Disclaimer: Just the usual gang. If you recognize them they’re not mine, and if you don’t then guess what they belong to me so :oP
Author’s Note: Sorry if you thought that I had added another chapter, I haven’t I wondered why people were complaining about the story having no breaks and so I tried to read my story and was horrified at what I had found. Those of you waiting for a new chapter have no fear it’s on its way. Well I would like to take this opportunity to thank those of you who have read and reviewed. You guys are the reason I even keep writing if I wasn’t getting any reviews then I wouldn’t bother with finishing this story. And if you don’t like the story the back button is up there ^^^^^
When we got to Zerbrowski’s car it was a non-descript Caprice kind of car. The front passenger seat was littered with take out bags and old newspapers. I silently watched as he picked them up and threw them in the back seat. Personally I was half afraid to get in. Not to mention that with my heightened sense of smell, the nicest thing I could say was, that it smelled like a dump truck. He finally cleared the seat and floorboard enough for me to get in and I did. Gingerly so as not to disturb anything that might be a bug. I have this almost overwhelming phobia of bugs. I don’t know why but I do. I didn’t expect to see bugs in this car but I have seen roaches in anything that seems to accumulate as much junk as Zerbrowski’s car had.
The ride to the station was a surprisingly quiet one. There were no further comments from Zerbrowski. I wanted to ask if the cat got his tongue, but not knowing how he was going to react to that kind of comment coming from me, I decided not to say anything. Instead I just looked out the window at the passing scenery and just sort of vegged out. It wasn’t until we were in front of a medium sized brick building and the car was pulling in front of it that I realized that we were at the station. Zerbrowski stopped the car and killed the engine and got out. I got out and waited for him to come around the car. When he reached me he motioned toward the building and put a hand in the small of my back. It was the kind of gesture that could be taken one of two ways. One he thought that I might loose my nerve and try to weasel out of this. Or two being that he was just being gentlemanly. Guess which one I was betting on.
We made our way up the short flight of stairs. Zerbrowski holding the door for me. After we came through the door he lead the way. We walked into a busy squad room. All conversations stopped as Zerbrowski and I entered some of the officers were even bold enough to put their hands on the butts of their guns. It made me think less of those people. It was rude but expected. I was guessing that at least half of the people in the squad room were at least a little sensitive to the energy I was giving off. I was trying not to give off a whole lot but I was just nervous. I had been, or maybe was still, one of them. I was still trying to get used to the amount of noise in a squad room with my newfound powers when I saw someone coming our way. One of the uniforms was either stupid or brazen neither option gave him a long life expectance in law enforcement. He asked Zerbrowski, “Is this the perp who attacked Blake’s place,” his tone clearly saying that I was guilty of anything they had brought me in for. It made me really not like the man.
Zerbrowski merely smiled and said to him, “Officer Mendoza I would for you to meet Detective Bastion from the California Corrections Department.”
The look on Mendoza’s face was priceless. I wished I’d had a camera for that one pure look of embarrassment and horror all rolled into one. I stuck my hand out, ready to call it even if he had the courage to shake my hand, sadly he didn’t. He looked at my hand as if it was some contagious disease that he could get if he touched me. To myself I muttered ‘wuss’. All that earned me was a glare from Mendoza.
Zerbrowski lead the way to one of the interrogation rooms. Before we actually got to the room I asked for a Pepsi and asked him if I could smoke in the room. He sent one of the uniforms to fetch the soda and an ashtray. He motioned me into the room. The room itself was like many others. One wall had the two-way mirror in it. The walls were that kind of industrial white that I swear must always be on sale, because every sort of institution seems to come in that color. There was a metal table in the middle of the room with two chairs stationed on either side of the table. I took the chair facing the mirror, as I knew this was where all the interviewees were placed. Zerbrowski was walking around the table when there was a knock on the door. I must have been lost in thought because I never even heard the door close. He told whomever it was to come in. They did, it was the uniform that had gone to get my drink and ashtray, he gave them to me and left without so much as making eye contact with me.
To say that I was uncomfortable was and understatement big time. There was just too much I was missing in my memories. How could I have failed to remember that I had just made detective. It was one of the highlights of my career thus far. I had busted my ass to get it too. I had taken extra classes at night to show the department that I was willing to do anything to stay on top of the latest laws, technology and procedures that I used in the field everyday. I took my job seriously and expected everyone else to do the same or not bother coming into work. That was how I was about everything, either do it right or go home.
