Deadly Deception

by Cade Brogan

  “Of all days to bring your new partner home,” Kenzie answered, untying her apron, “you pick one when I look like a street person with no makeup?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Rylee said, “you always look good.” She caught her grandmother’s eye. “So, are you guys okay sitting tight for a few minutes? I need to talk with Kenz about something.”

  “Sure, we are,” Gladys answered, patting Abby’s thigh. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, honey?”

  Kenzie’s spoon halted, looking up.

  Abby swallowed, nodding.

  “Take your time,” Omar said, filling in the next square on his daily crossword. “We’re good right where we are.”

  “We won’t be long,” Rylee promised, taking Kenzie’s hand, and stepping onto the back porch.

  “What?” Kenzie asked, her expression pained, anxiety sinking in its claws. “What can’t you say in front of your grandparents and Abby? What’s wrong? Does someone we know have the virus?”

  “No, nothing like that, honey,” Rylee said softly. She nodded toward the porch swing, nudging her toward it. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

  “I don’t want to sit down,” Kenzie said, her feet firmly planted. “I want to know what’s wrong.” She took a breath, releasing it as her therapist had taught her. “You don’t act like this unless something bad has either happened or you’re afraid it’s going to happen.”

  Rylee hesitated. “Okay, no problem, we can talk standing up.” Rylee paused again, deciding how to tell her what she had to tell her. “So, you know the GPS reports,” she began, “the ones I was waiting on before we found Abby?”

  “Yeah,” Kenzie said, “you were on your way to pick ‘em up.”

  “Right, well, so I ended up picking ‘em up this afternoon,” Rylee responded. “And after we got back to the office, I pinned the markers onto the map. You know, so we could see where the girls had been in the days and hours leading up to their deaths.”

  Kenzie drew out her next word. “Okay…”

  “So, what we found,” Rylee continued, “was that the girls went to the facilities, all of them, just before the first person would’ve been infected.”

  “So, they were involved then,” Kenzie said, pressing her lips together. “I knew Piper was up to no good.”

  “But see, the thing is,” Rylee said, “Abby was with them.”

  “No, it just looked like she was,” Kenzie countered, “because Piper had her phone in her bag.”

  “Unfortunately, that only explains her presence at the one facility. The second facility is more problematic.”

  Kenzie swept her hand through her hair. “No, this can’t be happening.”

  “Because her GPS markers,” Rylee continued, “occurred during a period when she was making calls, sending emails, and downloading an application. That’s how we know she had her phone in her possession.”

  “Just look at her,” Kenzie said, her mouth falling open, “she’s fine. If she were with them, common sense says she wouldn’t be.”

  “That’s not necessarily the case,” Rylee responded, releasing a breath. “Because the other three were fine until that last facility, the one where it appears that Abby wasn’t with them.”

  “Appears?” Kenzie shot back. “I can’t believe you just said that. You found her locked in that basement and you have doubts that she was trapped?”

  “No, honey,” Rylee said softly, “I don’t have doubts that she was trapped.” She attempted a gentle touch, but Kenzie stepped back. “See, the thing is, it’s not about what I think, it’s about evidence.”

  Kenzie’s eyes teemed with tears. “Of course, it is.”

  “But even if we find that Abby was there,” Rylee continued, “it might not be as bad as it sounds. I mean, there might be a good explanation.” Her tone softened. “And God, I hate it, especially since we just got her home, but she’s gonna need—”

  Kenzie’s eyes widened. “No, absolutely not!”

  Rylee moved to touch her. “If you’d just let me finish—”

  “I don’t need to let you finish,” Kenzie snapped, sidestepping her grasp. “You think I need to hear you out to know where you’re going with this? You were about to say that she’d need to be interviewed and that you brought your partner along so that she could do it.” She poked her tongue into her cheek, glaring. “Because heaven forbid we’d do something that wasn’t by the book. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Rylee looked at her, shifting weight from one foot to the other.

