“Let’s start from the beginning. You had a problem with Ms. Deirdre Flye and decided to go to her house and talk to her. What happened?” Harper’s face held the emotion of stone, unyielding and uncaring. “Just go through it with me.”
“We talked, someone came in the back and shot me.”
What was he supposed to say? Deirdre had him, could’ve killed him, but called an ambulance instead. She’d done it just to humiliate him. Can’t embarrass a corpse. Him living and being questioned by guys designed to find the guilt in a good cop would be more entertaining than going to his funeral.
“We found a lock pick on you and a pistol with your prints at the scene.”
Ryan closed his eyes. He went there to kill her. The car ride had seemed too long with the gun in his lap. He hadn’t thought about the consequences only the justice served by removing a dangerous vigilante from the public. Getting hit in the leg was a surprise.
“Let me ask you again. Why did you go to Deirdre Flye’s house?”
Think damn it. Come up with something. Don’t just sit in this bed with a guilty look on your face.
He clenched the thin top blanket in a fist and watched the vein in his arm bulge. The needle didn’t move much, the tape held it into his skin. Above his head came the beeps from some machine monitoring his health. All these things calmed his nerves. That was the secret to an interrogation, don’t get rattled.
Okay what facts did they have and how can I use them?
“Deirdre and I had an altercation earlier in the day. She filed a report against me. When I went to the station and found out, I was upset. I decided to talk to her, hoping that if she dropped the complaint, the Chief would reinstate me.”
He didn’t like being questioned while wearing a hospital gown. It made him feel exposed. Of course IA always had all the power. Wearing pants would’ve made him feel better though.
“Keep going. What happened at her house?”
His thoughts flooded through. The gun would be the hardest to explain. Peaceful conversations weren’t held at gunpoint. There was another man there. Maybe Deirdre had mentioned him.
“During my conversation with Deirdre, there was a noise at the back door. After her confirming that no one else should be entering the home, I pulled my personal pistol. When the intruder entered the premises, he fired. I’m afraid he took me off guard. I never got a single shot off.”
Both men stayed like statues, staring, waiting, analyzing his answers. They were good, never betraying a thought. It made him want to confess, but he had a lot on the line. No bullshit scare tactics would break him. He’d used them too many times.
“So you went into a house with a concealed weapon and a lock pick to talk?” Harper crossed his arms over his chest, creasing his very expensive tie. “That doesn’t make much sense.”
No it didn’t but that’s all he had. “I didn’t realize that I’d had the pick on me. I must’ve left it in my jacket. As for the gun, after all these years on the force, I feel naked without one.” Ryan cocked his head to the side. “I guess you heard that Merchant requested my official piece. I started carrying a personal one.” He offered them an amiable smile that wasn’t returned. “It’s like leaving home without your wallet. Walking around without it doesn’t feel right.”
The detectives looked at each other, exchanging some unknown bit of information that had to be damning. Ryan tried to relax. It wasn’t easy. If he could’ve gotten out of that bed, he would’ve been tempted to run just to avoid those suited vultures.
“Didn’t your supervisor tell you to stay away from Ms. Flye?”
He’d been told to stay away but he couldn’t let her insults go unanswered. Deirdre had hurt him, caused him physical pain, and he bet his balls were still bruised. After all that, she had the gall to report him. What kind of woman could do such a thing?
“There had been a misunderstanding between Deirdre and myself. I know that given the complaint, it would’ve been wiser to stay away, but I hoped we could work things out. Being a cop is my whole life. I wanted her to withdraw the complaint. I don’t want to be suspended.”
Ryan waited, hoping the two guys bought it. The story made sense, at least to his pain-soaked mind. When Harper stepped back to whisper to his partner, he knew that there was a chance the story worked for them too.
“Thank you. We will do a more formal Q&A after we’ve spoken to Deirdre Flye.” Tinsdale spoke this time then motioned to the door.
“She didn’t give you a statement?”
“Not a formal one yet. We have the quick rundown of events that she gave the officers last night, but we’ll need to speak with her again. Given the circumstances, we didn’t want to wait on this.” Harper, with his quiet demeanor, continued. “I hope you are telling us the truth Mr. Farmer. Charges could be pressed against you.”
Great, so his freedom would hinge on Deirdre’s statement. One word about him going there to kill her and he’d be locked up across from the very men he’d sent to prison. Not a comforting thought.
“I’d be interested in who broke into her house as well. I hope I ironed things out enough for her to tell the truth.” He shook his head, trying to look as confused by the situation as they were. “I’m afraid Deirdre is involved in something very dangerous.”
Harper hesitated before opening the door. “Do you think her version of events will differ from yours?”
Ryan had stepped right in that one. “Of course not. I’m more worried about the guy who shot me. He’s still out there. I wouldn’t want Deirdre to get her pretty little head blown off.” He tried to contain the snide edge creeping into his words.
“Good.” Harper’s eyes narrowed. “We will be in touch.”
It was almost over. Ryan couldn’t wait for that door to open and their suit-wearing butts to leave him in peace. He wanted to see the nurse again, watch her starched white bosom taking care of him.