I was so lost in thought that when Zerbrowski asked me if I was ready I jerked as if I’d been struck. I blushed I could feel it climbing up my neck and heating up my cheeks. I nodded a little sheepishly and mumbled and apology about spacing out. He nodded and smiled politely. Then like flipping a switch he began the interrogation. He brought out a wrinkled up pad of paper and a very used looking pen.
“What first alerted you to the presences of your attackers,” he spoke with a mix of cajoling and interest. It was the same voice I used on suspects. Well not just suspect but everyone in general when you’re beginning an investigation.
“Well I could feel and smell them coming,” my voice was hesitant. I was just a little uncomfortable with my new found abilities.
“Feel them? Smell them?” his tone disbelieving.
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Well why don’t you try to explaining it to me.”
“Well with lycanthropy your five senses are enhanced. Like vision, I can see in a pitch black room as well as you can see at midday. The sense of smell lets you detect things that a human might miss. Someone’s aftershave, deodorant, perfume, and even their own personal scent, that kind of thing. And when I said I could feel them, this is going to sound strange but stay with me on this,” I warned. He nodded. “What people give off most is their auras,” I shook my head and mumbled ‘that’s not right’ I was trying to tell him with words and it wasn’t working. I sighed and tried again. “What I mean is people send out vibes all the time they aren’t even aware that they’re doing it. Well with lycanthropy you can actually feel those vibes it’s like you now have empathic abilities even if you never had them before.” I looked at him he looked like he didn’t believe me. That didn’t surprise me. Actually if he had looked like he believed me I would have been suspicious. When I made eye contact with him he dropped his eyes first and began scribbling in his notebook.
“Was there anything about these people that you might be able to identify later,” he asked like he was becoming accustomed to the idea.
“No, there were too many of them and I’m still too new with these abilities for them to do me much good.”
“Then how did you know that they were there to harm you and not just door-to-door salesmen?”
I just gave him a condescending look. “Because I could smell the gun, the ammunition that they were using. And because door-to-door salesmen don’t do their selling at 11 o’clock at night.”
“Were they anyone that you personally recognized?”
“No, at least I don’t think that they were. Detective let me be honest. I don’t remember much about me or anything else for that matter. As the past few days have unfolded I remember bits and pieces but nothing that does me much good. To say that it’s disconcerting is an understatement. Let me ask you Detective how would you feel to wake up and suddenly have no memory of your life before you woke up?”
Zerbrowski looked uncomfortable with the question. Welcome to my life I thought sourly. He coughed nervously and changed the direction of the questioning. “Well what made you sure that the subjects were there for no good?”
“Because they threw something through the back bedroom window.”
“Was there anything else that happened to make you assume that they were there for nefarious reasons?”
When he used the word nefarious I just raised an eyebrow. To be honest I didn’t even think that Zerbrowski even knew a word that big let alone how to use it in a sentence. Just goes to show you what you think you know and what you actually know are two different things. “At first no. I went to check to see what had come through the window.”
“What did Anita do?”
“I told her to stay in the living room to make sure that the assailants didn’t try to come through that way.”
“Is that what she did?”
“I would have to assume so Detective since that was where I found her when I brought Caleb back to the living room.”
“Speaking of Caleb what is he to you?”
“A friend.”
“You two seemed to be very friendly.” He didn’t ask a question so I just smiled at him.
“Can you tell me what was in that back bedroom?”
“A box of some kind.”
“Do you know what was in that box?”
“Nope.”
“Didn’t you check it out?”
“Enough to know that I didn’t want to touch it.”
“Why?”
“Why what Detective?”
“Why didn’t you want to touch the box?”
“I didn’t want to contaminate evidence. And on top of that I was thinking it might have some kind of spell of harm on it. Or it could have even been a pressure sensitive device designed such that once placed that the smallest movement could cause the thing to go off. Detective I’ve seen some of those nifty little gadgets tear limbs off and even cause death. I may be a little off my game but I don’t want to be dead.”
“Now you say that you didn’t want to contaminate evidence. How can we be sure that you didn’t plant the device in that room?”
“Because Detective, Anita is the only person in this city that has even tried to help me out. She offered me a place to stay until I could get back on my feet and stable. Now I ask you why would I bite the hand that feeds?”
Zerbrowski ignored my question. “You say that she offered you a place to stay. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. I’m just grateful that she did.”
“So after you came back to the living room what happened next?”
“We waited.”
“What were you waiting for?”
