by LeAnn Mason
I figured it didn’t hurt to ask but didn't want to show how interested in the answer I truly was. When he shook his head, I pushed, “C’mon Commander, you made us all divulge our secrets. You’re past due.” We each had a bet as to what his gift was; there was even a pool. I'd tried getting Holden to spill the beans with details on his uncle, but his lips were zipped. Annoying really.
“Even if I was going to tell the team, I’d tell the team, not just you.”
“Pssh! You act like I can’t find out.”
He gave me a dead look. Have you yet? he challenged mentally, before turning to check on Trent’s progress, effectively ending my line of questioning.
CHAPTER 9
THE NEXT SEVERAL HOURS passed with calls and relaying of information between the group in the CP and the team on the scene. Pictures had been taken and the body had been removed and was being cleaned and inspected for cause of death – though apparently, bleeding out was a real possibility as an arm seemed to have been severed somehow – and any additional information that could be gleaned by the medical examiner.
Dane wasn’t able to get any definitive scents. The woman had been dead for several days based on the rate of decomposition they’d found her in. We’d had a couple heavy rains since which probably aided in uncovering the body and allowing exposure as well as confusing older scents.
Dane’s tracking would be hindered by such. It seemed the only scents he was picking up were those permeating the field, too many criss-crossing each other to know if any were out of place. All were heavy, newer, and not in the immediate area of the gravesite. The body itself wasn’t any help as it had a stench too powerful to glean any others.
The area wasn't one where Holden could move around unnoticed since this particular field seemed to be worked mainly by women, a look Holden didn’t pull off well, so he'd come back our direction, bringing Boat Shoes and Dane with him.
Trent and I started in on Steve the moment he walked through the door. He was still green and woozy. His normally pristine boat shoes, which had earned him his nickname, were splattered with dirt and upchuck. The remembered stench of the body still permeated his mind. He’d vomited immediately upon entering the cordoned area. He’d then had to photograph it and its location so we knew it was his and not a part of the scene to be analyzed.
That was Steve’s role on initial investigation: forensic photographer. His job was to spot anything that could be construed as evidence and get pictures. As stupid as it sounded, it was actually pretty important, especially considering we couldn’t expect a scene to stay pristine indefinitely. At least, that's what our simulated scenarios prepared us for. This was our first investigation with a body.
Steve seemed to have a good eye, or maybe it was the only task he could be given to feel like a functional piece of the team. Otherwise, we’d only need him as our glorified “freezer.”
I still seethed at the fact that he’d gotten the drop on me a couple days back and only just refrained from scolding myself right here. I didn't need to seem like a total crazy person any more than I already did.
Trent, Commander James and I were now looking through Steve’s photos and any known information on the deceased that Trent had dug up, working on a plan of action for moving forward. Devlin and Jade had questioned everyone at the Jenks residence, but none seemed to be suspect or have any pertinent knowledge other than that Sasha had not been home in four days. Funny no one had reported her missing. People had mentioned that they hadn’t seen her for a few days, but apparently it wasn’t enough to worry them.
Jade and Devlin were now on their way to talk to the field workers who generally tended the area, having gotten their names from the field foreman with hopes of finding out when Sasha had last been seen and anything else that would hopefully be relevant. I was twitching to get out there, to be the mechanism for delivering that relevance. That was my job, my expertise.
I hadn't realized how much I liked it until now. Until I couldn't do it. Well, I guess that wasn't true. I could do it, but it wouldn't be effective if they kept thinking about the chick with the crutches, and that's assuming I wasn't totally focused on said crutches. All the intense thinking going on in the room had me rubbing my temples again. I hadn't been allowed to move around the room after being described as “a bull in a China shop.”
I hadn't been that bad. The bulletin boards had needed to be moved if they were placed where they would trip people. It didn't matter that said people would have to fall into them when they were thrown off balance from trying to maneuver with a single crutch as opposed to two. Nope, didn't matter at all.
