Inevitable Discovery

by Melissa F. Miller

  “It is, if one’s a history buff. I’m more of a futurist, personally.” He steered their conversation back to the topic at hand.

  She took the bait. “And Cesare is the criminologist of the future, right?”

  He frowned at her tone. “You seem to think it’s not.”

  “I think your AI is wrong more often than not. It’s not even as accurate as a coin flip.”

  “That’s false. It’s patently untrue.” He struggled to keep his temper as she smiled at him, catlike, over the coffee mug.

  “Isn’t it? Charlie Robinson’s not a latent criminal. And Sam Blank? Please.”

  “Don’t lay Sam Blank at my feet. Milltown wanted him to be picked up, not me.”

  Her satisfied expression made him wonder if she’d taken the bait or if he had. “What about Max Barefoot—do you stand by Cesare’s assessment of him?”

  “Mr. Barefoot is a felon. His childhood and educational background combined with his criminal record led Cesare to—”

  “Mr. Barefoot is a homeowner. A taxpayer. And a Black man. Isn’t that what this is really about?”

  “Cesare is a series of ones and zeros. As I explained to Professor Robinson, it can’t be racist.”

  “No. But you can. And you programmed it. These men who you say are latent criminals. They all remind you of your son’s killer, don’t they? They’re big and scary and Black. Like Calvin Tennyson. But me? I’m a small White woman. I’m harmless. Right?”

  He blanched at her mention of Josh and his murderer. “How dare you dredge up my personal pain to use against me.”

  “Says the kidnapper,” she snickered. She waited a beat, as if he was supposed to rethink his life choices, then she went on. “I know how you feel, believe it or not. My brother was shot and killed when I was nineteen. Twenty years ago yesterday, as a matter of fact. I’ve felt that pain. But your attempts to manage it and control it aren’t working, Mr. Lewis. All of this isn’t keeping anyone safe or honoring his memory. It’s just keeping you tethered to the pain of the past.” She waved her empty coffee mug around the room in a sweeping gesture that encompassed the building.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “No. You’re wrong.”

  She slammed the mug down hard on the edge of the table. It smashed apart, and before he’d even reacted to the crashing sound, she was on her feet, running at him. And then, somehow, she had a clump of his hair in her right hand, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. With her left, she pressed a sharp shard of the ceramic mug against his bare skin. He swallowed, and the jagged edge dug into his right carotid artery.

  “One slice, down and to the left, and you’ll be bleeding out. So tell me again how I’m not a threat.”

  “What … what do you want?” he managed.

  “The truth.”

  34

  Leo stood in front of Sasha’s station wagon, stared down at the blinking dot on the GPS tracker app, and fought back a wave of nausea. Her car, her phone, and her bag were here on this windy stretch of road made famous by the image of a young man bleeding to death on the shoulder. But no Sasha.

  It was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Or into the woods.

  He turned. Hank and Naya were already at the edge of the lot, scanning the ground. He jogged over to join them.

  “Find anything?”

  Naya looked at Hank, expectant.

  He cleared his throat. “Looks like there was a scuffle here in the gravel.” He toed the ground where several semi-circles of pebbles were disturbed. “And see those tire tracks over there? I think she must’ve been ambushed.”

  Leo crouched and studied the ground. “That’s blood, isn’t it?” He pointed to a dark, wet clump of gravel.

  Naya squatted beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Could be. But, come on, Fly Boy, you know Sasha. Odds are it’s not hers, it’s theirs. His. Whoever’s.”

  He nodded and blinked. “Right. I need some air.”

  He stood and walked into the brush, his back to his partner and Sasha’s car, and filled his lungs with air so cold it burned.

  Where was she? Who had her?

  His mind raced, and he forced himself to stop the spiral. He looked out over the bare tops of trees, watching a vee of birds wing their way toward warmth. And then he spotted something colorful flapping against an oak tree in the distance. And he ran toward it.

