Insanity laughs under pressure we're breaking
‒ Queen, David Bowie
‒ Queen, David Bowie
4.28 Under Pressure
Chris
After dropping Celeste off at school I drove to work. What she'd said kept me thinking.
Why don't you get rid of it?
How easy for her to ask questions like this. Questions I had no simple answer to. Questions that made me introspect and open the forbidden door to the past. I didn't want to go through the door again. I fought it every time, but now as always I was being pulled toward it.
I wondered how much more I could take. Whenever I thought things were improving, something came up. Something like the call from the foreman last night that caused me another restless night and a splitting headache. Or my aunt's Marissa call, when she reproached me for forgetting about Celeste's birthday. Funnily enough, the birthday was the least of my problems, but it didn't make apologizing to Celeste any less awkward.
I believed my sister hated me and not only because of the forgotten birthday. There were moments when she looked like she was on the brink of exploding and yelling at me, and then she didn't. I wished she did. I wished she had yelled at me for letting our mom be killed. She must have been secretly wishing mom was here for her instead of me. That makes two of us, little sister.
The question was like a constant knocking on the door and demanded to be answered. Why don't you get rid of it?
Why did I keep the car indeed? A gift from my father. A reminder of times when I still looked up to him, the man who made his own rules and lived an exciting life. That's what I used to think. There was nothing enviable, nothing glorious about his way of living. I knew it now. But my mother loved him despite that and he loved her. It's the only thing me and my dad ever had in common. That and the damn face.
After dropping Celeste off at school I drove to work. What she'd said kept me thinking.
Why don't you get rid of it?
How easy for her to ask questions like this. Questions I had no simple answer to. Questions that made me introspect and open the forbidden door to the past. I didn't want to go through the door again. I fought it every time, but now as always I was being pulled toward it.
I wondered how much more I could take. Whenever I thought things were improving, something came up. Something like the call from the foreman last night that caused me another restless night and a splitting headache. Or my aunt's Marissa call, when she reproached me for forgetting about Celeste's birthday. Funnily enough, the birthday was the least of my problems, but it didn't make apologizing to Celeste any less awkward.
I believed my sister hated me and not only because of the forgotten birthday. There were moments when she looked like she was on the brink of exploding and yelling at me, and then she didn't. I wished she did. I wished she had yelled at me for letting our mom be killed. She must have been secretly wishing mom was here for her instead of me. That makes two of us, little sister.
The question was like a constant knocking on the door and demanded to be answered. Why don't you get rid of it?
Why did I keep the car indeed? A gift from my father. A reminder of times when I still looked up to him, the man who made his own rules and lived an exciting life. That's what I used to think. There was nothing enviable, nothing glorious about his way of living. I knew it now. But my mother loved him despite that and he loved her. It's the only thing me and my dad ever had in common. That and the damn face.
I glanced in the rear-view mirror and grimaced. How I wished I had inherited the characteristic Heffner features instead. I hated this face that will always beyond any doubt prove I'm his son, despite how much I had been trying to forget the fact. So why did I keep his car?
For such silly reason. The night I met my dad for the first time, I didn't want to go to bed. I was looking out the window waiting for mom and the rest of my family to come back from a charity event. Grandma and uncles had arrived, but mom hadn't yet. Some time later she and dad zoomed down the street in this very car. I remember how beautiful and happy she looked next to him. I hadn't seen her that happy ever since. They kissed. I was grossed out by the sight at the time, mom and some stranger kissing, ugh. I had no idea how precious the memory would become to me many years later. It was one of the most vivid memories of her I had. The rest of them was slowly fading, and with them, I was losing her all over again.
I know I should finally let her go from my thoughts and move on with my life. It would've been easier if the police caught the killer. To see him sentenced and sent to jail would've given me closure. But the murderer was still out there somewhere, escaping justice. Even though I was now trained and better equipped to face him, I might never get the chance. The knowledge was like a festering wound inside me. I had become a policeman. What else did one have to do to get justice for their loved ones?
And how many people like me had been out there waiting for their closure when my father stood trial? How did they feel now that he was out and at large again?
I pulled up at the police station. I knew Terry would already be in the office. The man had no social life. Too bad I couldn't set him up with Kellie. Maybe if I had, he might have made her forget my dad.
I hoped there would be a lot of work to do today to keep my mind off of things. I should go change first, but I decided to check if there were any new hot cases today first.
After I jogged up the stairs and entered our main office on the second floor, I spotted Emily exiting chief's office, looking deeply distressed. She was clutching her wrist which immediately made me wonder whether the chief had hurt her. Had she gotten into a fight with him? Had he grabbed her by the wrist violently, leaving it sore and bruised? I clenched my teeth at the thought.
Calm down, Chris. You don't know. Besides, the chief seemed to be more of a psychological abuser. At least from what his behavior at the dinner suggested.
But the dress she wore hid any possible marks of physical abuse.
Remember the first rule of good detective work; don't jump to conclusions without proof.
"Emily," I spoke her name softly, when she came closer. "Are you alright?"
Pulled from her thoughts by my voice she looked up, startled. As soon as she fixed those smoky blue orbs on me, heat started rising up my neck to my ears.
"Mr.Heffner. Chris. Good morning. I am fine, thank you." She regained her composure, while I lost mine before she even finished her sentence.
"You sure? You looked upset a moment ago." I nodded my head toward her arm. "Your wrist..."
"...is fine," she said, quickly hiding her arm behind her back.
"Right. So... uhm... you came to see your husband?" I asked the obvious.
"Yes, he needed some documents from his home office. I brough him a lunch for later too," she smiled. The smile made me forget all my troubles better than a work overload could.
"Documents and lunch. Of course. Uh..." I was frantically searching for something else to say. Something witty. But my brain failed me. She watched me patiently, clearly amused by my incapability to form a meaningful sentence.
What was it about her that caused me to babble like an idiot? I rarely found myself so tongue-tied. Was it because she could read my moods so well and always had something encouraging to say? That she already had a husband and wasn't scheming to make one out of me? Or was it just my pubertal hormones kicking in with ten years delay? I was attracted to her more than any other woman. I never felt compelled to put on a facade when I spoke with her, which I couldn't always say about Raven. Sadly.
"Are you going to the ball, Chris?" she asked.
"Huh? What ball?"
"The annual police ball. It's in three months from now. I'm on the organizing committee. You should book your tickets in time."
"Oh. The Christmas shindig. I'm not much into dancing and partying these days. I think I'll pass." Police ball was the last thing on my mind right now. My eyes slid to her lips and my mouth went dry.
"It would be good for you, you need some joy in your life, Chris. Considering the stuff that is going on with your family, I mean."
Oh. Kellie and dad again.
I looked up and into her eyes again. Not having to introduce myself when I went places in this town had its advantages, but it also had many downsides. Such as not being able to avoid certain topics in conversations or keep family matters a secret. Everyone in this town probably even knew what Celeste and I had for breakfast today. There was no escape from being Chris Heffner, son of the infamous killer, brother of the accessory to arson, and the Newcrest heir. Currently in this order precisely.
Did I want to attend a social event and have half of the town gossiping and shooting me sidelong glances? Hell, no. But if Emily thought I should go, I was willing to consider it for the chance to see her and speak with her again.
