by Riley Storm
“But…don’t you want to catch them?” he asked, confused.
“Priorities,” she explained, then wrenched the wheel to the left as they raced around a corner.
Khove went flying into the door head first, denting it. “Ouch. What happened to a seatbelt?”
“I thought you said you were strong? Hold yourself upright.”
He snorted. “I still don’t understand. Isn’t catching the bad guy the priority?”
“We’re overwhelmed,” she said plainly. “Too much going on, not enough responders. So, we’re going to have to play catch-up, unfortunately, but that’s just the reality of the situation. Yes, I want to arrest your accomplices, but my main priority is securing the scene so that Fire can stop the flames from spreading.”
“Where are we going anyway?” he asked, having only caught the address, not recognizing it. He respected the detective and her instant analysis of the best course of action, but still felt uneasy at her rushing to the scene. She wasn’t prepared to go up against what they might find there. No human was.
“Granted Holding Company,” she said. “It’s down by the docks on the river.”
Khove frowned. “That’s not right.”
The response was almost instant. “What’s not right? What do you know?”
“You’re positive that’s the name of the company? Absolutely positive?”
She reached out and spoke into the radio. Both of them heard the dispatcher confirm the business name and address. In the rearview mirror, azure eyes focused on him.
“What is it you’re not telling me?” she snapped when he didn’t immediately speak.
“This property isn’t one of ours,” he said calmly, brain frantically trying to understand.
“Whose is it? Do you know?”
“Our biggest rival,” he said, careful not to mention anything about House Canis. He would have to speak vaguely, avoiding specifics. “Something’s wrong.”
“Well, we had a call come in saying the building was going up in flames. We can’t exactly not respond to that,” she said as they turned another corner and sped into the industrial area surrounding the riverside docks.
Plymouth Falls was the last stop on the river system, and although it had a population of little more than 5,000, it fed much of the surrounding smaller communities via water transport. Therefore, its dock area was larger than most towns its size.
Khove barely noticed as they zipped through it. He needed to figure out what Korred’s plan was. Why was he attacking the Canim now as well? He couldn’t hope to take on both Houses. There had to be something else going on here. Could this just be random and totally unrelated?
It seemed unlikely, given the events of the rest of the night, but what other explanation could there be? His mind flashed back to the uncertain reports of problems at Moonshadow Manor, the home of the werewolves. Could this be related to that instead, and simply coinciding with Korred’s return?
It didn’t matter, not really. Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t good.
“You need to let me come with,” he said as the car slowed, lights dancing crazily off the various metal-sided warehouses and buildings nearby. “I can help.”
“Absolutely not. You’re a suspect. How many times do you have to be told that you’re under arrest?” She turned into a building. “I don’t see a fire.”
“Me neither,” he said, feeling unsettled. “You need help, Detective. Let me out. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
She turned to look at him coldly. “Then tell me, or I’ll arrest your ass again for obstruction.”
Khove looked away. “Let me out,” he repeated.
“That’s what I figured.” She got out of the car, headlights blazing across a warehouse with the name Granted Holdings emblazoned on it. “Stay here.”
Khove didn’t reply. He watched her get out and head toward the building, gun drawn. Why wouldn’t she believe him that he was on her side? She was so desperate to prove he was a criminal, she was making a mistake by leaving him in the car.
The longer she was gone, the more worried he grew, until he could take it no longer. Offering a silent apology, he ripped off the door covering and manually lowered the window until he could reach outside and lift the handle. The door opened quietly and he jogged toward the building.
Reaching the entryway, he ducked inside, only to come to an abrupt halt as he stared down the barrel of her service pistol.
“I told you to stay in the car,” she hissed.
Khove, growing irritated at having the weapon pointed at him so much, casually reached up and took it from her hand. It was over in a second, leaving the detective shaking her hand to ease the sting in her fingers.
“I. Am. Not. Your. Enemy,” he said, voice growing deeper and angrier with each punctuated word. “Let me back you up.”
She looked ready to protest again, but at the last second, it seemed she decided otherwise. Where the sudden trust in him had come from, he wasn’t sure, but he was glad it was there.
“Fine. I suppose I don’t really have a choice, do I? You can apparently break cuffs, open doors to cop cars, and disarm me faster than I can see it happening. I guess if you really wanted to hurt me or escape, you’d be gone by now, instead of actively insisting on helping me.”
Khove smiled. “Why, Detective! I do think you’re coming to like me.”
She stared at him flatly. “Give me my gun back.”
He did, and together they crept into the back of the warehouse. It appeared empty. He couldn’t see any fire. Opening his nostrils, he tested the air. The sharp musky odor of Canim assaulted them almost immediately. It was strong, cloying the air. They had been here, and recently, at least three.
Following the scent, he left the detective to explore the rest of the large warehouse and out back. The danger was in this direction where the Canim were. Not where she was.
Intent on finding out just what was going on here, he crept deeper into the warehouse, focused on stopping the danger before the detective got involved. That was his only concern.
