by Grace, A. E.
“Fine,” she relented. “But, like I said, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“I don’t mind if you watch me shower.”
His smile was contagious, and she forced herself not to return it as he walked past her. Only when he was completely in front of her, did she let herself smile.
And even then, it was only for a second, and only in disbelief.
Interviewer: Did you believe him?
Sasha: I did.
Dylan: No, she didn’t.
Sasha: I did. But it’s because I didn’t know if I ever believed you were our guy. I felt like, you know, it had to be you. You fit a description- [Interrupted by Dylan.]
Dylan: [Interrupting.] What, tall, strong, and handsome?
Sasha: Sally Clark didn’t say handsome. She did say you had an oddly oversized head.
Dylan: No, she didn’t!
Sasha: Anyway, Circe, it just seemed like the only road open to me at the time.
Interviewer: And you still hadn’t gotten back forensics on the body?
Sasha: No. Frankly, on that side of things, it was a disaster. Then again, we didn’t attract the best professionals in the business, for obvious reasons.
Interviewer: Like what?
Sasha: Being in the desert, for starters.
Interviewer: And, of course, it was too early for lab results on the fur you found, right?
Sasha: [Sighs.] I had forgotten how long that day was. I was up at four, with only three hours sleep!
Interviewer: We’ve been chatting for quite some time now, and I only feel like I’m getting a part of the picture. Why were you so drawn to him? Why even push that avenue of investigation if you didn’t really think it was him?
Sasha: I don’t know. I just felt there was a connection, you know. That he would lead me to our guy. I was right, after all.
Interviewer: Instinct.
Sasha: [Nods.]
Interviewer: Connection how?
Sasha: I don’t know. I just knew there was something there.
Interviewer: You told me before that you feel you might have had a somewhat special capacity for sensing things.
Sasha: Yeah. I think so.
Interviewer: Did it help? With, you know- [Interrupted by Sasha.]
Sasha: [Interrupting.] Yes. I think it did.
- Excerpt from full transcript of Interview with a Shapeshifter by Circe Cole. Printed with expressed permission.
*
“So, where are you parked?” Dylan looked up and down the road, but couldn’t see her dusty white coupe. “Ah,” he sounded a moment later as it clicked. “You switched cars. Smart.”
He caught a flicker of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “I am a detective, you know.”
“So” Dylan asked, pushing his hands together in front of him, and turning to look at her. “Which way, boss?”
“It’s down here.”
“You even parked a few houses down. How exciting! Were you watching me?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
He leveled his eyes at her. “So, the victim, was he-” But he was cut off by her wagging a finger at him.
“I thought this was supposed to be an opportunity for me to pry information out of you?” she asked him.
He nodded, conceding the point. “It is. But can’t I still be curious?”
“You can.”
“I get the impression that a murder in a small town like this, news spreads fast and people would be talking. The lady at the café didn’t say anything about it.”
“Nobody knows yet. It only happened this morning.” Sasha sighed. “But everyone will know tomorrow.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. The neighbor, the one you didn’t speak to, is Arthur Sands. He runs the free newspaper, The Salty Sentinel.”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Yes, I figured. Anyway, he’ll probably have an interview with himself put on the front page. Complete with exaggerations and lies. Your typical tabloid tactics.”
“So the phones will be ringing down at the station tomorrow?”
“Yup, but that won’t be my problem anymore.”
Dylan looked at her as they walked. “Anymore?”
“I used to get saddled with working the phones a lot.”
“Why?”
“I’m sure you know,” Sasha said to him, and she pointed at a dark blue car parked in the driveway to somebody’s house. “If you did in fact read today’s article about my promotion.”
Dylan nodded, running his tongue over his teeth. “It’s because you’re the only woman cop in your precinct.” He watched for a reaction, but she didn’t blink or flinch or show any signs of anger or bitterness. She must have been really used to it by now. She just nodded.
He caught himself staring at her, and a quick eruption of emotion seemed to wind him for a moment. Just in the brief time they’d spent together, he already knew he enjoyed her company. He looked forward to the rest of the night that he’d get to spend with her. On their ‘date’. It made him grin. It was amusing, the circumstances, and he was sure she saw it, too, even if she wasn’t going to show it.
“Is it tough?” He turned back to look at her. She was walking a step behind him. It was probably protocol. Or at the very least, caution.
“What?”
“Being the only woman at the station all the time.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it must be. Probably a big boy’s club here.”
“That’s how I’d term it.”
“So why do you do it?”
Sasha stopped then. “What, are we getting to know each other now?”
Dylan grinned. “Just curious.”
“I like the work.”
“Being a cop? I always imagined it would suck.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked. “Why is that?”
“Married to the job. Always a risk. Always in danger.”
“That doesn’t bother me so much.”