"Would you like me to go, Emily?"
"I... Uh.. I'm only pointing out that a little distraction could do you good, Chris. Many young people attend every year, not just from Newcrest, but from Willow Creek and Oasis Springs too. Being the district town, Newcrest hosts the ball for all precincts. You could meet many new interesting people."
"Even more interesting than you? Unlikely." I said in a low voice.
She looked around quickly as if to make sure nobody could hear us. "I don't know about that."
Did her cheeks turn a shade pinker? Did the corners of her mouth twitch? Could it be that Mrs. Emily Johnson, the model wife of the police chief who brought her husband a lunch to work, the perfect but undervalued woman, wasn't opposed to flirting? And with her husband's subordinate at that? The perfect woman was intimidating and unattainable. But blushing girls were a territory I was familiar with. Emily couldn't be much older than me, after all.
I relaxed a little. Just the thought of her possibly enjoying the game of flirting, maybe even liking me a little, gave me a thrill. Now I needed to know for sure.
"Say you want me to go, Emily. Say you'll save a dance for me."
"I... I can't decide for you. I merely suggested..."
There. Blushing. Lowering her gaze. Brief fluttering of her eyelashes. No scowling. Last time I had spoken with her, I didn't notice any of these. What changed? Had she been thinking of me just as I had been thinking of her?
"Sure you can. Will it make you happy, to see me at the ball, Emily? Then say yes. I didn't plan to attend and show my face there. But if I knew I had a friend that would be happy to see me there, I'd come."
At the mention of my face her eyes softened. I couldn't help but smile when her eyes rested on my lips for a brief moment. I wondered if the thought of us kissing crossed her mind. It did mine many times. "Or would you prefer if I stayed at home, sitting in the darkness of my room all by myself, brooding terribly?" I teased.
"Of course not," she said.
I stepped closer to her. My face was inches from hers. If I leaned in, I would be able to put my lips on hers. She blinked rapidly, startled by our sudden closeness, but I could tell she was enjoying it at the same time. Her eyes betrayed her. They mirrored the same thrill I felt. I had seen it too many times not to recognize it. How could she not feel it? With the old fart chief for a husband? She was young and too beautiful not to be flirted with anymore. "Say you want to see me at the ball, Emily," I whispered.
We stared into each other's eyes. Then she broke the spell and slipped past me. She was running away from me like a spooked little animal. But as she was passing me by, I caught a glimpse of her smile. "Yes, I do," she said barely audible. "Good day to you, Chris."
I watched her leave, my heart filled with a sweet glow of satisfaction and victory. She did like me.
But she's married, said a tiny voice in my head. Yes, I know! She's married, dammit! To a man, who makes her dress like an old woman. I wanted nothing more than barge into chief's office and teach him a lesson. Punch his face for every mistreated woman in the world.
I wanted to show him how much I despised men who abused women. Men who crushed their wives' spirit.
Johnson didn't deserve my respect. He didn't deserve to sit in the office and should be kicked out of it. I would do it myself, if I could. With great pleasure.
And then, should she find me deserving, Emily might reward me.
I nearly jumped when a hand fell heavily on my shoulder
"Usually," said Terry in a hushed voice near my ear, "I mind my own business and don't meddle with other people's affairs. But I can't sit by and watch a friend shooting himself in the foot. If you are thinking about what I think you are, you must be out of your damn mind. She's the chief's wife for Watcher's sake," he hissed.
"You're reading too much into it, Terry," I lied. I knew I had a problem. My feelings toward Emily were growing stronger each time I saw her. But since I couldn't act on them anyway, there was no reason for Terry to freak out. What harm was there in a little flirting and maybe one or two dances at the police ball?
"Am I? At least two more people, other than me, saw the way you were looking at Mrs. Johnson when the two of you spoke. I've been a man and a cop longer than you, and don't forget I’ve known you for years, so don't try to tell me I misread you. You were flirting with her. Do you really need to add more trouble to your list? This one screams huge trouble. Besides, don't you have a girlfriend??"
"I'm not a complete idiot, Terry." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "She needs help. I believe she's being abused."
Terry's tone told me he wasn't buying it. "By the chief? She told you, when you were trying to nuzzle at her face right in front of her husband's office?"
Why the heck was Terry making such a big deal out of little flirting, while there was a more serious problem I tried to point out? I turned to face him. "Not in those exact words and not today. But when I was at their house for dinner, the chief was being a real ass to her. You should have seen it. She's scared of him."
"Did she ask for your help?"
"No," I admitted reluctantly. On the contrary. She practically begged me not to meddle.
"She's a cop's wife and a daughter of a cop. If what you say is true, she knows what she needs to do. Until she does, our hands are tied. Not that I really believe that our chief would hurt his wife. Married couples have problems, you know."
"This is more than some petty quarrels between husband and wife. I'm speaking about him humiliating her in front of me, telling her what she ought to wear, criticizing everything she does and says. I trust my guts. Why can't you trust me and my judgement?"
"Alright, Chris, let's pretend I believe it's your gut not your dick telling you Mrs. Johnson needs your help. What exactly would you want to do? Go in and cuff the chief? This is a serious accusation and our boss we are talking about. I'm afraid your gut feeling isn't enough. I shouldn't need to keep reminding you, but until Mrs. Johnson presses charges against him, we have nothing. And from what you've told me, I gather she has no intention to do so. You better chill out and think this through, before you get yourself knee deep in shit. No woman is worth losing your good sense and your job."
Terry was right, of course. He didn't have to remind me of how things work, though. I knew perfectly. If I didn't, I would have taken action long time ago.
"Stay away from the woman, Chris. I mean it. There are people here who aren't big fans of yours. What do you think it will do to your reputation, if you start chasing Johnson's wife? They will say nothing is sacred to you and I will bet you anything, that the tabloids will get wind of it too. You don't need another scandal after recent events. Frankly, Chris, if you don't heed my advice on this matter, I'll be terribly disappointed in you myself."
I had hoped I could count on Terry's help, had I decided to stand up for Emily and go against Johnson in the future. But this conversation proved me wrong. No, I was on my own.
Terry studied me for a moment before he sighed. "Why do I have a feeling you're not going to take what I said to heart?"
"Stay away from the woman, Chris. I mean it. There are people here who aren't big fans of yours. What do you think it will do to your reputation, if you start chasing Johnson's wife? They will say nothing is sacred to you and I will bet you anything, that the tabloids will get wind of it too. You don't need another scandal after recent events. Frankly, Chris, if you don't heed my advice on this matter, I'll be terribly disappointed in you myself."
I had hoped I could count on Terry's help, had I decided to stand up for Emily and go against Johnson in the future. But this conversation proved me wrong. No, I was on my own.
Terry studied me for a moment before he sighed. "Why do I have a feeling you're not going to take what I said to heart?"
Despite our argument going on mostly in hushed voices, we earned several curious looks and raised eyebrows. Terry noticed it too. "Maybe we should continue our discussion elsewhere," he said. "At lunch maybe? We still have our monthly eval to pass."
Monthly eval? Shit!
Terry tilted his head. "Don't tell me you forgot."
I rolled my shoulders. "Of course not. I'm ready as ever."
* * * * * *
We were met with Alvarez and Parker, when we entered the shooting range.