  “I thought so,” Kenzie responded. “Well, she’s not gonna be interviewed, not by you, or anyone else. It’s my job to protect her. And I haven’t done as well as I should have up to this point, but from now on, you watch me, I will.”

  “But see, the thing is,” Rylee said, keeping her tone steady, “we need you to give us permission to do the interview because we need to know what she knows. Look, Abby’s not a suspect or even a person of interest at this point, we just need her information, that’s all. These are serious times, Kenz, and we need all the pieces so that we can get our hands on this killer.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Kenzie responded, her face hardening, “but my daughter’s welfare is my priority. And we both know it’s not yours. Let’s face it; you’ll always be a cop before anything else.” She bit her lower lip, tears cascading down. “And if she told you anything that you could use against her, you’d twist—”

  Rylee sucked in air. “I think you’d better stop right now,” she said, clenching her jaw. “Because I’ve already heard more than I can hear.”

  “I don’t know that much,” Abby said, pushing the screen door open, “but what I do know, I’m gonna tell.”

  “No, Abigail, you’re not.”

  “I have to, Mom,” Abby responded, her tone more of a plea than usual. “For once, I have to take responsibility for my behavior. You said you hadn’t done a good job of protecting me, but you have, sometimes, too good of a job.” She turned to Rylee. “I want to be interviewed.”

  “And I appreciate that,” Rylee said quietly, “but it’s your mom’s decision.” She ruffed her hair. “And she’s trying to do what’s in your best interest.”

  “But see she’s not,” Abby said, “because I didn’t—”

  Kenzie locked gazes. “Abigail, hush!”

  “Because I didn’t do anything wrong other than sneaking out to be with Piper.”

  “Abigail, stop talking!”

  “See,” Abby went on, “Mom’s saying I can’t be interviewed because she thinks I might have been involved with the people getting that virus, but I wasn’t. And if I don’t get interviewed, then you guys might think that too.”

  “Abigail,” Kenzie said firmly, “I mean it, you need to be quiet.”

  “And see,” Abby continued, “that’ll mess everything up because when I grow up, I want to be a cop like you.”

  For that second, Kenzie stopped breathing.

  “And so,” Abby went on, “I thought it was time for me to step up.” She swallowed down tears. “I feel sad about Piper. I miss her and everything. But I wasn’t involved in the bad stuff she was doing. And I could be dead right now. And I think I’m not for a reason. I think it’s so I can tell you what I know and do the right thing.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “It’s not my problem that your minions didn’t follow my rules. I expressly told you and them that none of my magazines were to be opened. It’s not my problem that they squatted outside, thinking they’d take a look, and got themselves killed. NOT MY PROBLEM! Little perverts probably thought they were handing out porn. So, you listen up! You and your organization were paid well for this task, and I expect my magazines to be delivered on schedule. Should you fail to deliver, there’ll be consequences, swift and painful. So, you find me new little minions capable of navigating the “L” to O’Hare, and you find them NOW! You can be one of them for all I care. But, however, you do it; you get them to our designated location by nine o
’clock sharp.” And with that, the Armageddon Killer ended the call.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Elizabeth’s fingers tapped across the keyboard, visiting one online scientific forum after another, and dictating notes as she came across useful information—people, places, and discoveries. She zeroed in on a discussion on a virology board that occurred two months prior:

  User 1300: I’m a graduate student in virology looking for help. We’re trying to get a handle on this pathogen we came across in a Long-Fingered Vesper bat before it triggers a global pandemic. Does anyone have ideas about this? 3-D images and data attached.

  User 551: Looks like MERS…thirty-five percent mortality…not too much of an exaggeration to think it could trigger a pandemic.

  User 1300: I know, right.

  User 215: Coronavirus family is always bad news.

  User 1300: That’s what scared us. And we couldn’t find anything on it in the literature.

  User 551: If it did transfer to a local population, and mutated to infiltrate human lungs, humanity would have a serious problem.

  User 1300: Like I said, this one scared us. And then, when we didn’t find it in the literature...

