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Darby
Mark and I divided our time between checking into what the patrol officers had been sending in by way of reports, and checking in with Moustakas. At one point, he asked us if we had anyone who could consult with the interview of William Young, of the super variety, another powerful empath.
Which meant I got to make an uncomfortable call to Genova.
Although I imagined it would be a bit more so for Mark when she and her mentor showed up.
Moustakas started pulling together the paperwork we needed for having a consult with Genova and Brandon Fischer.
Genova arrived a little after noon. Her mentor hobbled in on power crutches. I’d used something similar when I’d been shot in the leg two years earlier, and they were helpful, but not exactly svelte.
She introduced us to Brandon Fischer, who, when asked about the crutches, explained he’d been in a water skiing accident a few weeks earlier.
In the confines of Moustakas’s office, we laid out what was going on. Genova and her mentor looked at each other often, and even though I wasn’t an empath, I caught bits of them communicating back and forth, probably that Genova was throwing off for my benefit.
Things weren’t nearly as uncomfortable between Mark and Genova as I’d feared, either. If anything, while my friend and partner were business-like to each other, there was an ease present that hadn’t been there a few days ago. Huh. I wondered if they’d patched things up.
Paperwork was signed, then we headed down to the interrogation rooms. Young had been sitting in the room for close to an hour—Mark had requested that he be sent there when Genova said she was on her way—and he was looking rattled when I saw him from Observation.
Moustakas and Fischer gave us a few moments to get the recording started, and it also gave Genova a chance to tell Mark and me what she’d be able to do from Observation. She could use her powers to relay questions to Fischer, almost in real time. If I allowed her to connect with me—and apparently, she was strong enough now to connect with both me and Fischer, and still prevent Young from knowing anyone was linked beyond Fischer—I could in effect send questions to Fischer through Genova and they could be asked as though I were sitting in the room next to Moustakas.
I swallowed hard. She’d know something was different if we connected. But I went another route with my excuse. “I don’t want there to be any chance Young can sense me. I’d rather stay disconnected if it’s all the same to you.”
Genny cocked her head. “Are you sure?”
Mark echoed her sentiments, although he said in my head, I get it.
I nodded. “Yeah. Besides, I don’t want to hurt you if he says something and I have to leave in a hurry.”
She frowned. “All right. I can recover quickly from a sudden break.”
“But I can’t, and I can’t risk it causing a debilitating headache. It could mean the difference between catching the killer and reviving Prairie or not.”
I could help you heal, Darby.
I contemplated Mark. I don’t want you to. You’ve healed me enough today. Besides, she can’t know that.
Genova blew out a breath, oblivious to Mark’s and my silent communication. “How much time do you have?”
I glanced at the clock. “Six hours, likely more. There’s a good chance it could run into tomorrow sometime, but I start getting nervous at the six-day point. I’ve had too many go south after that point.”
She winced, and turned back to the one-way glass. “So, that’s the bastard who tried to rape you?”
“You met him the other night,” I replied, folding my arms over my chest.
“But he hadn’t tried to rape you then.”
“You were still standoffish to him.”
“And apparently for good reason.”
Watch it, Darby, Mark warned. You could have just tipped your hand about having your memory back.
I inwardly winced. Crap. Not cool.
The interrogation room door opened and Captain Moustakas and Fischer entered, Fischer first. He hobbled over and took the chair farthest away from Young. Moustakas took out the other chair, rotated it, and sat on it backwards, legs spread, then dropped a stack of folders on the table for show. They thudded, and threatened to fall over before he caught them.
Fischer eyed Young for a long minute.
“What’s he doing?” I asked Genova.
“Making a connection,” she said, but it took her a moment. “He’s telling Young that he’s a superior empath, basically.”
I shifted my stance, watching the non-verbal interaction happening. I was antsy again, thinking about Prairie and Rick. A countdown had started in my head, and six hours loomed fast.
Captain Moustakas broke the silence in the room. “Mr. Young, do you understand why you’re here?”
“Someone accused me of rape? The idea is wholly unbelievable.”
“The accusation comes from a sworn Bendex detective, one with an impeccable record whose integrity the department does not question,” Moustakas said flatly. “Yours, however, is in question and not just by my department.”
“This is a big misunderstanding. If you let me talk with the detective—”
“No,” I said, a bead of sweat trickling down my back.
Almost instantly, Fischer repeated my reaction.
Fischer continued, “Mr. Young, you will not be getting a chance to see your accuser.”