  When he reached the oak, he sagged against its trunk and made a guttural sound that felt like it was ripped from his chest. The bright fabric flapping in the wind was Sasha’s scarf—a distinctive crimson, orange, and cream pattern—caught on a tree limb.

  He unwound the scarf delicately, like he was performing surgery, and pressed his face into it to inhale his wife’s spicy, gingery scent. Then he folded it carefully, lengthwise and then in half, and trudged back to the spot where Hank and Naya waited at the car, twin somber expressions on their tense faces.

  “We need to mobilize a search party,” he croaked, holding up the scarf. “She went into the woods.”

  Naya shook her head.

  “She’s not in the woods now, Leo,” Hank said. He held up a small, round tracker. “This was attached to the undercarriage of her car. Someone followed her here and took her.”

  Leo gripped the soft fabric like a lifeline. “Someone. You mean Lewis.”

  “Probably,” Naya said. “Hank thinks he can reverse triangulate the location, isolate the tracking software, lead us to Lewis or whoever’s got her, wherever they are.”

  “To hell with that. We’re going to his headquarters, and I’m going to shake it out of him if I have to,” he growled.

  “That works, too,” Hank agreed.

  35

  Sasha clenched her fist in Landon Lewis’ over-gelled hair and hissed in his ear. “What happened to Vaughn Tabor? Why are the Milltown Police so interested in Sam Blank?”

  He tented his eyebrows and tried to turn to look at her. She pressed the sharp point of the ceramic mug handle into his throat. He froze.

  “I … I don’t know why they want Mr. Blank so badly, but … Vaughn Tabor was shot during an altercation with the police. Everybody knows that.”

  For an evil super-genius, this guy was dense. She didn’t have time to pull the answers out of him one word at a time. His goon squad would eventually come back to see if he wanted more coffee, and when they found her holding a weapon to his throat, they were unlikely to underreact.

  “Yes, Landon. Everybody knows that. And Sam Blank knows what really happened, because he saw it. So. What. Did. He. See?” She spat the words and punctuated each syllable with a jab of the broken piece of mug.

  He whimpered. “Sam Blank was there the night Tabor was shot?”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t know?”

  He started to shake his head, then remembered the improvised knife at his throat and stopped. “I swear, I didn’t.”

  She laughed a mirthless laugh. “You’ve been played by a rinky-dink local police station, you and your sophisticated predictive and preventive crime program. That’s priceless.”

  His face clouded. “They’re not so rinky-dink after all, I think.”

  She frowned. Now what was he on about?

  Before she could ask, she heard shouting and heavy feet running down the hall.

  Crap, here comes Landon’s cavalry.

  She jerked him to his feet, tightened her left elbow around his neck, and yanked him away from the table, backing them up against the far wall. She positioned him in front of her, just in case the goon squad burst in, guns blazing—which frankly struck her as exactly the sort of dramatic overkill that crew would go for.

  The door flew open. She was about to find out.

  But the men who ran in weren’t Landon’s thugs. Her husband raced through the door with Hank Richardson on his heels. The sight of Connelly and his partner flooded her with relief and love and an overwhelming desire to throw herself into Connelly’s arms and bury her face into his broad che
st. Although, in fairness, they did have their guns drawn. The heartfelt reunion would have to wait until they dealt with Landon Lewis and his army of giants.

  Naya trailed them into the room, nibbling on a cookie.

  “Are you eating sugar?” Sasha blurted.

  Naya shrugged. “Exigent circumstances. Carl will understand.”

  Then the shouting started.

  36

  Leo didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry at the sight of his filthy, bruised, and battered wife holding the mastermind behind the PPC program hostage with a chunk of a broken coffee mug. He didn’t have time to do much more than give her a lopsided grin before a squadron of guards or agents or whatever these people were rushed into the room yelling orders and brandishing their weapons.

  The situation had suddenly become incredibly dangerous. The five men in black were all armed with assault rifles. Leo and Hank had a Sig Sauer and a Glock, respectively. Naya was packing a sugar cookie, and Sasha had her ceramic shard. Lewis looked like he was about to vomit.

