by J. A. Huss
“Apparently Junior has a history of mental illness and this is not the first time it’s happened. He’s under the treatment of a psychiatrist and he was admitted as an inpatient. Judge Livingston signed off on the order, so we’re sitting this one out. But Montgomery senior wants your pretty ass over there ASAP to talk details.”
I mull that over for a minute, ignoring the fact that he once again sexually harassed me. “Why would I need to sort out anything? If Livingston signed off, then we’re done for now. I should be working on—”
“You should be working on whatever I tell you, Masters. So get out of my office, get in your car, and don’t come back until it’s sorted. You do whatever Montgomery wants you to do.”
“Since when do I work for him? You know, I’m sick and tired of the way this department is all buddy-buddy with Blue Corp. Did it ever occur to you that something strange is going on? I mean, four suicides in less than a month and now Atticus Montgomery, who seemed perfectly lucid the last time I saw him, is locked away in an insane asylum for trying to murder his father? This just doesn’t add up. I think you have answers, and I want you to fill me in right now.”
“Is that so?” Chief asks, throwing a thick file folder down on his desk with a heavy thump. “Well, maybe you’re not cut out for this job, Masters. Maybe you need to find something to do that you’re actually good at. I hired you because Blue Corp recommended you. And now you’re trying to get all high and mighty and pretend you didn’t get this job as a favor to them?”
“What the hell are you talking about? I thought—”
“You thought,” he sneers. “You thought what? That you got this job based on merit? No, honey. You’re just as guilty of cronyism as the rest of us.”
“Crony—I don’t even know those people! I just met them. I didn’t get this job based on my secret connections with Blue Corp.”
“Well,” Chief says, laughing to himself as he takes a seat behind his desk, “you’re mistaken. They know all about you.”
My heart skips a beat. What the fuck does that mean?
“Now get out of here. And you better make old man Montgomery happy when you get up there or he’ll cut you loose and you can go on back to your depressing life as the only surviving member of the Masters family. Motorcycle tricks.” Chief laughs. “What a fucking joke. No wonder they’re all dead. Bunch of loser—”
Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m on his desk grabbing his collar and pulling him over the top. He looks up at me with surprised eyes, but before he can get another word out or even yell for help, I’ve slapped him across the face.
“I can fight like a girl if you want, Chief. But I’m warning you, this girl fights dirty.” I push him back and then step away. “I told you not to talk to me that way. And if you do it again, I’ll show you just what those bunch of losers taught me to do all growing up.” I glare at him as he straightens his shirt, which came untucked during the scuffle. “And as far as Blue Corp goes, the first three deaths were declared suicides by the coroner yesterday, and I’m expecting the fourth to be as well. If Alastair Montgomery wants to file a report, he can put his nasty ass in a car and come down here to do it himself.”
I fold my arms across my chest and wait for his bellow, but he’s eerily calm.
“You’re gonna regret that.”
“So fire me,” I challenge him back.
But he stays silent. So I take that as my cue to leave. I walk towards the door and just when I reach for the handle, Chief says, “You don’t want to fuck with the Blue Boar.”
Blue Boar. They call these corporate guys swine around here. A rip-off of the word pig used for dirty cops. I guess Montgomery’s blue blood goes with the nickname. “Well, whenever that Blue Boar is ready, he knows where to find me. I don’t need to be told how to investigate and if you think I’m going to let you push me around, just be warned, I push back. I’ve been documenting your insults and I will sue this department like a motherfucker if you make things difficult for me.”
I pull the door open, walk out, and slam it closed behind me.
The whole precinct turns to look at me, and then I spy Lincoln leaning up against the wall near the exit. He starts walking towards me looking like he’s as eager to get out of here as I am.
“Everything OK?” he asks.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, taking a moment to straighten my shirt. “Nothing I can’t handle. But I’m real busy, Lincoln. Lots of stuff going on today.”
