by Sharon Green
"We, no," Standing said, slowly sitting up straighter. "Wilson likes to work alone so there's no one else to share the credit for what gets done. I never liked the sound of that but now I do. We'll be over in just a few minutes, so get ready quietly with backup."
"Right, Chief," Bill said, and there was the faintest trace of relief in his voice - right behind the depression. Bad apples have to be gotten rid of, but it's the people they worked with who are hurt the most. Everyone ends up getting tarred with the same brush, as the saying goes. When you haven't done anything wrong it isn't easy to handle the silent accusation from people who once looked up to you.
"I'm going to let this play out," Standing said as he got to his feet. "If Wilson is smart enough to back off I'll just fire him and refuse to give him a recommendation to any other police force. If he doesn't back off I'll have him up on charges of conspiracy. Let's go."
Sontaag nodded her agreement to that as she rose. The chief hadn't looked in my direction as he said his piece, just as if he knew I wouldn't argue his decision. It so happened he was right, but only because I knew we'd gotten the best offer he was willing to make. If I'd planned on staying around in the area for a while I would not want Wilson just kicked out. People like him had to have someone to blame for what happened to them, and that someone is never themselves.
Instead of going outside the building, we walked through the halls until we reached the glass door that said the Masson police department was behind it. Standing had been too distracted to notice how fast he was walking, but a glance showed him that I was the only one who had kept up. We had to wait a minute or so for Sontaag to reach us, then he led the way through the door.
"This lady has some business with us, I'm told," Standing announced to everyone who looked our way from behind the high counter dividing the room. "Let's get all the paperwork taken care of so she can be on her way."
"We've been waiting for her, Chief," Wilson said as he stood up from his desk. "If the … lady will follow me, I'll get everything taken care of as quickly as possible."
Wilson had been moving toward a small gate next to the counter as he spoke, and when he reached the gate he opened it. I probably wasn't supposed to have noticed that I was the only one being invited in. Wilson was acting as if the chief had only escorted me into the station, and now the man would be free to return to his office. What Wilson was actually doing was dismissing his boss, but Standing was also pretending not to notice things.
"Right this way, Miss," Wilson said as I walked through the gate. His smile was probably supposed to look no more than polite, but the vindictive satisfaction in his dark eyes changed the expression to one of faint gloating. "I have a room prepared for - Aylesworth, what are you doing out here? You're supposed to be taking care of that important matter for me."
Wilson had lost his smile when he saw the man standing next to Bill at the side of the room. There were two men next to Bill, and I found that Aylesworth was the shorter of the two when he spoke.
"Sorry, Wilson, but I'm supposed to handle 'important matters' only when the captain asks me to," Aylesworth said with no expression. "I should have told you that right away, but I forgot the point for a time. I won't forget again."
"Don't you understand that the captain won't be able to give you a hard time over this?" Wilson demanded, taking a few steps toward the man he spoke to. "We have to do it, and right this minute."
"Stop lying to him, Wilson," Bill said when Aylesworth looked the least bit unsure. "The captain won't be able to give you a hard time because you'll be the hero of the hour. Anyone else won't have the same protection and you damn well know it."
"Then I guess I'll just have to do it myself," Wilson snarled, and when he turned back to me he held his 9 mil and had it pointed straight at me. "Raise your hands and lace your fingers behind your head, you freak. You're under arrest, and if you try anything I will shoot you down."
"Put up that gun, Detective!" Standing snapped as he moved away from the gate he'd already come through to stop next to me on the right.
"Sorry, Chief, but this freak is under arrest for being part of that killer ghoul group," Wilson answered, the satisfaction back in his dark eyes. "We would have told you what was going on, but we didn't want a leak to get back to her and give her a chance to run. Your partner gave you up, freak, so get those hands up now."
"It's over, Wilson," Standing said, his voice as bleak as his expression had been earlier. "Put up that gun while you're still able to walk away from this."
"What's supposed to be over, Chief?" Wilson asked, and the calm in his voice didn't hide the fact that he slowly shifted his aim to Standing. "Not the case, because that won't be over until she's behind bars with that other slime. I have a confession, Chief, and when the press interviews me I won't even have to say that you tried to protect this freak."
I suddenly knew what Wilson had in mind, so I moved slowly to put myself in front of Standing. The chief was a lot taller than I am, so I had to say something to distract Wilson and keep him from aiming above me.
"Your confession is worthless, loser," I said, cutting off whatever the chief might have said in answer. Wilson wasn't going to let go of this one, not when the publicity would be enough to get him what he wanted. My partners and I had made a name for ourselves in the past year, and arresting me for consorting with ghoul murderers would cause an absolute media frenzy.
"You're too stupid to get what you want, fool," I went on as Wilson's eyes filled with rage. "You forgot that I could have killed the man you got that confession from, and would have killed him if I'd really been part of the gang. The frame you built has already collapsed, so shooting the chief and blaming his death on my resisting arrest won't work either. You can't get even with me for having had what you would kill to get, and you can't get even with the chief for trying to take away your big chance. Be smart for once in your life and give it up."