"Hey, Heffner," Alvarez said. "I was just telling Lionel how I'm going to beat you score this time."
"You may have the confidence, Anita, but it's the mad skill you need to beat me," I countered.
"Like two kids in a sandpit," Terry grumbled.
"I hear you're out of shape, Chris. Do I spot bags under your eyes?" Alvarez clicked her tongue. "This is going to be a piece of cake."
"Don't let her get to you, Chris," Terry warned.
It had taken a few beers and some convincing for Terry to open up about himself and Alvarez. I had learned how she trashed the poor man's heart. In many ways she was very much like Raven. Her career was everything to her and when the right offer had come, she tossed Terry overboard without batting an eyelash.
"Wanna make a bet?" she asked with a toothy grin.
Terry obviously didn't like where it was going. "Chris..."
"What's the matter, Terry?" Alvarez taunted, "are you afraid I might prove that this golden boy isn't such a sharpshooter as everyone believes?"
I knew Terry didn't like rivalry. He was all about teamwork. I could imagine it had been Alvarez who wore pants in their relationship. Terry was a doting kind of guy. He had probably been pampering Alvarez a lot. She was ambitious and fierce, the kind of woman who needs a thrill in her life and gets easily bored. Terry got where he was with hard work and diligence. Alvarez got there by being pushy. I could see her leaving Terry far behind on the career ladder, because she wanted promotion more than he did. I wondered if he had ever thought of the possibility that she might boss him one day. I should mention it in front of him. It might give him the necessary incentive to aim higher. I didn't want Alvarez to boss me any more than he did. I also strongly believed Terry would make a better chief than Alvarez.
But right now I had a challenge to accept. If not for the pure fun of competing, then to teach Anita a lesson. For my partner.
"What are we playing for?"
"Loser pays all drinks on Friday night. You and Mr. Cautious against me and Lionel."
A muscle twitched on Terry's jaw at the nickname and he was scowling even more now. "I hope you know what you're doing, Chris," he grumbled.
"Come on, Mitchell," Lionel chimed in. "A little competition is good. You aren't feeling too old for it, are you?"
Terry just shot him a glare and headed off toward one of the shooting booths.
I shrugged, "I guess we're both in."
Alvarez flashed a shark smile at me. "Excellent!"
I took the booth next to Terry and removed my jacket. Terry was already firing his pistol with a determined expression on his face. Can't allow Anita to win, can you, Terry? The thought amused me.
I checked my Beretta one last time. The indicator showed the round was in the chamber. I stretched my neck and took aim.
It was then when noticed the smudge on the glasses. It was making my target slightly blurry. I took it off, cleaned it with the bottom of my shirt and put it back on. It didn't help. The smudge was still there. Can't the staff keep the gear clean?
I headed to the range officer to ask him for a new pair. I brought it back to my booth and put it on. The target was still blurry. I took the glasses off again to inspect it. I looked down at my hands. They were blurry like they were going through some kind of phase shift. It wasn't the glasses at all.
What the heck? I rubbed my eyes and blinked several times. It didn't pass. Was I losing my sight?
Don't panic. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. When I opened my eyes again, my vision was still blurry, but is was slowly clearing. I breathed a sigh of relief. I should take a few days off. This must have been a result of my tiredness and sleep deprivation.
Terry caught my attention from the adjacent booth. He nodded his head at me, eyebrows raised questioningly. What's wrong?
Nothing, I shook my head at him and grabbed my gun to finally get this competition over with. Unfortunately, after the scary episode my aim wasn't as steady as I would have liked. This wouldn't be my best score. The whole bet lost its appeal.
* * * * *
"Damn, Anita was right," said Terry still frowning at the score board after Alvarez and Parker had left the range with victorious grins on their faces and a promise of free drinks in their future. "You are out of your game, Chris. Way out of it, actually."
I was frowning too. My score had never been this bad.
"Want to tell me what is going on with you?" Terry asked in his typical concerned father-like manner. The man was in serious need of kids of his own. It would make him go home right after his shift every day.
I considered telling him about last night's call and Celeste's forgotten birthday, but decided against it. After I had gotten a scolding from him for flirting with Emily, I didn't feel like opening up to him. "I'm fine," I said.
"You didn't look fine back there."
I made a point of not responding and he didn't push me.
I considered telling him about last night's call and Celeste's forgotten birthday, but decided against it. After I had gotten a scolding from him for flirting with Emily, I didn't feel like opening up to him. "I'm fine," I said.
"You didn't look fine back there."
I made a point of not responding and he didn't push me.
Shooting was only a part of the evaluation. The most important part still awaited us. Test of our physical fitness, teamwork and most of all test of our decision making in situations with different levels of stress. Series of randomly generated scenarios that we had to solve in a time limit.
To ensure that Newcrest had the best prepared Police force, the town invested a high amount of simoleons into a top notch adaptive training software: ADVISOR. It combined years of psychological studies, experience of hundreds of experts from the ranks of military, police, fire department, paramedics and many more. It was considered a miracle of programming. And it was secretly hated and dreaded by all of us, because the damned thing worked with our psychological profiles and knew exactly what to send against us. It could make our worst nightmares come true, times two.
It is no surprise that all of us had a tendency to create our own acronyms for the program. ANGST and PROBE (Persist or Break) were the latest ones I heard.
Terry and I were on our way to get PROBEd.
We had to change into special datasuits that would monitor out bodily functions. But it wasn't the only thing the suits could do. If we suffered an injury during the simulation, the ADVISOR would trigger corresponding response in the suit. For example if you got shot in the leg, the suit would prevent you from further movement, depending on the seriousness of your injury. It could get very unpleasant.
We had been fed a lot of technical details about the ADVISOR program and the datasuits at the academy, but I already forgot most of it. There was something about the outer layer of the suit being shockproof too. Watcher knew we did a lot of falling and crawling and tackling in the simulation. It goes without saying that the suits were worth a fortune. Terry especially disliked them, because he always had an alergic reaction to the fabric they were made of. Unfortunately we couldn't wear anything else under the suit except for our briefs, as the sensory net of the suit needed to be in direct contact with our skin.
Terry made me promise not to tell anybody about his little skin problem with the suit. "I don't want to come to work and find my desk drowned under litres of sensitive skin lotion," he grumbled.
I have to admit I was often tempted to break my promise only to see that.
Outfitted and ready to be tested to our limits we reported to the specialists overseeing the training. I could have sworn one of them smirked, when he confirmed that our personal profiles had been activated and included in the scenarios. The guys sure must have had a lot of fun watching all of us struggle in the training room every month. There were rumours they even secretly betted on us.
The techie motioned to the door. "Gentlemen, whenever you're ready," he said smiling, "Don't forget to put on your headsets." He probably couldn't wait for the show to begin.
It was time to save our reputation after the fiasco at the shooting range. We walked through the door into the training room and the fun had begun.
"Detectives," the melodic computer voice addressed us, "there is a suicide jumper on the rooftop of the building 100 meters northwest from here. Her name is Abigail Nichols. You have twenty minutes to save her. Countdown starting now. Good luck."
We started running.
This was one of the easier scenarios. We'd done it couple of times and always finished with a good score. Should be easy enough.
"Is the crisis negotiator on the way?" Terry asked.
