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Mark
Outside poured a heavy, autumn thunderstorm. Mark glared up at the rain as he crossed the street to the lab. How dare the rain dampen his mood?
He and Darby had made some progress. She was considering what he wanted. He could consider that progress, right? He hoped she wasn’t toying with him.
She couldn’t be that cruel. Not the Darby he knew at least.
Still, he was a little sad she wouldn’t come right out and admit the feelings she had for him. It had been plain as day during their talk how much she cared. Why else would she say she’d been protecting him for so long?
Now if he could figure out why she was going so hardcore for Richard Pierce, trying to pin him into a suspect. He’d let her see where it went, even if he didn’t think it was going anywhere. But he’d trained her, and she’d developed good instincts. Maybe even better than his.
And he’d grown up with a cop father. Shouldn’t that account for something?
Inside the lab, he found Xander.
“Care to tell me what this is about?” Xander asked, his English accent making the words sound loftier.
“When Darby gets over here. Where’s Nettie?”
Xander slowly pushed up. “Bringing in evidence from Darby’s apartment. They’re sending it over in batches because there’s so much.”
Darby wandered in, drinking her coffee. When she lowered the cup, her lipstick was smudged, and more than would normally happen with drinking.
Curious.
Had she been playing tongue hockey with someone at the station? With Will?
Pangs of jealousy ran rampant through his gut. She’d promised him she’d consider him! And yet she’d kissed Will Young? Melinda had suggested Mark had been moving too slow with Darby. Will was apparently moving at the speed of light.
What was he missing? What did Will have that Mark didn’t?
Mark forced his hands to relax. He hadn’t realized he’d clenched them. “Are we ready?”
Xander nodded. “Darby?”
“And eager,” she said, sipping from her cup again, apparently unaware of the disturbance she’d caused with him.
In the secure room, Mark looked placidly at Darby, his mind more on the messed up lipstick than the case.
Darby caught his gaze and frowned, her hand drifting to her mouth.
I see you noticed, he thought.
Was it just him, or did her face redden in realization?
She turned away and cleared her throat. “Xander, I need you and Nettie to look into whether Prairie had any conversations with a Richard David Pierce. He came to us yesterday with some information that Prairie was working with him, and by default, the SHS.”
Xander pushed his glasses up his nose. “What kind of information?”
“A theory that the DSHA was working to start up the superhuman camps again.”
Xander looked at Mark. “You know, I would expect something like this from you, but from Darby? What, did she start the day by getting into your liquor cabinet?”
Mark lifted a shoulder. “I heard the same thing, too.”
“And this Pierce guy? He has something to do with it?”
Darby nodded. “He claims he was working with Prairie. I want to know if her computers bear that out.”
“We haven’t gotten that deep into the deleted data, and even then, it will be tricky to recover it all.”
“Maybe this will give you some direction,” Darby suggested.
Xander scrutinized her over the rim of his glasses.
Mark couldn’t help but bite back a smile.
“Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting? It’s not so easy. We’re already having a hard time, and it could take us a few days to recover the data if we ever do. You’re asking us to look and see if, in this mess of deleted files, any one of them may have a discussion dealing with concentration camps and government conspiracies. And on a timetable. I’m assuming you still have a victim to bring back?”
She nodded. “I know it’s going to be tricky—”
“Bloody hell it is.”
“But I need you to try. For Nettie to try. And because this is so sensitive, we need to make sure it’s not discussed outside a secure room.”
Xander rubbed his hand across his brow. “You’re going to owe us a lot of cookies, between this and your flat. Most of our work this week is for you.”
“Tell your team to put in their requests now. Send me an e-mail.”
Xander glanced at Mark. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“It’s her lead.”
“You disagree?”
“Yes and no.”
Xander rotated back to Darby. “You’re sure of this?”
“If there was some sort of conspiracy, I want to find it. I also want to figure out whether Prairie and Rick communicated via computer, and if so, the content and tone.”
He sighed. “If we find something, we’ll have you guys in here.”
“Thanks, Xander.”
“And we’re going to hold you to those cookies.”
She patted his arm. “I hope you do.”
They disengaged the dampening field and exited. After Xander had veered off toward the main lab, Mark leaned over to Darby as they headed out. “You never bring me cookies.”
