by Tina Gower
Clever.
Frustrating.
Worrisome.
An officer brings a teenage warlock around from outside. The boy’s blond hair covers half his face. “I found this one outside on the roof of a nearby building mixing potions and throwing chants.”
“Good work, officer,” the cop I assume is in command replies.
“I’m practicing for a test in school. I didn’t do anything.” The boy jerks around. The officer clamps down on his hold.
I analyze the boy. Holes in jeans, oversized long sleeved T-shirt advertising some local band. No lesions. No red eyes. His clothing makes it hard to see if he’s got cuts on his skin, but I’m betting that if I were to look there would be none. This isn’t our guy. I search for Becker’s gaze, give him a slight shake of my head.
He catches my meaning and nods back.
Unless this boy was with the witches who did this, we still didn’t know who could have pulled it off. Except that whoever it was, they were able to get information a little too quickly for my comfort. I wasn’t convinced we’d plugged all the holes.
I get the boy’s attention. “Was anyone with you? Did you see any other witches or warlocks in the area?”
The boy looks confused. “No, but I felt the magic. Started about an hour ago.”
Right. Probably set the trap and got as far away as they could. They weren’t stupid. They were long gone most likely.
Becker tugs my arm. “Come on. Lipski’s here. He’s got it under control. He’ll question the kid. We’re transferring Beatrix and her family into custody until we can get a lead on who set her up.”
“But we should stay and be sure she’s gets out okay.”
“Lipski’s on it. I need to get you back so I can deliver the print-outs to my boss. I still have a bit of a mess to clean up.”
I’d nearly forgotten about Jared Walker’s vanishing predictions history. Without it we didn’t have much of a case. A less prepared team could have lost it all in a few minutes. Lead witness, paper trail. The attention it would have gotten in the media from this little spark created by Beatrix would have been enough to set fire to any credibility our department had. Since Michelle Kitman left, it had dwindled. It’s as if I’d been grasping at barely grown blades of grass on the beach before the tide.
I whisper into Becker’s ear. “Do you trust them? I mean, we’ve had horrible luck.” I shoot him a look so he’ll understand my meaning.
He presses his lips together and offers a short clipped nod. “I trust Lipski.”
And I guess so do I because I turn and follow Becker away from the scene.
Becker drops me off at my apartment, walking me to my door and doing his security check thing in each room. Twice. He stops and rubs his hands down his arms as though he can’t get the fizz from the air he described earlier off his skin. A little more keyed up than I expect him to be, considering we stopped the potential issue with the case, right? And maybe our assailants slipped up and we got security video of them in the area. We were getting closer. I could feel it.
As if to confirm my feeling, Becker’s phone buzzes. He holds it out for me to see. “They got a match on that symbol of yours. Our specialist says it looks like a bastardized Wyrd symbol and they’re linking it to a branch of developing Norn terrorists who believe the government shouldn’t interfere with prophecy.”
I scan the information. Good. We have someone to fight. A name and, hopefully soon, a face. At least this way we can bring the info around during questioning and see if anyone else recognizes the symbol. My only regret is that we didn’t find them when we were working on Jack’s case. There had to be a connection.
Becker tucks his phone into his pocket. “I should go.” But he doesn’t. Instead he drifts toward the windows again, checking the locks on each of the sliders.
I catch his hand as he moves past me. He pauses and our fingers squeeze at the same time. Whatever anxiety had been building leaves as each of his muscles tenses and releases. Neck. Shoulders. Arm. Torso. Back. He rolls his head from side to side slightly as though he can feel the instant relief.
“It’s fine, Ian. We’re all safe. Everyone is okay. We solved the Morrison case. We stopped it in time.”
We take a moment. A pause where neither of us does anything but concentrate on the connection between our fingers and the crisp intensity in the air.
His eyes go to my lips. “I, uh. Thank you for saving my case.”
“You mean my case.”
“Whatever.” He leans down, placing an unsure kiss, then slowly leans back for my reaction.