"The negotiator had been dispatched, but they will not be able to reach the site in time due to heavy traffic," the computer informed us.
"Of course not," Terry grumbled. "I had to try anyway."
Our scenarios often included children, because Terry and most cops dreaded failing to save the little ones. I was a different case, though. The ADVISOR made an assessment of my personality and came to the conclusion that my worst fear was losing my partner. Our scenarios reflected that and so in dozens of them Terry had been taken hostage, unexpectedly fired at or trapped under debris in addition to the main problem we had to solve, to make me feel adequately engaged. Luckily for us, a suicide jumper wasn't one of those, but rather a universal scenario.
Once in the building we flew up the stairs, because the elevator was out of order, naturally.
"There she is," Terry panted after we dashed through the door leading to the rooftop.
It would be a nice romantic scenery with the night sky dotted with stars and first snow descending on the city, if not for the woman standing at the edge of the rooftop and gathering courage to make the ultimate step into non-existence. She was what made the whole scenery somewhat surreal due to her dummy face and out of place summer dress.
They used to have faces and bodies of real people whose pictures the program pulled out from the police database, until a councilwoman with a bunch of other female activists backing her up called it unethical and traumatizing for young cadets.
The argument, that it is actually the point to put the cadets through the stress test before they hit the streets, had fallen on deaf ears. The whole dispute hadn't been resolved yet and that's why we were stuck with dummies for the time being.
I would be lying if I said it didn't break the immersion at all.
We approached the woman slowly and with caution.
"Hello, Abby, I'm detective Mitchell and this is detective Heffner," Terry started speaking in a calm voice. He was much better at handling emotionally distraught individuals than I was. I never managed to sound so at ease, so persuasive. "We're here to just talk with you, okay?"
"Leave me alone!" the woman blurted out, her voice cracking with emotion.
They used to have faces and bodies of real people whose pictures the program pulled out from the police database, until a councilwoman with a bunch of other female activists backing her up called it unethical and traumatizing for young cadets.
The argument, that it is actually the point to put the cadets through the stress test before they hit the streets, had fallen on deaf ears. The whole dispute hadn't been resolved yet and that's why we were stuck with dummies for the time being.
I would be lying if I said it didn't break the immersion at all.
We approached the woman slowly and with caution.
"Hello, Abby, I'm detective Mitchell and this is detective Heffner," Terry started speaking in a calm voice. He was much better at handling emotionally distraught individuals than I was. I never managed to sound so at ease, so persuasive. "We're here to just talk with you, okay?"
"Leave me alone!" the woman blurted out, her voice cracking with emotion.
"It's quite chilly up here. You must be cold, Abby," Terry said in concerned tone, "Would you like us to fetch you a sweater? Or a hot drink? How does a peanut butter hot chocolate sound to you? It's my favourite. Would you like a cup?"
I had no idea where we're going to get a hot chocolate or a sweater, but waiting for it could prevent her from jumping and it might be enough to beat this scenario. Usually the key was to engage them in a conversation and keep them talking.
"Or the three of us could leave this place and find ourselves a nice café, sit down and chat. We could tell you some funny police stories, Abby," I offered.
"Yeah, like the one about my partner losing us a bet today. It's pretty hilarious," Terry said.
I scowled at him. Not funny.
He smiled and winked.
"I... I'm fine here," Abby said.
"Is there anything else we can get you, Abby?" Terry tried again.
"Or anyone?" I joined him. "A friend you'd like to talk with? I can get them on the phone for you wherever they are." I reached for my phone. "Or a family member?"
The moment those words left my mouth, I knew I screwed up. 'Family' was the trigger word in this scenario.
Terry inhaled sharply.
"No, you can't!" Abby sobbed, "'Cause they're dead!"
Before we could say or do anything, she made the last step over the edge and took the dive. It only took seconds before she hit the pavement, limbs sprawled and bent in unnatural angles, looking just like the broken doll she was.
Terry let out a string of very un-Terry-like words.
"Oh shit," I said.
"Detectives, you have failed to complete your task. Mrs. Abigail Nichols suffered fatal injuries," the computer voice informed us.
"You don't say," Terry muttered.
I wanted to say I was sorry, but I could tell Terry was on the verge of exploding. Keeping my mouth shut seemed like a smarter idea.
"What the heck just happened?" Terry asked. "Why did you even start about her family?"
"It had worked before..."
"Well, it didn't this time. These scenarios are never the same, you know it! Did you forget about the variables? They are meant to catch us off guard. And we just let it happen to us like a couple of damn rookies! Pull yourself together, Chris!"
I chose to remain silent and let him take it out on me. In all fairness I deserved it. I wasn't hundred percent focused today.
"Why didn't you pull up Abby's file on our way here? If you did, you'd have known she'd lost her husband and daughter."
I was tempted to point out that he could have told me, but I rarely saw Terry this worked up, and I didn't want to push more buttons. Thankfully, the computer voice spared me of having to reply.
"Detectives, please clear the training zone. The program will reset before your next task."
Terry insisted that we stopped at the 'dead body' on our way out. I found it a bit morbid, but I humored him. I expected a lecture and I wasn't disappointed.
"I know what you think. That I overreacted back there, when I lashed out at you," he said. "You think it is just a simulation and it can never be the same as real situation, because we know it's not real. Am I right? Do you think what happens here doesn't matter? Many cops think like this. Monthly evaluation is a nuisance to them, a test they have to pass to keep their jobs. And those guys sitting in front of the computers and running this program? They bet on us like it's a sports match. Do you think they would still be betting, if real lives were at stake?"
"Come on, Terry, you know I'm better than that. I may be competitive and a hot-head sometimes, but I don't‒"
He held up his hand. "Please, let me finish." He gestured toward the body. "It doesn't help that victims and criminals in this program look the way they are. How are we supposed to care for them enough, if we don't see emotions in their faces? I wish the people on the city council finally came back to their senses."
He paused and sighed before he continued. "What I see is not just a failed test, but a person we failed to protect. This could be a stranger. Or this could be her, you know. Your sister."
I felt a lump in my throat. "Kellie's not suicidal. She'd never do anything so stupid as jumping off a roof."
Terry fixed his eyes on me. "I'm not talking about her committing a suicide. But we'd never expected her to get involved in an arson and homicide either. She may be in danger not unsimilar to what we have to deal with in these scenarios. Only Watcher knows where your father took her and what misery he's putting her through."
"I'm still holding onto the hope, that he would never hurt her," I said. "But he has an exceptional talent for dragging people into trouble. It bothers me she hasn't contacted anyone yet. I expected her to show up weeks ago and give us an explanation. First I was mad at her, but now I only pretend to be mad at her, because it's easier than admit that I'm worried sick."
"She has to show up eventually." Terry sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as much as me. "We need to make sure to be there first, when she does. She's been hiding for too long. It doesn't look good for her. You should get her a good lawyer. But we need to bring her home first. I gave my word to Celeste that we would. I won't fail your family again."
Was the real reason why was Terry so upset? Fear of his own failure. Once again I thought of my mom's death. It burdened both of us with guilt.
"You have to stop saying that, man. You've done enough for my family. You've been here for me, when my real dad wasn't. The way I see it, it's me who owes you not the other way around. Besides, I'm the one who keeps screwing up our eval today."
