by Riley Flynn
“I think that’s exactly the reason you react the way you do,” said Hutch. “After so much death, every life is precious. Empathy seems to be a psychic side-effect here in Colorado Springs. Back in Denver, there were pockets of it, but unfortunately they were situated between gangs of animals who lived only to satisfy their primal instincts.”
Maggie sighed. “Which brings us back to this. Why would anyone want to hurt Lisa Blume, of all people? I didn’t know her all that well, but she seemed like a sweet young woman.”
“She was more than that,” Raylene sniffed. “If I’d had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be just like Lisa. Trusting. Caring. And just dumb enough not to think too much about what was going on around her.”
“That would definitely be an asset in this brave new world,” said Hutch.
Todd shook his head. “Can we stop dancing around the subject?”
“What are you talking about?” Ruben asked, but the look on his face made Maggie think he already knew the answer.
“We all know that there’s only one person who would have the motive and means to do this,” said Todd.
Ruben’s dark eyes flashed. “Why don’t you just shut your mouth right now, before you say something that’ll get you hurt.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. I know he’s your friend, Lambert, but we’ve all watched his downward spiral over the last few months. All of us were here when he made that pile of bricks that’s still out front.”
“Drunk driving isn’t murder, Todd.” Ruben’s hands had balled into fists. “And do I need to remind you that Farries was an integral part of saving all our asses in those mountains?”
“I know that! I was there, remember? But that doesn’t give him some get-out-of-jail-free card for the rest of his life.”
Maggie’s head was swirling with both the drama and her own exhaustion.
“Enough,” she said. “We know that the murder happened before the buses arrived, which means the killer was either one of the four council members staying here, Patrick and/or Elsa, or Hutch here. If we eliminate them—” She held up a hand before anyone could protest. “And I’m not saying I am. But barring that, it means the killer came into the hotel at some point without making their presence known.”
“Exactly,” said Todd. “Travis told me last night that he saw Farries leaving the Broadmoor yesterday afternoon.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Ruben. “Did any of you see her after that?”
The rest of them looked at each other. Finally, Todd said, “I didn’t.”
Hutch shrugged. “Nor I. The last time I remember seeing Lisa was at lunch yesterday.”
“Farries was at the bowling alley last night,” said Maggie. “But he left after…”
“After what?” asked Ruben.
“After he punched Col. Smith.” She saw the looks on the others’ faces. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say he wasn’t in a good mood the last time I saw him. That was around ten last night.”
Todd shrugged. “Sounds pretty cut and dried to me.”
“I’ll question the others,” said Maggie. “But, Ruben, I’m afraid we’re all going to have to accept the fact that Farries is our prime suspect right now. If you see him, I need you to get in touch with me.”
Ruben pursed his lips. “Fine. Whatever it takes to clear him.”
She sighed and rubbed at the kinks in her neck. The fall to the hard floor during the quake had done more damage than she’d originally thought. But that pain was nothing compared to what she was going to have to do next.
“Belay that,” Jax growled through her radio.
“Jax, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m just telling you that Brad Farries is under suspicion.”
“And I’m telling you that there’s no way he killed her.”
“You didn’t see him last night. Price and I were at Fast Lanez with Col. Smith and we did talk to Farries. He punched Smith out and then left.”
“Hold up—you were with Smith? What the hell was that about?”
“He was there, we were there, we started talking. Then Farries came over to us and lit into him. Believe it or not, Smith tried to apologize for what happened in the mountains. They went up to the office together, then Smith came back a few minutes later with a black eye. Apparently, Farries clocked him, then took off.”
“I trust Smith about as far as I can throw him,” said Jax.
“That doesn’t change the facts: Farries was in a fighting mood, he was drunk, he has a history with the victim, and none of us knows where he was after about 2300 hours last night. That makes him a suspect.”
“Then you need to get investigating and find the real killer.”
That was it. Exhaustion, frustration and sheer anger finally pushed Maggie to the boiling point.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job!” she snapped. “I will investigate and I will find the killer! This call was a courtesy to give you a heads-up about one of your men; that’s all. Now if you’ll kindly stay out of my way, I’ll get to work.” She let go of the button, then thought for a moment and pressed it again. “Over and out.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out again.
“Maggie?”
She jumped a bit and turned to see Hutch standing near her. He held up his hands in surrender.
“I apologize,” he said. “Both for startling you and for eavesdropping. Neither were intended.”
“Forget it,” she sighed. “It’s been a long day already, and it’s not even noon.”
“I can only imagine what Capt. Booth is feeling right now. I’ve only known the current version of Sgt. Farries. The two-point-oh, as it were. I never met the original.”
“He’s Mister Farries now,” she said. “He’s a good man. But he has problems.”
“He’s not alone in that. Might I make an awkward suggestion, now that it’s just the two of us?”
“Why not?” she sighed. “Everyone else has been telling me how to do my job; why not you, too?”
