Your friend,
Finn Getter
CHAPTER 8
Wednesday
Margaret waited at the door to Peyton’s office when she arrived the next morning. She smiled at the older woman. Margaret wore a pale blue sweater, buttoned to the top, with her pearls resting along the braided collar.
“What’s up?” Peyton said, turning into her office. A cup of coffee, four packets of sugar, and a bagel with cream cheese waited for her. Peyton settled her briefcase on the desk and reached for the first sugar packet. It did no good to fight it. Margaret was determined to mother her.
“Radar wants you to see Igor first thing this morning.”
Peyton straightened, dropping the empty sugar packet into the garbage. There went breakfast. “Me?”
Margaret nodded. “He wants to talk about the case.”
“Why me?”
“Radar asked for you specifically. He’s in a meeting with Sarge.”
Peyton made a face. “I hate going into Igor’s lair. Why can’t Tank or Bambi go? Bambi loves it up there.”
“I’ll call her and have her go with you.”
That was worse. “It’s okay. I’ll go. Is Tank in yet?”
“No, he worked late last night researching sireno...sirenomeg…”
“Sireno-something or other. I got you.”
“He knows so many things, I feel stupid next to him.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Have you met his wife?”
“The professor?”
Margaret gave a laugh. “Cute, aren’t they?”
“I haven’t met her, but I bet they are all sorts of adorable.”
Margaret leaned closer to Peyton. “She’s older than he is.”
Peyton smiled. “I know.”
Margaret straightened, touching her perfectly coifed hair. “I’m sorry, that’s wasn’t very professional. I shouldn’t gossip.”
Peyton placed her finger over her lips. “I won’t tell anyone,” she said with a wink.
Margaret laughed. “I’ll go call Bambi for you.”
Peyton started to protest, but Margaret was gone before she could say anything. She eyed the bagel a moment more, then decided she’d have less to lose if she got sick after visiting with Igor.
She wandered down to the elevator, smiling at the people as she went. They hardly glanced at her. She’d never seen a place more focused and determined than this one. People came here to work and that was all.
Pressing the button on the elevator, she rocked on her heels. She’d been here about a month now and besides her immediate team and Margaret, she knew no one. At the precinct, everyone had been friends – closer than friends, family. She forced thoughts of the precinct from her mind because that made her think of Marco. Truth be told, everything made her think of Marco, but after tossing and turning last night, unable to sleep, she’d determined that the quickest way to get over this loss was to stop thinking about him altogether. If only her damn heart would take that advice.
The elevator opened and she stepped inside, pressing the button for Igor’s floor.
“Hold the door,” came a familiar voice.
Peyton gritted her teeth, but caught the door before it could close. Bambi jumped inside a moment later, looking like a runway model in a black suit. She beamed at Peyton and clasped her arm.
“I thought I wasn’t going to make it for a moment.”
Peyton gave a short nod.
“I’m so glad you asked me to go with you. I know how you hate going to Igor’s lab.”
Peyton nodded again.
Hooking her arm through Peyton’s, she faced the door. “Just you and me, the dynamic duo. We could be like a superhero team or something.”
“Or something,” said Peyton.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid back. They stepped out into the sterile lobby with its heavily reinforced doors and glistening white walls. Peyton reached for her keycard and swiped it against the reader. The glass doors hissed open and she started down the hallway toward Igor’s lair.
“Does anyone else work in these labs?” she asked Bambi, pointing at the heavy doors on either side of them.
“Of course they do.”
“I’ve never seen anyone else up here when I come.”
Bambi shrugged. “Lab rats keep to themselves. That’s why we always have to come to Igor, he never comes to us.”
“He went out to the cemetery when we dug up Old Man Harwood.”
“That was special. He usually doesn’t do that.”
“He could call us on the phone and spare us…” She caught herself as she looked into Bambi’s gleaming eyes. “Spare me the horrors of his lab.”
“That’s not how Igor works.”
“He could change.”
“He’s brilliant at what he does, so we make concessions. Besides, I love coming here.”
And Peyton didn’t, so why the hell did Radar make her do it?
They came to Igor’s door and Peyton pressed the intercom button. “Igor, it’s Peyton.”
A crackle, then Igor’s pleasant voice floated out to them. “Agent Brooks, what a delightful pleasure!” The door buzz and Peyton steeled herself as she pulled it open. Igor met them in the middle of the room, his gloved hands clasped before him, his bald head gleaming in the fluorescent lights. “And Agent Redford, a double delight.”
Bambi grabbed his arm and hugged it. “How are you, Igor?”
“Me, I’m fantastic. And you?”
“Just perfect.” She glanced over her shoulder at his autopsy table. “Oh, my, this is so fascinating.” She released him and moved to the table, her attention completely captured.
Peyton tried to avoid looking directly at it, but she couldn’t mistake the tiny form lying so lost and forlorn on the stainless steel. Igor gave her a sympathetic look.
“I’m sorry, Agent Brooks, I know how squeamish you are.”
Peyton focused on his myopic eyes behind his round glasses. “Did you find anything?”