"Listen to her, Wilson," Bill said, the warning in his voice clear. Every cop in the place, plain clothes or uniform, had drawn a weapon, and every weapon was aimed at Wilson. "If you fire that gun then we'll have to fire, and you don't want to make us do that."
Wilson was about eight feet away from me and the chief and his gun hadn't wavered even a little. The rage in his eyes grew with every passing second as the truth forced its way into his mind. He'd been so close and now it was all gone, his every wish and dream as dead as the ghouls I'd killed. He wanted to kill me just as dead, wanted it so bad he could taste it, but then he remembered what I was. As soon as he fired at me everyone else would also fire, and there wasn't a chance he would live long enough to finish me off.
His rage suddenly came out in a scream that was painful to hear, the torment of someone being torn apart from the inside. I could feel everyone in the room flinch at the sound just the way I did, but it didn't go on long. Wilson turned his gun and shot himself in the head, and then there was the usual bedlam when someone did something like that.
"What a waste," Chief Standing muttered once the noise had died down a little. He'd also come out from behind me to stare at the body on the floor past the shoulders of some of his people, then he turned back to look only at me. "I owe you sincere thanks for putting yourself between me and a madman's gun, young woman, but I really wish you hadn't gone and done it. If he'd killed you I never would have gotten over knowing you were dead because of me."
"I'm harder to kill than you are, Chief, and I wasn't joking about Wilson's intentions," I said. "I could almost see him deciding to add to the charges against me, charges that would probably have held up even if the original ones didn't. My hands weren't where he'd told me to put them, and that was all the excuse he needed."
"He was counting on all my people backing up his story because he's one of them." Standing didn't like the idea, but he still nodded agreement. "And they just might have done it, too. Let me see if there's anything else you're needed for. If not, you can go."
Standing headed over t
oward Detective Bill Wooding, and I looked past the now-abandoned counter to Linda Sontaag. I wanted to see if Sontaag expected us to leave fairly quickly, and if so I'd remind her that I hadn't given a statement yet about the ghoul killings. If she wanted to leave without me that was fine, especially if the by-play with Wilson had upset her.
But Sontaag wasn't upset, at least not in the expected way. She stood on the other side of the counter and stared at Wilson's body, those frozen-cold eyes of hers drinking in the spray of blood and brains just beyond where the body lay. It was as if she could smell the blood as strongly as I could, but she wasn't controlling the urge to go over and start eating the body. I didn't know what kind of urge she was controlling, and that bothered me more than my own reactions. Almost to the point of chills.
Then she turned those blue eyes in my direction, and the - avid eagerness was gone from her gaze. Cold disapproval was the new emotion, but she didn't say anything. She simply turned and walked to one of the chairs lined up near the wall by the door, sat down, opened her briefcase and took out some papers, then began to read. She was settling in until the police were done with me, telling me without words that she knew it would take a while.
And it did take a while. My statement had to cover how I'd first gotten on the trail of the ghouls, how I'd followed them to the warehouse, and how the fight had started. We went through it all with a stenographer taking it down on his machine, then the machine was plugged into a computer and the statement was transcribed. That put the statement into a form that could be printed out, and it was. After reading the printed version to make sure it was accurate, I finally got to sign it.
Bill Wooding was the one who handled the whole thing, and he seemed more embarrassed than distant. We both knew his fellow cop had been out for my blood for no other reason than jealousy, but neither one of us mentioned the point. I also wasn't asked for a statement about the suicide, which came as a relief. I don't like to lie in a sworn statement, and I didn't know how they meant to slant Wilson's death to cause the least amount of damage possible.
The last thing I did was pull out the bounty forms I'd brought with me. I needed the captain's signature on both copies, one copy for the police to send through, one for me to send. Detective Wooding took the forms and came back with them signed, promised to make sure the police copy went out right away, and then told me I was free to go.
"First I need my weapons back, Detective," I reminded him before he could turn and walk away. "And you need contact information on how to reach me in case your prosecutor wants me to testify in that human's trial."
"I'll bet you were a really good cop," Wooding said after a very brief hesitation, that air of embarrassment increasing for a minute. "If you'll write down the contact information, I'll go and get your weapons."
He got a form from a drawer of his desk, and by the time I finished filling out the form he was back with my gun and knife. I'd originally meant to wear the weapons when I got them back, but instead I put the Tokarev in its holster and the knife in its sheath and left both in my shoulder bag.
"I meant to ask," Wooding said, and I could see he'd pulled part way out of distraction. "That automatic isn't standard and I don't recognize it."
"It's a Tokarev, 7.62 mm," I told him. "A Russian weapon dating back to WWII, and it doesn't take standard loads either. There are lots of them around these days, and getting the ammo isn't as hard as it once was. I don't like 9 mils, not when most of them have too long a trigger pull. The Tokarev feels like it was made for me, and I like that in a gun. But if I'd known I'd be getting into a fight with ghouls all alone, I would have carried my .45 instead."