Terry was about to reply, but was interrupted by one of the computer guys coming for us. "What is taking you so long, you two? Are you having a picnic here or what? We don't have all day for you. Get out! Now."
We exchanged guilty looks and followed the guy out. While we waited for the next scenario to be ready, Terry told me, "When we're done here, I have something I want to show you. But not here at the station."
I wondered what it could be, if Terry was all cryptic about it. I didn't have much time to mull it over, because we went in for a second round of testing.
* * * * *
I chose to be more cautious this time and let Terry call the shots. It paid off. We finished the next scenario in record time and nothing went wrong. We made a successful arrest of a drug dealer. Imbued with renewed confidence we moved on to the last scenario.
Our last task started with us responding to a call reporting shots fired. It was a variation on 'clear the house' type of scenarios. Should have been easy enough. Should being the key word here.
We secured the house ‒ so we thought ‒ neutralized the perp and waited for the CS squad and the coroner to arrive, because there was a dead victim at the scene. At that point we expected the computer voice to inform us any moment that our task was complete. But it didn't happen.
Terry and I exchanged looks. What did we miss?
"We need to check everything again," my partner said and unholstered his gun and headed for the hallway.
Things went south from there. Terry was the first to enter the hall, that we thought we had already cleared. Only seconds later he yelled, "Gun!" and we both threw ourselves on the floor. A blood chilling popping sound of a round from what must have been a submachine gun pierced the air.
Glass shards and wooden splinters were flying and raining down on us, as the volley of bullets cut its way through the furniture and panneling above our heads. As we scrambled for cover, Terry managed to fire from his Sig, but the shooter took cover behind door. Then he stuck his hand with the gun out again and aiming low he showered us with another volley of bullets.
I hissed in pain when a prickling sensation ran through my left arm. Must have been a ricochet.
"You have suffered an injury to your left arm," the computer informed me as if I didn't know already. "Your ability to use it has been reduced by 48,7%." My arm got partially paralyzed by the suit. I shifted my gun to the other hand and fired. And missed. My accuracy had never been great with my right hand.
Loud chkchk sounded from where the shooter was hiding. Great, the son of a llama reloaded and is back on full ammo. He started shooting again and was bent on taking out Terry first. With how exposed we were there with a minimum cover, all it took was one lucky shot, which he managed to get. Terry cried out in pain. He was hit and the suit made him feel it. As a confirmation the indifferent voice of the computer filled my ears again, Your partner suffered a critical injury. Chances of survival without immediate medical assisstance: 30%... 29%... 28%...
We couldn't win this anymore. I knew it even before I ran out of ammo. Go ahead, finish it, so we can get out of here, I thought as I watched the guy approach. But he only took my empty gun and walked around me and out of the door. Blasted programmers were toying with us.
Decisions time.
If I grabbed Terry's gun, I could go after the perp and still win us points for completing the scenario's goal. But what Terry had told me before came back to me and I knew what I had to do. If this had been real, I'd have never even thought about leaving my partner behind.
So I let the shooter flee and took care of Terry. I called an ambulance and then did my best to keep him alive. I applied pressure to the wound to slow down the bleeding. The suit registered it immediately adjusted the numbers indicating Terry's chances.
"Watcher, I hate the suit," Terry groaned.
"Detectives, you've completed only 58,1% of your mission. The result will be added to your previous score. Your test is over. You may leave the training area."
Finally it was over. We may have not completed the mission, but we still managed to earn some points. Most importantly, Terry survived. That was a result I could live with. What the chief would say about our score was a completely different matter.
"You can stop pressing my stomach, Chris," Terry said, "unless you want to give me a bruise."
"Uh, sorry." I stood up and held out my hand to help him on his feet too.
"We should have pulled back in the kitchen and call for backup," Terry grumbled.
"Yeah. This is clearly not our best day. Where was the guy hiding, anyway? I thought we had done a thorough sweep."
"Same. There must have been a secret door somewhere or the techs played a prank on us. For their sake I hope they didn't. That would be a serious breach of rules. Let's get out of here before they come for us again."
* * * * *
As soon as we exited the training room, we were met with Anita. She was grinning and slowly clapping her hands in a mocking fashion. "I hear you two set a new record today. The worst score in the history of this precinct. What did you do, Terry? Accidentaly shot a toddler?"
Terry's eyes shot daggers at her, but he didn't respond.
Anita looked at me, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Ha! It wasn't Terry, was it? You're the one who screwed up. Like the shooting before. Is this the mad skill you were talking about?"
Ouch!
"You finished, Anita?" Terry growled. "We have a place to go and job to do, unlike you, evidently."
Her grin only grew wider. She patted me on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Chris, I hear there's still a serious lack of traffic cops. Think of how many ladies it would make happy to see yours and Terry's pretty butts every morning at the busiest Newcrest intersection directing traffic."
"For Watcher's sake, Anita, just zip it. You're getting more and more obnoxious. I'm asking myself how could I ever..." Terry paused.
Anita's grin vanished. "How could you ever what, Terry? Like me? I'm asking myself the same about you. You used to have a sense of humor when you were younger."
Uh-oh. I certainly didn't want to stand there and watch them get into each other's hair. "Maybe we should go change out of the suits, Terry," I suggested cautiously.
"Yeah, let's. Hopefully, the door to our locker room will be enough to repel harpies."
* * * * *
Once in the locker room, Terry strode to his locker and started tearing the suit off himself. Anger radiated from his whole body. Mad Terry was a rare sight. Last person that really pissed him off was agent Stiles. Part of me felt bad for my partner. But another part was amused seeing him in this state, because it was so uncharacteristic for him. Knowing, I'm not the only one to lose my cool sometimes, was strangely satisfying. He may have been less perfect because of it, but I liked him the more.
Finally, he gave a loud sigh and turned his face to me. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Chris," he said. "I should've handled it better. It's just..." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "She's grinding all my gears. Why can't she find someone else to goad? Today of all days. As if we weren't under enough stress because of the eval."
Finally, he gave a loud sigh and turned his face to me. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Chris," he said. "I should've handled it better. It's just..." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "She's grinding all my gears. Why can't she find someone else to goad? Today of all days. As if we weren't under enough stress because of the eval."
"There's nothing to apologize for," I assured him. "It wasn't cool what Alvarez said out there and the two of you have a history. She was right about me screwing up, though. I'm not looking forward the talk chief will give us, when he sees the results of the evaluation. I knew I should've taken a day off. I haven't been at my 100% today."
"I thought you looked a little worn out, when I saw you in the office before. But then you spoke with Mr. Johnson and the weariness seemed to be gone."
I cleared my throat. "Yeah, she... um, distracted me from things that had been weighing on me heavily."
"What things? Kellie and your dad?"
"That too, but something else happened yesterday."
Terry waited patiently for me to continue and for once I couldn't bear the concerned look of his. It threatened to erode the walls of my self control I had so carefully erected. I opened my locker and started changing out of the datasuit, before I spoke again.
"I got a call last night. There had been an accident at the construction site."
Terry put on his shirt and started buttoning it up without looking. "At the construction site? Oh, you mean where your new house is being built."