  User 490: You got excited, thought you’d discovered the next deadly virus. Sorry, someone else beat you to it. (Smiling Emoji). And just so you know, it’s already transferred from bat to human.

  User 1300: No, not excited, worried.

  User 215: Where? When? Is it in the literature?

  User 490: Yes…published several years back…discovered in a rural village in West Africa… in a Long-Fingered Vesper bat.

  User 551: West Africa, now, there’s a place on the shortlist for deadly outbreaks.

  User 215: Not kidding about that. West Africa and Asia, top of the list for the destruction of natural habitats.

  User 551: Which increases the chance of infected animals encountering the human population.

  User 1300: Which means it’s a matter of time.

  User 215: Yes

  User 490: No time left. It’s already mutated.

  User 215: What? Are you saying this pathogen’s mutated to infiltrate human lungs?

  User 551: I found the article documenting its discovery in a cave in West Africa by an A. Marsh and G. Voss…virologists…private pharmaceutical company…defunct. I don’t see anything about mutation. It looks like the outbreak was isolated, only a few cases.

  User 215: Hey 490, what’s your source that the virus mutated to infiltrate human lungs?

  User 1300: OMG…it’s mutated?

  User 551: User 490?

  User 215: Don’t panic 1300, the mutation has not been confirmed.

  Elizabeth accessed the CDC’s report, comparing both sets of data and images. Hmmm… Well, how about that, User 490. You accurately reported a mutation that hadn’t occurred yet. That makes me suspicious that you had something to do with it. Her fingers danced on the keys, searching for online forums where User 490 had been forthcoming with identifying information. She also reviewed online records of medical equipment suppliers, teasing out purchases of bioreactors, standard equipment in virology labs. She smiled, finding one shipped locally to an account holder whose email address matched User 490’s. Then, she considered her timeline, deciding that it would be better if the dispatches occurred before the wedding. She closed her laptop, sliding it into the drawer of her nightstand at the sound of Claire’s key entering the lock.

  *

  Claire crawled over the end of the bed, kissing Elizabeth, having decided not to mention what she’d seen earlier, what she knew to be the case. What good would it do? She’d never admit to it anyway. Never in a million years would she admit she’d accessed her computer during the night. Never would she confess to downloading her reports and reading them. Good grief, she probably wouldn’t even admit to a spill on the counter. But it didn’t matter, not what report she’d read, or that she’d read one. Because she loved her, loved her more than she’d loved anyone. And she’d never confront her. No, not ever. Because to do so, would risk losing her. And whatever it took, she couldn’t lose her, couldn’t lose her one true love. “So,” she asked lightly, “did you have a good day?”

  “Not bad,” Elizabeth answered. “The usual.” She looked away for an instant. “Work called.”

  Claire shook her head, knowing what that meant, that Elizabeth would be leaving for hours or days. “They never give you much notice, do they?”

  “No, but they pay well,” Elizabeth responded. “I’ll need to leave in a couple of hours. Just a day trip though.”

  “Well, that’s good anyway,” Claire responded. “Can’t say I’m unhappy to get you away from this virus, if only for a day.”

  Elizabeth smiled, saying nothing.

  “So, a couple of hours,” Claire continued, lifting an eyebrow. “Enough time for dinner and sex?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes brightened, a slow smile building. “Or…sex and dinner?”

  “Mmm…even better,” Claire murmured, lowering down to reclaim her lips with urgency. As she kissed her, she slid her hand down the front of her jeans.

  “What are you doing, Officer?” Elizabeth asked, squirming beneath her. “You know I’m not a lesbian.”

  “Give it a minute,” Claire snapped, “you will be.”

  “Oh no, you mustn’t,” Elizabeth squealed. “No, Officer. Please, no. You mustn’t penetrate me.”

  Passion pounded through Claire’s head, her heart, and her veins. “You’ll take what I give you.” God… are you ever wet. Warm and intoxicating. “And you’ll thank me. You’ll thank me with your words. And reciprocity.”