“Meet me for dinner?” he asks.
“I can do that. Where at?”
“I gotta be in town tonight, so how about I pick you up at eight?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders and standing on my toes to give him a kiss. We walk towards the door, but he stops. “I’m gonna take a piss real fast.” He leans in to kiss me again and then turns, saying, “See you at eight.”
I walk off towards my desk, looking over my shoulder to wave as Lincoln watches me go.
Funny how quickly life changes.
Chapter Thirty-Nine - Lincoln
Molly walks away before I slip down the hallway and walk quickly to the chief’s office.
I don’t knock.
“What the fuck—”
“I’m gonna need you to shut up, sit your ass down, and have a very short one-way conversation with me.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Not Batman,” I answer in the voice I usually reserve for murdering. “I’m told we have a lot in common, but he’s way too nice.”
“Get the fuck out of my office before I lock your ass up and throw you away for life.”
I grab him by the throat and push him against the wall, making all the picture frames of his tired-looking wife and his six kids sway like they’re about to crash to the floor. “I’m afraid you’re mistaking Detective Molly Masters for the whores you pick up in front of Cathedral Seven in the Merchant District.”
“What?” he gasps though the tight choke I have on his throat. But I see the recognition there.
“Your dirty department might have a hold on most of this city, but I own the Merchant District. I’ve seen you. I have you on so many security cameras, I could’ve taken you down a hundred times over. But I didn’t. Because I need a dumbshit like you in control for now.”
“What—” he gasps again. This time his hands come up and try to pry my fingers from his windpipe.
“In fifteen seconds you’re going to lose consciousness. And If I were you, I’d stop struggling so we can get this over with in one take, understand?”
He lowers his hands and nods, so I ease up enough to let him draw in one tiny breath. “You’re not in charge here anymore, I am. And you’re never gonna talk to Molly Masters like that again. In fact, if I hear you call one woman ‘sweetheart’ or ‘honey’ who is not that saint of a woman hanging on your wall above your head, then I’m gonna come back for you. I’m gonna parade your lewd acts on every TV in this city, and I’m going to ruin your life.”
I let go and his hands go to his throat again as he wheezes in air as fast as he can gulp it down. There’s a bright red mark on his neck, and it’s not from the squeezing. He doesn’t feel it yet, but he will. Because the anger in my head comes out as red heat in my hands, even through the gloves. His neck will blister in a matter of minutes.
I don’t like leaving too many calling cards, and this one is risky. But he needs to know what he’s dealing with. “I’d think long and hard about what I just said, Chief. And if I were you, I’d be on that phone with your real boss, and I’d warn them there’s a shitstorm coming.”
I turn and walk away. I’m just reaching for the door when he asks the only question left to ask.
“Who are you?”
I pause, picturing Molly that first day in my cave. And then I look over my shoulder and say, “I’m Alpha. And you can tell that Blue Boar fuck down at Blue Corp that I’m back and he’s next.”
Chapter Forty - Lincoln
I pull into the cave with a wave of dread. I heard the chatter in the department about Atticus missing the shot. Montgomery senior wasn’t killed last night and I’m fuming from the fuckup. That motherfucker was supposed to be dead. Why isn’t he dead?
I throw the car into park and get out, my boots thudding across the concrete floors as I make my way to the wall of monitors. I scan each one, but it’s useless. There is no mention of Atticus or his father.
“What the fuck happened last night?” I turn to Sheila, who is hovering in the middle of the room looking like she’s in the middle of a shrug.
“Everything was going according to plan. Atticus got out of the car, I tracked him inside Blue Corp, everything looked fine. He went behind the closed-circuit cameras where I have no access so I assumed—”
Her words are cut off by my phone. I take it out, recognizing Case’s tone, and say, “Yeah.”
“What the fuck, dude?”
“I don’t know, man, he missed or something.”
