by A J Sherwood
“Describe to us what happened,” Olivia requested.
“I-I was just so mad at what was happening, and that only Detective Solomon seemed to believe me, that I went to have it out with Chen Li. I wanted to make it clear that I wouldn’t let him get away with it. Put the fear of God in him, I guess. Only he screamed right back at me, and sneered, and—” she broke off, sobbing, clutching a damp tissue to her face. “And then he started hitting me, just swinging wildly, and I wasn’t expecting that. That he’d be that strong while he’s recovering. I thought I’d be safe to talk to him now because he just got out of the hospital. He cornered me for a few minutes, then I slammed into him and got free. I wasn’t thinking, I just ran, I ran for the one man who believed me.” She stared pleadingly at Solomon again.
“Part lie, part truth,” I informed Olivia through the walkie-talkie, reading the enigmatic girl’s lines. “She believes it happened, but the series of events she just told you was completely made up.”
Donovan abruptly took the walkie-talkie to his own mouth and requested, “Ask her what she did this morning. From the time she woke up until she went to Chen’s.”
Olivia didn’t so much as blink as she repeated the question. “Ms. Thompson, what did you do this morning? From the time you got out of bed until you saw Chen.”
“What does that matter?!” Alice wailed, sobbing into her tissue.
“Just walk me through it,” Olivia requested again, tone of forced patience.
As Alice sobbed until she became basically incoherent, I looked to my boyfriend. “Why did you ask that?”
“Playing a hunch.” Donovan rocked back on his heels, eyes lost to a memory. “I saw something like this once, when I was an MP. Guy had a dissociative disorder and honestly had no memory of what he’d done. Killed three people, blood on his hands, and was as freaked out about it as we were.”
Moments like this made me wish I could just google stuff. “Would it cause detachment with her emotions?”
“I think that’s a symptom, yeah.” Donovan’s attention sharpened on me. “You think that’s it? She’s got this disorder?”
“Not a doctor,” I reminded him. “But something wacky is going on, yeah.”
Olivia lost patience on the other side. “Ms. Thompson! Stop crying and answer the damn question. What did you do this morning?”
I’d rarely seen such a blank expression on a person’s face before in my life. Even her meridian lines went flat, only resonating with confusion and anger. “I’m not answering that. You should be asking what Chen Li did to me! You should be getting me to a doctor!” Her voice raised several octaves as she screeched, “WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT?!”
“She doesn’t know,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “Huh. Babe, walkie-talkie.”
As Donovan held it obligingly to me, I requested, “Olivia, can you step in here for a sec?”
Without a word to anyone, Olivia stood abruptly and headed out the door, coming around and into the viewing room with me. Before she even had the door closed, I asked, “Alice Thompson’s medical records?”
“Request still processing,” she answered sourly. “We hit unexpected red tape, and I think I know why. Jon, exactly what are you seeing?”
“Weird shit,” I answered forthrightly, splaying my hands in a helpless shrug. During moments like these I really wished for some sci-fi power where I could just share my sight. Words didn’t adequately convey everything. “It’s like she’s reading a report off a newspaper. She believes what it says but has no memory of the event, no more information than what it told. The weird red I see inside her head flares up when she’s being asked questions, and I can tell she’s trying to remember, but something’s blocking her. Emotionally, she has no connection to what she’s saying.”
Rhetorically, Olivia muttered, “Aside from the crocodile tears. This is a strange case, Jon. Have you ever seen something like this?”
“No. Donovan has.”
She glanced at Donovan, who shrugged and said, “A case back when I was an MP. Guy had a dissociative disorder. Killed three people and didn’t remember doing it.”
Olivia nodded, accepting this provisionally. “I’ve seen situations like this before as well. I’ve got a hunch too, but I need to verify facts first. Let’s go back to Chen and ask a few questions.”
We changed rooms again, this time Olivia entering the interrogation room alone. None of us felt the least bit of remorse leaving Solomon to deal with the crying Alice. Olivia greeted the Lis with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you’ve been waiting so long. It’s taking some time to straighten matters out. Chen, I need to ask you a few questions, please be perfectly honest.”