She quirked her brow. “Seriously, that’s your takeaway from the meeting?”
“What could it hurt for you to bring in a dozen every now and then?”
She poked his stomach. “Xander doesn’t have to be on his A-game physically. You do.”
“I beat you on the run this morning.”
“Only because you have longer legs. You were panting afterward.”
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
The outside door swooshed open, and he ushered her through. The rain had slacked off to a drizzle, and it made Darby’s golden hair shimmer with tiny droplets. If it weren’t for the gun and badge, she’d look like a princess.
“What?” She said. “Does it ruin this masculine image I’m supposed to have of you?”
He whined. “Well, of course.”
She chortled softly.
They were quiet crossing the street and climbed into the Flexion.
After the restraint settled in place and he took off, she turned to him. “So where to first?”
He named one of Prairie’s friends, and she agreed.
As they drove, she looked out the window. Comfortable silence enveloped the cab as he drove to the Crossroads Art District a couple kilometers south of downtown.
Finally, she sighed and peeked at him. “Mark, I’m going out tonight. To the SHS meeting.”
He tightened his grip on the controls, and had to work to keep his words even. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Especially after yesterday?”
“I won’t be alone. Holly and Genova will be there.”
“I’d feel better if I went with you.”
She snorted. “The SHS isn’t exactly fond of me. I don’t think they’d appreciate your presence period.”
He dropped his voice. “But I’m not exactly a normal, now am I?”
“They don’t know that.”
“If I’m not a normal, and I’m not a super, maybe I belong with the SHS anyway.”
She shook her head, tousling her hair which had long since dried. “We need to figure this out before you make any sort of a move. Maybe talk to your mom and see if there are any supers in your extended family.”
“I know them. There’s no one.”
“Cousins? Even distant cousins?”
His parents had come from large families, and in his generation alone, the cousins numbered close to one hundred on both sides. He couldn’t know everyone, but if someone were a super, the whole family would know. That wouldn’t be secret.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “But there’s no one in your family, is there?”
She shrugged and sank into the seat. “My family is completely dysfunctional. As far as I’m concerned, Simon is my family. And everyone in Homicide.”
“I’m pretty sure they think of you that way too.” I know I do.
“We’re a pretty tight-knit bunch,” she said, her voice completely flat.
He glanced at her. He’d seen the look on his sisters’ faces often enough. She was fighting back emotion.
He took her hand and squeezed, the electric sensation flashing hot before cooling down to a simmer. “Then how come you never bake us cookies?”
She snorted. “All right, all right. I’ll bring cookies in soon.”
“I’m going to hold you to it.” He circled the block near Kristen Guggenheim’s coffee shop, looking for a spot. Finally, he located a slot about half a block down.
Java Art was sandwiched between a bookbinder’s shop and an art studio. Further down was a bar where Mark had made one of his first arrests as a patrol officer. The Crossroads wasn’t really his place to go now that he was weeks away from forty, but he was on friendly terms with the owner, and he stopped in every six months or so to shoot the breeze, say hi, and snag a couple beers.
The barista inside Java Art fit the area. He was pretty sure she was a she, although her head had been shaved so only the very crown had hair, and what hair she did have was dyed flaming orange and stuck straight up. Multiple piercings adorned her face, and tattoos were visible below her sleeves and above her plunging neckline.
“What can I get for you?” The pitch confirmed female.
Darby flashed her badge. “Kristen Guggenheim?”
She nodded. “Let me get my guy from the back. I’ve been expecting you. But what can I get you? My treat for Kansas City’s finest.”
They ordered and watched Kristen expertly make Darby’s espresso and Mark’s chai latte. By that time, a guy came up front. He was almost indistinguishable from Kristen in the looks department, just lighter in the bra.
Kristen grabbed a bottle of water and came around the counter. “Let’s sit. Do you have any leads on Prairie’s murder?”
“We’re working on it. How well did you know Prairie?” Mark asked, taking the lid off his latte to let it cool.
“Pretty well. We were neighbors for a while when she moved up from Tulsa. Ended up becoming roommates for about eighteen months. Then she moved practically to the burbs, but by then, we had a rapport, kept in touch. She came down a lot for lunch when she was in the office.”
“Did she ever discuss her work?” Darby sipped her espresso.