“If I could just talk to her, I could smooth things over.”
I’d have to face him at some point, but seeing him through glass, right now, was as much as I could handle.
Mark must have sensed my apprehension rising. He sidled up closer to me and casually put a hand on my shoulder.
“Not happening,” Moustakas said. “Do you deny you took Detective Darby Shaw on a date last night where you proceeded to not only get her intoxicated, but delivered the substances commonly called ecstasy and ketamine unknown to her with the intent to make sexual advances on her?”
Young straightened as much as the handcuffs in the middle of the table would allow him, but didn’t say anything.
“He’s trying to battle with Brandon,” Genova informed. “Brandon’s keeping him at bay, but he needs me for support.”
“Got it.” I rose from my chair, ready to move if I had to go in. The captain had promised he would do everything in his power to keep me out of there, but with a thinner staff, at least in our department, I might be needed, even though I was the accuser. Moustakas really wasn’t hip on having Mark in there.
The silence was deafening in both rooms.
Young sat back. “She brought the drugs herself,” he said at length. “This is entrapment. She wanted me to take advantage of her.”
I growled. “Bastard!”
Genova put her hand on my shoulder.
Fischer was a lot calmer, fortunately. “Why would she do that?”
“Because she wanted to have a good time, and she’s so fucking repressed, she didn’t see another way.”
Moustakas’s jaw clenched, and even through the glass, I could see he was having a hard time not going ballistic.
I wondered what would happen if it were Mark in there instead of our boss. It wouldn’t have been pretty.
“So, you mean to tell me one of my most reliable detectives, one of the most level-headed cops I’ve ever met in my forty-five-year career, suddenly decides she’s going to take dangerous drugs in quantities that by all rights should have killed her, with alcohol, two nights in a row?”
Young shrugged. “I can’t help it if she’s not as level-headed as you claim.”
Moustakas got up and paced slowly behind Young. “Where’d she get the pills?”
“Hell if I know. She’s a cop. Certainly, she comes into contact with the criminal element every day. Maybe she let someone go and protects them if they give her drugs when she wants.”
I went from hot to cold in an instant. “I don’t do drugs. Tell them, Genova, I don’t do them.”
“I am,” she said after a pause. “Brandon’s not buying it either.”
I closed my eyes and turned from the glass.
“Do you know what I found in my email, William?” Captain Moustakas said. There was a pause, then he continued. “Proof that not only ecstasy and ketamine from a recent bust was stolen from evidence, but that your prints were all over the containers involved. More than a dozen pills were missing.”
Young gritted his teeth. “The evidence was planted.”
“According to our preliminary reports, no it wasn’t. I contacted the officer on duty Thursday, and he confirmed you came to the evidence room. You spent twenty minutes there, which would be about how long it would take to make sure the bags didn’t look like they were tampered with.” Moustakas rounded the table and planted his fists against it. “We have security footage.”
Young glared at the captain, silent.
Genova angled herself toward me briefly. “Young’s trying to get into the captain’s head.” She winced. “Brandon’s trying to stop him, but it’s tough.”
Mark grunted, and folded his arms. He bounced on his toes a little, and I was right there with him. If our boss was getting assaulted mentally by Young, we’d go physically pull him out, no matter what.
“Keep at it,” I said to Genova, shifting to face the glass.
Moustakas backed off.
“Tell them to shift gears. We need to know where Winifred Labbee is.”
Genova nodded and closed her eyes.
“Winifred Labbee,” Fischer said. “Where is she?”
Moustakas straightened when the telepath spoke. He turned to Young.
Young gave a blank stare. “Who?”
The captain took out a DSHA image. “Winifred Labbee. DSHA agent. Your sister.”
Young laughed. “My sister lives in Florida.”
“One, yes. But the other has been here in Kansas City for quite some time, hasn’t she?”
Young stared at Moustakas.
“He’s right,” Genova said to me. “Brandon can sense he’s about to lie.”
Young: “I have one sister.”
“That is a lie, and we have the proof.” Moustakas.
I snorted. We had no proof. All we were going on was the likelihood projected by the computer. But Young didn’t know that.
“I don’t know a Winifred Labbee,” Young said flatly.
“Lying,” Genova said.
I tensed up, ready to go. Genova must have sensed my anxiety. She grabbed my wrist. Her connection to me started working its way through the walls in my head, working their way to reason with me. “You can’t go in there.”