8
Step by step, she moved deeper into the warehouse, flashlight moving back and forth as her pistol tracked across the emptiness.
The building wasn’t truly empty. Various heavy machinery, work tables and even a small cargo van were there, casting crazy shapes off the wall when her light struck them. Still, there was no sign of life, and definitely no sign of fire.
All that she’d seen so far was the forced entry at the main door. That seemed to indicate a robbery. But why had whoever called said the building was going up in flames? That was bound to bring a big emergency response presence to the area. It didn’t make much sense.
“Any signs of anything missing?” she asked quietly, wondering if his eyes had picked up anything she’d missed.
There was no response.
“Hey, pay attention,” she snapped, turning to look over her shoulder.
He was gone.
“Dammit.” The word was a quiet hiss.
Anger spiked at the betrayal. Rachel had trusted him for some unknown reason. A hunch, trusting the feeling of peace and safety he exuded that was so strong, she could practically feel it. All along, she’d ignored it, trying to play things by the book and keep him under arrest, even as her gut told her to believe him, to use him as an ally.
This was the last time she’d be doing that! Whatever strange aura he gave off, the giant stranger was not on her side. Not at all.
Bringing her hands back up, she continued to survey the building, moving into the back where boxes were stacked high against the walls. There was no time to worry about it now. She knew where he lived. How hard could it be to drive out there with a warrant and arrest him? With his height and build, the man would stand out like a sore thumb in any crowd. She would get him later.
There was only one area of the warehouse she hadn’t explored yet, and Rachel moved there now, trying to push her feelings of b
etrayal aside. She was furious at herself for trusting him, for thinking he would actually act like her work partner. How dumb could she be? He’d taken full advantage of her and left her vulnerable.
“Clear,” she said after exploring the final area, not that it mattered. There was nobody around to hear it.
“Detective.”
Rachel shrieked in surprise and whipped around, gun coming up to bear on the source of the voice.
“It’s me, Detective,” the stranger’s voice said, even as a hand shot out and stopped her arm hard. His grip was like steel wrapped around her wrist, immobilizing it so strongly, she couldn’t even shake it.
“Let go,” she snapped.
The pressure released and he stepped out of the shadows. “Everything okay?” he asked cheerfully.
“I nearly shot you again, you idiot. What the hell were you thinking?”
He smiled, revealing twin rows of pearly white teeth. “I went around the back. Then I came back in. You were so lost in thought, I walked right up to you and you never noticed.”
“You went around the back,” she repeated, trying to contain her anger. This is why she shouldn’t work with amateurs. Idiot. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
She sighed, rubbing her temples with her middle finger and thumb of her free hand while holstering her weapon. Then she switched to massaging the stress area with both hands for ten long seconds before speaking again.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?”
The big man came up short. “Uhhhh.”
“That’s what I thought. If you want to work together, then you have to do just that. You have to work with someone. You don’t just go off and do your own thing. You have to communicate. To build trust.” She threw up her hands. “Why am I even telling you this? You’re probably the one responsible for all this. You should be in the back of my car!”
“You seem stressed.”
Rachel wanted to shriek, but she bit her lip, keeping quiet. The man was infuriating with his calmness and direct words.
“Do I?” she asked. “Maybe it’s because I’m trying to clear out a crime scene, where a bad guy could be lying in wait to hurt me, and you jump out of nowhere and scare me.”
“But there’s no danger,” he said cheerfully. “Everything is okay.”
“I didn’t know that!” This time she did lose her cool a bit. “How can you say it’s safe?”
“Why? Because I made sure of it,” he said, the statement so plain and justified that she almost believed him.
“Right.” Walking past him, she exited the warehouse, giving the little office area at the front another quick glance, but nothing seemed out of place. A more thorough investigation would have to wait until things in the rest of the town were more under control. For now, she needed to get back to her car, cancel the Fire response and move on to the next place she was needed.
Walking outside, she saw her car.
“What the fuck?!” she shouted, her self-control slipping as she saw the damage to the door, which was ajar. “What did you do?”
“Don’t worry about that, Detective, I’ll pay to have it fixed.”
“Damn right you will.” Rachel turned away, forcing herself to go through the meditative breathing rituals she’d learned years before, pushing out the stress. The seeming nonchalance that this man took toward her job was beyond infuriating. She’d worked extremely hard for this position and wasn’t about to let him flush it all away.
“You know what,” she said weakly. “Just go away. Please. Leave. Go back to your headquarters or something. I’m not arresting you anymore. I just want you gone. Far away.”
“Oh.” To her surprise he seemed genuinely crestfallen by her words. “What are you going to do?”
Despite her best judgment, she answered him. “Probably work the rest of the night. Alone,” she said, stressing the word. “I suspect every cop, retired cop and security guard in town is being called in to handle this.”
“I thought you were off duty?”
She rounded on him with a glare. “The city is burning. While you seem not to care, there are people out there that need my protection. I’m not going to go home and sleep while they’re in danger. Once things taper off, I’ll get some sleep. Now go away before I change my mind and arrest you. Again.”
