The detective tsked, looked away, but Ray reached out and took Kinsey’s hand, squeezed it for support and comfort. The pair of them had already confessed to being freaks together. It was nice to know Ray wasn’t the only one who had a weird something inside her, though she would have traded the ability to influence people over seeing their deaths any day.
“I’m just in the preliminary stages of translation,” Kinsey said, her tone obvious and soothing, an attempt to calm down Gerri. The detective’s phone vibrated on the table next to her, taking Gerri’s focus, so Ray couldn’t tell if Kinsey’s plan worked or not.
Green eyes scanned the screen, light from the smartphone casting odd shadows over her face. Kinsey leaned sideways, peeking, while Ray sat back, staring down into the remains of her wine. Someone brushed past her and Ray looked up, into the face of the waitress.
Saw her smile. Felt the knot of cancer in her colon. For a brief moment, the young woman’s face was superimposed with the pale veil of death, her bald head and grayed skin marred with small sores from the treatments that would do nothing to save her life, only prolong the inevitable.
And then, the waitress was gone past and Ray gulped the last of her wine. There was nothing she could do. Drinking always made her visions worse, but sometimes alcohol was the only thing that blocked them. She never knew which would be true. Speaking up, trying to warn the girl, would only cause more problems and solve nothing.
Let her live in peace and ignorance for another few weeks. It was the only gift Ray could give her.
A hissing intake of breath cut the sadness holding Ray, and she blinked away the burning beginning of tears as she looked up over her glass rim to see Kinsey grabbing Gerri’s hand, staring at the screen of her smartphone.
“What?” Gerri looked back and forth between Kinsey and the phone. “You know that kid?”
Kinsey, grim, nodded, brow tight under her black rimmed glasses. “Except,” she said, turning the screen to show Ray, “his name isn’t Brandon Forrest, and, from what I know, he doesn’t have a record.” Her jaw jumped. “Unless he has a twin he doesn’t know about, Mitchell has a hell of a lot of explaining to do.”
***
INT. – ST. BONIFACE HOSPITAL – EVENING
Gerri glanced in the rearview mirror, noting how Ray stared out the back window, shoulders hunched, face an unreadable mask. Kinsey sat next to her, almost hopping mad, arms clenched around herself so tight Gerri worried she might cut off circulation to some important parts.
She could have protested the two of them wanting to come with her to the hospital to question Mitchell, or Brandon, or whatever the hell his real name was. But Kinsey’s expression as she stood from the table, hands jerking her bookbag strap over her head, jaw thrust outward just looking for a fight, told Gerri it wouldn’t be worth it. Kinsey would just follow her even if she told her to stay put or back off. And Ray, at least, was a trained doctor. Maybe she could be useful.
Who was Gerri kidding? Yet again, she found herself in a position where she wanted the girls with her. This was becoming a habit, one she’d have to break eventually. But, at least this time there would be no crazy kid in a back alley with a knife, tortured into thinking he was possessed by a demon because he was gay.
This time might be worse. Because, Gerri feared she’d find another corpse just like Garret.
It wasn’t until, ten minutes later, as the three of them stopped outside the closed door of Mitchell’s room, Gerri worried she really was right. But, when Kinsey pushed past her, brow furrowed, head down like a charging bull, Gerri was too slow to stop her from barreling in. The last think Gerri wanted was for her friend to find her assistant dead. She’d have done anything to shield Kinsey from that.
When the blonde stopped in her tracks, Gerri’s heart clenched. But, she had enough height on the slim anthropologist, it only took Gerri a moment to realize it wasn’t Mitchell’s body lying, pale and lifeless, on the bed.
“Portia.” Kinsey rushed forward, stopped just shy of the body. The girl looked familiar, Gerri’s detective mind rewinding to the night before, to the girl with the long, pink lashes. Kinsey met her eyes, her own anguished. “She’s dead.”
They didn’t need Ray to check for a pulse. Gerri had seen enough death to know from the girl’s pallor, the faint film over her eyes, Kinsey was right. Someone pushed her gently from behind, turning Gerri around. A nurse frowned at the three of them before her eyes settled on the dead girl and flew wide.
