by E. A. Copen
“Not if I’ve got anything to say about it.” Codey gave my shoulder a shove. “Walk, felon.”
Codey took me to the station where another cop took over and walked me to an interrogation room rather than booking me. For all his talk, it turned out Officer Drake decided he’d overstepped and deserved to get hit. Well, he wasn’t pressing charges anyway. They decided to detain me, however, for questioning.
What that really meant was that they wanted to grill me. Why they were so fixated on pinning Remy and Jessica’s disappearances on me was the real mystery. So far, there was no evidence of foul play other than the exploded car. That could’ve been a mechanical malfunction.
Who was I kidding? Someone had blown up the car on purpose, just like someone had dropped all those zombies off at the theme park. But how were the two events related? Maybe they weren’t. One thing was for sure. Someone was dead set on screwing up my life and hurting people close to me. Stabbing Leah, kidnapping my daughter… Who had I pissed off enough to have them come after my kid?
Loki, most of the gods in the underworld, various Titans. Wow, that was a little too long of a list, Laz. You need to stop making enemies and gather some allies, especially if you want to take out Loki. Wasn’t much I could do about that locked in a dirty interrogation room in NOPD.
The door creaked open and Drake stepped in, holding two cups of coffee, a thick file folder tucked under his arm. He was sporting a brand-new bruise on his impeccable chin and bags under his eyes.
I crossed my arms. “You look like you need a few more hours of beauty sleep, Sleeping Beauty.”
Detective Drake put a coffee in front of me and sat down in the other chair. “Always with the wisecracks. Does that ever do you any favors, Lazarus? Seems to me it just gets you in trouble.”
“I’m not the one who got all touchy-feely back at the house.” I nodded to the one-way window on the wall. “Assume your partner’s watching from in there?”
“He’ll be along shortly.” He dropped the file folder on the table with a loud thud.
I stared at it. “Is this the part where you pretend that’s my record and issue me some veiled threats while you pretend to look through it?”
Instead of answering, Drake slid the folder across the table to me. “In April of last year, you were named as a person of interest in a murder case. Then your girlfriend went missing. The city goes nuts with chatter for a bit, and suddenly everything’s fine. Case closed, but no resolution. They pinned the murders on a guy in a coma, but no one seems to know who put him there.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that what this is about? Gaston was a prick. Whatever happened to him, he probably deserved it. Not saying I did it, but if you knew the guy, you’d understand.”
“Then, couple of weeks later…” Drake flipped open the file folder and moved a few pages, pointing at a page of autopsy photos. “Bunch of bodies show up in the morgue missing organs. No formal case gets opened, but there’s something weird going on. It just goes away, too, but not until after police resources get wasted. Then, we find a bunch of kids buried in a shallow grave.”
I cringed and turned away. That was one of the toughest cases I’d ever dealt with, even as the Pale Horseman. Dead kids were always difficult, but that case was too close to what had happened to Lydia, my kid sister. “What’s your point, Brad?”
“These cases all have one thing in common, Kerrigan. They’re weird. No one on the force knows what to do. Then you show up and make it go away.” He ground his pointer into one of the photos. “I want to know what’s going on. What the hell are you up to? What do you want with Detective Knight?”
I stared at Drake across the table. He really had no idea, did he? My life was so steeped in the supernatural that sometimes I forgot there were people out there who didn’t know what was up. Not those who chose not to believe; they were a whole different animal. People like Detective Brad Drake just didn’t see it. He’d likely never seen anything paranormal. Lucky bastard.
I put my hands on the table on either side of the coffee cup and leaned forward. “Listen closely, Detective, because I’m only going to make this offer once. I know you want answers. Honestly, I don’t think you deserve them. Even if you did, you couldn’t handle them, but your mental health isn’t my problem. My problem is my little girl and my best friend’s daughter are missing. Instead of looking for them, I’m in here because I punched your dumb ass. You help me find those kids, you can do whatever you want to me after they’re safe, including grill me about all the weird shit in this city.”