I grin, pulling him down again for something a little more proper.
He laughs nervously. “So will you tell HR or should I?”
I slap him away. “I’ll do it. Gods help me. Just let me talk to Gretchen first so she can present it as a win-win and go to bat for us.” And I think she will. I cross my fingers and pray to seven different gods.
He detaches himself from our embrace as though it’s painful and is out the door, with a few glances over his shoulder. I watch as he jogs down the stairs in the low-lit dawn and fires up his car. I swear I can smell the french fries from here. Or maybe it’s chicken nuggets this time. I have no idea what he’s got in his eco car for fuel and I wasn’t paying attention when we drove over from the station. I was too caught up in everything else happening at once.
Seven hells. I’ve already solved a potential breach in my case well before my workday has started. Thanks to the deep sleep from whatever pack chemistry Becker provides, my body thinks it can still run a marathon. Damn, I’m good.
The handcuffs and keys sit in a pile at the edge of the counter. I pick them up to find a secure and secret place to store them. If Ali ever found them…
My lips crack into a grin involuntarily. The book he mentioned last night for some reason, pops into my thoughts. Curious, and unable to go back to sleep, I decide to look it up.
It takes a few tries to find the book, especially since I didn’t have the title just right and had no clue about the author. When I find it I click on the author’s name and it takes me to a screen where all his works are listed. There are just two. The book I’d read a few months ago that upset Becker when he found it: The Lone Wolf: Surviving the World Without Pack. And another.
The Werewolf in Love.
All the air leaves my lungs along with all the blood from my body. I have to cough a few times and slam my fist into my chest to restart my heart. Leave it to Becker to declare affection through a book recommendation.
Makes my little nerd heart swell to nearly bursting.
I order the book and pay for the expedited shipping so it will arrive tomorrow.
I run through the shower and get-ready routine as quickly as I can. Makeup is a must. Smart power suit is a must. I have to look my best when I beg Gretchen for her help with HR and also I’ve solved another case—so that should look good and win me into her good graces. Becker and I are an excellent team. Nobody will be able to deny the evidence stacked in our favor. Three successful high-profile cases in less than three months. That was nearly Kitman levels of success. And believe me, right now, the department needed another Kitman.
Along with getting some security that my relationship status wouldn’t affect my job position or Becker’s, I needed to broach the subject with Gretchen about this new long-term case. Something that connected all the cases together and possibly was bigger than we’d previously imagined.
If I could hurry it up, I could catch the next bus that left in an hour and get to work early. I had a lot to plan for.
I slide into a pair of sneakers and toss my heels into my laptop bag. I also shove in the case files, which fatten my bag, making my arm bow out like it’s riding an overweight horse. Out the door. I’m making good time. Jog down the stairs. My gaze is on my feet, so I don’t trip and hurt myself. When I bump into a person at the bottom, I’m not expecting it.
I spring back from the impact. Howard Parsons.<
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I glare at him. “Excuse me.”
He puts out his cigarette on the metal rail right next to where my hand grips it. “Hale.”
“Shouldn’t you be at Traffic? Heard they’ve got quite a mess brewing. A little blip in the system causing a jam. I can’t say I envy you.”
“Of course not. Not when you’ve found yourself in a much more comfortable situation. There was nobody to sleep with in Traffic to give you a boost. But now”—he sweeps his hand up and down—“you’ve made out all right.”
I don’t need to prove anything to him. I straighten, contemplate spitting in his face, but stop myself. He’s a little jerk and doesn’t have any self-esteem so he’s more interested in chopping mine down to his level. It won’t work. Not today. I press through to get past him on the stairs.
He catches my arm. “It wasn’t enough. You had to go put my name in and get me suspended. I know it was related to your case in some way. You just had to find a way to stick it to me for ratting you and your boyfriend out.”
