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Darby
With a satisfying punch of my glove, I knocked the training droid to the floor. It begged for mercy...or maintenance. I wasn’t sure and didn’t really care. The workout had been exactly what I’d needed to clear my head, if not fully of the headache—which was a bit worse, truth be told—but of the frustration I’d had with Mark.
“Maintenance! Maintenance!” The droid called. I could hear it now that the buzzing in my ears had quieted.
“Don’t worry your pretty floral bonnet,” I told the machine.
Okay, maybe I’d given it a bit of a beating. The stupid thing bore a vague resemblance to Mark, or at least it had before I beat its face to a pulp.
I glanced at the clock. Crap. I’d been there an hour, when I’d meant to spend less than half of that in here.
I grabbed a two-minute shower, dressed quickly, and injected another blocker for my head. The site bled. I pressed a towel to it and waited.
When the bleeding stopped, I headed upstairs to the second floor. Before I turned the corner into our division, I paused, took a quick, calming breath, and sent up a short prayer that I’d keep my temper in check and Mark wouldn’t continue to be a jerk.
Detective Celia Mendez saw me come in. “About time you showed up. I thought Mark was going to kill the new counselor.”
My radar went up. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, about ten minutes ago, the new counselor stopped by your desk. He and Mark had a bit of a standoff. I thought your partner was going to take his head off.”
I closed my eyes. “Blond guy, hair to the shoulders?”
“Yeah, really hot.”
“You’re married.”
Celia winked. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate God’s creation.”
“Hear anything they said to each other?”
She shook her head. “Tried to keep my distance. Do you know what it was about?”
I ground my teeth together. “Maybe.”
“So who is he?”
“Will Young. He’s another super. He and I bumped into each other last night.”
“He responsible for the carnation?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Well, you’d better go see what’s up with your partner.”
“And our case,” I added.
“I heard you caught one last night. Anything I can do to assist, let me know.”
“We appreciate it.”
She lifted her chin in acknowledgment and headed off to an interrogation room.
I crossed to our desks.
Mark caught my eye as I pulled my chair out. “Feel better?”
“Yep.”
“Not going to kill me?”
I squinted at him with one eye. “Day’s still young.”
He snorted. “Search warrant at the DSHA was just executed. We should have their data in a few hours.”
I nodded and waved my screen on, giving it my handprint to log in. “Good. Lab?”
“Waiting on you. We can head over now.”
“Might not be a bad idea.” I skimmed my screen, looking for any pertinent information. Mark had been busy while I blew off steam. Backgrounds on all of the supers from the list had been created and now lined up nicely on the glass. “Are we going to follow-up with anyone from the list?”
“I figure we’ve got to. Any number of them could be our killer.”
“Anyone with any criminal history?”
“About a quarter of the list. Mostly drunk and disorderly or DWI. One guy who has the ability to see through walls got a restraining order from an ex-girlfriend.”
“Sounds relatively normal.”
“One would think.”
“No violence?”
“Couple of the drunks put up fights when they were arrested.” Mark tapped his screen, which brought the files up on mine. “Punched an officer.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Within the last year. Both people—they were together—got a six-month suspended sentence during which they had to seek anger management counseling.”
I nodded and skimmed the data on the two supers. Their names rang a bell. Hadn’t I met at least one of them? Pictures from their arrest photos confirmed. And when I looked at the names Holly had marked on the list, theirs had been flagged, so she knew them.
“This hardly seems like something that would go from D-and-D to murdering a DSHA agent,” I commented.
Mark lifted a shoulder. “Have to start somewhere. It does show the propensity for violence.”
“His power, if you want to call it that, is having rubber-like bones. He can stretch and bend in impossible ways. Hers is super-sonic hearing.”
My partner nodded. “From all reports, they didn’t want to cage either of them, mostly because he would have been difficult to keep caged.”
“Mmmm.” I skimmed through the rest of the data, then checked my e-mail. Nothing. “Okay, you can fill me in on anything else if you want to head over.”
“Grab your gun and badge.”
“Already got ‘em.” I got to my feet. “Did I miss anything in the squad room?”
