“You knew my father was going to show up and try controlling my life again?”
He chuckled and climbed out of the car. At least, the basilisk venom did not take away his sense of humour.
They headed for the building. Mavel used a different entrance this time, and her heart sank. Why couldn’t we trust the modded? The Great Modded Wars were over for two hundred years. Was it so hard for people to let go of their hate and prejudice?
She waited for him at the lifts. As one of them opened, she heard Rios shouting a greeting from the reception, and she awkwardly waved in his direction.
Des joined soon after. She looped her arm through Mavel’s, and Annalise stared at her in disbelief.
“Looks like she’s got a new toy,” Rios chimed in.
The fact Mavel didn’t seem to mind, sent tendrils of irritation though her body. “What are you doing?”
Des rubbed her face against his shoulder, grinning. “Nothing much, you?”
Annalise eyed her and turned to Rios. “Is she serious?”
“We’ll know after they spend a night together, I guess.”
They filed out of the lift on their floor. Des still clung to Mavel, and he didn’t do anything to show his displeasure.
Does he like her? She scowled. It didn’t matter. His private life was his own, even if it irritated the hell out of her.
The moment they set foot in the office, the first name to leave the Chief’s lips, in a booming voice that shook the room, was hers.
She rigidly marched to the back office and knocked on his glass door. He didn’t respond, so she knocked again.
“I called you here, no need to knock a million times!” he shouted.
Annalise drew what strength she had left after the meeting with her father and squared her shoulders as she walked in.
“Sit,” Chief said, pointing to a chair across from him. His eyes remained on his terminal.
She sank into the offered seat, knotting her fingers in her lap. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
He rubbed his eyes, and she pressed her lips together. It was either that or she was going to erupt with a rude remark which would not buy her any favours.
Chief stared at her, making her shrink into her seat. He clasped his hands together, his knuckles growing white. “Who gave you the bright idea to follow a basilisk into the Red District?”
“Sir, we were told at the victim’s workplace that it was where we would find his friend.”
“So, without any backup or informing the department of your whereabouts, you thought, ‘Why the hell not?’,” he said, imitating her voice.
“Rules and regulations state that when in the middle of—”
“I set your rules and regulations here. You are under my command and could have become another file on my terminal by this morning,” he shouted and slammed his fists on his desk.
She jumped, and her eyes widened as he took in the longest breath she had ever seen. By the looks of it, he had the lung capacity of an opera singer.
When he appeared calmer, he fixed her with a piercing stare. “Everyone under my command must report to me if they are heading anywhere beyond Bronze, understood?”
She bobbed her head vigorously.
“Good. Dismissed.”
With the help of the armrests, she stood and stumbled out of his office on shaky legs. When the door closed behind her, she overheard Rios’ chuckling.
“What so funny?”
“It’s only your second day here and you’ve already pissed off the guy. You must have a hidden talent somewhere,” he said.
“It’s not a talent, it’s a curse.” She scanned the office for Mavel.
He appeared from the coffee area, holding two steaming cups with Des in tow. He handed one to Annalise. “You alright?”
“Never been better,” she lied and sipped her drink. “Can’t wait to have yet another chat with Mrs Fern.”
“Why are you seeing the widow again?” Rios asked.
“Don’t pry into their case when you haven’t finished writing your report,” Des scolded and wrapped her arm around Mavel’s waist.
Annalise stared at her hand, willing it to fall off when Mavel tapped her on the shoulder.
“Should we get going?” he asked.
“Yes, we should.”
The officers and the CSU had left the area and, in turn, took the commotion away from the quiet street. Annalise folded her hands in her lap. Attempting to find a comfortable position on the sofa in Mrs Fern’s living room, she scooted forwards.
Terry clutched her teaspoon as if it was some kind of weapon and stirred her cup.
She noted the stiffness in the widow’s posture and activated the recording. “Terry, how are you doing today?”
“As if you can’t see how I’m doing,” the woman snapped. Her eyes bulged with realisation, and she quickly apologised.
Great. Yet another peachy encounter. “Then I’ll skip the pleasantries and get down to business as I feel you didn’t tell us everything in our earlier interview.”
“I told you all I know!” Terry protested, her hands shaking the saucer and the half-empty cup.
“The more information you give us, the easier it will be to find your husband’s killer. You do want that, don’t you?”
Mrs Fern set her drink on the tea table. “Yes, I do.”
Annalise cleared her throat. “Alright, I’ll start. Do you know Todd Green? He was your husband’s co-worker at the factory.”
The widow frowned. “I have no idea who that is.”
It was her turn to frown. The basilisk appeared oddly interested in Terry when Annalise mentioned her. Did he have an unrequited love for her or something?
“Then do you know where your servant is right now?”
Terry bit her lip. “She is where she deserves to be, that whore.”
Annalise shot a puzzled look to Mavel who seemed just as concerned about the woman’s response.
“And where is that?”
Mrs Fern burst into uncontrollable laughter. “She is a whore. Where else would she be but a whorehouse?”