“To see if throwing that box through the bedroom window was all they were going to do.”
“Was it?”
“No. I had just enough time to think that the situation didn’t feel right when the patio’s glass door was shot open and someone was coming through.”
“What did you do then?”
“I took cover behind the couch. Then I took three shots over the top of the couch and ducked back behind it.”
“What was Anita doing?”
“She was covering the front door.”
“And then what happened?”
“I looked over the couch and saw something moving around and it looked like it was going to try coming through the door I took aim and fired three more shots.”
“Now you say that the situation didn’t feel right what did you mean by that?”
“Just what I said. It was like the assailants were waiting for something and when they didn’t get the kind of reaction that they wanted they decided to come in.”
“Now when you fired the second round of shots did the assailants actually fire first or did you?”
“Detective, I had already established that they were there to cause harm or maybe even death. I wasn’t going to sit and take a round to chest or any other part of my body before I neutralized the threat that the perps represented.”
“So you shot first is that what your telling me?”
I was quickly running out of patience and I felt like I was being treated like a suspect instead of the victim. I sighed and
told myself not to take it personally. Zerbrowski wasn’t doing this on purpose he needed to make sure that I was indeed the victim. I prayed to God for patience and understanding, but asked Him urgently, if He could hurry.
I sighed and opened my purse pulling out my cigarettes and matches. I took a cigarette out and struck the match and quickly extinguished the match. I took a drag and just studied Zerbrowski for a moment. Finally I said, “Yes, on the second round of shots I fired first.”
“Can I ask you where you got your gun?”
“Sure, I’ll let you.” The look he gave me was not friendly. I relented I opened my purse again and slowly reached in and took out my wallet and gave the permits and receipt to Zerbrowski. He looked over the paperwork and handed them back to me.
“Well everything seems to be in order there.”
“Was there any doubt that I would have obtained them legally?”
“To be honest Bastion we had to make sure that you were on the up and up.”
“Have I done something that would provoke this kind of suspicion?”
“Well you were transferred out here about three and a half weeks ago and when you failed to show up and with some of the recent events we figured that you might have been involved somehow.”
“Why would you think that I was involved? This job is the only thing aside from my family that means anything to me.”
“It customary procedure to report any lycanthrope attacks to the police. But somehow the attack on you wasn’t qualified as a lycanthrope attack until about a week ago. We don’t know why all we know is that until a week ago we worked under the assumption that you were the mastermind behind some of the recent activities in this area.”
I sat there stunned. I mean how could I not I had given blood, sweat and tears to this job. I had no life outside of my work and my family. I had been the villain and I was willing to bet that in some minds I still was. But I had been in a coma for the last three weeks if what the hospital told me was true. Could this get any worse? Please nobody answer that.
Zerbrowski questioned me for about another thirty minutes or there-abouts. There were four cigarette butts in the ashtray in front of me and a new Pepsi. Now all we were waiting for was Dolph. He had called a few minutes ago to say that everything at the crime scene had been wrapped up and he was on his way in. I was tired, and when I get tired, I get irritable. I kept glancing at my watch even though I knew that it wouldn’t make Dolph appear any faster. I had just lit up another cigarette when he walked in the squad room. About damn time, I thought angrily, like I said I get irritable when I’m tired.
Dolph walked around the room speaking with different people and finally he was headed our way. No I couldn’t see him but I could hear him when he spoke to the different officers. I could tell that he was headed our way because his scent became stronger and so did the anger. He was broadcasting his anger loud and clear and I wasn’t sure that he and I should be left alone together in a room. I wasn’t afraid for myself I was afraid for him. If he decided to take his anger out on me there was no way I was going to be able to just let it slide. I’m hotheaded and my temper usually gets the better of me every time. I was nervous and edgy as he opened the door.
Dolph had his cop face on and motioned Zerbrowski over to him. Then the two left the room and were quietly conversing just a couple of feet from the door I was tempted to tell them that I could still hear them but I didn’t. If they were going to share information then they would if not then I was not above eavesdropping on a conversation. If they told me the information fine but if they didn’t they I would still have it. They couldn’t claim that they had an expectation of privacy. They were in the middle of a squad room. If they had gone to the bathroom and had the conversation, maybe they could claim that they had and expectation of privacy, as it stood now they didn’t.