“Yes, of course, Captain,” Chen responded in his polite way, voice soft and troubled.
“Have you seen Alice Thompson today?”
“Only in passing, here,” he answered forthrightly.
I spoke directly into the walkie-talkie. “Truth.”
“Have you seen or heard from her since she shot you?”
“Almost daily,” he answered with a twisted frown. “She send many emails. I keep them in folder if you need to see them. But I have not seen her.”
I hadn’t known about the emails. I shot Donovan a look and he shrugged, answering softly, “I didn’t know either. I think the kid was playing things close to the chest.”
Maybe he was, although he shouldn’t have, in this case. “Truth again, Olivia.”
“Chen, Alice is claiming that she went to see you this morning and you beat her.”
Chen’s mother slapped a hand against the table. “This is lie! This girl bad girl, she lie against my son. He can no beat anyone. Can no even lift arm above shoulder!”
Olivia held up both hands. “Peace, Mrs. Li, I didn’t say I believed her. But if you’re wondering why you’re here, that’s the reason. We had to investigate and get to the bottom of the matter.”
“Mr. Bane, Mr. Havili, they are here, yes?” Chen asked anxiously.
“Don’t worry, they’re here,” Olivia reassured him kindly. “He’s already helped me interview Alice Thompson and he’s proving right now you’re innocent in these accusations. I just need some physical proof to back it up and we can let you go. Did either of you go somewhere with security cameras today? Or buy anything that you have receipts for?”
Chen’s mother promptly reached into her voluminous bag and yanked out a handful of receipts. Then she placed them one at a time in front of Olivia. “Doctor’s office. Pharmacy. Waffle House.”
Olivia checked the time on each receipt and a satisfied spark shot through her lines. “Perfect. I can prove you weren’t anywhere near the apartment when she says. Chen, Mrs. Li, you can both go. I’ll help you file a restraining order against this woman and if she violates that—and that includes emailing you, Chen—then we’ll prosecute her for it. Your son won’t be attacked by this woman again, Mrs. Li.”
A vindicated smile spread across Mrs. Li’s face. Nothing in the world was more dangerous than a mother protecting her child. I knew this from experience. “Good. I want to meet with Mr. Bane and Mr. Havili.”
“Can you do so later? I need them now to prove Alice Thompson is lying.”
Reluctantly, Mrs. Li agreed with a nod. “Later, then.” She chattered something in Chinese to her son and Chen wearily stood, already looking drained but also satisfied that he was able to leave. That Alice hadn’t done another number on him.
I put my shoulders to the wall and waited until Olivia came back into the room, which took her several minutes, as she had to see the Lis off. When she came back in, a very sharp, unhappy line pulsed through her meridian. “I do not like being played, Jon. I especially don’t like tormenting nice young men who haven’t done anything to deserve this treatment.”
“None of us do,” I sighed in return. “This situation is so fucked up. How did she even get all the bruises, anyway? Pay someone to beat her?”
“Simpler than that,” Donovan disagreed.
Olivia quirked a knowing eyebrow at him. “Sock trick.”
“Sock trick,” he confirmed, shaking his head. “You know it too, huh.”
“I see it often enough, unfortunately.” For my benefit, she explained, “Take a sock and fill it with something heavy, like coins or rocks, then start swinging. It creates a nice bruising pattern on the skin and doesn’t actually do any damage.”
At times I questioned the depth of humanity, of how deep people were willing to plunge into the gutter; other times I questioned humanity’s sanity instead.
A quick flash of something sparked through Olivia, too quick to catch, but I could see that speculative expression on her face well enough. I didn’t like that look. It usually meant trouble for me. “What?”
“Jon,” she started, then for some reason regarded Donovan, as if she expected trouble from him, “I think we can all agree that we need to get to the bottom of this. I can’t charge Alice Thompson much, as lying in this case is a simple misdemeanor. It’s a fine, I can’t hold her.”