Drake pressed his lips together, considering. Silence passed between us, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall and the beating of my own heart in my ears.
The door clicked open and Detective Codey poked his head in, gesturing for Drake to come to the door. Detective Drake collected the file folder, closed it and went to whisper to his partner at the door. They exchanged a few quick words before Drake handed the folder over, and Codey passed it to someone waiting outside the room.
He unhooked the cuffs from his belt as he came back. Codey stepped in, making a show of keeping his hand near the gun on his hip.
“Lazarus Kerrigan,” Drake said, slipping behind me to cuff my wrists again.
“Hey, what gives?” I tried to pull free but stopped when Codey gripped the butt of his gun.
Drake tightened the cuffs. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Jessica Frieder and Remy Kerrigan.”
A cold chill worked its way down my spine to settle in my stomach. “Murder?” I choked the word out. For a moment, I entertained the image of two babies burning to death in the back of a bombed-out Kia Optima. The scene was too horrific, and I nearly lost it just thinking about it.
Drake made me stand and walked me to the door.
I twisted to look at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Where’s my daughter?”
“You tell us.” Codey’s upper lip twitched as I passed. “Tell us where you left the body, and I might be able to talk the D.A. into taking death off the table.”
I barely cared. I needed to focus on what they’d said. No body. No body meant she might still be alive. But if they were charging me, they must’ve had some evidence, enough to get a grand jury to indict. Without a body, they’d have a tough time proving murder, so it must’ve been something else substantial. Something they could rest their entire case on. Bloodstains? But where? There hadn’t been any at the house other than the one that belonged to Leah.
One thing was for sure. I wasn’t going to get any answers on the inside. I needed to spring myself and fast.
Chapter Four
“I want my phone call.” I hung on the metal bars of the jail cell, watching the officer behind his desk as he pretended to ignore me.
He and I had been having that same conversation for two hours now. I’d ask for my call and he’d either ignore me or pick up his coffee and sip it loudly. Occasionally, one of my cellmates, mostly drunks, would chime in and tell me to shut my trap. The one big guy in the corner never said anything. Just stared at the back of my head as if he could will it to turn into a steak.
The officer licked his finger and turned the page on his paperback, shifting his feet on the desk.
“Phone call,” I repeated. “Phone call. Phone call.”
“What’re the odds saying it another time will make me change my mind, son?” The officer sighed and lowered his novel. “I’ll tell ya, it’s exactly zero. Detectives said no phone calls, so I don’t let nobody have phone calls. That’s just how it is.”
Well, I had his attention, at least. That was more than I’d had all night. I had to keep it. “Who? Detectives Asshole and Douchebag? Funny how they get to boss everyone in this precinct around.”
“Damn shame, ain’t it?” He picked up his book and started reading again.
Dammit, I’d lost him. I needed to think of something, something that’d get him on my side. If there was one thing I learned while I was in prison, it
was that prisoners have rights. Getting arrested didn’t negate them. Citing a violation of constitutional rights was a surefire way to piss off the cops and correctional officers all over, but it was also every inmate’s best chance at exploiting a technicality and getting out. When in doubt, exploit the technicality.
I pressed myself harder against the bars. “It’s a violation of my constitutional rights. I get a phone call. I’m not being violent or belligerent. You don’t get to deny me that right.”
“I ain’t denyin’ shit,” he said, turning the page. “That’d be Drake and Codey.”
“Seems to me you’re the one denying me right now. If I have to bring this up when I talk to my lawyer, might be I forget all about Drake and Codey. In fact, I can barely remember them now.”
The officer lowered his book again and raised his eyebrows. “Son, it’s the middle of the goddamn night, and you don’t look like the kinda guy who keeps a lawyer on retainer. Who the hell are you going to call at midnight?”
“Does it matter?” I shifted my shoulder and stuck my hand through the bars. “Come on, man. What’s a phone call going to hurt?”