Harper had his hand on the door when a cell phone went off. Tinsdale reached into his pocket to retrieve the obscenely thin plastic with tiny camera hole on the back side. This was it. Surely, they would go now, take the call in the hallway. That’s what he hoped until Tinsdale put his hand on Harper and the both stepped further inside the room.
Most of the conversation was lost. The only thing he heard clearly was Tinsdale saying goodbye before whispering to Harper. Whatever that phone call brought wasn’t good. Both men looked at him and Ryan knew that his hospital interrogation had grown much longer.
“What can you tell me about several men attacking Deirdre Flye?”
“Huh?” He wasn’t expecting that and again he stammered, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “Maybe it’s connected with the guy who broke in and shot me.”
“It would be very convenient if Deirdre disappeared, wouldn’t it?” Tinsdale spoke this time. “You’re life would certainly get easier.”
Ryan closed his eyes, listening to their voices echoing in the room. He’d never imagined something like this could happen to him. Over the years, he’d imagined award ceremonies, commendations, and the admiration of his peers. Now he was in a hospital bed, ready to scream because of a woman.
“My life would be easier if she disappeared.” He opened his eyes and stared at them. “But I didn’t send a group of men out to attack her. Since I have admitted to someone being in her home, perhaps you should do your investigating elsewhere. It would be a shame if someone killed Deirdre before you spoke with her.”
* * * *
“Sir, can I help you?” A nurse smiled, making Noah Smythe ease away from the hospital door where he’d been listening to Ryan answer the never ending amount of questions from IA.
“No.” He flashed his badge, holding it long enough so the nurse could see his was official, but not long enough to catch the name. “I’m waiting to speak with Mr. Farmer.”
“He’s with some people now. It might be quite a wait.” She smiled and continued down the hall.
It could be a long wait
and Noah didn’t want to be caught standing directly outside when Internal Affairs came out. Besides, he was hungry. Leaving for breakfast sounded good. It would also give him the opportunity to call Deirdre. His little vixen might want someone to talk to. He also needed to find her whereabouts. She might be closing in on a new target.
He went to the elevator and hit the button for the lobby. The metal box descended, reminding him of why he hated elevators so much. They were crude and he never liked his stomach lurching when the lift stopped.
From there he continued down the hall and out the sliding glass doors. The air felt good on his face, powerful. He loved autumn, harvest time, even if the leaves here never really changed colors like they should. It was the season, the alignment of the world and the cycle starting again.
His cell phone rang and he jerked it off his belt quickly, hoping that Deirdre was calling him instead of his constantly pursuing her. No such luck. Work again. He supposed it was only natural to integrate one’s life with a job.
“We have a trace on her. By the time she shows up with the child, we’ll be on her.”
Noah nodded, pleased. “Good, call back after the inventory has been taken.” He started to end the call, then stopped. “Go ahead with the backup in case this falls apart.”
“Of course.”
Chapter Fourteen
The drive was long, taking Deirdre outside of town to the rural community of Commons, just outside Weaverville. Deirdre left the interstate, pulling along a quiet road where old barns frequented old fields and piles of hay were rolled for the coming cooler months. Cows stood, lazily chewing, while she zipped by, stirring up dust on the gravel road. A few lifted their heads, dropping them again after an annoyed “moo”.
The cell phone on her dash rang. She hit the button and the hands free device activated. Deirdre hated using that thing. People sounded distant and every noise in her car came through. She’d grudgingly clipped it in after leaving town, knowing that she would be on the road for hours.
“What’s up, Tech?”
“Got a call. The cops are looking for you. Seems you left some upset garage attendants. Something scared the shit out of them and I’ve had three calls from guys at the station including your Smythe. Everyone wants to know what happened.” He paused, but she didn’t respond. The silence urged him to continue. “There’s some serious crap happening. They claim Farmer might be involved. Some guy named Harper called wanting to get a statement about an assault in your house and about the attack on you in front of the office.”
“Those guys across the street overreacted. If they really thought I was in trouble, they should’ve offered some help. Besides, what are the cops going to do?” Her car shook as she went around the curve a little fast, sputtering more gravel behind her. “Have you found out anything new?”
“Not yet and you’re avoiding the subject.”
Deirdre scratched the tip of her nose, wondering why such an odd spot could itch then glad the car video phone hadn’t been invented. She may not have much privacy in a world where anyone could find her with a touch of a button, but they couldn’t watch her scratch, shit, or shower, yet.
“Me boss, you employee.”
Something loud slammed on Tech’s end of the world and she imagined that lack of sleep and too much stress were taking their toll. Tech was good, but nobody could be Superman.
“I’ve got to explain more of your messes. Now tell me what the fuck happened.” He grunted. “People are telling me that Farmer is in the hospital, shots were fired in front of our workplace, and you’re carrying on like it’s just another day.” His words slowed, and his voice softened as he vented. “I’m tired of being in the dark. Sabrine and I trust you but why can’t you trust us?”
“Everything is okay…” She wanted to alleviate his fears but he cut her off before she could make much of an attempt.
“No, it’s not. Do you know why I dug into your past?”