“Where is Mitchell Harris?” Gerri grasped the woman’s arm before she could run off, cotton scrubs bunching under her grip.
“I don’t know.” The nurse pulled free, white sneakers squeaking on the floor. “I need to call the floor doctor.” She spun and ran, leaving Gerri to scowl at the dead girl while Ray moved swiftly to the body, fingers exploring her throat. It didn’t take a genius to guess what happened, confirmed when Ray exposed the two fresh marks on the girl’s neck.
“Viper,” Ray said, voice cracking slightly. “But the holes look ragged. Gerri, I think she was drugged against her will.”
Which made it murder.
Kinsey pushed past Gerri, heading for the hall. She just had time to grasp the blonde’s bag strap to pull her to a halt.
Her distress made her blue eyes glow. “I have to find Mitchell,” Kinsey said, voice vibrating with fear. “He could be in danger, Ger.”
Or. Gerri just nodded, gut clenching around what she now suspected. But she followed Kinsey as the blonde took off down the hall, fingers flying over the screen of her phone. It buzzed a second later and she stopped in her tracks.
“He’s here in the hospital,” she said, holding it up for Gerri to see. “New tracking app. Supposed to show you where your friends are.” Damned creepy if Gerri said so herself. But useful, too. Gerri headed for the stairs, Kinsey close beside her.
Down three flights, then left to the parking garage. Kinsey blew through the door, Gerri on her heels, already pulling her back, her instincts telling her the blonde wasn’t going to like what they were about to find.
“Mitchell!” The tall, skinny form up ahead, skirting between cars in the dark, stopped suddenly at the sound of Kinsey’s shout. He turned long enough for Gerri to catch the flash of his eyes in the faint light before he ran.
Guilty.
Damned right.
The chase. She lived for it, her cowboy boots pounding on the ground, the humidity no longer an issue as Gerri breathed in the carbon monoxide laden air of the parking garage. He could run, and did, but he was no match for her long stride, for her stamina.
For the tingle racing through her veins and driving her to move faster, to lengthen each step, to push her heart and lungs in ways she shouldn’t have been able. Gerri’s mouth burned with hunger, fierce grin pulling at the corners of her mouth as Mitchell tried to escape her. He glanced back over his shoulder as he made the turn at the end of the garage, leaping over the concrete divider and racing up the curve. She was there a heartbeat later, snarling, flinging herself after him. The way his pale face flashed in the light drove her faster, triggered her predator response so powerfully she missed entirely the car heading right for them almost until it was too late.
It was the squeal of tires, the flash of the headlights, that saved her. She skimmed to one side, Mitchell screaming as the car came to a sudden halt only inches from him. The driver left the car running as she slammed her way out of the front seat and stomped up to him where he panted, shaking from shock at almost being run over.
“You asshole!” Kinsey punched him hard in the shoulder before Gerri could reach her, stop her. “You’ve been lying to me all along!”
Mitchell tried to run again, desperate, guilty. Gerri was faster, much faster, but the burning inside her died with Kinsey’s stupid stunt. He was lucky, too.
Damned lucky. Gerri was big enough to admit, she had no idea what she would have done to him if she’d actually caught him in that state. Refused to let it scare her even
as she slapped the cuffs on his wrists and dragged him away from the still fuming Kinsey.
***
INT. – 9th PRECINCT INTERROGATION– NIGHT
How many times had Gerri stood behind the glass, observing a suspect, knowing in her heart, in her soul, she’d found the guilty party? Anticipation made her mouth water, her blood heat up like nothing else. The chase, she loved the chase. The capture, yes. But convincing those responsible for murder to confess?
Delicious.
Kinsey stood beside her, arms crossed over her chest, hurt written all over her. She refused to look away from Mitchell, Ray standing close to her, meeting Gerri’s eyes. She should probably make Kinsey leave, the both of them. But Jackson hadn’t shown his more than likely messed up face and the captain wasn’t in the house. So there was no one to insist the two leave. And as long as they didn’t interfere, Gerri knew there was no reason they should.