“Not too much, especially not here. But there were times she’d vent. I’d hear a lot on those days.”
“What kinds of things would she discuss?”
“Oh, this and that. Her boss being an idiot, how she got along with her coworkers, incidents between her and the supers she reinterviewed. It kind of ran the gamut.” She played with the water bottle, spinning it slowly in a circle.
“So she was pretty open with you?”
“Yeah. Apparently, she didn’t think I’d blab or something. I really thought some of the shit she told me she probably wasn’t supposed to say.”
Mark cleared his throat. “So, her coworkers? Did they get along?”
Kristen frowned, her eyebrow stud winking in the muted light. “A year ago, I’d have said yes. Today? Not so sure.”
“What changed?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. But she’d tell me there were arguments. It seemed like in the last year or so, she was getting seriously disillusioned with her job. I teased her, said she could come work for me, but she’d always laugh. Say her work was too important. I honestly don’t see how tracking supers was.”
“We don’t see how it’s important, either,” said Darby.
“I mean with you, Detective? What’s the worst thing you’re going to do? Bring someone back from the dead who didn’t deserve it?”
Darby stared into her espresso for a long moment. “I don’t get to choose whether someone deserves to come back or not.”
Kristen picked at the label on her water.
“When was the last time you saw Prairie?” Mark said, getting the interview back on track.
Kristen pursed her nearly-black lips. “Last week. Was it Tuesday? Wednesday? I think it was Wednesday.”
The guy behind the counter called over to them. “Kris, she was in here on Friday for lunch. When you had to go out.”
Kristen scrunched up her face. “She was? Damn, I wish I hadn’t missed her now.” She glanced at Darby, then down at her bottle. “I may not see her again.”
Darby covered Kristen’s hand with hers. “Don’t give up hope yet.”
“You only have a limited time, don’t you? I looked you up after...well, with everything going on.”
“About a week. There’s still time.”
Kristen sighed. “I hope you find her killer. I can’t imagine my life without her.”
Mark sipped his latte and looked away.
“We all should have someone in our life like that. I know I do.” Darby shot him a look and a tentative, private smile.
His heart swelled. Could it be too much to hope she was actually considering his proposal?
There’d be time for that later, though.
Mark cleared his throat, redirecting to the friend. “Kristen, did Prairie ever say anything about her work in particular? Anything have her concerned?”
She scraped her thumbnail down the bottle. “Not that I can think of.”
“How was she acting? Normal?”
Kristen drank, then said, “She seemed, I don’t know, preoccupied? I asked her about it, but she said it had to do with work, and she really couldn’t discuss it.”
“Did you ever push her on it?” Darby asked.
“A little now and then, but not enough that she’d tell me. Maybe if I had, she wouldn’t be dead.”
“We’re doing anything in our power to find her killer so Darby can revive her.”
“If you do...will she remember? Being murdered, being...dead?”
Darby frowned. “It depends. For some, they don’t remember at all. For others, it’s like a bad nightmare—they remember it, but not the pain.”
Kristen nodded.
Darby patted her shoulder. “She’ll need friends like you to get through it. You’ll be key.”
Kristen tried to smile, but her eyes began to leak tears instead. “Sorry. I still can’t believe any of this happened. Who would want to kill her?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Ms. Guggenheim.” Mark glanced at Darby and lifted his chin. Time to go.
Instead, Darby turned back to Kristen. “Tell me, does the name Richard or Rick Pierce mean anything to you?”
Kristen bit her lip. “Maybe? I can’t really be sure. Is that someone you think could have killed Prairie?”
“He’s a person of interest,” Darby said flatly, pulling out her glass. A moment later, she had an image of Pierce up. “Is he familiar?”
“Yeah. I’ve met him.”
“Where?”
Kristen tapped a finger on the table and squinted.
“Okay, Kristen, did you meet him with Prairie or not?”
After another moment of hesitation, she said, “With. Definitely with.”
“Where then?”
“There was an art show we went to a few months ago.” She nodded at the holo. “He was there.”
“Did he speak to Prairie?”
“Yeah, now I’m thinking about it, he did. I remember because they had words.”
“They fought?” Mark asked, his eyebrow quirked up.
“It was heated, but not loud, if that makes sense.”