Escaping out into the blessedly blank hallway, I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and pretended that I was floating on a cloud. The whiteness surrounding me made the visual believable, the fluorescent luminescence able to penetrate even my closed lids. The quiet was great for a breather, a break from the bombardment, but the intensity of light was a separate obstacle.
Realizing that I was only trading one headache for another, I gave up and attempted to re-enter the room. Entering my code and opening the door wasn't an issue. Actually walking through the heavy steel door, however, seemed nearly impossible. I felt like Sisyphus, rolling a boulder uphill only to have it fall again as I reached the top. I just could not get myself and my crutches through the door without it pushing me back out.
I caught glimpses of Trent with a bag of chips and a stupid, goofy smile on his face as he watched me appear and disappear from view. Multiple times.
“A little help, Techie?”
“But I like the show,” he beamed.
My mood was plummeting with each moment of struggle. I was becoming a frayed rope, ready to snap at any second. Who knew who'd take the brunt when that happened? He must have seen the steam escaping my ears because after my third attempt, he finally vacated his coveted spot in front of the monitors and came to hold the door for me.
I made sure to inch through nice and slow so he had to hang on to the heavy apparatus that much longer. Childish? Maybe, but I still smiled as I hobbled into the room.
“You're seat is waiting for you, Gimpy,” Trent gestured grandly at the vacant seat as though it were a throne.
I gave my best death laser stare as I moved past him. I really wish that worked. It sucked that the stupid seat looked so inviting. I wanted to boycott it on principle, but the stupid crutches and only having one leg to support myself made that a stupid idea. Didn't mean I didn't ponder it.
The information that trickled in regarding our dead lady wasn't enough to make much headway. The interviews weren't very helpful, and we didn't have definitive information about cause of death yet. Commander James pulled everyone in at about seventeen hundred hours, almost five hours after initial discovery, to discuss our course of action.
I was finally getting the hang of using military time as my default, my main motivation being the fact that Devlin and Steve thought me incapable. I had to work really hard not to stick my tongue out at them when I'd proved them wrong.
Everyone was wiped, so we were quickly dismissed and heading back to the farmhouse, caravan style. The four vehicles moving together toward the same location wasn't a giveaway at all. Nope. Luckily it didn't seem like too many people were out and about, and those that were weren't paying us any mind.
It wasn't until I saw my dad's old car in front of the farmhouse that I even remembered my parents were coming over, the afternoon's events clouding all outside thought.
My parents opened creaking doors at the same time I worked on exiting the truck, Holden hurrying to my side to help before my dad could even make it to me.
“How you doing, baby girl?” Dad asked as I crutched past him toward the front door.
“Ready to be rid of these things. I really hope it's in the cards,” I puffed. Talking was harder when I was having to propel myself along with the strength of my upper body while coordinating the crutches and an incline. I felt like a newborn foal; all limbs and
no stability. Stupid stairs.
Holden lightly steadied me with a hand to the back, another step up in the letting-me-take-care-of-myself department, and I hid a smile by engaging my parents. “So, what's for dinner?”
It was my mother who answered. “I brought everything for chicken parmesan. Jade mentioned it last week,” Mom said over her shoulder. “She said she missed it.”
I nodded as I moved through the door that Holden now held open, having passed me at the head of the stairs. I couldn't argue that, Mom made the best chicken parm ever. Or, at least that I'd ever had. “Do you need any help?”
Mom scoffed. “I don't need you tromping around in the kitchen while I'm trying to work. Heaven knows you'd make a horrible mess.”
And there she was. The Mom I knew had to bring up my clumsiness at least once during the visit. I'm sure as the night went on, other deficiencies would be pointed out.
Still, this was an improvement. She seemed to genuinely like my company now. Don't get me wrong; she was still the Sage who loved pointing out how very not Sage her daughter was, but she seemed proud. She also loved that she had the opportunity to talk gadgets with Trent. She'd even worked on a few for the team. Maybe that was the root cause of her improved attitude. That she got to make toys, not that the two of us were any closer even if that’s what I liked to tell myself.
