Night Shift
Page 1
Night
Shift
by
B.K. Bass
Published in the U.S. by B.K. Bass, 2021
Second Edition
Table of Contents
Title Page
Night Shift (The Night Trilogy, #1)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About the Author
Harold’s story continues in Night Life!
COPYRIGHT © 2021, 2018 BY B.K. BASS
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Second Edition, 2021
Published by B.K. Bass in the United States of America
First published by Kyanite Publishing, 2018
Cover art licensed from Dreamstime.com
Interior art used under Creative Commons license
B.K. Bass can be reached at https://bkbass.com/contact/
For behind-the-scenes access and the latest news, subscribe to B.K.’s newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/dpaU6f
Visit the author’s website at https://bkbass.com
Books by B.K. Bass
The Ravencrest Chronicles
Seahaven
The Hunter’s Apprentice
The Giant and the Fishes
Tales from the Lusty Mermaid, a Ravencrest Chronicles Anthology
The Ravencrest Chronicles: Omnibus One
Curse of the Pirate King (The Pirate King Duology: Book One)
Shadow of the Pirate King (The Pirate King Duology: Book Two)
The Night Trilogy
Night Shift
Night Life
Night Shadow
The Tales of Durgan Stoutheart
Warriors of Understone
Companions of the Stone Road (forthcoming)
The Burning Sands
Blood of the Desert
Into the Red Wastes (forthcoming)
Beyond the Veil
Parting the Veil
Standalone Novels
What Once Was Home
Chapter One
The rain came down in waves so heavy the wipers on the car could barely keep up. The headlights cut through the darkness as the flashing blue lights warned pedestrians to clear the road. Despite both this and the wail of a siren, humanity choked the avenue. I lit a cigarette and cracked the window, immediately regretting the latter. The smell of so many bodies pressed into a small space was overwhelming, despite the constant rain. Shouts, curses, and impolite propositions wafted through the air like the smoke coiling inside the car. Frank grunted and cracked his own window. He wasn’t a smoker. But I was driving, so he had little choice in the matter. He could always get out and walk, but he knew the crowd would tear him to pieces. There’s only one thing the dregs of New Angeles liked more than killing a cop, and that’s putting the body out on display.
I’d heard of better days, back before the big quake had slid most of the California coastline off into the Pacific. New Angeles was built on the remains of the devastation and boomed in the aftermath. I didn’t know why that was. I was born here and never got out. I couldn’t see any reason for anybody to come here, but come they had. Maybe it was the chance to build a new life. Or maybe there was just cheap real-estate. Either way, the city became so overpopulated you could barely spit without hitting somebody. Jobs were harder to find, so dealing with rampant crime became another part of running the city. Most jobs in New Angeles involved serving processed food or providing processed entertainment. There was no major industry other than the self-sustaining beast of the city itself.
And the most important part of sustaining the beast was diversion. The Romans had figured that out a long time ago. Keep the mob entertained, and it will distract the people from how horrible their lives are. The same was true in New Angeles.
As the car glided down the street, neon signs slid by like temptations in a Greek myth. Booze, drugs, music, and sex were all part of the industry. Glaring neon in every color imaginable advertised pleasures of the flesh. The dregs lined up before these signs, their faces glowing with the promise of distraction as they looked up at those garish monuments of decadence.
“Cattle lined up to feed,” Frank said.
I nodded, taking a deep draw on the cigarette. The flashing blues strobed through the crowd and accentuated the neon glow of the street. We could have gotten there faster walking, but I enjoyed breathing too much to take the chance. Finally, we could see other blue lights flashing ahead, and we knew we were close to our destination.
Frank grabbed the radio from the dash and called in, “Patrol units in sight at 58th and Corvus, unit five on scene.”
Garbled static replied, the voice of Martha in dispatch barely creaking through the interference to acknowledge our report.
“Ready?” Frank asked.
“Are you?”
“Nope,” he said as he drew his sidearm and exited the car.
I got out behind him; my weapon still holstered. There was a crowd around the crime scene, but there were also half a dozen beat cops and an enforcement bot bristling with guns keeping them in check. Frank lived his life somewhere between caution and paranoia. It wasn’t a healthy way to live, but it was prudent given our line of work.
“You should be more cautious,” he said.
“And you should relax.” I tossed the cigarette butt into the gutter. It floated in the rushing rainwater like an old steamer setting out to sea, then just as quickly slid into a storm drain with all the assorted refuse being washed from the city.
Frank turned in a slow circle, watching the crowd behind us. The EnBot must have picked up a vibe from him, because it turned a head covered with eerie, glowing red sensors in our direction. Two enormous arms swayed over the heads of the officers, the barrels of its heavy guns reflecting rainbow colors from the signs lining the street.