"Yes. They were working on the outside wall coating, when one of the workers fell from the scaffold and suffered a spine injury. He may not be able to walk again. But that's not the end of it. He wasn't a regular worker. They were short of people, so they quickly hired couple of guys only for the day. Unfortunatelly the guy who fell didn't even have an accident insurance. He was just someone desperately looking for a job, because he has a family to provide for."
"Man, I'm so sorry. But it's not your fault nor your job to check those workers' qualifications. Someone from the construction company did a poor job and should be held responsible."
"I know. I still feel partially responsible, because it's my house. I'm going to cover the health care costs for the family and see if I can do anything else to help them out."
"That's very noble of you, Chris. I hope you know, no one expects it of you. There's something else you must take into consideration, though. If you give the family the money, there will be people who might see it as a proof that you were responsible somehow. Where I see nobleness, they will see guilty conscience and call your gift a hush money."
"Why can't things ever be simple?" I groaned.
We finished changing in silence. Terry then grabbed a can of soda from the vending machine and sat down on a bench. "You know, Chris, you should always think of your own family first."
I slumped down next to him. "Funny you're mentioning my family," I laughed bitterly. I told him about Celeste and everything that had transpired that morning. "She must hate me."
"Are you talking about the sweet little girl? I don't believe she hates you. People forget about birthdays all the time."
Somehow I knew he'd never forget about his sister's birthday. "She's not the little girl anymore," I said.
"What you gonna get her?" he asked.
I shrugged. "She doesn't want anything."
"Of course she does want something. She's only making it difficult for you, because you forgot. It's her way of saying: 'You must try harder to show me you're a good brother.' She's hurt. You need to get her something."
"I have no idea what she'd like. Why can't everyone put together a wishlist? It would save a lot of trouble and awkward moments, when you gift them with stuff they don't like. I don't have time to bother my head with such things."
"What about some music? All teens love their music. What kind of music does she listens to?"
I grimaced, "Loud. The kind that makes the floor vibrate and the walls crumble. The kind that makes you wonder if there's excavation work going on in her room."
Terry chuckled. "Sounds like something my niece likes too. Do you want me to ask her for some suggestions?"
"Yes. Thanks, Terry."
He patted me on the back. "No problem. You should also check if there are any concerts in town or maybe in San Myshuno and take her. I took my niece last year. Wait a moment, what was the band's name? Toxic Purple? Yes. The singer did more wailing than singing, I nearly lost my sense of hearing there, but we had a great time. You two could use some."
I imagined the crowds, poor lighting, concealed sharp objects. No way. Not when my mother's killer was still out there and Watcher knows how many more dad's enemies. Terry had the luxury of being able to go anywhere with his niece. I and my family needed to be very careful. I would drive Celeste to school every single day until she's an adult, I had been even considering getting her a bodyguard. Anything to keep her safe. "I will think about it."
As if he sensed I was falling into the trap of dark thoughts again, Terry changed the topic. "I don't know how about you, but I'm starving. Let's go grab some food. Things always look better on full stomach. After that we can finish some overdue reports if nothing else comes up."
* * * * *
We went to Ruth's. It's a nice little restaurant in the most beautiful part of the town.
Terry took his time perusing the menu, even though I knew, he'd most likely end up ordering a sandwich and iced tea as always.
We placed our orders and as expected today wasn't the day when Terry would get too adventurous in his meal choice.
The waitress rushed away with our order and Terry reached inside his jacket to produce a paper folder. I was so curious about what it contained, that when my phone buzzed with incoming text message, I was tempted to leave it unchecked for the moment. But then I reminded myself it could be Celeste. She always texted, never called. Still intrigued by Terry's serious expression, I absent-mindedly accepted the message, only to get an eyefull of female décolletage a second later. That did distract me from the folder on the table for sure.
The waitress rushed away with our order and Terry reached inside his jacket to produce a paper folder. I was so curious about what it contained, that when my phone buzzed with incoming text message, I was tempted to leave it unchecked for the moment. But then I reminded myself it could be Celeste. She always texted, never called. Still intrigued by Terry's serious expression, I absent-mindedly accepted the message, only to get an eyefull of female décolletage a second later. That did distract me from the folder on the table for sure.
At first I thought it was Raven's playful way how to invite me over tonight. After a closer inspection I realized it couldn't be Raven, because Raven had a birthmark on her‒
"Earth to Chris, do you copy?"
I looked up to meet Terry's eyes. "Uh... sorry. I thought Celeste needed something, but it wasn't her. Looks like someone sent their message to the wrong number."
Before I could hide the phone, Terry leaned forward and caught a glimpse of the photo. "You sure, Chris? To me it looks like they got the right number. How come I never get one of these?"
"You're all work and no play, Terry. That's why."
"Are you saying I'm dull?"
I checked the number from which the message had been sent before deleting it. Didn't look familiar. "Of course you're not dull. But you move in the same circles all the time. It lowers your chance to meet someone new."
"Now you sound just like my sister," Terry snorted.
I chuckled. "She's obviously a wise lady."
"So what's in the file?" I asked nodding my head toward the folder.
Terry's face went back to most serious again. "Remember the call from prison you told me about?"
"Yeah. The guy I tried to visit only to find out he had been moved elsewhere. Everyone was very hush hush about it and wouldn't tell me where."
"Matthew Morti," Terry said and tapped his hand on the folder.
"Yes. That's the guy."
"I called in a few favors and managed to find out where they moved him. I also happened to get my hands on his file."
I whistled in appreciation.
"They moved him to San Myshuno Correctional Facility," Terry explained.
"I could take tomorrow off and go there," I thought aloud.
"Read his file thoroughly, Chris, before you speak with him. He was a big fish in Windenburg."
"In Europe? What's he doing here then?"
"Apparently he was connected to a case here and they decided to extradite him to us. Rumor has it, he had too many friends in Windernburg prison and they wanted to isolate him from them. In return we got rid of some hot potatoes of our own."
I glanced through the file. "It says he was a kingpin in Windenburg underworld. I don't think I ever heard of him, though."
"Doesn't mean your father hasn't either. It'd be logical for him to ally with someone like Morti in prison."
"It would, but my father is not a team player. He prefers working alone."
"He's known to have worked for the Salvatore family. It means he's no stranger to following someone else's orders," Terry pointed out.
It was weird to hear him talk about my dad's past, when I should be the one to know every little detail about him and share it.
"He had to find friends or at least allies in prison to survive," Terry went on. "Maybe this Morti has a message for you directly from your father."
"Doesn't mean your father hasn't either. It'd be logical for him to ally with someone like Morti in prison."
"It would, but my father is not a team player. He prefers working alone."
"He's known to have worked for the Salvatore family. It means he's no stranger to following someone else's orders," Terry pointed out.
It was weird to hear him talk about my dad's past, when I should be the one to know every little detail about him and share it.
"He had to find friends or at least allies in prison to survive," Terry went on. "Maybe this Morti has a message for you directly from your father."
"I hope so, because ever since he and Kellie disappeared, I've had no means how to contact him. I'm doing this to find her. It's the only reason I'm willing to talk to him or any of his criminal friends."
"Morti won't give you the info for free, Chris. He'll want something from you," Terry said. "You need to go there as yourself, not as a cop. That's why I can't go with you. We can't offer him any deals as we're not part of the official investigation."