I adjusted the gun on my hip, and on the opposite side, the stunner which I rarely used, then fell into step behind my partner.
Mark was quiet. Was he ignoring my question?
We stepped onto the lift to go down to the main floor.
“A Will Young stopped by to see you.”
“He did?” I tried to say it lightly, but it came out more desperate than I’d intended.
He glanced at me. “Uh-huh. You know him?”
I avoided his eyes. “We’ve met.”
“He seems off.”
I made no comment as we crossed the street to the lab. So what if he thought Young was off? Mark didn’t exactly bat a thousand.
* * *
IT USED TO BE THE LAB was in the basement of our headquarters. But new regs required that we expand our holding facility in the basement, so Bendex had built a new, expanded lab across the street in the last year. The lab techs were ecstatic because it meant they got the newest toys. They’d also doubled their staff. As a result, we got our evidence processed faster; they even had a dedicated team for homicide.
Xander Phillips was the chief lab tech at Bendex’s laboratory/crime scene division. He was chief for a reason: he was that good. Rumor was he’d been offered a position at Bendex’s Phoenix division, at the corporate headquarters, but his wife and kids wanted to stay here.
The chief sat at a microscope. Most of the rest of his team was around, either working at laboratory equipment or staring at screens.
Nettie Lamar, who ran the electronics division, caught me glance her way and waved. We’d be sending her computers later with the warrant, so I was pretty sure we’d be talking to her at some point with the case.
Mark cleared his throat.
Xander pulled back. He spoke with a polished British accent, having spent his first quarter-century just outside London. “I wondered when you’d stop by.”
“What have you got?” Mark said.
“Quite a bit.” He got up. Xander was headed for 50, with receding gray hair. His eyes were magnified by thick-rimmed glasses. “Detective Shaw, why don’t you sit down? You look a little pale.”
Mark grimaced.
I sent him a glare but sat on the stool. “Thanks, Xan.”
He logged into his screen. “We got quite a bit of trace evidence from Rasmussen’s place. We’re still processing, in fact.”
“Anything helpful?”
“Let’s start with what may be the most interesting.” He turned to his screen and tapped a few spots, then retrieved a Petri dish tagged with an evidence label and number. “Your good friend Dr. Stack sent this over first thing this morning. Said she pulled it from Ms. Rasmussen’s wounds.”
“What is it?” Mark’s arms were folded over his chest, and he leaned his hip against Xander’s desk.
“Take a peek in the microscope.” He shifted whatever he’d been looking at before out of the way, then put the dish on. Xander adjusted it, then stepped back.
Mark looked, then I took a turn.
“It’s red. And sparkly.” I retook my position on the stool.
“Correct.”
“What is it?” Mark asked.
Xander shrugged. “We’re not sure. Not blood. Blood doesn’t sparkle. But we’re still working on isolating its chemical compounds. Should know something in a couple days.”
“Is there any DNA evidence?” Mark asked.
“May have something for you by the end of the day, mid-morning tomorrow at the latest.”
“Overtime possible on this one?” I asked.
“We can do a few hours, but we’re almost at our limit for budget expenditures this month.”
I grinned. “You administration guys are all alike.”
He sighed. “Never-ending cycle, despite the expansion we’ve had, we could always use more.”
“Anything else?” Mark asked.
The chief put another under the microscope. “More DNA evidence, of our killer, I believe.”
Mark looked in the microscope. “Red hairs.”
“Long red hairs. Probably female.”
Mark stepped back, and I looked for myself.
Several of the hairs had been broken or trimmed. The majority of the hair was bright red, with darker red roots.
“Definitely a dye job,” I said. “Brand and color?”
“You question my abilities, Darby?” Xander asked.
“Of course not.”
“Then don’t ask. Yes, I can get brand and color. It’ll take a bit, probably midday tomorrow.”
Mark shifted. “Great. Let us know when you’ve got more info, and we can swing back by.”
Xan nodded. “DNA will confirm, but based on the length, I strongly suspect the killer was female. We’re talking hair samples longer than eighteen inches.”
I glanced at Mark. “Sound like anyone we’ve encountered so far?”
My partner shook his head. “Not yet.”