He lowered his feet from the desk with a sigh, dog-eared the paperback, and left it on his desk. “If it’ll shut you up, fine. But only one. Five minutes.” The officer pulled me out of the cell, still cuffed and called his backup to come watch the cell.
As soon as Drake and Codey arrested me, I’d started thinking about how I’d get out of this. I had friends on the force, even if Drake and Codey were assholes. Moses was a literal angel. He might’ve been able to get me out, but involving him would tank his career. He was only a few weeks away from retiring and laying low. Last thing I wanted to do was rob an angel of his pension.
Emma would help if I asked, which was exactly why I wasn’t calling her. She was the best damn cop in New Orleans, and I was not getting her fired. Considering her proximity to me, she’d likely already be relieved of duty without pay until this was all sorted out. That’d crush her. If I so much as contacted her, it might be enough to tank her career forever. Thinking about that hurt, but I had to shove it away. Finding Remy and making sure she was okay was more important.
With Leah in the hospital and Jessica missing, I couldn’t call Nate either. He had to be there for his wife, and available if news about Jess came in.
The only other help I might’ve called in was supernatural. Baron Samedi wouldn’t get me out. He’d cuss at me in French and tell me to figure it out on my own. There were gods who owed me favors, but I didn’t have a reliable way of contacting them, especially without Samedi.
With few options, I’d have to resort to more unstable allies. The kind who might not answer the phone just because it was me calling. Didn’t matter. I had to try.
The hallway the officer walked me to was narrow and lined on one side with modified payphones. Any call made from the building on those would have to be done collect unless I somehow conjured up a couple of quarters. He walked me to the closest phone, unhooked the cuffs around my wrists so I could dial and stepped back, hands on his gun, just in case I made a break for it.
I frowned at the phone. Calling collect was one thing. Doing it when you didn’t know the number you needed was another. Plus, I’d have to make an international call. Good thing he’d taken the cuffs off. That much iron would’ve kept me from being able to do any good magic.
Putting my back to the officer, I lifted the receiver to my ear and pressed one hand against the dial pad. Eyes closed, I focused my will toward the delicate bits of machinery inside, mumbling the name I wanted under my breath. Locator spells like that worked only about half the time. I hoped luck was on my side.
The dial tone faded, and the phone buzzed three times. The computerized voice came on and asked for my name. I thought a minute and recorded something. After a minute, the phone dialed a number. It rang four times. Come on, asshole. Pick up.
“’Lo? Who’s this?” growled a man with a heavy Australian accent on the other end.
“You have a collect call,” recited the computerized voice, “from ‘Don’t hang up. Remy needs help.’ Do you accept the charges?”
Josiah was silent for a long moment.
I ground my teeth. “Come on, you cheap bastard.”
He sighed. “Fuck me, fine. That’s what I get for being a sucker. Yes, put him through.”
The line clicked as we were connected.
“Were you seriously considering hanging up?” I asked. “You asshole!”
“If you were in my position, you’d consider it too.” Something shrieked loud enough I had to pull my ear away from the phone. “Shut up, you. I told you, you get the silver out when I’m good and ready. Fuckin’ phone call doesn’t change that.”
“Um… Josiah?”
“Sorry, mate. Werewolf tried to eat my spider. Poor life decision. Now, what can I do for the Pale Horseman? Said your girl was in trouble?”
I checked over my shoulder for the guard. He was still standing there, waiting impatiently. Everything I said was probably being recorded, so I’d have to be careful exactly how I asked for help. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m in jail for something I didn’t do. There’s something weird going on. Our kind of weird, and it took my daughter. The cops think I did something to her.”
“If you need bail money, you’re talking to the wrong bloke, Laz.”
“No, no! Don’t hang up. I don’t think I’ll be getting bail. I was thinking I’d need help with something else. I’ve sort of hit a wall on this project I’ve been working on. Would you mind coming out here to help me work through it?”