  “Stand down,” Leo shouted at the guards. He barked the order in his loudest, most forceful voice. “I’m Special Agent Connelly. This is Special Agent-in-Charge and Director Richardson. We’re operating under the authority of the Department of Homeland Security. Stand down.” It was mostly true.

  He trained his gun on the closest man while Hank reached into his hip pocket and pulled out one of the badges the two of them used to impersonate agents from other departments. It did the trick. The men were clearly well disciplined. Former military or government or law enforcement of some kind, Leo surmised. They lowered their weapons without hesitation and stood at attention. Landon Lewis sagged and seemed to shrink in Sasha’s grip.

  Naya finished her cookie and dusted the crumbs from her fingertips.

  “You okay, Mac?” she asked Sasha.

  Sasha smiled, “Better now.”

  Leo studied her face. When he found out which one of these thugs had given her the bruise that was blooming on her cheekbone, they’d regret it.

  Lewis cleared his throat. “Director Richardson, there must be some misunderstanding. This operation is authorized at the highest levels.”

  Hank scoffed. “Nice try. Your beta program gets funding under a grant. And yeah, the powers that be look the other way while you run your little experiment because, of course, they’d love to be able to prevent crimes by predicting them before they happen. Wouldn’t we all? But this isn’t a science fiction movie. This is real life. And you’re holding a civilian, a scrap of a woman, without authorization.”

  Lewis blanched and protested. “To the contrary, this woman is holding me against my will. I mean, look at her. I intend to press charges.”

  Hank raised one eyebrow. “You look at her. She’s obviously been beaten. And she happens to be integral to an operation that supersedes your program. You’ll be releasing her into our custody, and you most certainly will not be pressing charges. She might be, though. And, of course, there will be consequences for interfering with an active DHS operation.”

  Lewis blanched and began to stammer.

  Naya spoke over him. “Listen, can you all do the penis-measuring part later? Don’t forget, Sam’s cooling his heels at the Milltown police station without the benefit of an interpreter or a lawyer.”

  Sasha snapped her eyes from Leo’s face to Naya’s. “They arrested Sam?”

  Naya nodded. “Yeah, Will’s on his way over there with Charlie. But you’re Sam’s lawyer. We should get over there.”

  Sasha hesitated. “What do we do with these guys?”

  Hank said, “Cole’s home. He’s watching the rest of the kids for me. So I’ll babysit this crew. But you should take Lewis with you—in case you need leverage with the police.”

  “Thanks, Hank.”

  “Of course. Don’t mention it. Go,” he urged.

  She turned to Leo. “Speaking of kids, where are ours?”

  “Jordana’s with them.”

  Lewis piped up. “Wait. You have children together? Connelly, McCandless-Connelly. You’re married?”

  Leo didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he plucked a set of handcuffs from the closest guard and barked, “Key!”

  The man slapped the key to the cuffs into Leo’s palm. Leo advanced on Lewis. Then his attention shifted to Sasha. He gingerly brushed her swollen cheekbone with his fingertips. “Does it hurt?”

  She smiled crookedly. “You should see the other guy.”

  “I think I already did. I assume he’s the one with the bandaged knee and the crutches who’s sitting at the front desk?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  He shook his head. “You really scared me.”

  “I really scared me, too. And I need to rethink my footwear. But we can do this part later, okay? When we don’t have an audience.” She jerked her head toward Lewis.

  “Definitely. You can let go of him now.”

  She dropped the jagged piece of ceramic to the floor and gave Lewis a small shove toward Leo. Leo clamped the cuffs on his wrists and tightened them—possibly more than was strictly necessary. He grabbed Lewis by the arm and marched him toward the door.

  Sasha stopped to give Hank a quick hug. “Thank you. But, really, scrap of a woman? We’re going to have words later.”

  He grinned, then nodded. “Go.”

  As Leo, Sasha and Naya headed for the door with Landon in tow, Hank called after Naya, “Hey, where’d you get those cookies?”