Mavel growled under his breath, and Annalise clamped her hand around his arm. “Don’t,” she mouthed.
Mrs Fern’s mirth died down, and she sipped her tea. “I apologise for my behaviour. I haven’t slept since…since Robert took off.”
“You still haven’t told us exactly why he did that,” Mavel said.
Mrs Fern crossed her legs. Her emotionless eyes narrowed on him. “You are also a beast. I don’t see why I should tell you anything.”
“Believe me, madam, I would rather be dying from basilisk venom than listening to you talk.”
“Mavel!”
“I will wait in the car.”
He left, and Annalise stared at the empty space next to her. Were all men going through PMS today? With a shake of her head, she faced Terry. “Could you please tell me the location of the place your servant is at?”
“It’s called ‘Macabre’, I think. It’s somewhere in the Red District, or so I’ve heard.”
Annalise cursed inwardly. They were there last night and could have brought her in. “Thank you for your time.”
The woman cast her gaze to her thin hands and mumbled something.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that…”
“The reason my husband and I fought was because of Leila. He told me if I slept with someone he knew—someone modded—then he could help get her out. But, I couldn’t do it!” she said, raising her voice. Her shoulders shook. “I couldn’t lower myself to Robert’s level. I should have begged him to stay. I should have told him to leave that bitch to rot in there!”
Terry burst into a flood of tears, and Annalise didn’t know what to do. She placed her hand on the widow’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. Things were finally beginning to fall into place. The modded she talked about had to be Todd, and now they had reasonable cause to turn Macabre upside down in search of their suspect.
8
Millennium Suite
Upon arrival at the HPD office, Mavel stood like a mountain behind her, and Annalise faced off with their Chief for the second time that morning. She hoped it wasn’t going to become an everyday thing.
“What do you mean you won’t send officers in? My lead suspect is in there!” she snapped.
Chief curved his bushy brow, and she shut her mouth.
“I am not sending the full force in because it may cause a district-wide disturbance. Who knows how many will get hurt for no reason while you try to find a beast in the sea of them?”
She hated to admit it, but he had a point. “Then give me someone as backup. Even Rios will do.”
Chief checked his terminal. “He’s gone out to interview the families of the deceased. Jamen should be back in the office in thirty. He is your superior on this case or have you forgotten?”
“No, I have not.” She started rising when he shot a glare in her direction.
“Did I say you could leave?”
“No, sir.”
His bad mood dissolved, and he ran his chubby fingers through his thinning hairline. “That’s the problem with you Storms. You are always in a hurry.” He sighed. “You are dismissed. When Jamen comes in, tell him to see me.”
Annalise held in a snide remark and stormed out of his office. Chief was toying with her. Yet he, unlike her father, accepted her suggestion and let her have some backup. No matter what, she wasn’t planning on doing a repeat of yesterday.
She sat at her desk, deflated. Instead of waiting for Jamen and Calla to arrive, she filled out some paperwork and listened to the recording of the interview with Terry. When she submitted her report, Calla skipped into the room, humming a tune. Jamen entered a second later.
“Chief has something to tell you,” Annalise informed him.
He nodded and went into the Chief’s office.
Calla drew her brows together in confusion that didn’t last long. She grinned at Annalise and sat on her desk. Uncomfortably near her face, Calla’s red eyes focused. “I can feel your excitement and apprehension, Annalise. What’s the occasion?”
To create some space between them, Annalise retreated as far back as her seat would permit. “Do you have to be this close to me?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Is it making you uncomfortable?”
“Very.”
“Pity, I wanted to get to know you better.” Calla hopped off the desk and made her way to the Chief’s office.
Annalise pinched the bridge of her nose. This was the job she chose. This was what the aptitude tests said she would be most suited for, yet they forgot to mention all the stress that came along from dealing with co-workers. Her baby-face will be populated with wrinkles sooner rather than later.
After ten minutes, Jamen strode out of the Chief’s office and pointed at them. “I’m in command of this mission since you are still new here. Grab your stuff and let’s head out. We’ll procure some suitable attire on the way.”
She scrambled out of her seat and grabbed her jacket. “Lead the way.”
They didn’t go to the Red District immediately. Jamen signed out an undercover street vehicle from the underground garage and led them aside to the only room in there. It was next to the emergency staircase and across from the lifts. The walls and the floor were padded with large white tiles. A round matching table stood in the middle.
He placed his right palm on the table, and the terminal activated. He let it scan his communications device. The hand print started glowing green with acceptance and the lights dimmed. A second later, the furniture became see-through with a projection of AID standing in place of the table. But, instead of a little girl, she looked like a librarian with square glasses. Her hair was tied into a firm bun, and she held a stack of folders.
Who programmed this?
AID smiled at him. “Greetings, Detective Auris. What can I help you with today?”
“What’s this room for?” Annalise asked.
Jamen spared her a glance. “Archives.” He turned back to the AI. “AID, show us the blueprints for Macabre in Red.”