“You’d be wrong.” I twist away from his hold. “We didn’t have anything to do with your suspension. Here’s a tip. Next time don’t take money to flub a prediction. It doesn’t look right when our actuary took all the blame and you got off without so much as a slap on the wrist.”
“That’s not what I did. I pushed it through to low prob where it belonged. Not my fault that our boss decided to go easy on me because I have an impeccable record otherwise.”
I point my finger into his chest, wishing it were a more effective weapon. “Impeccable because you rode on my coattails for years.”
He squints, grabbing hold of my arm again. Tighter. I wiggle to get free, but he’s got more than a casual grip this time. “You know, maybe it was you who got one of your oracle buddies everyone says you’re so tight with to send over a decoy. Rumor has it they do little favors for you. People like you are unpredictable. Maybe that’s what the real problem here is.”
Crap. If ever I needed a reminder that I’m fateless and this kind of dirt will follow me around my whole life. That someone like Parsons might dig a little too deep and start a rumor. I’ll never know if this is the moment that ends it for me. My reputation. My career. My chance with Becker. I sigh.
Not today.
I yank my arm, freeing myself once again. “Don’t blame me for your mistakes, Parsons.”
There’s a door slam from above us and then the sound of a wooden spoon against the metal railing, like someone ringing for supper.
Ali calls down from the balcony. “Hey, asshole, get your drippy meat hooks off my cousin.”
Her oversized fluffy robe wavers in the slight breeze. She holds up a bowl of a white powder she’s about to dump down on us. Looks like another batch of that stuff she gave me a few days ago that I showed Becker last night. Taser biscuit mix.
I call up to her. “Don’t worry about it, Ali, I got this one.” I stomp down hard on his instep.
Howard squeals and doubles over. I let my fat bag smack his head as I walk by.
“He’s all yours, Ali!”
All I hear are his grunts as I jog to the bus stop. I do allow myself one casual glance back and see a large wet spot all over his crotch. Way to go Ali. He’ll wake up with no memory of the last ten minutes in a puddle of his own piss. Really glad I didn’t need to use that one on Becker. But I really hope Ali shares some of the biscuits with me later.
Chapter 18
There’s a surprising amount of people in the office at seven in the morning. Yang has predictions streaming in on three screens, and color-coded files spread out on her desk like a rainbow. There are several of each color. I dig into my bag, which doubles as my new best friend since it smacked Howard Parsons in the face, and present Yang with a neon red file.
She glances at me briefly. “Oh no, you get that thing away from here. I’ve got too many reds as it is.” She takes it anyway, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Look at you hot shot. Third major case closed. And another one everyone said you should back off from. You’re making oppositional defiance a habit.”
I hitch my hip onto the side of her desk. “No. Not me. I always follow the rules. It’s Becker’s influence.” My voice hesitates on Ian’s name, and I stop breathing for a second waiting for Yang to react.
She doesn’t. “Yeah, well, it creates a lot of paperwork and explanations to the department heads when you color outside of procedure.”
“I’m not completely in the clear yet. I’ve got a witness who sang to the media, then nearly got herself killed, but we’ve got it plugged by now.” I check my phone for an update and don’t have one yet. Worry tugs at the edges of my gut. I produce the best fake smile. “I’m sure it’s under control anyway.”
“You mean the fateless thing on the news this morning? The way everyone’s talking like they want to round them up and tag them? HR is already sending out questionnaires and flagging anyone who doesn’t have history of predictions in the database. Bunch of uneducated nonsense.”
I snort, trying to not seem too invested. “Yeah.” Becker better get that situated fast or it’s my ass.
“Good thing you’re on it.”
“I am.” I straighten my blazer and wipe the sweat from my forehead as discreetly as I can.
“I’ll just have to start calling you Michelle Kitman.” Yang says it as a throw away comment, but it makes my lungs swell and that fake smile becomes real. I wipe it from my face when she looks up. “She’s giving a seminar tonight. A couple of us are going. It will be nice to see Michelle after she’s been out for so long. We have two extra tickets.”