“I meant Holden,” I tried to play it off like I hadn't been volunteering myself. “He's fantastic in the kitchen and doesn't talk.”
Funny, Holden chimed.
I'd thought so. My beaming smile told him as much.
“Oh, Holden dear. Yes, please. I'd love some help.”
I rolled my eyes. My mother had taken a shine to Holden since that first fateful meeting after Rolph’s accident, taking full advantage of his want to impress and be accepted by her.
Sneaky girl, Holden crooned, his fingers dragging across my back like tickling tendrils as he passed to follow my mother to the kitchen. Goosebumps trailed their wake like phantom touches, making me fight a shiver.
My parents did not need to know the extent to which Holden physically affected me. To deflect my body's reaction, I turned to my father with false brightness. “So, how about getting me off these crutches, yeah?”
It was a great night. I'd been okayed to be fitted for a boot and spent no time lamenting the loss of the hated crutches, chucking them to the floor with glee and still gimping – and wobbling – chugged into the dining room for a phenomenal dinner of breaded and cheesy chicken breast over buttered pasta. Yum.
The salad was good too. Pretty sure that was Dad's contribution to the meal. It was just like I used to make for him on nights such as these. Packed full of about every garden veggie one could name, it was definitely the healthiest portion of the meal.
We'd begun the meal with a prayer of thanks, something that the rest of the team was finally getting used to. Most of them had never done it prior to these “Friday night Dae meals,” as they'd been dubbed, Steve still scoffed in his mind, and Trent still peeked, but everyone was outwardly respectful, which I appreciated.
“So, Trent,” Mother began as she daintily cut her chicken into precise pieces. “Have you worked on the locator yet?” She pushed a piece into her mouth and waited.
Trent who had been enjoying his meal immensely, swallowed quickly and nearly choked. “I haven't gotten more than the initial specs drawn, I had planned to work on it today actually until—”
“Until a case came in this afternoon,” Devlin clipped, delivering a narrowed eyed glare at Trent.
Trent, sufficiently cowed, stuttered his agreement and focused on the task of eating once more.
“Well, I had a bit of time this week and drew out some specs. I brought them in case you'd care to take a look?” My mother didn't seem fazed by the scolding though she took note of it. Her mind was like a steel trap. Things were always getting ferreted away to be dissected at a later date. She'd likely try to fish a few more details then speculate about the holes in her knowledge. She hated not knowing. “A case huh? So you guys have some of those? Keeping my Nathalee busy?”
“I wasn't much help today.”
“What a day to be crippled,” she lamented. “You couldn't infiltrate anyone today?” She batted her eyes innocently, but her choice of words didn't go unnoticed. Holden fumed silently next to me, going from Mr. Amiable to avid defender in a heartbeat.
I put a hand to his thigh and squeezed. I loved that he was ready to defend me, but I was used to such passive aggressive speech from my mother. I'd come to expect nothing less. How had I thought we'd been getting along better lately?
“Alana, stop. She is a vital piece of this team. Her ability is helping keep people safe.” Dad could always be caught defending me, even from his wife.
A flash about “playing God” caught my attention, but I knew if I asked about it, she would just shut down. So I tucked it away in the files labeled mystery in my mind hoping I'd get more than that snippet some time soon. I had a feeling it was something big.
“I brought dessert!” she suddenly chirped as she pushed away from the table, her chair scraping noisily across the floor. “Pumpkin pie.” Then she disappeared back into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a silver dish containing spice riddled custardy goodness. Pumpkin pie was my favorite; I loved the marriage of sweet and spice that was within the confection. Topped with a more-than-was-healthy dose of whipped cream – heaven.
I cleared the plate brought for me in approximately five seconds, sitting back and resting my hands on my more than full belly when finished. I totally overate, but it was just so good. “Thank you, Mother. Dinner and dessert were amazing as always.”