"I know, but I have no idea what I can possibly offer him as only myself or as the Newcrest heir. Do you think I should try to play him? Pretend I have the authority to offer him a lower sentence if he tells me where my father is?"
"Definitely not! You have no experience dealing with the likes of him. He would see right through you. He called you on your personal phone, so you must have something he wants. Be very careful when speaking with him, though. Don't tell him more than you have to. Don't let him by any chance get inside your head. If you follow this simple advice, you should do fine."
Our conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing our meal. Terry wolfed down his sandwich in record time. I was picking at my meal, because my mind was too busy processing all thoughts about this mysterious Mr. Morti. Will talking to him actually get us closer to finding my sister? I needed at least something in my life to finally go right. Was it too much to ask?
After finishing our meal, both Terry and I leaned back in our chairs. If we were smokers, this would be the right time to light a cigarette. Instead we just asked for our bill.
"Johnson won't be happy you're taking a day off after our today's peak performance," Terry observed.
"Should I postpone the prison visit then?" I asked, but I wasn't too pleased about the prospect.
"No. We already lost too much time looking where they moved Morti. You have to go tomorrow. We finally need to get to the bottom of what happened."
"Alright, I'll drop Celeste off at school in the morning and go. Would you mind checking on her after school for me? I don't know when I'll get back and I'd feel much better knowing someone saw to that she got home okay. I'll call her, but she tends to ignore my calls sometimes."
"Of course. Want me to take her for an ice-cream too?" Terry joked.
I snorted. "Not unless you want to see the meanest eye-roll ever. She's not seven anymore, as I was reminded today." I sighed. No matter what I do, I can't compete with how Kellie used to do it, you know."
We paid for the meal and left the restaurant. I shot a sidelong glance at Terry as we walked. His brow was furrowed and he looked lost in thoughts. Before we got in the car, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. "If this trip of yours proves fruitless, Chris, we need to start questioning people from the lab," he said.
"Johnson will have our heads, if he finds out we conduct our own investigation."
"Then he mustn't find out."
"Since when do you want to break the rules?" I wondered.
Terry spoke and looked more and more worked up as he did so. "We've been playing by the rules all this time. We've been leaving the investigation on Feds and there's been no development so far. None whatsoever. Your sister is still missing. The inaction is killing me. I can barely sleep at night. I need to do something to find her, I‒" He threw his hands up in despair.
"Johnson will have our heads, if he finds out we conduct our own investigation."
"Then he mustn't find out."
"Since when do you want to break the rules?" I wondered.
Terry spoke and looked more and more worked up as he did so. "We've been playing by the rules all this time. We've been leaving the investigation on Feds and there's been no development so far. None whatsoever. Your sister is still missing. The inaction is killing me. I can barely sleep at night. I need to do something to find her, I‒" He threw his hands up in despair.
I had drawn hope from Terry in the past weeks. Seeing him losing it like this, made the possibility of Kellie never returning home suddenly more real. Her disappearance weighed on Terry more than I had thought. Wasn't it a problem of my family after all? I knew he had feelings for Kellie, but I had no idea how deep they ran. I was astonished and maybe a little jealous too. What was it like to feel this way about someone? To worry so much about them, long for them without them even knowing, be so consumed by love. Had I been I honest with myself, I'd have to admit, I wouldn't be freaking out nearly as much as Terry, had it been Raven who had gone missing. Emily Johnson on the other hand... Still, I didn't know her as well as I would have liked. Not as well and long as Terry had known Kellie.
"Someone must know something and be willing to talk. Someone must have seen her. Even when they're hiding, they need supplies," Terry mumbled.
Should I remind him that my father had been living in the shadows for years? No. He knew. I was certain that Kellie was making the hiding more complicated for my father. But it could still take years before we would see her again, should they decide they didn't want to be found. The old man would make sure of it.
Phone in my pocket rang, interrupting my thoughts. I answered it. "Heffner."
"Have I won?" asked a male voice on the other end.
"Win what? Who's this?" I asked confused.
"The handcuffs. We were promised handcuffs if we're first."
I looked at the caller's number. Unfamiliar. What the heck? Was I being prank called? This day was getting better and better.
I drew in a breath of air through my nose before responding. "You want handcuffs? No problem," I said. "Give me your name and address and I'll come and cuff you, alright." I shot a glance at Terry who was watching me with raised eyebrows. "And because you have caught me in such a good mood, I'll throw in a free tour through Newcrest Police station. Then I'll lock you up in a nice and cosy cell. How does that sound, you punk?"
There was a whispering on the other end. I expected the guy to hang up by now, but no.
"We're not interested in the cell," he said at last. "Me and my girlfriend only wanted to try the handcuffs." There was a giggling in the background. The guy's voice sounded young. Too young.
"How old the two of you are? I can have your phone tracked, you know."
"I knew this was a bad idea," he said to the person in the background and finally hung up.
"That sounded interesting," Terry said. "What was it about?"
"Just a bunch of bored teenagers making prank calls," I grumbled. "I wonder where they got my number."
Terry gave me an amused look. "Know of any teenagers you got upset recently?"
I opened my mouth to give him a negative answer, but then it finally dawned on me. I stood there staring at Terry. "Celeste? She wouldn't... But if she did, I'm going to‒"
"Leave it be, Chris. Let your sister have her little revenge. You forgot about her birthday after all. You sort of had it coming. Be fair and admit it."
I grimaced, but my initial irritation was already fading. "Fine."
"Now let's go back and get some boring paperwork done."
* * * * *
Next day...
I followed Terry's advice and let Celeste's prank slide. It wasn't easy, because the call I received, when we were at the restaurant, wasn't the last one. I received more inappropriate texts too. Every time my phone buzzed, I had to fight the urge to barge into Celeste's room and start yelling at her. She was lucky I was too busy preparing for today's trip and studying Morti's file.
When I arrived to San Myshuno Correctional Facility, I thought I was prepared for Mr. Morti as best as I could. I thought I'd be able to find a way to get what I wanted from him without giving him what he wanted from me. How naive of me. It didn't take much work for him to trick me into thinking I was the one in control, while it was him all along.
Morti had the same aura of overconfidence about him that I had learned to associate with my father. Before we sat down, he smiled politely, but with an almost imperceptible hint of smugness, and gave my hand a firm squeeze.
"I'm glad to finally meet you, Mr. Heffner. I was beginning to think you may not be interested in what I have to tell you."
I followed Terry's advice and let Celeste's prank slide. It wasn't easy, because the call I received, when we were at the restaurant, wasn't the last one. I received more inappropriate texts too. Every time my phone buzzed, I had to fight the urge to barge into Celeste's room and start yelling at her. She was lucky I was too busy preparing for today's trip and studying Morti's file.
When I arrived to San Myshuno Correctional Facility, I thought I was prepared for Mr. Morti as best as I could. I thought I'd be able to find a way to get what I wanted from him without giving him what he wanted from me. How naive of me. It didn't take much work for him to trick me into thinking I was the one in control, while it was him all along.
Morti had the same aura of overconfidence about him that I had learned to associate with my father. Before we sat down, he smiled politely, but with an almost imperceptible hint of smugness, and gave my hand a firm squeeze.
"I'm glad to finally meet you, Mr. Heffner. I was beginning to think you may not be interested in what I have to tell you."