“The child was stillborn, but I believe she was full term.”
“She?” Peyton inadvertently glanced at the body.
“Yes, I found an ovary in autopsy.”
Peyton closed her eyes. She wondered if the mother had known she gave birth to a daughter. “Anything else?”
Igor turned and went to a tray set up next to the autopsy table. He picked up a sample dish and carried it back to Peyton, holding it out. Peyton took it and studied the few fibers resting on the bottom of the dish.
“Fibers?”
“Cloth, tangled in the baby’s nails. I think it’s from a blanket. She was swaddled before she was tossed into the ocean.”
Peyton looked up. “Swaddled? Where’s the rest of the blanket?”
Igor tapped a blunt finger against the dish. “The fibers are natural, undyed. I think the blanket came apart in the violence of the surf and the only reason we have these is they snagged on the baby’s nails.”
Peyton looked at the table. She couldn’t believe how tiny the body was, but maybe someone had cared for her, if only enough to wrap her in a blanket. Something Igor said finally sank in. “Natural fibers? What do you mean exactly?”
“This didn’t come from a commercial manufacturer. Santa Cruz used to be a hippy enclave, so you can probably find a lot of stores that sell natural clothing, maybe even hemp.”
“Hemp?”
“It makes excellent fiber, which can be weaved into cloth or some of the strongest rope known to man.”
“Is this hemp?”
“I need to run a few more tests, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I have the results.”
“But you’re sure it’s natural fiber?”
“Sure? I’m not sure of many things, Agent Brooks, but I can tell you this…” He tapped the dish again. “...this was not mass produced.”
“Okay. We’ll look for natural clothing stores then. Thank you, Igor.”
“My pleasure, Agent Brook
s, and might I say, it’s been delightful having you visit me here.”
Peyton smiled, despite the fact that she’d rather be anywhere else. “Emma?”
Bambi hadn’t moved. She stood at the side of the autopsy table, just staring at the tiny body. Peyton didn’t want to go to her, she didn’t want to get near that table, but Bambi didn’t seem to hear her.
“Emma?” she called again.
Bambi’s blond head lifted and she looked over her shoulder.
“Ready?”
She gave a distracted nod and moved toward Peyton. Peyton turned and walked to the lab door, pushing the button. “Bye, Igor,” she called over her shoulder. Igor waved.
Once in the hallway, Peyton glanced at the other woman. “You okay?”
Bambi’s expression was trouble and she gave a vague shrug. “She was so small, so tiny.”
“I know.”
“I felt so…” She held out her hands helplessly. “...bad. She’s all alone. She has no one, no one to care about her. Who discards a baby?”
“I don’t know, Emma,” said Peyton, sliding her card across the reader. “Maybe the mother didn’t know what else to do. Igor thinks she tried to swaddle her. Maybe that’s all she could give her.”
“It still makes me sad.”
They fell silent as they waited for the elevator. Peyton found this part of the job the most unbearable. The depravity of humanity had long ago ceased to shock her, unless children were the victims. She’d never been able to accept the loss of a child, no matter how it happened. It didn’t make it any easier that this baby hadn’t been killed, but had died naturally, it still hurt. She had no name, no identity, no one to mourn her passing. Such callousness made her sometimes wonder what the hell she was doing in this line of work.
“You know what we need?” said Bambi, turning toward her.
“What?”
The elevator arrived and the doors opened. Bambi stepped inside and turned to face her. “Men.”
“Men?”
“Yep.” She grabbed Peyton’s hands, pulling her onto the elevator. “Let’s go on a double date. There’s this guy that I see off and on, and he has this really cute friend. I could call him and set it up for tonight. They could take us for dinner and drinks, and oh, dancing.”
Peyton squeezed Bambi’s hands and gently pulled away. “I appreciate it, Emma, but I’m not going on a double date.”
“Why not? There’s nothing like a cute guy to take your mind off sad things.”
“Because I can’t even think about dating right now.”
“It doesn’t have to be dating. It can just be sex.”
Peyton sighed and pushed the button for their floor. “I’ll pass, but thank you.”
“Fine.” She slumped against the back of the elevator, but a moment later, she sprang forward again. “A girl’s night out, then?”
Peyton couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Another time, okay?”
Bambi released her breath. “Okay, but now I’m sad again.”
“We could go target practice this afternoon.”
Clapping her hands, Bambi hugged Peyton. “Yes! I’d love that.”
* * *
Peyton had hardly gotten back to her desk, when Tank poked his head inside. “Hey?”
“Hey,” she said, smiling at him.
“The professor’s still working on that coin. Really a puzzle.”
“I know. Tell her I appreciate it.”
“You think we could locate the actual article? I mean it has to be in evidence, right?”
“Right. I’ll put in a request.”
Tank nodded.
Peyton’s phone buzzed and she reached for it. “Brooks?”
“Sarge wants to see you in her office,” came Margaret’s voice.
“I’m on my way.” She hung up and headed toward the door. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get clearance,” she said to Tank.
He gave her a salute.