“Missed? How the fuck can he miss? If he was in the office like we planned it, then that bastard was less than twenty feet away. No way Atticus missed that fucking shot. And the goddamned Blue Boar just did an interview for Channel Three, Wolves of Wall Street. He looks pretty fucking alive to me. Thomas is gonna be here in thirty minutes and he’s gonna want answers.”
“I just got home, Case. I don’t have answers. I’m still trying to figure it out. I watched Atticus walk into the Blue Castle last night. He was primed and ready. He should’ve fucking pulled that trigger.”
“Did you ask Molly about it?”
“Why the fuck would I ask Molly? We agreed that she wouldn’t be involved.”
“Things change, Lincoln.”
“Well, I’m not asking her. She’s the lead detective on this case and she already knows too much.”
“I disagree,” Case says. “I don’t think she knows nearly enough.”
“Do not threaten me, Case.”
“Threaten? Get a hold of yourself, asshole. This is the endgame and you just fucked it up. The Old Man is still alive. You need to get your ass here and explain this shit to Thomas. Because I’m not gonna take the brunt of the temper tantrum Thomas is gonna throw once he finds out the Blue Boar is still in the game.”
I get the three beeps that signal the call has ended. “Fuck!” I yell.
“I think you need weapons, Lincoln.”
“What?” I turn to Sheila, who is still standing in the middle of the room. “I have my gun, Sheila.”
But her lightshow body shakes its head. “More than that.”
“What do you know?”
“Atticus Montgomery was taken to the Cathedral City Asylum early this morning. He’s been admitted as an inpatient for attempted murder.”
“So he did fuck it up?” I growl.
“Possibly. I’m getting mixed signals from the intake surveillance over at the asylum. And the private room cameras are on a closed circuit. I won’t be able to directly access him until he wanders into view of an exterior one.”
“Shit.” I look at her for a few moments, running all this shit through my mind. “What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. If I had access to the top floor of Blue Corp, I’d know. But I don’t, so we’re in the dark until Atticus Montgomery lets something slip.”
“Fuck. Well, I gotta go into town and talk to Thomas. He’s not gonna be happy. We have a deadline of Friday for the news conference. I’m taking the bike to avoid traffic. Keep me posted.”
I don’t wait for an answer, just hop on the bike—now repaired, thanks to Sheila’s little bot army—and kick the starter. It growls to life and I take off down the tunnel, the gate lifting at just the right moment to let me pass through without stopping.
I was smart to take the bike because thirty minutes later when I finally make it into town, it’s the lunch rush hour and I have to weave in and out between cars the whole way into the Merchant District. I park the bike in front of M-Street Bar and the door is opening before I even get within ten feet of it.
“Hey, Lincoln.”
I nod to the doorman, but my eyes are on Thomas and Case, both of whom are sitting at the bar drinking. They turn simultaneously as they register my voice and then Thomas turns away as Case says, “Finally.”
I take a seat on the other side of Case, not that Thomas scares me or anything. I just don’t feel like being too close to him right now.
“You wanna explain this monumental fuckup, Lincoln?” Thomas says, his words coming out as a low growl.
“What do you want me to say? Atticus didn’t follow through.”
“Why?” Thomas sneers. “Why the fuck didn’t it work?”
“I don’t know, asshole. I’m not the boss of him.”
Case rolls his eyes. “Lincoln, stop, OK? Just think, man. What happened last night?”
“I watched him go in the building.”
“We know he was in the building, Lincoln,” Thomas says, his voice way too calm for my comfort level. “What we don’t know is why he’s at the fucking Cathedral City Asylum on a judge-ordered psychiatric hold. Now how the fuck are we supposed to complete this job when he’s locked up?”
“We have to assume the worst,” Case says. “We have to assume the Old Man is on to us.”
“Sheila’s inside. She can get info from the system connected to the internet. But the interior cameras are on a closed circuit. She can’t access them.”
“So we just have to wait,” Case says. “We just need to sit tight and be patient until she finds something useful.”