Dolph was asking Zerbrowski if he thought I was trust worthy. Zerbrowski said that I was. Dolph seemed to mull that over and asked if my gun permits were in order and was told that they were. He also asked Zerbrowski how much he had told me about the investigation into my attack. He told Dolph that he had been vague about why it had taken so long to be reported to the police. And he told Dolph that he had let it slip that they had considered me a suspect in some of the recent activity in the area. Dolph sighed. They were reentering the interview room. Both had their cop faces on. They looked at me for a minute then Dolph took the chair that Zerbrowski had recently vacated.
I was curious, and not the least bit interested in hiding that fact. Dolph was clearly uncomfortable under my scrutiny because his eyes were moving constantly. He was also nervous being in the same room with me his anger was quickly replaced by fear and I was having a hard time controlling my beast, which was now starting to stretch and make me feel just a little confined in my own skin. I stood abruptly and Dolph and Zerbrowski were both tense and staring at me intently. In a voice that scarcely resembled my own I told them to take my weapons. The fear level in the room escalated ten-fold.
Zerbrowski slowly walked toward me and Dolph was covering him his weapon already naked in his hand. I wanted to be angry but I knew that if shit went down I had tried not to hurt anyone. Zerbrowski told me to walk to the back wall and place my hands on it and spread my legs. I did, taking great care to make sure I was slightly off balance. Zerbrowski then took out his handcuffs and slapped one on my wrist, there was a mild burning sensation, and he was using silver handcuff and probably didn’t even know it. He quickly cuffed the other wrist and did the pat down. He even checked my hair, which made me raise my opinion of him. He had both guns and a pocketknife that I had bought as a last minute thought at Hank’s store. He handed the weapons to Dolph and he took them out to the squad room. Dolph came back in and asked me why I would have asked them to take the guns. I informed him that I was hotheaded and tended to let my temper get the better of me. And on top of that the fear that both him and Zerbrowski were giving off was making it hard to concentrate. They both looked shocked.
“What do you mean the fear we’re giving off,” Dolph’s voice boomed in the small room.
I sighed, and sat down in the chair I had been using, he was head of the department didn’t he know what lycanthropes were capable of. Maybe he did but wanted to hear it from me. “Well, like I told Zerbrowski, people give off vibes all the time. And being lycanthrope tends to heighten your ability to tune into those vibes. So when I sensed that you and Zerbrowski were both afraid of me it makes it hard to control my own impulses. It’s like being three years old again. I want what I want when I want it. Do you understand?”
Dolph shook his head. “Why is it so hard to control yourself?” He clearly wanted to understand but was having trouble associating it with something within his experience.
I took a breath and blew it out. I wanted to word this right and was fairly sure that I wouldn’t. But I tried. “It’s about like having two different people sharing one body. The primitive side, most lycanthropes call it their beast, is like a child. Then you have the person that was infected. That person doesn’t really change they still have the same thoughts and desires and dreams as before. But until they can get their beasts under control it might look a lot like bipolar syndrome, commonly known as manic-depressive disorder. For a while they seem to think that they have their beasts under control and then something as little as a paper cut by a co-worker may set off their beasts which will cause them to be almost violent. Did I explain that good enough for you?”
Dolph didn’t say anything for a moment. He appeared to be mulling over the information that I had given him. Of course if he knew where I got all this information from he might take this information as seriously. Then he nodded. “Okay, now I need to ask you do you think your fit for duty?”
I thought about it seriously. I still wanted to work especially when I had worked so hard to get where I was. But at the same time I didn’t want to endanger the people I worked with or myself. “I think that if I worked with Ms. Blake when I’m in the field then I think I would be fit for duty. If I have to work without her then I think that I would be unfit for work until about this time next year at the very least.”
“Why so long?” This was from Zerbrowski.
“Because like I said the newly infected have to learn to control that new part of themselves. It like a dance, it’s hard to choreograph, and some people take longer than others to learn it. But the fact that I’m such a control freak might actually help me gain control before some other newbies.”
“Why would that be such a help?” Zerbrowski and Dolph asked simultaneously.
“I would have the help of others who have already gone through it. They could tell me what works and what doesn’t. But you have to remember that we, lycanthropes, are still individuals and what works for one might not always work for another. I will also have a fairly big pool of experience to draw upon.”
“So when do you think that you could start work?” Dolph asked his expression neutral.
“What kind of work? If your talking about office work, the paper trails, then I could conceivably start tomorrow. If your talking about going into the field, and I’m assuming that you want me to go without Ms. Blake, I wouldn’t be able to start until a year from now.”
“What if I could get Ms. Blake assigned as your partner would you be able to start tomorrow?” Dolph seemed to have taken over the questioning.