  “The men in black have a sweet break room. I’m sure one of your new friends will be happy to fix you a plate,” she said over her shoulder.

  The door swung closed behind them, and they hustled Landon through the maze of halls and out into the parking lot.

  37

  Sasha, Connelly, and Naya hurried inside the police station, brushing the snowflakes from their shoulders and stamping their feet and ignoring Landon’s litany of complaints. Will and Charlie looked up from the wooden bench where they waited.

  “You look like hell,” Will said by way of greeting.

  Sasha laughed. She felt like hell, too.

  “Thanks, Will. You know how to make a girl feel good. What’s the story with Sam?” She nodded to include Charlie in the question.

  Will frowned. “They haven’t let us back to see him. He hasn’t been charged, so he’s not entitled to a lawyer yet.”

  “It’s after seven. What time did they pick him up?” she asked.

  “He’s been here since this morning,” Charlie said, agitated. “Without any way to communicate with anybody.”

  Will put a calming hand on Charlie’s arm. “It’s wrong. There’s no question that it’s wrong, but keep this in mind: if he can’t communicate with them, they also can’t communicate with him. So they’re not asking any questions. That’s good, at least.”

  Connelly wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t understand the endgame here. What’s their plan? If they’re not questioning him, and they’re not charging him, why is he here?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” Will agreed.

  Sasha scanned the small lobby. “Who’s on duty?”

  “Paul Holtzman is stationed at the front desk. World’s Greatest Dad mug. Takes his coffee with cinnamon on your recommendation.”

  Landon Lewis piped up, “Is Chief Carlson here?”

  “What’s he doing here?” Charlie demanded as if he only just noticed his former tormentor.

  “We brought him in case we need him for leverage.”

  “Leverage over whom?”

  “Over the dirty cops scuttling around this building like roaches.”

  Charlie snorted. “Wouldn’t that be all of them?”

  “We’re going to need to find some allies in this building,” Connelly said in a soft voice. “It’d be helpful if you could keep your personal opinions to yourself until we get Sam out of here.”

  Charlie’s eyes flashed, but he nodded. “Got it.”

  “Thanks,
” Connelly said. “By the way, I’m Leo Connelly. Sasha’s husband.”

  “Charlie Robinson.”

  “Is Kara Diamond on duty?” Lewis asked.

  Sasha turned to Lewis and hissed, “Nobody wants to hear from you.”

  “That may be, but I think Officer Diamond is part of the effort to silence Mr. Blank.”

  Sasha wheeled around. “Based on what?”

  “She told me that Officer Willard flagged Sam Blank for detention when they were reviewing the facial recognition software on the traffic camera during the protest. But Holtzman said it wasn’t Willard, Officer Comford was the one who insisted he be picked up.”

  “So, how do you know Holtzman’s not lying?” Connelly demanded.

  “Just a hunch, I guess. I spoke to Officers Diamond and Comford the other night. There was an …. undercurrent.”

  Sasha pursed her lips and decided not to say what she thought of Lewis’ judgment. From the look on Connelly’s face, he shared her opinion.

  “Is Diamond here?” Lewis repeated.

  Will looked at Charlie, and they both shrugged.

  “I saw a female officer walk through a while ago, but I don’t know her name,” Will finally answered.

  “Is she an older woman with short-cropped gray hair?” Sasha asked.

  He shook his head. “Nope. Young, long dark hair in a ponytail.”

  “That’s Brittany Comford,” Lewis volunteered.

  “We’re not going to stand out here all night,” Connelly said. “I’m going to find somebody to ask.”

  Will held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t think we should go back there uninvited, Leo.”

  “I have a calling card.” He wrenched Lewis by the arm and darted behind the desk.

  Sasha shot a look at Naya. “You three hang tight. We’ll be right back.” She raced off after her husband and Lewis.

  “Hey, is anybody here?” Connelly bellowed. “I want to report a crime. A man’s been abducted.”

  “What are you doing?”