Except, Kinsey probably wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear.
Instead of arguing with her small, blonde friend, Gerri took a moment to squeeze her shoulder before stepping past the two and out into the hall. She drew an anticipatory breath, half turned on by what was coming and half freaked out this was such a high for her. Her very own drug of choice, feeding the beast within.
And, no matter how hard she tried to hate the way her gut took over, Gerri failed every time.
The moment Gerri set foot in the room, Mitchell started spilling his guts.
“I didn’t kill anyone, I swear.” Shaking, sweating, eyes bugging out of his head while his skinny neck pulsed, two punctures in his flesh pink and fresh.
“You supplied drugs to Tasha Pear,” Gerri said, closing the door behind her, watching him from a distance. When he nodded, swallowing hard, she began to slowly circle the room, forcing him to turn to keep his eyes on her as she made a long, quiet lap. “And lied about your name to Dr. DanAllart.” He flinched from that. At least he felt guilty about deceiving Kinsey. “Brandon Forrest.” She’d already memorized his file. “Possession, trafficking. You vanished from LA about six months ago. Your parole officer is wondering where you went, Brandon.”
“I was supposed to leave all that behind.” He sounded more hurt than petulant, but she didn’t give him an ounce of credit. “Bought a new ID. Complete with acceptance to college. Always wanted to go to college, be an archeologist.” He shivered in place. “So, I sell,” he said, shrugged like that was small thing. “Tried to get out of it, you know? But I got bills to pay and college is expensive.” He glanced guiltily at the glass. “Dr. DanAllart doesn’t need to know, does she?”
Gerri didn’t comment. She could almost feel the blonde fuming through the glass. Sure, Kinsey was a sucker sometimes, but this kid had to be a good actor to fool her. Smart of him to pick a prof who just moved here, easier to hide his tracks.
Wouldn’t make it past Gerri, though. Not a chance.
Mitchell sagged, handcuffs rattling as he rested his arms on the table. “One of my old boys from LA, he tracked me down last week. Said he had some new stuff to sell. Offered big coin. I took it.” His face settled, hardened. “But it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Just an easy few bucks, to get me through.”
She kept circling, penning him in, moving closer with each slow rotation. Didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. He was ready to pop and they both knew it.
“Kendall and her posse, they came to me.” Mitchell shifted in his seat. “Tasha didn’t want any, but Kendall, that bitch, she made them all take it. I felt bad, stayed with Tash. She had a bad trip.” He shook his head, fear suddenly blossoming on his face, in the set of his shoulders. Gerri smelled it in the air, sniffed delicately at the bouquet of his growing terror. “Just makes you stronger, you know? Like you’re invincible. I had one guy swear he could fly. But Tash.” He gulped air, swallowed again, Adam’s apple in overdrive. “She freaked out solid. Thought I was trying to kill her.” He spun, met Gerri’s eyes, begging her to believe him. “I swear, I tried to stop her. She ran down to the beach, just a freaking mess. When I caught up with her, she climbed the pier.” He shuddered, eyes haunted. “Climbed it like a fucking monkey.” Gerri stopped moving, beside him, looking down into the horror in his face. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Then she jumped. Hit the sand like, pop.” He looked down, shuddering. “I knew she was dead. But I didn’t kill her.”
Gerri’s gut knew he was telling the truth. About this part. But she wasn’t done, and neither was he. “What about Myra?” The second body, another set of punctures, dead thanks to Exotica.
“I had nothing to do with that, I swear.” He sat back, shaking his head with violence, long, lank brown hair sticking to the sweat on his cheek. “She must have had another dealer or something. There’s a few of us at the club, to keep everyone happy.”
“And your supplier? Who’s your boss, Brandon?”
He shut up instantly, like a volume button being turned off. There was enough fear in his face she knew he’d take that to prison with him.
Which made her think of Julian Black. He might not be directly involved, but her gut told her he knew more than he’d told her. Gerri really had to ask him more questions. In the meantime, she hated to admit she believed Mitchell about Myra.