The sheepish look on his face made her scold herself. “You didn’t deserve that, I’m sorry. What do you want to say?”
“I just wanted to float an idea, which may or may not have any merit. We’re already starting to see shortages of certain drugs; I myself have been unable to find the blood pressure medication my voodoo practitioner told me I had to start taking several years ago. I imagine surviving Type 2 diabetics are starting to run out of their supplies as well, at least ones that haven’t expired. Along with a host of others.”
“What are you getting at?”
“It’s possible—not necessarily probable, but possible—that Mr. Farries suffered from a mental health issue before the collapse. Depression, anxiety, PTSD. It’s not uncommon in soldiers who’ve seen active duty, and I gather that Capt. Booth’s Echo Company has seen more than their fair share of combat.”
Maggie chewed that over for a few moments.
“You’re saying he might have been on medication?”
“Anything is possible. Certain medications can have serious side effects if they’re suddenly withdrawn from the system. Hallucinations, depression, suicidal thoughts.”
“Okay, but homicidal thoughts?”
He shrugged. “Psychiatry isn’t my field. I’m simply suggesting possibilities. Often people can’t see past their preconceived ideas about someone, when in reality, none of us knows what goes on in the heads of others, even those closest to us. Serial killers are almost always described as quiet people who kept to themselves.”
She opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand. “I’m not suggesting he’s a serial killer, obviously. I’m saying you can’t know a person’s mind simply by observing their actions. If we could, we wouldn’t need a court system. Which brings me to another point: what’s to become of whoever you decide is the killer?”
Maggie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Who will judge him or her? Will there be lawyers?
If there’s a conviction, what will be the punishment? Do we need to create a prison? Who will be the guards? Do the pre-collapse laws even apply in the new republic?”
She felt a headache coming on. Hutch must have seen it on her face, because his voice softened.
“None of that is important right at this minute, of course,” he said. “And I apologize for adding to your burden. Sometimes my inner asshole just can’t keep from farting out its opinion, usually at the most inopportune times. Your investigation is the most important thing, obviously.”
“You’re forgiven,” she said with a wan smile. “And I appreciate your suggestion about Brad’s mental state. I’ll keep it in mind.”
He tilted his head. “You’re most gracious. Now I’ll leave you to your work and go back to whatever it is that reprobates like myself do all day in this new world order.”
“I’ll track you down in a bit for questioning.”
He winked. “That’s the closest thing I’ve had to a date in a very long time,” he said. “I look forward to it.”
As she walked away, she tried very hard not to focus on what he’d said about what would happen after the investigation, but it just wouldn’t go away.
It was almost 1400 hours when she’d finally finished questioning everyone who’d been at the Broadmoor the night before. It had yielded precious little: Steven Burnett hadn’t seen anything, Evan Travis had watched Farries heading away from the building around five. He admitted he’d once had feelings for Lisa, but her relationship with Farries had put the kibosh on that months ago. Patrick and Elsa had made it clear they had far more important things to do than be questioned, but neither had offered any pertinent information about Lisa Blume—or any sign that they gave a shit about her death, for that matter.
When she arrived at the resort HQ an hour later, she could barely remember the twenty-minute drive. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so utterly drained.
Then she saw John Smith in the lobby, and her heart sank as he stood and started walking toward her. The day wasn’t over yet, apparently.
“Word travels fast,” she sighed. His shiner had deepened to the rich indigo of the last moments of sunset. “I take it you’re here about Farries?”
“Elsa contacted me.” He shrugged. “She told me about the questioning.”
Why the hell would Elsa do that? she thought wearily. Another goddamn thing I have to ponder.
“I’m not here to interfere in your investigation,” he said. “I just thought I’d save you the trouble of tracking me down. I assume you want to interview me?”
I wanted to sleep for a month first, but I guess that’s not going to happen.
“I do,” she said instead, dropping to the sofa and motioning for him to follow. “What happened after you two went upstairs last night?”
Smith glanced around the lobby; there were a few officers within earshot, milling around in their usual officious way. He leaned closer and lowered his voice.
“Farries talked a lot about Lisa Blume. How angry he was that she apparently didn’t want to see him anymore. Something about a restraining order? I didn’t quite get that part.”
Maggie rewound her mind to the conversation she’d had with Farries, Price and Jax. It was only a day earlier, but it seemed like forever ago.
“Price and I told him to stay away from her,” she said. “He wasn’t too happy about it.”
“That’s an understatement. He was extremely angry. Talked about going to the Broadmoor to confront her. I told him that would be a bad idea and…” He pointed to his swollen eye. “In my experience, a soldier like Farries striking a superior officer, even one who’s on leave, is extraordinary. I’m no expert, but I don’t think booze alone can account for that.”
“Is that when he left?”
Smith waited a few beats before answering. “Not quite,” he said. “He was mumbling something while I was picking myself up off the floor. I didn’t give it much thought at the time, but now, in hindsight…”
“In hindsight what?”