"My schedule has been hectic lately, Mr. Morti. Then you seemed to have disappeared."
"Yes. They went to great lengths to arrange a relocation of those of us who got too close to your father." He bared his teeth in a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "I had to say goodbye to some of my most loyal men. But more about it later. Let's talk the price of my information, Mr. Heffner. I'm sure you didn't come here thinking there's isn't any."
"Of course not. What is your price then?"
"He leaned forward and fixed his eyes on me. "Can you get me out of here?"
I blew air out of my mouth slowly and fought back disappointment. "No. I'm afraid I don't have the authority to offer you any kind of deal. I'm not even part of the official investigation. I was hoping we would be able to figure out something else that'd be acceptable for you as a payment."
"Good," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"Mr. Heffner, I'm not an idiot. I know exactly what I can ask and who I can ask it from. But I don't like being played for a fool. Let's say I was just being curious what kind of man I'm dealing with."
He was testing me! Had I tried to lie to him and promise him a deal, our coversation would most likely be over. "Has your curiosity been satisfied?" I asked.
He laced his fingers together over the table. "For now."
It was a lie, but I didn't know it yet then. Only in hindsight I could see all the little traps he had been planting in his words.
"Regarding the price," he continued, "I'd like you to convince your fiancée, miss Nightshade, to pay me a visit."
"She's not my fiancée," I corrected him without thinking.
"Oh. I'm sorry, my mistake. Your lady friend then." His eyes shone briefly. Inadvertently I gave him a piece of personal information. Maybe a harmless one, but a man like him, a giant spider, knows how to exploit every piece and weave it into his web consisting of thousands of other little pieces.
I didn't like the idea of Raven talking to him. "Why do you want to see her?"
"I have my reasons. She's an accomplished journalist. I've been trying to contact her on my own, but she avoids me. I believe she thinks I'm one of those convicts who want her help to clear their name and prove their innocence."
"Are you?"
He smiled, but didn't answer my question. Instead he said, "Your lady friend has nothing to fear from me. I only have a little proposal for her. She can say no. All I ask is that she hears me out. See? Nothing dangerous. Do we have a deal, Mr. Heffner?"
I may have not liked it, but it did sound harmless. Reluctantly I nodded. But Morti kept staring at me, until I said it aloud. "Yes, we have a deal. Now, are you going to tell me how my father managed to break out of the maximum security prison and what on Earth was he doing in the lab?"
"Yes, about that. It's quite a funny thing, actually, because your father didn't break out..."
He told me the whole crazy story about my father getting stabbed and carried to the infirmary. About guys in suits showing up and how everyone thought my father was dead until the news about his escape hit the media.
"It is clear that your father didn't break into the lab, Mr. Heffner. They moved him there from the infirmary. He was breaking out of the lab," Morti said.
"But what was he doing there in the first place?"
"I'm sure those agents, or whoever they are, know the truth. After the fire, they showed up again and soon there were changes in the personnel. Several prisoners got relocated, including the boy Eun, who shared a cell with your father. Doesn't it look like a cover up to you?"
"Possibly. But cover up of what? Why did they take him in the lab?"
"There's only one thing people usually want from someone like your father. To work for them."
"You mean kill for them."
Morti shrugged. "That's my theory anyway. Maybe they made him an offer. Maybe it also involved testing some experimental drugs in the lab and he didn't like it and changed his mind. That's all I've got."
It was a lot to process. There were things that bothered me more than I cared to admit. My father being shanked in a dark prison corridor was one of them. I had always thought him invulnerable. When I had sent him to jail, I expected he would be the one possibly hurting other inmates than get hurt himself. Did he really accept some kind of shady offer just to get out of the prison after they had stabbed him? And how did Kellie fit into all this?
Morti didn't have anything else for me. "Thank you," I said and got up. Terry was right, we would have to start questioning the lab personnel. I couldn't wait to tell him what I learned. Maybe he would make some sense out of it. Two minds work better than one.
"Mr. Heffner," Morti called after me as I was heading for the door. "Can I count on you to keep up your part of our deal?"
"I will pass on your request. It's up to Raven to decide, if she wants to talk with you."
"That's not what we agreed on." Morti's voice was suddenly ten degrees colder. "You'll convince her to come. Don't try to double-cross me. I'm an enemy you don't want to have, Mr. Heffner."
Threats? I chose not to respond and raised my hand to knock on the door for the guards to let me out. It was the moment when Morti decided to play the ace he'd been holding the whole time.
I heard a grating sound of the chair as he pushed it aside and stood up. He gave a loud sigh. "What a shame you learned nothing from your father," he said. "He was much more pleasant to do business with, when he bought from me the information on your mother's killer whereabouts."
I stopped breathing, when the meaning of his words fully sank in. My left hand still hung in the air, ready to knock on the door. I let it drop to my side and slowly turned to face Morti again. I felt a crushing pain in my chest, as if my heart was clamped in a vise.
"I need the information you gave my father," I rasped.
He snorted angrily. "You just tried to fuck me over and you have the nerve to ask more? You haven't even paid me what you owe me. I'm done doing business with you." He turned his back to me. "Go home, boy."
I allowed to happen what Terry had warned me about. I let him get inside my head. He had me where he wanted me. If what he said was true and there was even the slightest chance he knew where my mother's killer was hiding, I needed the information. It was all that mattered now. But if Morti expected me to beg for it, he would be disappointed.
The dull pain in my heart intensified. My chest was on fire. For this man the information he had meant nothing. For me it was everything. Even if he was only punishing me for not taking our deal seriously enough, this was a cruel game and I refused to play it.
I grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to face me. "Where is the killer hiding, Morti?"
He looked at my hands gripping the fabric of his prison uniform and smirked. "Maybe there's a piece of your father in you after all."
I felt my self-control slipping away. My fingers wrapped around his throat. He didn't resist, just kept returning my stare with the annoying smile on his face. I was ready to squeeze the answer out of him.
"Where is he?"
I didn't even hear the sound of incoming guards. They tore my hands off of Morti's neck and were pulling me away from him.
"Tell me where he is, dammit!" I hissed at Morti fighting with the guards for every inch of the floor.
"Mr. Heffner," Morti spoke again. "The information is not for sale anymore. But I might give it to miss Nightshade for free. Should she come to see me. I hope you learned a valuable lesson today. Goodbye."
They escorted me out like some kind of a criminal. They probably had me on a tape attacking Morti too, but I didn't care. All I could think of was how I was going to talk Raven into seeing the son of a bitch Morti and make him tell her what I so desperately needed to know.
Later in the afternoon of the same day...
Celeste: "Look. Chrissy is home and looks super pissy."
Jordan: "He does look upset. I wonder what happened to him."
Celeste: "It can be only one of two things. Either some bad news concerning his psycho dad or he didn't get laid."
Poses by: Candycottonchu, Doc Pain, Eslanes, Joanne Bernice, Mocnpanchi, Natalia Auditore, Princess Paranoia, Quiddity Jones, Rinvalee, Simmerberlin, Something Wicked Sims, TheSpangleway, Viesil, and more.
It's back to Tony next time. Rejoice!
If you haven't yet, you should check the character page to refresh your memory on who is who and maybe to discover some new interesting info.
Oh and Christina, I mean Christian, has something to say. Bai!