“So you have no idea what they were arguing about?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. I asked Prairie about it later, after the guy left. She brushed it off. Said it wasn’t important. She made me think he was an old boyfriend.” Kristen looked to Darby. “He wasn’t, was he? Did he kill Prairie?”
“We don’t know,” Darby said. “We’re trying to figure out what their relationship was.”
“Well, until that night, I’d never seen him before. I thought I’d met all of Prairie’s boyfriends before Ian.”
“So you think she was lying to you?” Mark asked.
Kristen looked down. “Why would she do that?”
“We don’t know, but we’re going to figure it out.”
The woman nodded. “Will you keep me informed?”
“If we’re able. If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.” Darby handed her a digi-business card. “You can also come to the station anytime to give a statement.”
“If I think of anything, I’ll contact you. Please take care of her. And if you’re ever in the neighborhood, stop in. Espressos on the house. I’ll make sure to let my staff know.”
“You don’t know what you’re offering,” Mark said, slyly sending a look at Darby. “This one may put you out of business.”
Darby elbowed his ribs. “Don’t listen to him. That’s very kind of you.”
“Anytime. If it’ll help you find Prairie’s killer, or anyone else’s, it’s the least I can do.”
Outside, the heavens had opened up, and rain poured in torrents. They ran for their Flexion, but they weren’t fast enough to avoid getting thoroughly drenched. Mark dug around in the cargo hold, found some microfiber towels, and tossed one to Darby. She had the heater on in the cab, but she was shivering.
“I think we’re in for a cold snap,” Mark remarked, peering out and up at the rain as he ran the towel over his thinning hair.
Darby turned the blower up.
“It’s that time of year,” he added, dabbing drops of water off his neck and face.
Her teeth started chattering, and she pulled her legs up in the seat.
“Darb, we weren’t out that long,” he said, putting his towel aside. “You okay?”
“C-c-cold. All the clothes I m-m-managed to save yesterday were for a lot w-w-warmer weather than we’re having t-t-today.” She hugged her legs tighter.
“You need to pick up something? We can swing by wherever.”
She nodded slowly. “I th-th-think we’d bet-t-t-ter. I n-n-need a sweater or som-m-mething.”
He smiled understandingly. He couldn’t bear to see her shivering like this, not when damp as he was, he was far from cold. She was a tiny wisp of a thing, and had very little meat on her bones. As opposed to him. “In the meantime, come here. Let me warm you up.”
“M-m-mark.” Her eyes widened meaningfully.
“I want to help you, as your friend. It does nothing for either one of us if you get sick from the cold.” And I’ll try to pretend I don’t enjoy holding you close.
She turned her face from him as she continued shivering.
“Don’t be so stubborn. Do you want to be warm and healthy, or cold and ill?”
She didn’t respond immediately, but after another few seconds, she shifted across the center console. Somehow, they managed to squish into the driver’s seat, and he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. The electricity between them was subtle, as though the wetness had dampened it.
Strange. He’d expected the opposite. Wasn’t water supposed to make electricity more powerful or something?
With the heater on full blast, they sat nearly motionless for several minutes until she stopped trembling.
“You better?” he asked quietly, his lips close to her ear. At this distance, he could smell the body wash she’d used that morning, something from his shower since it smelled a lot more masculine than he’d expect from her.
She nodded. “I think so, thanks.”
“Maybe you need to start eating more cookies, get more meat on your bones. You need more insulation.”
“Like you?” She poked his stomach with a finger.
“Say what you will, but if I get stuck in a blizzard, I’m not going to die easily.”
She laughed. “True enough.”
“Skinny people, they’re always the first to succumb to the elements. Don’t have any padding.”
“I doubt your sister would like to hear you talking like that.”
“Which one?”
“The naturopath.”
“Moira. Yeah, she’d be pissed.” He winked, then helped her clamber back into her seat.
“I won’t say anything.”
“Good. I don’t want to come in to work sporting a black eye I got from any of my sisters.”
“They wouldn’t do that. Your sisters are nice.”
“To you. I’m the baby brother.”
Darby laughed as he input the next address into the nav system and the Flexion backed out from the slot. “They wouldn’t beat you up.”
He snorted. “You don’t know them that well.”
She shook her head, a grin still gracing her lips. “Where to next?”
“Warmer clothes for you.”
“Sounds like a plan.”