“I think his exact words were: ‘Might as well. Already did the others’.”
Maggie plucked the notepad and pen she’d been using from the breast pocket of her coat. She scribbled Farries’ words next to “Smith” on their own page.
“What do you think he meant?” she asked.
“I wish I knew. I would have asked, but I was pretty focused on myself at that point. I asked him what he was going to do, and he said, ‘You’ll find out’. Then he left.”
Maggie thought about that. There would have been plenty of time for Farries to drive to the Broadmoor, kill Lisa and drive away before the quake hit.
“The others,” she said, more to herself than Smith. What the hell did it mean?
“Sorry,” said Smith. “That’s all I have for you. I’d be happy to help in the investigation if you need a Dr. Watson, now that Maj. Price is in the infirmary.”
Maggie was in no mood to think about the offer. Instead, she closed her notebook and stood up.
“Thanks,” she said. “We’ll see. But right now, I’m going to go to bed and sleep until approximately spring. Maybe by then, all this shit will have sorted itself out.”
Smith smiled. Maybe it was her preconceived notions about the man, but it just looked somehow out of place on his face.
“You’ve definitely earned it,” he said. “Sleep well.”
With that, he headed down a hall that Maggie assumed led to his suite. She turned for the stairs that would take her to her own quarters, and the wonderful magical bed that was waiting there for her.
The man who called himself John Smith felt a genuine smile on his face for the first time in a long while as he rapped on the classroom door. A moment later, the door opened on a boy of about eleven with long, dirty blond hair and large eyes. It was Lucas, the silent refugee from the mountains that Emily Sidley was fostering along with the Peterson twins. She’d told Smith earlier that the boy could hear, though she still wasn’t sure if he could speak.
“Hello, Lucas,” he said. “Is your teacher here?”
The boy stared at him for a moment before turning and walking back into the classroom. The rest of the children had gone home for the day, except for Brandon and Brooke, who were in Ms. Sidley’s office with her. She caught sight of him through the window in her door and rushed out to meet him.
“Thank you, Lucas,” she said absently. “Brandon, Brooke, can you come out here? I need to speak to Col. Smith privately in my office. Thank you, dears.”
They did as they were told and joined Lucas in the main classroom. Ms. Sidley smiled sweetly as she closed the door. As soon as it latched behind her, she rounded on Smith with an acidic scowl.
“How many times have I told you to let me know before you show up?” she hissed.
He kept his expression even as usual, but inside he was smiling. Finally, after all these months, he felt like he had the upper hand. And he was going to savor that feeling for as long as he could.
“I’ve got something I thought you’d want to hear immediately,” he said. “It’s about our… situation with the police.”
She gave him an appraising look. “And what is that?”
“I think we may be able to kill three birds with one stone,” he said. Now his smile was on the outside, as well.
15
Jax stared in stony silence, and Maggie stared back at him the same way. It was clear they were at an impasse.
They were in an office that Maggie had confiscated in the old nursery building downtown that now served as the de facto White House of the new republic. Ironically, it was still attached to the grid while so many residential apartments in the area weren’t. Jax thought that some religious people might see that as a tacit endorsement by God of the new government. He didn’t, and he knew damn well that Maggie didn’t, either.
“So that’s the final answer?” she asked. “No help from the army?”
“You said it your
self: we need to separate the police from the military.” The smugness in his own voice sparked a flash of shame in him. He was starting to sound like Wallace Todd. “Besides, how do you think people will react to soldiers hunting a civilian after we made such a big deal out of creating a police department?”
“Most civilians outside of the Broadmoor probably don’t even know what happened!”
“You know that’s not true—look how quickly word got around about Carol Firth.”
She paused for a moment. “Fine. Then I guess we’re done here.”
Jax tried to keep his temper. He wasn’t used to being dismissed by anyone other than a superior officer.
“I came here to convince you that Farries isn’t a killer,” he said. “So no, I’m not done.”
Maggie sighed. “Look, Jax, we’ve been through this—I know you love the guy.”
“Love isn’t the right word,” he said fiercely. “I’ve shared battlefields with Brad Farries. Watched him carry my men on his back. Seen him perform acts of will that would break an ordinary man. I refuse to believe that anyone under my command is capable of cold-blooded murder, and Farries is—was—the best of them. Outside of Ruben, there’s not a person on Earth I’d trust with my life more than him.”
Maggie looked at him silently for a long time, but her eyes had lost the animosity they’d held earlier. Now it seemed they were almost pitying.
“We can’t exonerate him if we don’t bring him in.”
She had him there. He decided to take a different tack.
“What about other possible suspects?” he asked. “You know that we’re vulnerable to attack by the people that Stuart Adler and his cohorts were in contact with. How do you know they haven’t already infiltrated us?”
“What motive would they have to kill Lisa Blume?”
“Destabilize the government. It’s a classic saboteur move.”