She smiled warmly at me, “You're welcome.” She meant it. She'd actually made the meal knowing how much I'd love it. She had a bit of bite to her, but there was a sweetness there too. I didn't always see it aimed in my direction, but I knew it was there. My father always got it, and it let me see her as he did. It made the times it was aimed at me that much more special and helped me to endure the crap she spewed when she wasn't feeling all warm and fuzzy. These were the times I called her “Mom.”
CHAPTER 10
MY PARENTS CALLED IT a night soon after, packing up all the dishes they'd brought because there were no leftovers to cart home. We'd cleaned them out. I gave them each a hug and kissed cheeks before watching them back away and head across town, back to their home. The place that, until a couple months ago, had been my home as well.
Devlin came downstairs looking quite spiffy as Holden, Dane, Jade and I were snuggled up in the living room partway through an action movie.
“Where you headed to this evening, Mr. Man?” I asked, looking over my shoulder toward where Dev stood, picking a set of keys from the hooks by the door. He was definitely done up.
His shirt was collared and pastel, his pants fitting a little snugly around his thighs – though with the size of his legs, most pants fit a bit snug – and clean boots. His beard was neatly trimmed and his blond hair slicked back away from his face. He looked like a cross between a model and a biker, and he pulled it off. Well.
A wolf whistle rent the air from my left, and the living room burst into teenage taunts about how Dev must have a date, kissing noises permeating the schoolyard demeanor.
When Dev growled and stomped out the front door, slamming it hard enough to rattle, everyone in the living room burst into fits of laughter. It wasn't often we got to tease Devlin. The man was always buttoned down or pissed off about how we were performing during training. Making him blush? That was priceless.
“So, who do you think the girl is?” I asked the group.
We all shrugged and made faces indicating how clueless we were.
“I didn't know he was seeing anyone,” Jade mused. “Wait… I’ll bet it’s the girl from the diner.”
“What girl from the diner?”
Jade was all keyed up now, her eyes bright like gems and a smile that was faintly reminisce
nt of something Cheshire. “He was all lit up when we talked to the gorgeous, but nervous, woman.”
“She's gotta be Primal,” Dane said matter-of-factly.
I turned to him, half laying across Holden's lap. “C’mon, you know how much he loves us Sages.”
Be nice, Holden scolded, smacking my now turned bum.
“Hey there, Slappy. That stung!”
You love it.
“Don't go there, buddy,” I threatened, wagging a finger at him.
“It's still weird when you guys have a conversation like that, you know.”
I blinked at Jade. She was probably right. I totally forgot – often – that no one else could hear Holden. That I would sound like a crazy person talking to themselves when he spoke in my mind. “Is she a suspect?”
“It was weird; never really felt anything like it before. It was an ingrained reaction, a constant buzz to her energy. It seemed more general, not at us specifically. Like it was just her.” Dane hugged Jade into his side as she spoke. The huge limb he called an arm nearly enveloping her small stature. She pulled his arm down while peeking her head over the top so she could watch the movie. The bear and his teddy. Only we all knew the bear really was just a giant teddy. Unless you were a threat to his people; then he’d maul your ass.
“See? Now, that is something that I will never get over.” Dane said, throwing out an arm in disgust at the television.
“What's that?” I asked. I was still on Dev and his date and was at a loss as to the new subject.
“How everyone just dies in the movies and TV.” The aversion was plain on his face. His brows were scrunched, cheeks sucked in while chewing on the inside of one of them as he contemplated the scene. The fake scene.
I was lost. “What do you mean?”
“People don't just die. If you shoot them, they're still alive. Not every shot is a freaking kill shot, and totally not instant.”
“Huh,” I'd only ever seen one shooting. Two months ago, when I was a total newbie to the team. When the team wasn't truly a team. Our subject had caused the shooting of two fellow enforcers. I'd watched them writhe in pain, gasping and attempting to move, to crawl to safety. Each had been shot several times with large caliber bullets, and they'd not fallen dead in moments. They'd suffered. “You're right.”