Donovan did not like this, turning Grumpy Bear in an instant. “She’s clearly willing to do stupid shit to get Chen in trouble. Can’t we do something?”
“She’s already gotten out on bail for the truly serious thing she did,” Olivia pointed out, disgruntled and rather irritated by her own words. “My hands are rather tied. I need something else to pin on her to keep her behind bars for any length of time. Which is why I’m asking. Jon, I think this girl is severely unbalanced. I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone about it. Her family certainly won’t come clean. I’m scared of what she’ll do next. Can you go deep for me?”
Oh hell.
19
Donovan stared at the captain, aghast, then protested with a very vehement, “No way in hell.”
Pointing to him, she asked me, “He knows what that is?”
“Training camp the past few days,” I explained with a wince. “And Olivia, he’s right to be worried, that’s…not pleasant. And I reserve the right to say no to anything short of a life-or-death situation.”
“If we don’t stop that girl, she’ll likely shoot Chen again,” Olivia predicted with a dark expression on her face.
I winced again. Man, I wished I could disagree with her, but unfortunately, I couldn’t. I really, really didn’t want to do this. The headache alone gave me an excellent reason to avoid it. Upset, grumpy boyfriend was also a very good reason. But a day of pain and an upset boyfriend couldn’t outweigh the possibility of an innocent man getting hurt again. My client, no less. When I balanced them on the scales, the pros and cons didn’t even compare with each other.
“No,” Donovan protested, no doubt reading me like an open book. “No, babe, absolutely not. You told me what that does to you.”
I could tell he was about two seconds away from going full Grizzly Bear on me. “Okay, let’s hold up. I think we won’t need to go full telepathic on this one. I think I can manage on empathic. Can we at least try that before going for the full shenanigans?”
Donovan was only partially mollified by this. “But that still means a migraine for you for the rest of the day and a dark room. Babe….”
“I know,” I answered, holding up a staying hand. “I’m not jumping up and down either. But Donovan, I’d rather be flat on my back for the rest of the day than have poor Chen in danger again because of her. I want to stop her. Don’t you?”
He glowered, then muttered something that sounded like a curse, although not in a language I knew. Not that I needed to, as the tone told me quite a bit. Olivia took two steps back, silently staying out of this. We stayed in that Mexican stand-off for a good ten seconds, me not willing to back down, him searching for a way to argue.
Abruptly his shoulders sagged and Donovan covered his eyes with a hand before asking glumly, “Where’s your dark glasses?”
“Glove compartment,” I answered. Part of me felt bad, because I could see his protective instincts warring within him. I’d find a way to make this up to him later. I stepped in and lifted up a bit to graze a chaste kiss over his mouth. “Thanks.”
“I hate you very much right now. Just for the record.”
“I know,” I soothed. His lines sparked red and gold, a mixture of anger and love, mixed in with healthy doses of worry. “You remember what to do after I’m done?”
“Hustle you to the meditation room at the office, large bottle of water, four tablets of magnesium, and two Advil,” he rattled off, proving he had been paying excellent attention over the past two days. “And I punch anyone who tries to pull you out for a job.”
Grinning, I waggled my head, “That last one sounds like a Donovan addition.”
“You bet your ass it was.” Sighing like a gusting volcano, he turned and stomped his way to the door. “I’ll call Marcy and make sure the meditation room stays open for you. Go do your hippie meditation thing.”
Olivia watched him go and quirked an eyebrow at me, a patient and amused smile on her face. “You told me once that affection is like a spring green color. What color is love?”
I gave her a lopsided smile. “Gold.”
“Is he gold at the moment?”
“Like an Egyptian statue.” Blowing out a breath, I sought out a peaceful, quiet corner to meditate in.