“Put it away, Frank. I think we’re covered,” I said as I pulled the edges of my coat tighter to block out the chill and the rain.
Frank gave me a sideways glance, but holstered the weapon. He favored one of the large caliber jobs, and the thing stood out like a sore thumb. It was shiny and new, with a polished leather holster. This was a stark contrast to his old, dingy brown suit and wrinkled shirt. I always tried to look good, even though there wasn’t anybody to impress. Still, one felt confident in a pressed shirt and suit. The gray worked for me, as well. Brought out the color in my eyes, some would say.
The sergeant at the crime scene must have noticed, because she came up to me instead of Frank, despite the other being older and more experienced. “Glad you guys finally decided to show up. The animals are getting hungry, and I’m not planning on staying around for feeding time.” She pushed her blond locks back from her eyes. She was rain-soaked, and even in uniform and body armor, she was alluring. Her clothes were tight and wet, and they hugged her body in all the right places. The armor hid quite a bit, but wondering what it was hiding was half the charm.
“Traffic,” I replied, jerkin
g a thumb at the crowd.
“What do we have?” Frank interrupted.
She glanced at him with a scowl, but directed her response to me. I tried to memorize her badge number. This one might be worth looking up later. A little one-on-one debriefing. I cleared the thought from my mind when I realized she was talking. “Homicide. One victim. Female. About twenty years old. Gunshot wound to the abdomen. Looks like one of those cybersex drones.” She led us over to where the body laid on the ground, covered by a sheet of clear plastic.
The rain droned on the sheet in an unsteady rhythm. Probably not the funeral march this dame had expected. This wasn’t how anybody planned to go, lying in the mouth of an alley with a hole in your gut. The alley itself was typical. Back doors to the businesses on the street, garbage overflowing from cans, and the smell of piss and vomit despite the rain. Mother nature might try to wash this city clean, but it was going to take more than a little water to do that. I knelt for a closer look at the victim.
She was a pretty one, there was no doubt about that. She wore a tight purple dress with a short skirt and matching heels. Her hair was neon green, and yellow lipstick and eye shadow that glowed with a light of its own accented her face. I pulled the plastic back and turned her head, lifting the hair from the back of her scalp. Sure enough, there was a port there for a virtual reality system. A sex drone would plug into the net, and she could screw a hundred men at the same time with nobody ever touching her. It was pure profit, no risk, and had almost entirely replaced traditional prostitution. Of course, both trades were legal, but this was the preferred method.
Frank took a quick glance at the body and grimaced. “Scan the ID stamp and we’ll be on our way. She was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That’s why you got called, genius,” the sergeant said, “the stamp is gone.”
I turned over the dead woman’s wrist. There was a square patch of skin missing where there should have been a barcode tattoo. Without the ID stamp, we would have to identify her the old-fashioned way. If this were just an assault in the street, why would the perp go to the trouble of hiding her identity? I held my phone over the wound. The clear screen sharpened the image automatically as I zoomed in on it. The cut was precise; perfect length, neat angles, and smooth edges. “Frank, this isn’t as simple as it looks.”
“Just covering his tracks,” he said. “Bag and tag her, we’re done.”
“Wait,” I said. Her face was in too good of shape for an assault. Blood covered her dress. But other than the hole from the bullet, there was no damage. There also wasn’t any blood on the street. No sign of her being dragged, either. Other than the wound in her belly and the missing barcode, there wasn’t a scratch on her. I snapped a dozen pictures of the body and its surroundings with the phone, then headed back to the car.
“What the hell, Jacobson?” Frank called out behind me.
“She wasn’t murdered here,” I said over my shoulder as I cupped my hands to light another cigarette. Climbing into the car, I pulled the door down to close it and hit the ignition. The electric engine hummed to life and lights on the dash lit Frank’s face as he climbed inside.
“If she wasn’t killed here, where did it happen?” Frank asked.
I took a long draw and let the smoke drift out as I replied. “That’s one question, isn’t it? The other one is: who the hell is she? I guess we actually have to do some work.”
Chapter Two
We pulled into the garage at the city admin building, our black ride standing out among the brightly colored patrol cars lining the berths. The dim yellow lights overhead flickered, casting dancing shadows around the cramped space. I slid the car into a tight spot right by the elevator, nestled neatly up against an overflowing dumpster.
“You can’t park here,” Frank said.
“Like anybody is coming to empty it,” I replied. “The sanitation department has been on strike for a month.” I got out, headed to the elevator doors, and mashed the cracked button to summon our aluminum chariot to take us to the heavens above. I pulled a slender pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and eyed the diminishing contents. The damned things were getting more expensive, and my paycheck wasn’t getting any bigger. Every other social services department in the city was on strike, so why not us? Public safety, the union would argue. Piss on public safety. I just wanted better pay, like any other working stiff. With a sigh, I pulled one of the last smokes from the pack and lit it as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open with a screech.