Thomas gets up, gulps the whiskey sitting in front of his stool, then slams the glass down on the bar top so hard, it shatters. “So our whole plan, the one we’ve been discussing for fifteen fucking years, hinges on that sorry motherfucker in the psych ward?”
We don’t answer him, and he doesn’t wait. Just grabs his coat and walks out, slamming the door behind him, because the doorman has made himself scarce.
Case lets off a long breath of air. “He’s pissed.”
“Yup,” I say, catching the whiskey that Mac slides down the bar to me and taking my own gulp. “But we’re stuck until someone makes a move.”
“We’re going down, man.”
“We’re not going down, Case. Jesus, you two are pansies. We’ve got this. We’ve got Sheila, we’ve got me, and we’ve got Molly.”
“You told her?”
“No.” I laugh. “But she’s not stupid. And she’s covering for me. She knows about the others and she didn’t report me. In fact, I spent the night with her.” I get a little lost in that thought.
“You better be careful, man. Because once she figures this all out, she’s not gonna like you very much.”
“That remains to be seen,” I say back. “I can handle Molly.”
“You don’t even know her, dude.”
“Better than you do,” I say, turning my head slowly to eye Case. “So just stay the fuck out of it. We’ve got a good plan, every player is in place, and no matter what, this shit is happening. It might not happen by the book, but in a few days this whole town will be upside down. Thomas will get what he wants and I’m gonna get what I want too.”
Case is silent for a few seconds. And then he picks up his glass of whiskey. “Whatever you say, asshole. Whatever you say.”
I squint my eyes at Case for a moment, but he just downs his drink and then gets up, walks over to the jukebox, and presses the buttons for Social Distortion. The melancholy rockabilly fills the bar at high volume, drowning out everything but the obvious.
We’ve all lost a lot playing this game, but if everything goes right Thomas will have more than he ever dreamed of in a few days. And I’ve got Molly back. That’s a huge win for me.
Case? He’s got nothing so far, and nothing coming either.
He’s not quite along for the ride, but Case was never out for revenge. He’s just in on principle. He needs to know why. Bu
t the thing is, the why for Case is not the same as it is for Thomas and me. We know why we’re in this fucked-up situation. Case doesn’t. His parents refused to talk about it. They gave him an ultimatum—they would tell him all the things he wanted to know, or they’d let me stay with him after they released us from the psych center.
He chose me over answers. And it’s always pissed me off that his parents knew exactly which buttons to punch on their only son. Because we all know Case ended up in Prodigy because his parents owed those fuckers something.
“It’s gonna work,” I yell, my shout competing with the music. But Case either doesn’t hear me or refuses to. He’s already playing an old standup arcade game in the corner as he pushes down the past and goes into his virtuality.
Chapter Forty-One - Molly
I sit at my desk and stare at my computer, looking over all my grunt work relating to the Blue Corp case. But I can’t sign off on anything because it still doesn’t make sense. Given the fact that I know Lincoln was influencing these scientists to kill themselves using some biotech mumbo-jumbo that he does down in that cave of his, why would Atticus go insane and try to shoot his father?
Did Lincoln get to him too?
It bothers me. Like, a lot. Lincoln was with me last night so he couldn’t have had anything to do with Atticus.
Don’t be stupid, Molly. If the man wanted to slip out of your house and go kill someone, he would. He did after the cathedral party.
Right. Back to being bothered.
It also bothers me to think of Atticus being involved. Because he’s about the same age as Lincoln and his friends, so how could he possibly be one of those scientists? No, that makes no sense. But he has to be connected in some other way. Maybe he was at the school too?
My heart thumps wildly at that thought. Shit, what if Atticus recognized me? Maybe that’s why he was so nice when I came to visit?
But how is the Old Man connected? Is Lincoln trying to say that he was the one responsible for the Prodigy School? For what happened to us?