“I want to so much. I want to wipe that smug grin off his face.”
“So do I, Darb,” Mark said. “But you can’t beat him to a pulp, even though you want to.”
Young whipped his head around to the glass.
He started pushing at my head.
“He’s sensed me,” I said. “Let go, Genny.”
She released me, and I could feel the little claws retreating of whatever connection she’d started to make. But the connection had been made. Shit.
She turned to me. “We need to talk, Darb.” She glanced at Mark. “You too.”
“Not right now,” he said.
“Later then.”
Beyond the glass, Young began rocking in his chair and whipping his head toward the one-way mirror, trying to get a look at me. “Let me talk to Shaw. I’ll set this straight once and for all.”
Fischer motioned to Moustakas and they spoke low enough I couldn’t hear them over the speakers.
My comm buzzed. “Crap, this is bad timing,” I muttered as I dug it out of my pocket. “Shaw.”
“This is Princeton in patrol. I’ve spotted someone matching the description of Winifred Labbee.”
My blood ran cold, and I motioned to Genova and Mark I was going to step out. I began moving for the door with Mark right behind me. “Do you have visual contact, Officer?”
“I do.”
“Where are you?”
“Corner of Hickman Mills Drive and Red Bridge Road. She’s about fifty meters from me, using a comm unit.”
My mind ran through my years on patrol. I’d been at several accidents in that area.
We also had passed right near there this morning when we’d left Mark’s house. He lived less than two miles from the intersection.
My stomach churned at the thought she was close to Mark’s place. Could it be a coincidence?
“Can you give me visual?” I asked Princeton.
“Sure thing, ma’am. Give me one sec.”
The computer compensated and sharpened the scene. I recognized Winifred. She seemed irritated, and by the way she talked, I guessed she was leaving a message.
“Do not approach,” I said automatically. “Keep your distance, but tail her. She goes on foot, you follow. She uses the bus a lot, so pay attention.”
“Do I call in backup?”
“I’ll do that. But I’m going to head for your position, as soon as I take care of something here. I repeat: do not approach. She’s very dangerous, even unarmed.”
Princeton nodded. “I’ll hang tight, Detective.”
“Good work, Officer.”
“Talk to me, Darb,” Mark said from behind me. I’d nearly forgotten he was there.
“Wait a sec. I’m only going to do this once.” I stepped back in the observation room and asked Genny to have Brandon send Captain Moustakas out.
It took but a moment, but that moment seemed to stretch until my captain joined us in the hall.
“What’s up, Shaw?”
I explained, adding, “I’m heading to the scene now. I need you to keep talking to Young.”
“I’ll be doing that. Don’t you worry. I’ve broken more suspects than you have years ten times over or more.”
I smiled tightly, already thinking about what we might be facing in the next bit. “Got it.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, you two.”
“I won’t let her, sir,” Mark said.
I poked my head into observation and told Genny I was out of there, but to reach me on my comm if things got interesting, then bolted upstairs to retrieve my gear and the codes to the Flexion we’d been assigned for a few days.
“We need another car or two,” Mark said as he checked his Glock.
“Your call,” I said.
Homicide keeps at least one team of detectives in the office at all times. Today, the detectives lingering in our department were eager for some action, so Mark told them to get their gear.
James Evans and Nathaniel Vanek had been partners longer than I’d been a cop, and they were good together. I’d worked with them on a case shortly after I’d started in homicide, and Mark trusted them implicitly. Nathaniel had been in Mark’s Academy class.
Twenty minutes after loading up, we were all down at the location, talking with Officer Princeton via comm so we could stay some distance away and out of sight. Evans and Vanek were about half a mile down from Princeton on the opposite side of Labbee, and Mark and I were behind the building she sat in front of. It seemed she was waiting for a bus.
“She’s stayed put this whole time?” I asked Princeton. Mark had pulled the Flexion up between two buildings—a grocery and an automotive parts store—where we could see the covered bench where Labbee sat.
“Was up a few times, walking. Went into the grocery a couple times, but she’s been there the last ten minutes.”
“What buses run through here?” I asked, more to myself than my colleagues.
“Yellow line,” Vanek said. “My grandma lives down here, and she got her license taken away so I have to help her with the bus schedule.”
I quirked a brow up. “Your grandma is still alive?”
He shrugged in his image. “She was a teen mom.”
“So where does the yellow line go?”
“Points around here, eventually connects to the main lines up toward downtown, though Grandma usually takes the streetcar if she goes up past the Plaza.”
