeks, they fell into a routine like partners generally do. Sloan was easy to work with and he knew his job. They were currently working the case of the suicide killer. They had found two more victims with shallow cut wrists, so they knew they had a serial on their hands. Jaxon noticed that every time they would find a body, Sloan would bow his head and silently pray over the victims with his hand held out over the body. She never would have pegged him to be the religious type, but he seemed very sorrowful over the loss of life. Whenever she questioned him, he gave her that intense stare that he was so good at, unnerving her even from behind his trademark Ray Bans.
“Every life has a purpose, Jaxon, a soul that at one time was full of promise and expectations. It should be mourned when it’s cut short before reaching that full potential, however it happens,” he answered softly.
Jaxon just nodded without comment, but his response surprised her.
Of course, everything about the man was shrouded in mystery. She had tried to trace where he had transferred from, but the computer would freeze up every time she tried to investigate him. It was hard to do a complete search on someone when all you had was a first name or was it his last name? His fingerprints were not in the system at all, and that was beyond strange because all personnel in the police station, starting from the secretaries to the chief, had their fingerprints listed in the database. She was keeping her mouth shut about the fact that she knew he was the guy that had been watching her.
That night they were at the diner grabbing a quick bite to eat when she suddenly had an idea how to find out his last name and possibly an address.
“Hey, I want to show you a neat trick, let me see your driver’s license or your badge.” She watched him study her as she chewed her salad with big-eyed innocence.
“Why don’t you show me using yours?” he countered.
“Because yours would work better,” she replied.
“I bet not,” he countered again.
“What’s the matter? You do have a driver’s license, right, and a badge? I don’t think I have ever seen you show anyone your badge, come to think of it.” Jaxon pushed him hard. She finally had him in a corner!
Sloan watched her for a minute longer then shrugged and reached into his back pocket, tossing her his badge and wallet. Jaxon snatched his black leather wallet faster than a striking cobra and opened it up. He had an out-of-state driver’s license from Florida and his name was listed as Wally Luther Sloan, born August 17, 1980, height 6’7”. Hair white, eyes blue and he wasn’t an organ donor. He carried a Visa debit card and a black MasterCard along with seventy-eight dollars in cash. His address was listed as 789 Beachside Drive, Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
“You know, you really should get a new driver’s license, Wally.” She slid his wallet across the table to him. He put it back in his pocket with a grin.
“Now you know why I go by Sloan.”
Later that night she thought about his reaction after she went through his wallet, or rather his lack of reaction. He just watched her with his freaky eyes, knowing she was going through everything. Who would just sit there and let someone invade his privacy like that? He didn’t act surprised or angry or anything! She rolled out of bed and went to her computer, typing in his name and birthday. Suddenly the screen filled with information that had eluded her before. He had a background; parents, siblings a college education, everything that she couldn’t find before. Leaning back in her chair she stared at the wealth of information that had been denied to her. It was almost like he knew she was digging.
Jaxon stumbled into her kitchen the next morning, fumbling in the dark for her coffee pot. She had finally fallen asleep around three A.M., knowing she had to get up at five. Filling the water chamber, she tossed in the measured scoops of sanity and waited for it to brew. Rubbing her eyes hard, she thought about the sudden appearance of Sloan’s past. It most definitely was not there a few days ago! She had been digging around trying to find something…anything on the man ever since Rawlings had put them together. Another odd thing she had noticed was everyone at the department had simply accepted Sloan. No one questioned or gave him grief over being the new guy. The guys always, as in ALWAYS gave the newbies grief, but not Sloan. He waltzed in and was immediately accepted and respected by everyone. Well, except his partner, of course. It was like she was the only one not under his spell.
An hour later Jaxon made her way to her desk, not the least surprised to see Sloan already seated and waiting for her. He was always the first one to arrive, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Scowling at him, Jaxon pulled out her chair and fell into it with a very unladylike grunt.
“What do you do, sleep in the back?” she questioned. “You do sleep, don’t you?
“Doesn’t everyone?” he answered with a grin. Studying the dark circles under her eyes, he leaned closer. “Looks like some may need more than others. Couldn’t you sleep last night? Was the case keeping you awake or something else?”