  “Yes, Officer,” Elizabeth panted. “Whatever you say.”

  *

  The night suited Rylee’s mood, wind howling, rain pelting against the window, and the streetlight illuminating the room. At dusk, the storm hadn’t been on the horizon, not even predicted. By the time Claire left, lightning flashed, and thunder roared. She re-tucked her sheet, leaving her blanket folded over the third cushion—her night’s sleep, elusive. She and Kenzie never—well, hardly ever—fought. But tonight, their verbal battle had been continuous. She yanked the top sheet to her ears, flipping to her stomach; kicked it off, rolling to her back; and held perfectly still—not breathing—at the sound of a creak on the stairs.

  “You still awake?” Abby asked, padding into the living room.

  “Yeah, what’s up, kiddo?”

  Abby shrugged, claiming the middle cushion, her lower lip quivering.

  Rylee put her arm around her. “Hey there,” she cooed, “you’re not worried about what you told Claire, are you? Because you don’t need to be, you did super.” She gently squeezed her shoulders. “I couldn’t have been prouder of you than I was this afternoon.”

  “It’s not that,” Abby said, wiping a tear.

  Rylee cocked her head.

  “It’s that I don’t want you to leave us,” Abby continued. “I remember just before we left my dad—” She pulled herself together. “She didn’t mean what she said about you not caring about anything but being a cop, about me not being your priority.” She sniffled. “She knew when she said it, it wasn’t true, that even my dad didn’t treat me as good as you do.”

  “Your mom meant more than you think she did,” Rylee responded. “But she was wrong, dead wrong, about you not being my priority.” She gathered her in. “I love you, kiddo.”

  “I love you too,” Abby whimpered. “Please don’t leave, Rye. You can’t leave, not ever, not right after Piper left me.”

  Rylee kissed the top of her head. “I can’t say it just because you want me to.”

  “I know,” Abby answered. “But you love mom and mom loves you.”

  “Yes, but sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  Abby sighed. “Well, it should be.”

  “Yes, it should,” Kenzie whispered, her arms coming around Rylee’s neck, and kissing her cheek. “And it is.” She smiled tenderly. “Come to bed, sweetheart.”


  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Elizabeth zipped her suitcase, lifting it off the bed, and setting it on its rollers. “I should be home by tomorrow night,” she said, reminding herself that no one—not even Claire—had the right to know her whereabouts. “Go ahead and eat without me,” she added. “I’ll pick something up on my way home.”

  “I will,” Claire answered, kissing her. “Drive carefully.”

  Elizabeth paused. “And no junk food. Trust me; I’ll know if you consume it.”

  Claire chuckled, opening the door for her. “I have no doubt. You probably have a webcam hidden in our kitchen somewhere, and another in my car.”

  “You know me well,” Elizabeth answered, winking playfully. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, tomorrow,” Claire responded, kissing her again, and closing the door.

  Elizabeth released a breath, turning off her cell, and making her way down the hallway. The longer she was with Claire, the more difficult it was to leave her, to lie to her about where she was going. This situation, it’s all your fault, she snarled mentally.

  Don’t you even try to put that on me, the Rational One answered. If anything, it’s the both of our faults. She was always listening, always nearest the surface, always ready to respond. You can’t deny you get off on the pleasure. Good grief, sometimes I think you live for orgasms. You know you couldn’t give them up, not even if you wanted to, and we both know that you don’t. And as for me, well, I think our relationship with Claire is a small price to pay for cover, for self-preservation. No one will ever suspect a homicide detective’s partner of being a serial killer.

  I don’t live for them exactly, Elizabeth responded, referring to the orgasms. But I can’t deny that they’re a delightful benefit that I look forward to. She pursed her lips, pondering. And do you know why? I know you do. It’s that before Claire, I’d never experienced one. Not one time in all those years did Wilber’s appendage bring me pleasure—until the day of the glorious bonfire. She smiled a slow smile, remembering the awake amputation. And I must admit, watching him watch it burn, was almost, but not quite, as good as an orgasm.