“Does it stay east of the interstate?” We were literally strolling distance to the interstate which headed south and into Arkansas a couple hundred miles south of here, and eventually ran into Louisiana.
“No, it meanders around a bit. Actually there are lines, depending on where you need to go. Connects to the orange line a few miles east of here, and that’ll take you into Lee’s Summit and Raytown.”
I nodded while we waited. “How often do they run? Especially on a Saturday?”
“Usually every thirty minutes—”
As he said it, a bus pulled up and Labbee stood. The bus was one of the new ones with mild hover capability to maintain schedules and go over traffic when it snarled.
“Well there you go, Shaw,” Vanek smiled.
“Princeton, you solid enough to tail the bus?” Mark asked, straightening in his seat.
“It’s been a while since I went through the training, Detective.”
“Understood. Follow about twenty yards behind. We may need your assistance. Vanek? You know the line well. Get ahead of them. I’ll follow behind Princeton a block or two back. They’re headed in your direction anyway.”
“Got it,” our fellow officers told us. Down the street, Vanek and Evans pulled out, and in the opposite direction, Princeton did the same.
We waited until all vehicles were in motion before pulling out, took a deep breath, and gave slow chase. I hated doing pursuits like this in marked vehicles, but we were both hoping Young would give us the information we needed so we could know whether it was safe to approach Labbee or not. Without knowing exactly what her powers were, it was safer to keep an eye on her, especially with how Prairie and Rick were killed.
We followed the bus up the line, rotating positions occasionally. Each of our vehicles was a different color: Princeton’s was white, Vanek and Evans’ was blue, and Mark’s and mine was red. That was a good thing, so we didn’t stick out, and the markings on the blue and red one were minimal.
But it wouldn’t take a huge leap to figure out there were three Flexions keeping tabs on that bus.
After countless stops, an hour later, we reached the end of the line, and the last of the passengers got off.
Labbee wasn’t among them, and she hadn’t gotten off at any point.
I scowled. The bus would stop for fifteen minutes to do a recharge of its fuel systems and give the driver a short break. It was procedure.
“Evans,” Mark said over the comm. “Something’s not right.”
“Want backup, Herman?”
“Nah, stay where you are. Darby and I’ll handle it. Keep your eyes open.”
“Copy that.”
Mark put the Flexion in standby mode and climbed out. I followed.
The driver was a woman around my age, taller, with reddish-brown hair which I couldn’t tell if it came out of a box or if it was natural. She caught sight of us when we approached and straightened as she ground out a cigarette on the ground.
“Your cop is showing,” I told Mark.
He nudged my shoulder with his elbow. “So’s yours.”
The driver said, “I didn’t do nothing.”
We showed our badges. “We didn’t say you did,” I said. “But someone on your bus may have. Are all the passengers off?”
She nodded and fumbled for another cigarette. “Everyone’s off. I checked. And I’ve got one more run before the end of my day.”
“That’s fine.” But inside, I was churning. Where had Labbee gotten off? I pulled out my glass and showed her the picture of Labbee. “We saw this woman get on your bus this side of Grandview. Do you remember her?”
The driver scrutinized. “Yeah, I think I recognize her.”
“She got on, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t remember where she got off. We got doors on both sides, and I had a couple handicapped passengers I had to help with.”
“Did she say anything to you when she boarded?”
The driver scrunched up her face. “If she did, I didn’t take no notice.”
“And you have no idea when she got off?” Mark asked.
She shook her head briskly. “Nope. What’d she do?”
“She’s wanted in connection with a murder,” I said.
The driver looked up, stunned, and then scrutinized my face. “Wait a sec. You’re that cop. The one who brings the dead back.”
I nodded, though inside, I groaned. “I am. Detective Darby Shaw.”
“You brought my cousin back last year. He alive ‘cuz of you.”
I asked after her cousin, then thanked her for her help.
Mark and I left, heading back to where Vanek and Evans were parked near our Flexion. They got out, and we stood near the nose of the other vehicle.
“Where’d she get off?” Vanek asked, putting his hands on his hips.
I tried to hide a shiver as I bundled my arms against my chest. A cool front had pushed through since we left headquarters, and despite my adrenaline buzzing, the cold invaded. “We don’t know.”
“Probably not at any of the stops with one or two people. We’d have seen her,” Mark said.
“Think she spotted us and decided to take her chances?” Vanek said.