“You aren’t seriously going to smoke that in there, are you?” Frank asked.
I took a good long draw and blew it into the waiting lift. “You can wait for the next one, if you want.”
He mumbled under his breath. I didn’t have to ask to know it was something impolite. It didn’t bother me, though. I knew I ruffled his feathers as much as he did mine, but we were stuck with each other until the captain decided otherwise. We had been partners for two years now, so it wasn’t likely to change until one of us either quit or bought it. If I were lucky, either of the two would happen to Frank soon.
He was giving me the evil eye as I took another drag. I just smiled back as the tendrils of smoke drifted from my mouth. I gave them a good puff, circulating the air in the cramped space just enough for him to get a real taste.
“I hate you,” he said.
“I know.”
The lift chimed again, and the doors slid open. I dropped the butt on the floor and gave it a stomp before walking out into the bullpen. The 80th floor was a farm of desks with no dividers, all home to a legion of cantankerous bastards. This was the homicide division, and the crustiest of crusty old detectives called this place home. I cut a path through the maze of metal furniture to our corner of the world and plopped into my worn out leather chair. Frank’s desk sat up against mine. Somehow, the captain thought having to stare at each other would bring us closer together. It hadn’t worked, but it had the side effect of keeping us from loafing in the office and spending more time on the streets.
“What now?” Frank asked. “I suppose you’ve got some grand plan on how to find out who killed that bitch?”
“Woman,” I said.
“What?”
I leaned forward. “She was a woman, Detective Jones. You may go fuck some bitch on your day off when your wife’s out of town, but when we have a dead body, she’s a woman.”
Frank harumphed, lacking of an intelligent response, and sat down across from me. He threw his brown hat onto the desk and propped his feet up on top of it.
No wonder it was so wrinkled.
I tapped a glowing button on top of the desk, and as the screen of my office computer extended from its recessed home, set my phone down next to it. The two electronic brains started talking automatically, and soon the larger screen was showing me the pics I had taken as the crime scene. I swiped my fingers in front of the screen, going through the images until I found the one I wanted. It was of the street, just off the sidewalk where we found the body.
Frank was looking at the same thing, in reverse, on the back of the clear monitor. “Why the hell did you take a picture of the street?”
“Somebody dropped the body off.”
“But what are you going to find on the street? It was raining so hard there’s no way there’s any evidence there.”
I leaned back, smiling at my simple partner. He was good at shaking down a suspect. He also knew how to use that hand-cannon he carried around. But when it came to the finer details of an investigation, he was no better than a butcher trying his hand at brain surgery. I reached into my pocket, drew out a small plastic bag, and tossed it onto his side of the desk.
He picked it up and peered at the contents. He squinted, making him look more comical than usual. It seemed like his brain was overheating as he tried to figure out what was in the bag, so I decided to spare him the pain. “It’s a paint chip.”
Frank threw the bag back. “I knew that.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something profound, but nothing came out. He fumbled for a moment, but Captain Halsing yelling out our names saved him the embarrassment of admitting he didn’t know.
“Jacobson. Jones. Get your asses in here!”
Frank squeezed the bridge of his nose. He probably knew why we were getting our asses chewed this time. I kept my sly grin as I stood and shoved the paint chip back into my coat pocket. The captain could fire me for all I cared. I’d go join the sanitation workers’ union. They were probably close to getting paid more than us, anyway.
Captain Halsing sat behind his desk as we entered the office. Frank knew the routine, so he shut the door behind us. We took seats and prepared for the worst. The broad-shouldered old police captain looked like he might have been having a stroke if he wasn’t in such good shape. His neck was all muscle that rippled from the stress of his job. A bright red nose contrasted with his bushy white mustache, giving away more than he would have liked about his drinking habits. “Of all the stupid, careless, disrespectful things you two have ever pulled off, this one has got to take the cake!”
I looked over at Frank. He seemed to know something I didn’t. I waited patiently for one of them to say more.
“It was an honest misunderstanding,” Frank started.
“Misunderstanding?” Halsing bellowed. “Forgetting to file your paperwork is a misunderstanding. Assaulting the mayor’s son is a bit more than that!”
I groaned as I lifted my hand to my face, trying to squeeze a sudden headache from between my eyes. Why the hell hadn’t Frank warned me about this?
“Oh!” Halsing said. “Now you remember what you did?”
I shook my head. “Captain, I had no idea it was the Tomlison kid. It was just some hyped up junkie, for all I could tell.”
“That’s right,” Frank added.
Halsing leaned forward. “And we make a point of beating junkies until they have to spend a month in the hospital?”