The phone creaked as Josiah changed positions. “How big a wall are we talking, mate?”
“Big. Impossibly big.”
He sighed. “Just when I was beginning to think I’d get the weekend to myself. All right, but you’re paying me. Cash this time, Lazarus. No more feathers.”
“Awesome. When can you get here?” I glanced back at the guard. He was checking his watch. My time on the phone was up.
“Dawn for double my normal fee,” Josiah answered.
The greedy bastard. Oh well. It couldn’t be helped. I was dead broke, but he didn’t know that. I just had to hope that when he got there, I could convince him to help me out anyway.
The officer stepped toward me.
“Deal,” I said quickly. “And Josiah? Thanks?”
That night in the cell was one of the longest of my life. I curled up in a corner near the bars, arms crossed, and tried to will myself to sleep, but sleep eluded me. All I could think about was my daughter, out there with some stranger, scared and hungry. What was the last thing I’d said to her? Did she have any idea what was happening to her? At almost seven months old, she had to know something was wrong. I just hoped whoever had taken her didn’t realize they had more than the Pale Horseman’s daughter. They also had a Faerie princess, the heir to Summer.
Hell, maybe it was Titania that took her. You hear stories about fae stealing babies all the time, except in the stories they usually left a changeling in its place. No changeling had been left, but I didn’t know if that was how the fae did things. For all my dealings with Faerie, I knew little about its people other than that they found the touch of iron painful.
God, I hoped whoever took Remy didn’t let her get burned by iron. I needed to get out, to get to her before she was hurt. If she wasn’t hurt already.
I shook my head. You can’t think like that, Laz. She’s out there. She’s alive. I can feel it. Or maybe I just wanted to believe it. There was no way to know for sure.
When I wasn’t worrying about Remy, my thoughts turned to Leah. I hadn’t heard anything about her condition after they took her away, but she seemed like she was barely hanging on. Whoever took Remy had stabbed Leah, which meant she must’ve put herself between the kidnapper and the kids. Leah didn’t much care for me, but she’d been there when it mattered. If she made it through, I’d have to make it up to her someh
ow. Was that even possible? Maybe she and Nate would never talk to me again after this.
I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. Thinking in circles about all the hurt or missing people wasn’t getting me anywhere. Josiah was coming, and I had to assume he’d help me somehow when he got there. I needed a plan, some sense of direction. From behind bars, new clues would be impossible to come by.
But I’ve already got some clues. I sat up and uncrossed my arms. I saw the crime scene. I heard first-hand what happened with the car, even if I didn’t see it, and I saw the figure at the Six Flags. This is all connected somehow. I just have to figure out how.
I went over the evening from the top. The anonymous tip about the zombies in the amusement park had come after dinner, during dessert. Leah had offered to take Remy while we ran the quick errand, kissed Nate goodbye, and they left in separate cars. That’d always been the plan, except Emma and I were supposed to take Remy and go home after, not run out to kill zombies at the old Six Flags. That was the first clue. Whoever had called had done it for a reason. Had they separated us from Remy for a reason? Probably so they could get to her.
That meant whoever had her was a necromancer at least as powerful as me. Somehow, he’d been able to walk through the wards without triggering them, too. There were ways that could be done, but he’d need some piece of me, enough to convince the wards he was me. It would’ve taken months for him to collect enough hairs or other biological material to override those wards.
I shivered. This wasn’t some random, spur of the moment kidnapping. It was a well-executed plan, months in the making. Whoever was pulling this off, it wasn’t someone I’d pissed off recently. The only good news to come from that realization was that they could’ve killed Remy or me at any time. Instead, they’d separated us before striking, and taken Remy alive.
But how did Jessica figure into the equation? Why take Nate and Leah’s kid? Was she just a victim of circumstance? Maybe the kidnapper didn’t know which one was Remy at first glance. That’d make sense. Remy and Jessica were born less than a month apart, and unless the kidnapper knew Nate as well as I did, he might not have known that.