“It’s possible,” Mark said. “Three Flexions close together? Kind of screams police.”
Evans looked at his watch. “Wherever she got off, she’s probably long gone by now.”
Mark glanced at me. “Think she has invisibility powers?”
I blew out a breath. “Anything is possible, right?”
Mark sent our fellow homicide cops back to the station. I told Princeton to resume his patrols, then got back in the Flexion as Mark programmed it for HQ. While it drove us back, Mark and I tried to review everything which had happened in the last hour or so. I couldn’t remember seeing anyone get off who could have been Labbee, but we’d all seen her get on. Had she got on then got off? Had she spotted us before we’d even taken off? All of us had been so careful, or at least I thought we had.
At Mark’s request, I commed Moustakas and let him know we’d lost Labbee. Did he have anything new?
“Mr. Fischer is very good,” he told me. “He’s nearly gotten Young to break.”
“Think you’ll have something for us by the time I get there?” I asked.
“Possibly.” He told us Young had admitted about twenty minutes earlier that Labbee was his oldest sister, but by a different father.
I did a mental handspring. Outside, I was all professional. “Good. But he doesn’t seem concerned about being indicted in a murder case?”
“He’s staying mum.”
“What about where she’s been staying?” Mark asked, leaning into the view of the camera. “Or where she’s going? Or whether she knew Richard Pierce?”
“We’re trying. Young’s very resistant. I’m just glad we got him to admit he and Labbee are related.”
“That’s great,” I said, “but I’ve got maybe a few more hours where I’m certain I can bring back Prairie Rasmussen. I need to know where Winifred is, even if it’s just to try. Or at the very least whether she’s really a super and what her powers are.”
Moustakas shook his head. “I’ll get right on that. He’ll be eating out of our hand in five minutes, but probably only because you asked pretty please, Detective.”
I scowled at the admonishment. “Sir, you know what I mean. I’m running out of time. I’m getting desperate.”
“I don’t like to lose a victim any more than you do, Detective—”
“No, sir, you have no idea what it’s like for me. Murder has always had a finality to it. But it’s even worse when I know I could have done something to reverse it. I wish we’d arrested Labbee an hour ago, but I didn’t, and now that’s on me. And all because I’m not sure about her powers and if I’d even be able to keep her in custody.” I shook my head. “I need to know what her powers are, sir. Desperately. Because we could find her again in the next few hours.”
“Shaw, you’re tired. How much sleep have you had the last few days?”
“Not nearly enough, sir, especially with being drugged two nights in a row.”
“Maybe you should go back to Herman’s, get some rest.”
“I’m in favor of that, actually,” Mark piped up.
I gave him a sour look. “If I do that, sir, I may not be able to revive Prairie. I can’t do that. I’d never forgive myself.”
“Is this because of what she was—a DSHA agent? Because you have something to prove where that agency is concerned?”
“No, Cap, it’s because I’ve got a second body. One who is a super. And the longer Labbee is on the streets, the more likely there will be a third. I don’t want that on me.”
He nodded slowly. “I’m going back in there. Come to observation when you get in.”
I closed my eyes as soon as the line was clear. He was right. I was tired.
“Darb,” Mark said quietly. “No one would blame you for going home. Take a breather. It’s been a trying day.”
I looked at him long enough to give him an unhappy smile. “I can’t. Not yet. Not with so much left to do.”
“And people call me a workaholic.” His eyes twinkled merrily as he teased.
“It can’t be helped, not today.”
He put his arm around my shoulder. “I get it. Doesn’t mean I’m thrilled about you burning yourself out.”
I thought about that for a minute, and nodded slowly. “If we can’t get her picked up in the next two or three hours, I’ll go home. We’ll do that coffee you mentioned last night.”
Mark winced. “Yeah, oops. Should’ve told you. The Moustakases invited themselves over. We’re grilling out. I think my godparents want to get to know you better.”
I gave him a sidelong look. “Uh, I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea about anything that’s happened today. We’re still not dating or anything. I have a lot of thinking to do. Which will come much easier once we put this case to bed.”
“I know. There’ve been few opportunities since we became partners. I think they just want to have a chance to see you when you’re not on duty.”
I relaxed a little. “That sounds fun. Do you have wine? I may need some if I’m to be social with our boss.”
Mark scowled. “After the last couple nights, don’t you think you ought to lay off the alcohol?”
I suppressed a snicker and bit my lip. “Maybe.”