“In theory I should be able to. However you have to take into account that Ms. Blake has a job at Animators Inc. Not only that but she would have to agree to something like that.”
“Don’t worry about Anita. So you’re saying that you can start tomorrow?”
“That is what I said, but why do I get the feeling that I’m missing something?”
“We have had a recent series of brutal assaults that have all ended up with the victims dying.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, I was trying to understand where Dolph was going with this. Regardless I went into cop mode without even a second’s hesitation. “So aside from the fact that all the victims died, and are we even sure that they did die? And do we even know if these cases are related?”
“I want to give you the case files tonight and have you look them over and see if you think that they are related.”
Well that was nice and vague. He didn’t say that these crimes were related but he also didn’t say that they weren’t related. It was another case of the boss not wanting to influence a possible new perspective. I was flattered here was Dolph the head of the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team asking me for an opinion. I was also a little leery about why he was asking me. I mean other than the fact that I was suppose to be assigned to this particular unit. I would have dealt with the juveniles but I would have still been part of the R.P.I.T. I didn’t let my doubt show at least I hoped that I didn’t. And then a thought occurred to me.
“Why have these crimes been assigned to you guys? I mean if they were simply assaults that ended with the victims dying then why aren’t they on some homicide detective’s desk?”
Dolph smiled like a proud parent. I frowned what had I done to deserve that? I mean I just asked, what I thought was, a fairly obvious question. “Well there was some writing around the bodies as if it was some kind of ritual. So it was sent over to us to see if it was a ritual or just a ruse to throw us off the trail of the real perps.”
“Perps? How do you know that it was more than one?”
“Because most, if not all, of the victims were from the preternatural community.”
“What do you mean most? Don’t you have the coroner’s report on all the victims?”
“We have the reports of all but this last one.”
“So how many victims are we talking about?”
“Four.”
“Time between attacks?”
“Varies from about a week to a few days.”
“Is the some kind of precursor that seems to set these event apart? Like is there like a build up of assaults before the actual beatings that lead to death? Anything that might seem otherwise irrelevant?”
“Actually that what were hoping that you could tell us.”
“Okay, now I don’t mean to seem rude. Why me? I mean I can’t even remember most of my training although whenever I need it, it seems to come rushing to the surface without my calling for it.”
“Okay let me start from the beginning.” Dolph paused here like he was searching for the right words. “Well from what we can gather you have been an LA county juvenile probation officer for the last three years. You were at the top of your class and received the highest grades in about ten years. Your career is outstanding you have only missed three weeks due to sickness in the three years of employment. You’re single, you just broke up with a boyfriend that you had been with for the last year.” He paused to see how I was taking it. I sat there stunned. It was coming back slowly as he spoke. What he was telling me so far felt right.
“Your sister was a nurse at Loma Linda University Hospital, as a medical assistant. She had been married for three years when her and her husband were attacked by some unknown lycanthrope. Your sister was outted at work as a lycanthrope and she had been fired. She was offered a job at St. Luke’s hospital in the isolation ward. They had just moved to St. Louis, which is why you had asked for the transfer. You wanted to be closer to your sister.” Dolph stopped and took a breath.
“Your parents still live in California. They were very worried about you. You were supposed to call as soon as you got settled. And when after three days and you still hadn’t called they called the police here to find out if you had reported for duty yet. When your parents found out that you hadn’t showed up for work they knew that something was wrong. When they told the officer that it wasn’t like you to not call and not to show up for work, they were told that because you were an adult that you might have just decided that you didn’t want to keep in contact with them. And as for not showing up for work it could be that you had a change of heart and decided to try something else and the resignation papers were sitting on some higher-up’s desk waiting for his or her signature.”
Some of the things he told rang true and I was suddenly breathless. When he had so causally mentioned my break up with Diego my heart clenched because I had just relived the pain that I had gone through when Diego had told me that it wasn’t working. I vaguely remembered that my sister had recently moved to St. Louis, I couldn’t remember her ever being attacked by a lycanthrope. Yes she had been attacked but it had been by a puma on her honeymoon in Brazil. I remembered being outraged that they would fire her because she had to have so much time off because of her attack. When Dayla and I had looked into it we found out that they had worded her dismissal wrong. Dayla and her husband had sued the hospital and settled for an undisclosed amount. I knew that they could never work another day in their lives and still live comfortably. But that wasn’t like them. They both just had too much energy that needed to be expended so they both had found jobs out in St. Louis. And I had missed Dayla terribly so much so that it was hard to work.