Watching him go, Rachel realized she hadn’t even got his name.
“That’s some fine detective work you’ve done there, Corningstone,” she muttered, still trying to wrap her head around what had happened, and her decision to let him go. Why did she even care about him? The old her would have arrested him and let his ass rot in jail until he confessed.
Because everything you saw and felt said he wasn’t guilty of anything.
Hopefully, she wasn’t being an idiot about it.
Her radio went off before she could think about it any further.
“All units, all units, we have multiple reports of a fire at...”
Her hand automatically reached into the front seat and grabbed the mic. “This is Corningstone. I’m on it,” she said, slamming the mangled door closed and getting in.
It was time to do her job.
9
Wiping at her eyes and stifling another yawn with the back of her arm, Rachel shuffled into the office, feeling more like a zombie out of a b-level television show than a hard-nosed police detective. The puffy tenderness under her eyes hadn’t been dispelled by a coffee just yet and would probably require another cup or two before she resembled normal.
“Corningstone, you look like shit.”
She glanced over at Martin’s desk, giving the sergeant a slow up and down. “Really? I thought I did a pretty decent job of dressing up as you. I forgot the beer belly in the car, but otherwise, I nailed it.”
“Fuck you,” the portly beat cop fired back.
“In my nightmares,” she muttered just loud enough for the whole office to hear, earning her a few chuckles.
“Corningstone!”
Her head came around as Sheriff Dottner’s voice barked through the room. Immediately, she winced and rubbed at her neck as tired muscles protested the sudden movement, still not loosened up since she’d rolled off her couch thirty minutes ago after about three hours of sleep.
“Yes, Sheriff?”
“My office.” Dottner’s head disappeared back through his door.
Mumbled ooooh’s went up from the room.
“What are we, in grade school?” she snorted with a roll of her eyes. “Grow up, people.”
Nobody responded, but eyes tracked her progress down through the rows of desks and cubicles anyway. It didn’t bother Rachel that most of them hoped she would get in some sort of trouble, the big hot-shot city detective they disliked simply because she wasn’t from around there. Most of them assumed she thought herself better than them, though that couldn’t be further from the truth.
A large figure sat hunched over outside of Dottner’s desk, head resting in his hands, as if he was snoozing. There were no handcuffs around his wrists, so Rachel paid him no mind, pausing just long enough to rap her knuckles on the door before entering.
“You wanted to see me, Sheriff?” she asked.
“Close the door.”
Frowning, she stepped fully inside and shut the door behind her. Was she in trouble after all?
“How are you doing?”
Rachel shrugged. “Tired as shit, Sheriff, like everyone else here, but that’s the nature of it. I’ve pulled long shifts like this before, so I’ll manage.”
“Good to know, because I think you’re going to have to.” Dottner sat, and motioned for her to do the same.
“If it’s all the same, Sir, I’ll stand. I need to keep moving.”
Dottner grinned in understanding. “You’ll get plenty of moving done today, don’t worry about that. I need you alert for later though. The paperwork bullshit can wait, if need be.”
“What do you mean, Sir?” She was confused. “What more sho
uld I be doing?”
“You don’t seriously think this was a one-off sort of prank, do you?”
Rachel regarded her boss carefully. “It would be nice,” she said, “but no, I never really figured it was over.”
Dottner sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “That’s because it isn’t. It’s going to start up again tonight, I’m fairly positive.”
She just nodded, having assumed the same. “I hate to say it, but you’re right. We’re in for another night of it.”
“I’ve called everyone in. We’ll have a full force patrolling the streets tonight, but until we catch this guy, or girl, or group, we’re only going to be able to react to it.” The Sheriff looked up sharply, catching her eyes. “We need to find whoever did this. So I’m putting you on the case.”
Rachel perked up. This was going to be the case of the decade, if not longer, in Plymouth Falls. “Right, of course, Sir. Which part do you want me to handle?”
“Are your ears plugged, Corningstone? I said you’re in charge of the case. The entire thing. I’m a proud man, but I like to think I’m not an idiot. You’re the best detective we’ve got, with experience at this sort of thing I can’t hope to match. I’ll plan out our response and coordinate with the other services.”
She straightened, beyond grateful for the trust in her abilities. “I won’t let you down,” she promised fiercely.
“I know. That’s what I told the Mayor when he called. I said I was confident they’d solve it.”
“Thank you, Sir, I—”
Rachel was nodding, her brain already shifting into analysis, when a single word trickled through her brain. “They? Sir?”
“You and your partner. You’ll figure it out,” the Sheriff said, looking at various files on his desk.
“Pardon? I don’t have a partner, Sir.” Great. Who am I getting saddled with now? If it’s Martin, I may just quit now.
“You’re going to need help on this one, Corningstone.”
Was that a…smirk?
“It better not be Martin,” she said. “If this is some sort of cruel prank…”