Deirdre didn’t like to be challenged and that’s what he was doing. Her past was her business. “Because you’re nosey.”
“Fuck off.” There was silence and she wondered if he’d finally hung up. “I thought Sabrine and I meant more to you than a couple of employees. You had us both scared to death, wondering if you were dead or alive. This trouble has to be linked to your past.” He cursed but she couldn’t make out the word. “Forget it. I just want you to know that whatever you did, whatever is haunting you, it isn’t too terrible that you can’t tell us. At least talk to Sabrine. This has turned into a case but you’re not sharing any details.”
Sabrine had confided so much in Deirdre but she’d never returned the favor. There was a double standard where Deirdre was concerned. For Sabrine to open up, talk about her real feelings, made Sabrine seem stronger in Deirdre’s eyes. The same wouldn’t work in reverse. She couldn’t tell her old friend about the lack of family, the ceremonies. Hell, even as an adult, Deirdre didn’t feel like a real person. Something in her had been severed as a child. She couldn’t relate or even feel.
I wonder what it’s like to live in a world with a full spectrum of emotions.
No, that wasn’t right either. Ever since she heard about a little girl in danger she’d felt such a rush of pain and anxiousness that it sickened her. That little girl was stuck in her thoughts and the knowledge of a child at risk from another one of those places worked to reconnect the most terrifying parts of her mind. And it brought the unthinkable, uninhibited emotion. Things she wanted buried and to never see the light of day.
“I’m sorry.”
That was all she could think to say. Tech had a point, but Deirdre had been on her own for so long, she wasn’t sure how much to tell or what the relevance would be. They were friends, and she couldn’t imagine running Security Specialists without them, but what right did that give them to her history.
She contemplated this. If the roles were reversed, she would demand answers. Things risking her life could potentially harm the company. She knew Sabrine and Tech didn’t follow the cold logic though. They were worried about her. Still, she could only see the troubles brought on because of this. It came down to their livelihoods being in jeopardy and perhaps their lives.
“You need to know. A man from my past named Niam brought some of his men and assaulted me outside the office. I was outmanned, but the cops came barreling in, sirens blaring, and the guys took off.”
“Are you okay? What does this have to do with Ryan Farmer?”
Deirdre touched the cut in her shirt, felt the wound stopping at her rib. Niam’s shot had been sloppy, not sliding between the bones as it should have. Cutting into her chest muscles hurt like a bitch but she was alive. He’d let her live on purpose.
“I’m fine. The thing with Farmer happened in my home. He broke in wanting to kill me but Niam, or one of his men, shot Farmer first. I called an ambulance and I think Farmer will make it. After that I went to the office. Niam tracked me there and that’s when the fight took place.” She tried to tell everything in its simplest form. There was no reason to add in the burning pain still marking her stomach or their desire to take her back with them. “I’m almost at the Shope farm now. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll call you in a few hours.”
“I don’t think I can sleep.”
“Then call Sabrine and she’ll put you to sleep. Either way you’re no use to me if you’re tired. Mistakes are too easy to make.”
He groaned as if stretching and then Deirdre heard the vinyl in his chair make a farting sound as he settled into place. “I don’t make mistakes.” His voice was deadened with fatigue.
“Tech!”
“Fine.”
“One more thing. Be careful. There are people out to get me and they might use leverage to do it. They’re mean, Tech. Meaner than anything you’ve ever faced.”
Leverage was a nicer way than to come out and tell him that his life was in danger. He understood all the same, saying goodbye, in that careful way. At least he’d get
some rest. The situation had grown into something serious and he would want to stay sharp.
The scenery became a long line of barbed wire fences and woods separating the pastures. Deirdre turned right, following another choppy road. This one didn’t have fresh gravel, only hard compacted dirt.
Ten minutes later, Deirdre came across an old, two-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch, and an old tin roof. A black woman sat on the front steps, pulling off her gardening gloves while a young girl ran around the back. As Deirdre parked, she saw the butt of a rifle from behind the post on the porch. It seemed that good old Gladys was packing.
Deirdre parked the car. Her weapons were back in place since the altercation with Niam. She didn’t want to show them though. Fear could be a powerful emotion and people were stupid when cornered. It was best to keep them though. There was no telling what Deirdre would have to face next.
“Gladys Shope?”
“No,” the old woman replied, her dead, cold eyes staring at Deirdre from the white curly head topping her chocolate-colored skin.
“My name is Deirdre Flye. Your granddaughter Lora called my office.” Deirdre went forward, watching the lady’s movements. “I run Security Specialists, the security agency that apprehended your son. Upon detaining him for the police, he asked that I help his daughter, Lora Shope.”
“I guess you helped her fine.” The lady stayed seated. She wore a denim shirt on top of a tank top with who knows what hidden in the fabric. “He’s dead. I don’t think any more of us want your help.”
“The cops messed up. That doesn’t mean I won’t honor Jack Shope’s request or that of a phone call left on my answering machine from Lora Shope.” Deirdre stopped eight feet from the porch steps. “May I come up or do you intend to shoot me?”
Magic Rising Page 16