An office outing? I’m invited? I’m invited to the office outing? My thoughts carousel around those two things for about a second. “Sure—uh, that would be awes—lovely. I’d really like to go.”
Wow. I’m speechless—as in I wish I would speech less, because I’m stuttering all over the place.
So far it’s the best morning in I can’t count how long. Things are going my way. I have Becker. I’m making office friends. I got to kick Howard Parson’s butt and not worry about the consequences.
Yang’s phone trills. She picks it up before the first ring is finished. “Yang Lee, Department of Accidental Death—Oh sorry, Gretchen. I wasn’t watching the screen—I’m a little distracted. Right. Actually, she’s here.” Yang looks up at me and then her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O.” She quickly looks away. “Of course. I’ll send her back.” She shoos me away, the concern on her face is genuine. It would be touching if it weren’t for the circumstances.
Shit. I scoot off Yang’s desk as though it’s lava. I knew things were going too well. Becker must have hit a problem and we’re in hot water with the media now. Or my little run-in with Howard has created repercussions I didn’t expect. Damn it, Ali, that Taser powder was supposed to wipe his memory, too. She usually didn’t forget little details like that and she’d told me she formulates the mix just perfectly for such an occurrence.
But we didn’t exactly have a lot of unwanted visitors crowding us as we left the stairs of our apartment, so Howard was our first trial of the experiment.
I poke my head in Gretchen’s office, but she’s not there. I glance around and see her waiting for me in my office. I hurry over and shut the door. If she’s going to yell, I don’t want everyone else to hear it.
I flatten myself against the door. “I can explain. Whatever it is, I can explain it. Becker is working on Beatrix Morrison. When I saw her last she was alive and we transferred her over to the proper authorities. We had print-out copies of Jared Walker’s prediction’s history. Someone deleted those from public record so this newscast would spread. Or plant a seed of doubt. I don’t know, but I’ll figure it all out when I expand on the larger case.”
She crosses her legs and smooths out her skirt. Her face is calm. Too calm. Fuck. I don’t know how to deal with reasonable Gretchen. Give me slight anger. Frustration. Doubting Gretchen. Anything but the calm reasonable
Gretchen.
She clears her throat. “About the larger case—”
I hold up my hands and silence her. “No. Stop right there. I’m going forward with it. The predictions tampering is happening on a larger scale and if we don’t stop whoever’s doing this the ripples in the net will completely cripple our system. Our assessments won’t be accurate. We’ll see a lot more inaccuracies.”
She shifts in her seat. “I’m sure Miles can look over your notes and ease a lot of the burden, but you—”
“Miles? He’ll be busy enough with the day-to-days. Of course, I’ll still being doing quotas, but I was hoping we could scale back so I can have a little more freedom. Maybe we should bring one of the Junior Actuaries in to Investigative. Maya’s really sharp—”
“I’ve already spoken with Maya about transitioning into an investigative actuary roll.”
“Perfect.” I clap, and with a jump I spring to my desk, setting my bag down with a thump. “Then we’re on the same page.”
“Kate.” She clasps her hands in front of her, leveling me with a serious look. “I can’t have you troubled with this right now. We have to speak about something very serious and what it means for your future in this department.”
My chest becomes a construction site, heart jackhammering, veins pulsing, my nerves jerk as though a nail gun is shooting at them. Howard must have made a call before he confronted me. He must have seen Becker leave my place all disheveled. I close my eyes, trying to remember if I’d left the blinds open. He probably got a nice view of Becker, handcuffs hanging from his wrist, half dressed. Crap.
I sit. Deep breath. It’s not the way I’d prefer to break the news to my boss, but I can still fix it. “The relationship between Becker and me has a very tight boundary between personal and professional. We’ve discussed the work situation and the value he brings our department. I understand your reservation to allow us to work together given this development, but we do our best work together. Just let us use this opportunity to show you and we can go to HR and show that our personal life hasn’t affected our ability to solve cases.”