“Garret Jay.” She waited for a reaction. Didn’t get one. He just stared up at her, still hurt and scared. Not that she believed him innocent. But, if this kid didn’t get to Garret, who did? Looked like she owed Flashman a fresh visit, before she pulled any of his other pusher idents off the street.
That left one body to go. And this one, she had a feeling, was her jackpot of the night.
Gerri leaned in, one hand on the table, the other on the back of his chair. She got close enough she caught the whiff of sourness to his fresh sweat, saw the pulse of his blood flowing through the thick vein standing out in the center of his pale forehead.
“Tell me the dead girl in the hospital was an accident,” she said.
He couldn’t. He tried, his lips parting, the thin skin of his cheeks shaking as he fought to deny it, to lie to her. But Gerri knew better. And he was hers.
All the way hers.
Mitchell burst into tears, a tiny drop of his spit landing on her cheek as he broke down. “She was going to tell.” Gerri could barely make him out as he sobbed the words. “She knew I sold a second dose to Tash, more than she should have taken. She was going to tell. I had to do something.”
“So you forced her to take viper,” Gerri said, soft, almost kind. She needed him to tell her everything, and sometimes gentleness, understanding, got her what she needed.
He bobbed a nod, wiping a trail of snot running from his narrow nose. “I just wanted to shut her up, until I could get out of the city. She freaked out, had a seizure or something. I must have given her too much. She just…” his hands lifted from his lap, landed hard with a rattle of metal from his cuffs. When he met Gerri’s eyes, his were full of hurt. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
Gerri leaned back, exhaling her satisfaction, even as her phone buzzed. She waved at the glass, turned for the door, pulled it open as Officer Mills appeared.
“Take him down to holding.” She left Mitchell in the room, sobbing softly to himself. She had what she needed. Glanced down at her phone as Kinsey exited the observation room with a mix of emotions on her face. Gerri almost said she was sorry, but the blonde waved off any comment.
“Ray ran out of here,” Kinsey said, sniffing, shoulders tight as though doing her best to hide her true emotions from Gerri. And the detective let her, reading the message on her phone with raised eyebrows.
Exotica. Body found.
***
INT. – EXOTICA NIGHTCLUB – NIGHT
Ray stood over the body of the dead girl, out of the way of the CSI’s crawling over the scene. After all, she’d already confirmed that yes, this was Myra Banks and yes, she was still dead. Not much else for her to do but wait for them to finish their job so she could t
ake the young woman back to the morgue. Where she belonged.
Someone posed Myra, dressed her in a tight, black sheath with sparkles in her hair and pink rouge on her cheeks. Shiny gloss plumped her lips. Ray was surprised she didn’t smell yet, wondered if the faint scent of perfume hid the first stages of putrefaction, though that was unlikely. Not much could mask the heavy, cloying embrace of the smell of death.
Myra had the booth to herself, hands folded on the table in front of her, rigor long gone. Though, while the body should have been limp and unable to hold a pose, there she sat, facing forward, alive enough in appearance she wasn’t discovered until a pair of happy partygoers tried to have a conversation with her.
Imagine their surprise.
Ray’s sadness at the sight of the poor, dead girl dressed and ready for a night on the town was cut through by the need to giggle. Whoever did this adored her. Wanted Myra to have one last amazing experience before the end. Nothing paranormal or Feds in black suits about it. Though, how they’d snuck into the morgue and stolen the body was beyond her. She hadn’t thought to ask Manny, the night watchman, if he’d checked surveillance yet.
Not that it mattered, she supposed, as the CSI’s backed off and the two paramedics moved in with a body bag and a stretcher. Party over, lights out. Time to go home.
“Do me a favor,” Gerri said, joining her to watch the paramedics lift the girl’s body. “When I go, make sure you give me a hell of a sendoff.”
Ray didn’t want to think about that. And, thankfully, the odd talent she had to see the deaths of those around her had never appeared with Gerri or Kinsey. Part of the reason she adored them, really.
Exotica (Episode Two: The Nightshade Cases) Page 9