More like someone else! Jaxon thought. “Don’t worry about my sleeping habits, Sloan. I’m a big girl.” The mocking lift of an eyebrow told her that he was disagreeing with her last statement but was wise enough to keep it to himself.
“Look, not everyone is a freak of nature like you are, Buddy. I happen to be perfectly normal-sized.” Jumping up from her chair, she headed for the coffee pot. Clearly, she needed more caffeine; three cups weren’t nearly enough to deal with the over-sized pain in her tush called Sloan. Adding four sugar cubes and a healthy dollop of creamer had the cup of coffee nearly perfect. Lifting the hot brew to her lips, she sipped it slowly, feeling it flow straight to her soul. Ahh…yes, this was what she needed!
“They say apple juice actually wakes you better than coffee and is healthier for you.” Sloan’s voice came from more than a foot above her head and to her left.
Closing her eyes, she tried to hold on to her moment of bliss. “Only evil coffee Nazi’s would say such a thing and they can’t be trusted. Coffee is the nectar of the gods.”
“God…singular. There is only one God,” Sloan corrected her softly, but with conviction.
Now it was her turn to arch a brow. “Okaaay, religious much?”
Sloan shook his head. “No. I’m actually not ‘religious’ at all,” he said, using air quotes. “But I believe what I believe and that’s what I believe.”
Still sipping her coffee but curious, Jaxon asked him what exactly did he believe?
“There is one God, heaven is real and hell is hot,” he answered without hesitation.
“Hell? As in the red-horned devil and all his little minions?”
Sloan chuckled then reached out to rub at the frown lines between her eyes. “Well, that may be the Saturday morning cartoon version of the guy, but yeah.”
Shooing his hand away, Jaxon set down her coffee. “So, he doesn’t look like that? Next you will be telling me that angels don’t look like little naked babies.”
Sloan’s roar of laughter startled Jaxon so bad she was thankful she had set down her coffee. The guy was laughing so hard he turned red and held his sides, leaning against a tall filing cabinet for support. Everyone turned to see what was so funny. All Jaxon could do was shrug her shoulders because she had no idea what had tipped his giggle bucket. Finally, he composed himself and slapped his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward the door. “Enough! Not another word. I can’t answer any more questions today.” He wiped his eyes and shook his head, muttering under his breath… “Little naked babies! Sweet mercy!”
Two hours later all traces of laughter were gone from Sloan’s unusual eyes as they both stared down at the body of a young man. The remnants of foamy spittle from arou
nd his mouth told them that this wasn’t a murder, at least not in the usual sense of the word. He died from an overdose of Hell Hash. In Jaxon’s opinion, anyone that peddled the drug should be held liable for their deaths. It was only a matter of time before the user needed more and more of the synthetic drug to reach that high again. She nodded to the medical examiner to go ahead and load up the body. There wasn’t much they could do for him except notify his family. Noah Adam Wallace was only seventeen, just a baby. A life cut tragically short.
Turning from the sheet-covered body, Jaxon walked back toward the patrol car, her feet stomping hard on the pavement as if that would stomp out the drug that was taking so many lives in her city. Sloan caught up with her in three strides.
“Hey, are you alright?” His brows were drawn together in concern.
Jaxon whirled around to face him. Looking up into his face, she could see her own reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. The sheen of unshed tears she saw in her eyes angered her even more. “No! I most certainly am not all right! We try so hard to warn people to stay away from this stuff. But they don’t listen because we are the police and all we want to do is ruin their fun. They don’t know, Sloan. They don’t understand that Hell Hash is different. There is no trying it. One time and you’re hooked! That’s it. You’re done and we are left with telling their families that Amy or Brian or Noah isn’t ever coming home again.” Unable to control her emotions, Jaxon turned and faced the choppy waters of the Detroit River, struggling to keep from crying like a baby. Warm hands settled gently on her shoulders. She felt herself relaxed slightly and for a moment peace filled her heart, just long enough so she could draw in a breath and get herself together.
“I’m sorry, I don’t usually lose it like that,” she apologized.
