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Mark
At his desk in the bullpen, Mark nodded to a few of the other detectives as he set his gear bag under his desk. Most of his colleagues were on the phone, though a few scanned data on their screens. He set up his glass to sync with his and Darby’s desktop units.
He started to sit down, but anxiety about the fight with his partner kept him on his feet. The carnation taunted him. Then he spotted a piece of real paper near her screen.
He rounded their desks, glanced around to make sure Darby wasn’t on her way, then snatched up what turned out to be a card of heavy stock paper. Guilt wormed its way into his gut, but not so much as to stop, and read the handwritten words.
Will Young.
Who the hell was he? And how the devil had he met Darby?
Mark slid the card back into the exact place she’d had it and went back to his own desk.
The glass had finished syncing, and he looked over the data on Prairie’s case.
Even though he’d heard Darby’s interviews, he went back and read the computer-generated transcripts. Maybe Lieutenant Douglass hadn’t seen it so starkly by viewing the video, but Mark saw clearly how the DSHA employees had stonewalled in the ’scripts.
Hopefully, the district attorney would agree. Darby doing what she did made the cases that went to trial difficult, to say the least. While they had irrefutable proof of someone having killed another, case law was still murky on how to handle the charges. More than one of the assistant D.A.’s had asked Darby, “Why couldn’t you have left them dead?”
Even though she’d made a splash, the Missouri legislature and the US Congress had yet to determine whether the revivals should be taken into account when charging someone with murder.
At this point, Mark didn’t care what they did, as long as they didn’t interfere with his and Darby’s ability to do their jobs. To him, it was a moot point. The killers were all dead in a year’s time. Why go to the added expense of a trial anyway?
He got a call from the sergeant executing the search warrant, and confirmed a few items there, then took care of some things from their older cases that needed tidying up.
Finally, he moved back to the Rasmussen case.
But his mind didn’t want to cooperate. His thoughts remained on his partner. Why couldn’t she see that all he wanted was to make sure she was well enough to perform? He hated to see her suffering. Maybe he should have said something to Douglass about what had happened.
Darby certainly wasn’t going to.
He couldn’t focus long enough to take in the information on his screen.
He got up after twenty minutes and went to the break room for tea. After filling a biodegradable cup and modifying it accordingly, Mark returned to his desk.
Another man lingered there. Mark didn’t recognize him. Most male cops didn’t wear their hair long, and this guy’s blond mane swept to his shoulders.
Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “Can I help you?”
“Is Darby around?” Mark caught a hint of an accent. Southern, maybe?
“No, she’s not. Is this about a case?”
“No.” The man offered Mark his hand. “I’m Will Young. She and I...we bumped into each other last night. I was looking for her. Hope she’s okay.”
Mark looked down at the proffered hand. Something about this guy felt off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he didn’t know if he wanted to shake his hand. Still, if this guy was pursuing his partner, maybe Mark should try to be friendly.
He shook. “She’s fine.”
“And she’s where?”
Mark shrugged. “Last I saw, she was headed for the ladies’ locker room nearly forty-five minutes ago.”
“I had a few minutes, thought she might be free.”
“We have a case.”
“Oh, I understand. I don’t intend to whisk her away from your very important work.”
“I try not to let her get distracted.” Even if they both had been nothing but distracted today.
“I’ve no intention of that happening.”
Something tickled the back of Mark’s brain again. It felt very similar to something he’d experienced when he’d been with Genova. He narrowed his eyes. What the hell?
“Pardon my professional opinion...but you seem very protective of your partner. It was my understanding she’s long past her probationary period.”
“That’s my job, to watch her back.”
“There’s more there than an esteem for one’s partner.”
What the hell? Was the guy an empath or something? No one who had just met him had ever been so intuitive, except Genova—and she was an empath. “Uh-huh. If you’ll excuse me, we have an active case, and I need to attend to it.”
“Oh, right. It was very nice meeting you. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” And Mark didn’t offer.
Young smiled tightly. “Right. Tell Darby I stopped by.”
Mark lifted his chin.
Young gave him a final look, then turned and strode away.