After about two weeks of seeing my job performance dip I had asked the captain for a transfer to St. Louis. I remembered him telling me that he would try but not to get my hopes up. Two days later the captain had come to me and told me that my transfer had been approved and I had about week to pack my stuff up and get moved. It wasn’t much time but I had managed to get a small apartment and I was having movers come out to the house the day I left for St. Louis. I was going to stay with Dayla and Jared. At least until my stuff arrived in St. Louis which it was scheduled to do the day after I arrived.
I wondered what had happened. Dayla or Jared was supposed to meet me at the airport. I couldn’t remember ever being met. At the hospital I had only been carrying a gym bag, which I had been using as a carry on, and my purse. I know that I had also brought a suitcase just in case the movers had been delayed for any reason. So now the question was where was my suitcase? No time like the present to ask I thought.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted a conversation between Dolph and Zerbrowski and they turned to look at me, identical expressions of interest on their faces. “But have you recovered my suitcase?” The expressions of interest turned to confusion within moments. I sighed I guess that I was going to have to call the airport tomorrow and see if it had been turned into the lost and found.
And then as if struck by lighting Dolph said, “Yes as a matter of fact we did it’s in the evidence locker room.”
My joy at hearing that I would be able to get my suitcase back was instantly extinguished by the fact that I may never get it back if it was evidence. “Is it evidence?”
“No but when we began investigating your attack we could track you right up until you got off the plane. After that it was like you disappeared. Your brother-in-law never saw you and called the police and he was told the same thing as your parents. Which I can tell you he didn’t take very well.”
“I bet,” I said laughingly. “He’s not exactly a patient person and his temper is even worse than mine.”
“So we have noticed,” Zerbrowski said wryly.
“Well can I have my suitcase back then?”
“Sure. We only put it in the evidence room because we knew that it would be less likely to have items missing from it.”
I yawned. Man was I tired. I was hoping we were almost done here cuz I wanted a shower and a good night’s sleep. I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to call an end to this but they way Dolph and Zerbrowski were talking to each other I was betting that they could go for another few hours and not have it bother them. I looked at wall clock pointedly. It was now 4 in the morning I sighed. They seemed to notice that and Dolph sighed. “Storr, please forgive me, but are we about done here? I’m tired and want a shower before I go to bed.”
Dolph told Zerbrowski to go get the files for the last four victims. Then he turned and looked at me and said tiredly, “We are going to need you in here at about 10 o’clock tomorrow morning.” I nodded and yawned again just as Zerbrowski walked into the room with files in hand. He handed them to me and asked if I was ready to go. I nodded and asked if he was ready to take the handcuffs off.
He seemed surprised they may have forgotten that the handcuffs were on but I hadn’t. My wrists felt raw and just this side of bleeding. I stood up and turned around and heard him suck in air. Apparently it was as bad as I thought. He quickly removed them and I brought my arms around in front of me and looked at my wrists. They were raw and bleeding in places. They hurt like hell but I’d survive. They both asked me if I wanted medical attention. I politely declined I told them that I would heal it. But they could get my suitcase and I wanted my guns and knife back.
I wanted desperately to lick my wounds and I don’t mean that in a figurative sense either. That primitive part of my brain that my beast had taken over was telling me that I could make it feel better if I could just lick my wrists. However knowing how Dolph and Zerbrowski were going to react to that action was about the only thing that stopped me. I held my wrist gingerly to my chest and asked them if they could possibly hurry up any.
Finally they realized that I wasn’t going to accept medical attention so Dolph sent a uniform to retrieve the suitcase. Dolph, himself went to get my weapons. He returned them and watched carefully when I holstered both guns with equal ease considering how injured my wrists were and I slipped the knife in my pocket.
When the suitcase was brought to me Zerbrowski lead the way to the car. The ride back to Anita’s was as quiet as the one to the station. I wondered what Zerbrowski was thinking but he seemed to have closed himself off from me. Zerbrowski dropped me off in front of Anita’s house and without so much as a good-bye drove off. “Good night Zerbrowski,” I said to the retreating car. I turned toward the house and started walking. My purse was heavy with the case files in it and my wrists were on fire and they hurt worse now than when I had been at the station. I was hoping everyone was in bed. I should have known I would never be that lucky. There on the couch was Anita and Micah. I sighed I guess I wasn’t going to get that good night’s sleep after all.