“Okay, I lied,” Dylan said. “That wouldn’t bother me, either. I guess the main thing I would hate was only being able to make friends with other cops.”
She pushed her lips together. “That’s true.”
“I mean, because who wants to be friends with police, right?” Dylan heard a small laugh, and stopped and turn, putting his hands out in a half-shrug. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I bet people get real friendly when they need your help, though.”
“Either that, or they become indignant assholes.”
“So,” Dylan said, exhaling dramatically and turning to continue walking down the baking street. “Why were you promoted?”
“They couldn’t not promote me.”
“I guessed it was political. But what did you do to earn it?”
“Got into a firefight with a few of thugs cooking meth. Over on the bad side of town.”
“I thought this whole town was a bad side.”
She blurted out a quick laugh. “You could say that. But there are some parts that are less bad.”
“So, what, you kill anyone?” When Dylan didn’t hear a reply, he turned to see that Sasha was no longer walking close to him, but had stopped a few feet back.
“No,” she told him.
“Didn’t mean to press any buttons, D.I. Monroe.”
“You talk about killing pretty lightly, you know? Interesting, considering I’m working a murder case, and you’re my only suspect.”
Shrugging, he said, “You said firefight. Okay, so you were shooting at people, they were shooting at you. It was a reasonable question.”
“You must be really popular at parties.”
“I don’t care about popularity.”
“I didn’t kill anyone, no. I did wound two of them.”
“So why the promotion? Sounds like usual police work to me.”
“I was riding solo that day.”
“Ah,” Dylan sounded, nodded. “That’s not typical, is
it?”
“No.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Please,” she scoffed. “I’m just wondering why you’re so interested. No need to treat me like I’m about to shatter.”
“You interest me.”
“Why?”
“You’re a beautiful woman and I kind of like you.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out a fraction too late. It made Dylan smile.
“Right.”
“Tell me why you were, how did you put it, ‘riding solo’?”
“Partner took some personal time. But there was nobody else to ride with me. So I went alone.”
“That’s normal?”
“Very. Not enough police to always put two people in a car.”
“So, what, the department felt pressured because they let a woman ride solo who then got into a bit of a pickle?” He wiped his forehead, turning around to look at Sasha again who was still walking behind him.
“That’s half of it, gender politics and all.”
“There’s more?”
“Yes. Backup came late.”
Dylan stopped, narrowed his eyes. “You’re kidding.” Anger flooded into his mind.
“No.”
“Those assholes.”
“I put out an officer in danger call, and shots fired. Backup was a few minutes later than it should have been.”
“I can’t believe it.” He clenched his jaw. “They’d do you like that?”
“Look, it’s not like I know anything for sure.”
“But where there’s smoke-”
“Yes,” Sasha said, cutting him off. “But I still don’t know anything for sure. Could have been anything.”
Dylan backed off. “Okay. So they promoted you.”
“Yes.”
“To keep you quiet.”
“Something like that.”
“Did you celebrate?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Celebrate.”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Just, the ceremony was yesterday. You look a little tired today.”
She stepped forward to him. “You think so, huh?”
“Yes. It’s okay, though, because you’re still gorgeous.”
“Would you stop that?”
“What?”
“You know what, Dylan. Seriously, I am not in the mood. And I have handcuffs and a gun.”
“I don’t mind handcuffs, though they’d have to go on you.” She stopped, and he put up his hands playfully. “Fine,” he said. “As you wish. So, big celebration then?”
“Yes,” she told him. “But not my promotion.”
“Ah, I thought so. I’m no stranger to the hangover. You’ve got all the signs.” He watched her, amused, as she put her hands on her hips.
“You the detective, now?”
“Come on. Bags, lazy slurring, posture, perspiration.” He ticked them off on his fingers, and then watched as she looked down at her shirt. It was sticking to her generous breasts. He licked his lips, and ticked off his thumb. “Add to that easily irritated…”
“It was a friend’s birthday.”
“Well, give her my best wishes.” He turned and started walking again. “So where the hell is your car, anyway? I’m getting a bit bored of this heat!”
“It’s here,” she said. He’d just walked right past it. “Get in.”
“Yes, Detective Inspector,” Dylan said with mock formality. He thought about saluting her, but decided not to. That might be too much. As it stood, he was quite certain he was having more fun than she was, and that was the sort of situation that grew tiresome very quickly. And he didn’t want to bore her.
He climbed into the passenger side, and instantly felt an impossible wave of more heat. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.”
“This is blue five,” Sasha said, tapping the steering wheel. “Worst car our department has. Air-con doesn’t work, and it’s dark so it sucks up the sun like nothing else.”
“Lovely,” Dylan said, looking out of the window as Sasha started the car and back out. “Good on my side.”
“Thanks,” she said sarcastically.
“Why are you so hostile?” He looked at her, saw the brief ripple of confusion on her face.