Arriving at Rosa’s office, Peyton could see Radar sitting in a chair before her desk. Rosa motioned her inside. Peyton opened the door and moved to the grey chair next to him. He gave her a lift of his chin, nothing more. Peyton returned it with a mocking half-smile. Men.
“You wanted to see me?”
Rosa reached for a newspaper on her desk and dropped it in front of Peyton. A bold black headline raged across the front page, FBI Recovers the Little Mermaid From the Pacific, followed by a picture of Natural Bridges.
Peyton blew out air.
“What did Igor have for us?” Rosa asked.
“The child’s a girl, she was stillborn and most likely full-term. And she was swaddled.”
“Swaddled?”
“Igor found fibers tangled in the baby’s fingernails. Natural fibers. He’s going to run more test and find out exactly what, but he’s certain they weren’t manufactured commercially. He suggested we look at stores that sell natural clothes, maybe even made from hemp.”
“Good, that’s something.”
“Lieutenant Brannon’s partner, Sergeant Reynolds, contacted the hospitals,” said Radar, “but no one showed up needing medical attention after a delivery. Tank has the list of high schools and he’s calling the principals to see if any of their students were pregnant. I’ll have Bambi look up stores that sell natural clothing and we can do a little footwork, see if anyone remembers a pregnant woman purchasing a blanket.”
“Sounds good,” said Rosa, then she focused on Peyton again. “Here’s the thing. We need to control the media on this. The local police are doing their best, but now that the reporters know we’re involved this is gonna take off. Especially since they’ve coined a cute name for it.”
“Her,” corrected Peyton.
Rosa narrowed her eyes and Radar gave her a look that said she shouldn’t be correcting her superiors.
Peyton didn’t back down. “She was a person, Sarge. I think she deserves some respect.”
“Fine, her.” Rosa held out a hand to Peyton and gave Radar a pointed look.
Radar nodded.
“What?”
“Just this, we need someone to handle media when we’re in the field. Radar and I think you’d be perfect.”
“What? You mean go on camera and answer questions?”
“That’s right. He’s willing to train you, but I think you’d do well as our spokesperson.”
“No.” Peyton shook her head. “I don’t do well on camera.” Once Captain Defino had made her address the media at a press conference when they were hunting the Janitor. While she’d handled it well, it made her feel sick to her stomach. She’d been terrified she was going to say something wrong.
“No?” The way Rosa said no clearly indicated that wasn’t an option.
“No, ma’am.”
Radar made a grunt.
“Are you suggesting Bambi would be a better choice?”
Peyton knew this game. Name a rival and her competitive nature would take over, but Rosa didn’t understand she didn’t feel competitive with Bambi. “She might be very good at it. She’s certainly pretty enough.”
Rosa’s expression grew grim.
Radar rolled his head on his neck and stared at her. “Are you difficult just for the sake of being difficult?”
“No, I’m difficult…” She caught herself. She wasn’t difficult. “I’m just being practical. I’m not good at double speak.”
“You’ll learn,” said Radar.
“I don’t look good in front of cameras.”
“Wear makeup.”
Peyton shot a venomous look at him, then she leaned forward in her chair. “Why me, Sarge?”
“Because,” said Rosa, folding her hands, “you have charisma and you can think on your feet. The public will love you.”
Peyton looked over at Radar.
He gave her a big, fake smile. “Own it, Sparky. You were born for this.”
And Peyton knew she’d been had.
* * *
“Whate
ver you do, never answer a direct question.”
Peyton braced her chin on her hand, watching the Coast Highway roll by outside the window.
“You can always get around it by being vague.” Radar glanced over at her. She didn’t bother to return the look. It didn’t do any good anyway. He had his mirrored sunglasses in place. “Are you listening to me?”
“I’m listening.”
“You don’t seem to be listening.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Let’s practice.”
“Practice what?”
“Is it true the FBI recovered a mermaid from the surf around Natural Bridges?”
Peyton slumped back in the passenger seat. “I hate roleplaying, Radar.”
“And I hate when you sulk.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“The hell you say. You’ve been sulking for over a week now and it’s getting boring.”
She gave him a glare, but he didn’t notice it.
“Is it true the FBI recovered a mermaid from the surf around Natural Bridges?”
Peyton drummed her fingers on the armrest. “We recovered the body of a child. If anyone has any information about the child or the child’s parents, please contact blah-de-blah-blah.”
“But is it true the child was a mermaid?”
“The child was female, born with distinctive physical anomalies. Anyone with information about the child’s parents should contact our office immediately. The person or persons responsible may need medical attention and we want to make sure they receive the care they need.”
“Good.” Radar eased the big Suburban up to a traffic light and stopped. “So, before we get there, I should probably ask how you’re feeling?”
Peyton gave him a suspicious look. “How I’m feeling?”
“You know, emotionally. I know it’s been hard on you, what with everything…”
Peyton continued to stare at him. “Hard on me what with everything?”
“Look, Sparky, I’m trying to be...compassionate. Can’t you just accept it?”
“Sure.”
Mermaids in the Pacific (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 2) Page 9
