Chapter 42

 

Cassie had probably missed another end of shift by the time they were finished with her at the scene. She’d given up keeping count. She’d been statemented as forensics did their stuff, and had walked the assigned detectives through her actions when they were allowed in.

The Ghost Gun had been taken as evidence, to be examined by specialists who might never get the chance to see it. It stayed away for the moment, and hopefully would until she was at least alone.

This would just be the start of it. Internal Affairs would want a full statement, and repeated interviews. She was supposed to be on desk duty, but had instead dropped a body. Unless someone decided this mess needed a scapegoat, she should get through it. Perhaps a slap on the wrist for being here alone, but she had called for backup before going in. There wasn’t much she could do about that at the moment.

They eventually left her alone. That was when Lieutenant Cornell descended on her, studying the continuing bustle under the floodlights that’d been brought in.

‘I left messages,’ said Cornell, her voice tight with worry and irritation.

‘Poor reception,’ said Cassie.

That actually got a snort of laughter, and a shake of the head. ‘You were supposed to stay at the office.’

‘Staring at Harry’s desk?’ she asked.

Cornell looked away. ‘Why did you go?’

‘A source had information on the case. They’re not the kind to wait around.’ Both statements were kind of true.

‘Anything useful?’

‘Might have evidence identifying the ones who attacked Harry and me, and raided Carver Labs. And probably took the bodies from the morgue.’

That got Cornell’s attention. ‘Might?’

‘I want to corroborate it before sharing.’

Cornell nodded. ‘Is that what led you here?’

‘No. I got a call from a witness who claimed Bancroft had the weapon responsible for the weird deaths. Told me he was supposed to meet him here. I guess I was just a distraction.’

‘The witness?’

‘Malcolm Brown. Judging by what happened, he might have something to do with Singularity.’

She still needed a good story to fill in the cracks, but as long as she was honest enough, she could live with that.

‘Am I going into protective custody now?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Cornell. ‘You can go home. Organised Crime have confirmed that, with the death of Giovanni, no one in his organisation seems interested in having you killed now. They’ve got informants listening in case that changes, but you should be okay.’

That was one relief.

Cassie made her way to her car, got in, and sat there. After a few moments, she turned to her passenger. ‘I was kind of hoping I’d have a bit longer to myself. Or that I was surrounded by madmen.’

Bancroft said nothing.

‘Is it always this disturbing?’

‘You should shoot a bird,’ he said in an oddly distant tone. ‘Or, better, don’t.’

She started the car and drove away. There were too many people about who might see her talking to nothing.

‘What do you know, Bancroft?’

‘I know my friends call me Jimmy.’

‘Since we’re not friends, that hardly matters, does it?’

He shrugged. ‘If we’re going to be stuck together, being friends could make things easier.’

‘Even if you weren’t criminal scum, friends don’t kill friends. Do they?’

‘We have different friends.’

She glanced at his oddly calm expression. ‘Why aren’t you angrier with me?’

He wore a vague frown. ‘Why should I be? You didn’t intend to kill me. I put myself in the way. It’s the life we choose. I might regret not having the oblivion I looked forward to, but even that regret is vague. Possibly just the knowledge that it’s what the real me would feel.’

He sounded oddly upbeat for someone so nihilistic. ‘If you thought like that, how did you avoid killing yourself years ago?’

‘A treasonous sliver of hope, whispering, against all reason and logic, that life could get better; that I could have a place in the world, find a connection to someone. That I could ever be happy. Even though I knew it was a lie.’

He was different in death. ‘You seem oddly contemplative.’ He said nothing. It hadn’t been a question. ‘Why is that?’

‘I don’t know. I’m the knowledge of who I was, not of how the Gun works. You’ll have to get it to shoot itself to learn that.’

The conversation was already creeping her out, and it could wait. She still had crimes to deal with.

‘What do you know about the events of the last few days that I don’t?’ A potentially wide question, and he could easily get evasive.

He didn’t, sharing everything with her.

Even as she listened, she kept re-enacting the events, wondering what she could have done differently. She might still be in shock, and the reality had yet to hit her. Regardless, she had stuff to do, to tie this up.

And sleep to catch up on.