“Because you’re my suspect.”
“No I’m not,” he said, shaking his head. “At least, not anymore. You know it, too.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see when I go through the security footage at Red Sands.”
“That you will, Sasha!”
A silence settled in between them, not quite a wedge, but enough to highlight that there was some tension. Dylan was enjoying every moment of it. There was no way she’d press charges for trespassing onto a crime scene, especially not when she had laid it like a trap. Though she could probably get a conviction, and he’d get a slap on the wrist, he didn’t get the impression that she would. She was after whoever killed Charlie Kinnear, as he had just learned he was.
“So, this person you’re looking for,” she asked, breaking the quiet and turning to him briefly. “Since it is supposed to be me questioning you, right?”
“Right.”
“Who is he or she to you?”
“He may have the answers to questions I have.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Things about my past, my history.”
“This person knows you?”
“Not personally, no. I’ve never met him or her.”
“You don’t know if it’s a man or a woman?”
“Honestly,” Dylan said, looking at her. “No.”
“So how could this person have answers?”
“To tell you the truth, Sasha. It’s just a hunch.”
“Can’t you ever just speak straight? Why is everything this wordy maze with you? I don’t need these bullshit answers, you know.”
“It’s not bullshit.” He grinned when she sighed and rolled her eyes. She seemed all at once a contradiction to him. A storm encased in a bubble of patience. Passion checked by discipline. He was fairly sure anybody else would be angry as hell at him by now, or at the very least visibly put off.
She was right. He knew he wasn’t ever winning any popularity contests. He knew he didn’t play nice with most people. But that was because he was different than most people. Beyond the pleasures of the flesh, there wasn’t any reason to make friends. He was fairly sure that Sasha was proving herself to be the exception to the rule, and that worried him. Now was not the time to be forming attachments, even the sort that flared up over the course of a single day. He had an obsessive mind, and he knew that it would just be harmful in the long run… unless she became his.
“You’re kind of a strange woman, you know.”
Her mouth grew into a broad smile. “That’s funny, coming from you.”
“Do you think you are?” Dylan leaned into her when he asked the question, caught a strand of her scent. It was intoxicating. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her. And not just to bed her. He wanted her for himself.
“No,” she said after a pause. “Why would I think that?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not strange. I mean, do you think you’re an odd person? Because you are strange.”
“Yes,” Dylan remarked truthfully.
“Why?”
“I make people feel uncomfortable.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“So, I’ve answered a bunch of questions. And you’re opening up to me, too, and-”
“I’m just buttering you up so you’ll slip, right? Spill the beans.”
Dylan continued. “So why not answer some of my questions? Who was Charlie Kinnear? Was he anybody in particular?”
“No,” Sasha said. “Just an old man. Oldest in town. Been here since forever.”
“Since forever, huh? Got a photo of him?”
“Why?” Sasha’s head snapped toward him.
/> He half-shrugged. “Curious.”
“In the file,” she said, jerking her head backward. “On the back seat.”
Dylan turned around and saw a manila folder sitting there. “You make a habit of sharing your case information with suspects?” he asked, reaching for the file.
“That’s not information, only a photo. And it’ll be in the paper tomorrow, anyway. Besides,” she said, taunting him with a challenging smile. “You’re not a suspect, right?”
“Right.” He opened the folder, saw a picture of the old man. He looked familiar, but Dylan couldn’t immediately place him. He knitted his brow, and touched his nose, trying to figure out where he had seen that man before.
“You know him?” Sasha asked, looking at him.
“Feels like I’ve seen him before.”
“I don’t think he left home much.”
“I know!” Dylan said, punctuating the statement by pointing his finger at nothing in particular. “I saw him this morning. Only, briefly.”
“Where?” Sasha demanded. She pulled the car over, leaving the engine running. With no more air streaming past them, it was sweltering again. “You better not be bullshitting me. When and where?”
“In the tourist office,” he said.
“Impossible. Office opened after he was killed.”
“He wasn’t there, detective,” Dylan said. “There was a picture of him there, on the wall behind the reception counter.”
He watched as Sasha’s face bunched up in frustration. “Fuck,” she murmured, nodding her head slowly. “There is.”
“Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Whole day has been like that.”
“He was shaking hands with somebody,” Dylan said. “In the photo,” he added a moment later.
“Yes, he was.”
“Who?”
“The state governor, I think. But that was before my time. And it’s not important. The photo is unrelated.”
“Huh,” Dylan sounded, alarm bells going off in his head. “That’s funny.”
Sasha snapped her eyes to him. “Why?”
He could tell that she knew he was onto something, and so he shook his head, made a face, and lied. “Just that I’d see the photo of a man who had just died, that’s all.”
“That’s not funny at all.”
She started the car again, and the baking vehicle lurched off toward the Red Sands Motel.