"Thanks," Wooding said, and I had a feeling he wasn't talking about the gun info I'd given him. I nodded as I resettled the bag on my shoulder, then I headed for the way out. It wasn't surprising that no one had offered even so much as a cup of coffee, but that wasn't stopping me from going into caffeine withdrawal.
Wilson's body had finally been taken away, but a large section of the room was roped off with yellow crime scene tape. I ignored the techs still working around the area and went through the gate next to the counter. Sontaag stood waiting for me, her papers put back in the briefcase, and the officer standing next to the door unlocked it and let us out. No one was being allowed to come in, something else that wasn't a surprise.
"I'll take you back to your motel, and then our association is over," Sontaag said as soon as the door was closed again behind us. "Practically painless, wasn't it?"
Her lips curved in a very faint smile to match the coldness in her eyes. She was joking and wanted me to know it.
"I still have one more thing to do around here," I said, ignoring her version of humor. "I arranged for a press conference before leaving the motel, and I have to talk to any members of the media who might still be around."
"That's already been taken care of," Sontaag answered with the smile unchanged. "You were given full credit for having found and stopped the ghouls, and the reporters all went away happy. One of our people handled it once you agreed to take my help. We like to pay attention to the details."
To me it sounded more like taking over the lives of everyone around them, but I didn't say so. I just followed Sontaag back to the limo, climbed in after her, and let myself be driven back to the motel. George was in the facing seat again, and he'd been so quiet I'd almost forgotten he was around. No one said a word until we pulled into the parking lot of the Embassy Suites and stopped, but when I reached for the door handle Sontaag touched my arm.
"I have to admit I just lost a bet with myself," she said, the smile now gone. "I was expecting you to thank me for getting your head out of that noose."
"If you'd helped me out of the goodness of your heart or for money I would have thanked you," I said, looking back at her. "But you helped because you were told to, and that doesn't call for thanks. Besides, your people were just repaying a debt, weren't they?"
That faint smile curved her lips again, and that was the only answer she gave. Her silence let me leave the limo in peace, and as soon as I closed the door the limo pulled away and returned to the road we'd just come from. I went toward the motel, intending to collect Freemont and then go for something to eat, but Freemont surprised me by getting out of the Saturn and waving.
"Taz, we've been invited to a crime scene," Freemont said as soon as George and I got close enough. "They called us because we're the closest rogue hunters, less than three hours away. I got us all packed up and checked out, and since I know you're finished with the police we can leave right now."
"We can leave as soon as I get something to eat," I said, for some reason feeling tired. "Do you know there was a touch of trouble, or are you still being blocked?"
"The fog lifted not long after you left," he answered, his expression wry. "That let me know the trouble wasn't really yours, so I was able to tell our newest clients that we were available. Do you want to drive, or should I?"
"Until I get some coffee down my throat, you'd better do the driving," I answered. "I left my coffee in the limo when we went in to talk to the police, which was a really dumb move. I don't mind drinking cold coffee, but not when the cup's been sitting out of my sight and unprotected."
"You're still not happy about the task force people," Freemont said as I circled the car to the passenger side. "If you don't even trust them not to put something in your coffee, why did you let them help?"
"If I'd refused they would still 'owe me a favor,'" I said, stopping next to the door. "Now we're supposed to be even, so they have no ready-made excuse to keep coming around."
The door was unlocked so I got into the car, closed the door, then put on my seat belt.
"What if they keep coming around anyway?" Freemont asked after he was also in the car and ready to get us going. "They have the badges, Taz, so there isn't anything we can do to stop them."
"We can ignore them," I said, watching as he started the car. "If it gets to the point of our needing to
do more, we'll ask them politely to go away. If that doesn't do the job, I can always tear someone's head off their shoulders."
"That's not funny," Freemont protested, only glancing at me as he began to pull out of the parking lot. "You and I both know you're not into casual slaughter, so we'll forget you said that. Tell me what happened this morning to cause the trouble I felt."
There weren't all that many details to share, so the story was finished by the time Freemont pulled into the parking lot of a Denny's. That was exactly what I was in the mood for, of course, and I lost no time going inside. It wasn't until I'd finished half the cup of coffee I was given that I noticed George hadn't come inside with us.
Freemont and I ordered our favorites and swallowed them down as fast as possible, paid for the food before visiting our respective restrooms, then went back out to the car. This time I drove, with Freemont giving me the directions he'd gotten from our new clients. We went from 65S to 440E to 24E, and once we were on 24 where we would stay for a while I decided it was time to ask what might be an intrusive question.
"Something's bothering you, George," I commented while glancing into the rearview mirror. George sat in the back seat lost in thought, his outline more misty than it normally was. "Would you care to share whatever the problem is, or is it purely personal?"
George didn't actually take a deep breath because he didn't breathe, but that was the impression he gave when he raised his head.
"The problem is personal, but for all of us," he answered. "Last night I was all for our joining that task force, but today I've changed my mind. Your instincts are right, Taz, and our best bet is to stay as far away from them as we can."
"What made you change your mind, George?" Freemont asked as he turned as well as he could to look directly at our partner. I'd been about to ask the same thing, but Freemont had beaten me to it.