Alice Thompson and I sat across from each other in the interrogation room, our profiles to the mirror so that I could flash Donovan a signal for help if I needed to, and he could see what she was doing. Maybe being that worried was preposterous—after all, she was unarmed and I was probably stronger than she was physically. But crazy people didn’t have the same limits as everyone else; they didn’t think twice about doing something dangerous or stupid. Whether this girl had a mental condition or not, she was crazy as a bed bug. We weren’t taking further chances.
Well, no more than necessary.
I didn’t have anyone to play bad cop with so I assumed my most harmless expression, giving her a friendly vibe as I had from the beginning. “Sorry about this craziness, it’s so busy in the station I’m not sure whether we’re supposed to be coming or going.”
She gave me a nervous smile, her eyes red-lined from the fake tears, mascara smeared and streaking, the bruises on her cheek, forehead, and collar bone turning interesting colors around the edges. Alice looked rattled on the surface but underneath that I noted confusion and…gratification? Not quite right. She was pleased to have my attention, pleased with the drama. In a quavering voice, she assured me, “Quite alright. I’m glad you came back to interview me. That other woman’s scary.”
“Who, Captain Livingston? Yeah, I think it’s in her job description.” I gave a dismissive wave of the hand, trying to ease her into thinking it was safe to relax. “But don’t worry about her right now. I’m here to ask you a few questions, clear things up, and then we can move on from there. Sound good?”
“Sure, yeah,” she agreed, perking up at this enigmatic promise. Alice put both hands on the table, leaning toward me, engaging more. My eyes flicked over her hands and I saw now what Olivia had—a perfect manicure, not a nail chipped, her hands and arms unblemished by bruises.
“Okay. I have to tell you first that everything in here is audio and visually recorded, but that’s fine, right?”
Her head bobbed along, hair swinging to hang over her shoulder. “Sure.”
“For the record,” I spoke mostly to the camera in the room, “my name is Jonathan Bane, Psychic with Psy Consulting Agency, license number 1096643. I’m interviewing Alice Thompson; interview start time is 10:34 am.”
For the first time, she wavered, doubt and worry flashing through her lines. “You’re not a cop?”
“Consultant with the police,” I corrected her with a brief smile. “It’s why I’m sitting with you instead of the cops. My psychic ability is going to help prove what happened this morning.”
A strange look passed over her face, her expression warring with her meridian lines. On the surface, she seemed
caught in a net of trepidation. Internally, so many different emotions battled within her that even she might not understand what she felt. I certainly couldn’t untangle that spaghetti knot of colors.
Deliberately misunderstanding her, I assured her gently, “It’s alright, nothing I will do will hurt you. You won’t feel or sense anything. Just let me ask some questions, clear matters up, and we’ll be done. I’ve already talked to you once before, asked some questions, it’s just like that time.”
Alice nodded, doubtfully, but remained open to me. She hadn’t figured out yet what I could do, and I wasn’t about to enlighten her.
“You’ve already been read your Miranda rights, you’re clear on those? Good, okay, let’s move on to other things then.” I cleared my mind once more, reaching out to her on a deeper level. I had to ease her into this; jerking would hurt us both. “Alice, can you walk me through what you did this morning?”
“I told you guys, I went to see Chen—”
“No, back up,” I requested, my manner genteel. “From the minute you opened your eyes this morning.”
Confusion, blankness. The red presence in her mind fluctuated, like a squirming eel. She stared at me, eyebrows twitching into a frown. “I don’t see why I have to do that.”
“Chen’s given us a statement of his whereabouts,” I answered, coaxing her. “He’s got proof that he was elsewhere this morning. We need to get a timeline to compare against his. You see?”
She slammed both hands against the tabletop, expression shifting into an open snarl. “He told you he wasn’t there. He’s lying!”
I could see a shift in her head, the red becoming dominant, overtaking the other colors and lines. It was literally replacing the lines I knew were Alice’s. Holy shit. Now that I was watching it, I felt like I knew what would happen next. This wasn’t dissociative disorder, it was something else entirely. But I had to push her a little, to make it obvious to everyone else. Well, that, and I had a feeling it wasn’t Alice I needed to talk to.