“One moment…” The AI’s holo-projection moved from the table to the white wall. She placed her hand on it and a 3D image of the building appeared.
“This is the Macabre club in the Red District. The most recent update was submitted fifty-seven years ago. Based on the data provided, there are three floors above ground level and a storage facility underground. Access to the basement level is unknown. Information on the second and third floors is incomplete. By today’s standards, the data is invalid. New input pending…”
“Who’s the owner?” Jamen asked.
AID frowned. “I’m sorry, that record was removed.”
Annalise stepped closer, studying the layout of the club. “Removed? By whom?”
“This information is classified.”
When Annalise’s attention flicked to Jamen, he had a contemplating look on his face as he rotated the building representation with his fingers.
“We can either request to speak with the owner by going there, giving up our identities, or enter undercover and try to find your suspect ourselves,” he said.
“I doubt the owner will be forthcoming,” Mavel replied.
“Agreed,” Jamen said.
“Wouldn’t it be dangerous to arrive as a large group?” Calla asked. “They’ll make us there and then.”
Jamen nodded. “Then we go in groups of two.”
“I will go with Annalise,” Mavel said. “The woman at the front desk would be suspicious if she went in with anyone else.”
“Ah, yes. I heard about your adventure last night. Glad you made it out alive,” Jamen said and, in a half-hearted tone, added, “How’s your arm doing?”
“I didn’t put into the report he was hurt,” Annalise said.
Jamen crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you naïve enough to believe the Chief would let you run around without being shadowed by a senior detective?”
As the realisation sunk in, her body shook with irritation. “You followed us there and didn’t help when Mavel was bitten by a basilisk?”
“You managed just fine. Plus, you didn’t call for backup.”
“You—” she began, but Mavel stepped in front of her. He grasped Jamen by the collar and lifted him off the ground.
His teeth audibly ground against one another. “Do you treat your job seriously? What would have happened if I died, and she was knocked out in some dark alleyway?”
Calla grasped Mavel’s upper arm. “Let him go or I will make you pay tenfold.”
He glared at her, and she held on tighter. This was the first time Annalise had seen Calla with a threatening expression. Her red eyes glowed with violence she craved to inflict.
Mavel’s face twisted in pain, and he jerked backwards, almost knocking Annalise over in the process. He massaged the place Calla touched. “You used your control on me!”
The flare grinned and tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. “You are no match for me, beast. If you try hurting him again, I will rip out your heart and feed it to you.”
“Enough!” Jamen shouted, bringing everyone’s attention to him. “We can’t squabble amongst ourselves. We have to think of a plan to get your possibly possessed suspect out…if she’s still alive.”
Although she hated to agree with him after they hurt her servant, Annalise wiped her sweaty palms on her trousers. “You’re right. Safety of the civilians comes first.”
Mavel’s shoulders shook as he moved to flank her. She guessed he needed some distance between him and these two, and she was all for it. There was no need to get into more trouble with their Chief.
“AID, upload the information on Macabre to our wrist comms,” Jamen barked.
The AI smiled. “Of course, Detective. Is there anything else?”
“No. Once you’re done, deactivate.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing pairings and entrance
points. Annalise and Mavel were to enter as a couple first. They would order a room and scout the premises. Jamen and Calla would appear ten minutes later as detectives looking for Leila. The police presence would give them enough time to find the beast and neutralise her.
They changed into their street clothes in the back of the van and climbed out of the vehicle a few blocks away from the district’s entrance.
The sun had set and a feeling of déjà vu washed over Annalise. She could only pray things wouldn’t turn out in the same way as they did the night before.
Mavel awkwardly rested his hand on her waist and ushered her towards the Macabre. At least, she was wearing jeans. Jamen supplied them with pistols that weren’t detectable by the scanners as long as they activated a software hack developed by ETek for the DPD prior to being scanned.
They arrived, and Mavel whispered into her ear. “Are you ready?”
“I doubt I’ll ever be ready to come here again.” She let her lungs fill to capacity and heaved a breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
Annalise stopped at the front entrance.
Mavel stretched, lifting his wrist comms to the scanner above. The light underneath it blinked red then quickly changed to green.
One of his arms fell on her shoulders. If her nerves weren’t having a field day in her stomach in that moment, perhaps she would have been able to feel the butterflies fluttering in her gut from the simple gesture.
They walked to the reception where the same woman with dreads observed their approach. “Back for more?”
“I had so much fun last night, I just wanted to go again,” Annalise said and hugged Mavel’s arm to her chest.
He stiffened and drew her into an embrace. His soft lips descended on hers, giving her a light peck. “Anything you want, you’ll get.”
Blushing as if her face was about to explode, she swatted him playfully on the shoulder.
The flare cleared her throat, urging them to separate. “I am glad you had fun. Do you want to go for a repeat experience?”
“For this occasion, we need a room somewhere more private.” He winked at the receptionist.
Case: 0 (Annalise Storm Chronicles Book 1) Page 7
