Psi Another Day (Psi Fighter Academy)

by D. R. Rosensteel

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Captious said. “Everything will be all right. You’re with me, now. I’m taking you to your parents.”

  Poor Christie’s quiet little sobs echoed in the empty street. Visions of Susie popped in and out of my head. I picked up my pace, heart pounding, and drew closer to Captious. My hair fluffed. Angry psychic flames raged through my body and concentrated in my palm. I never reached for my Amplifier. Didn’t need it. Only needed to touch him. I slowly extended my hand, fingers spread wide.

  Suddenly, I remembered Andy’s unmoving body lying against the wall, chest armor shattered. I relaxed, and disintegrated the anger. Now was not the time to lose control. There had to be another way.

  What would Kathryn do?

  “Hey, hey, Dr. Captious,” my suddenly cheerful voice burst out. Kathryn would be proud. “Out late, aren’t we?”

  Captious turned quickly and looked into my eyes. He seemed terrified.

  “Speaking of out late,” he replied, “don’t you have school tomorrow? Look, I don’t have time to talk, now. I need to get this poor little girl to the police station. I found her wandering.”

  “Oh, I’ll walk with you,” I said. “It’s on my way home.” Right. I just came out of the incubator yesterday. Police station. Code name for your meeting place with LaReau, where you are about to lead me. And this time, my encounter with him will end differently.

  Christie gazed up at me and the terror drained from her face. She broke free from Captious and threw her arms around me. I hugged her tight. Scallion could wait. This was where I was supposed to be.

  “You really shouldn’t be in this part of town at night, Rinnie,” Captious told me in his most authoritative teacherly voice. “It’s dangerous. Stay close to me.”

  “You got it.” Close enough to give you a psionic body slam. I held Christie’s hand as Captious herded us up the steep hill toward the courthouse, a huge stone building that consumed an entire city block, beginning at the top of the hill on Main Street. It was home to numerous lawmakers, tax offices, courts, and the Greensburg Police. One small problem. This late at night, the courthouse was locked up tight. It closed at five. Other than the fact that his lips were moving, that’s the reason I knew Captious was lying about where we were going. I was anxious to learn his real destination, and to hear the lame excuse he would have for not going in when we passed by the police station.

  When we crested the hill, the main entrance of the courthouse was completely dark. It might as well have had a megaphone blaring Go away, we’re closed! To my surprise, Captious didn’t even attempt to go there. Instead, we crossed Main Street and walked down the hill along the north side of the courthouse. I suddenly realized where we were headed. At the end of the courthouse block sat the city parking garage. Perfect place for an exchange. That must be where LaReau waited for his delivery.

  My fists clenched in anticipation. I had never even spoken rudely to a teacher before, and now I was going to have to beat one to a pulp. I was surprisingly okay with that. Although beating said teacher would totally compromise my secret identity. To beat or not to beat, that is the question.

  Suddenly, Captious stopped and unlocked a windowless door on the side of the courthouse building.

  “In here,” he said, swishing his hand toward the open door.

  The corridor was dark, but I could see light far down the hall. Normally, light at the end of a tunnel is a good thing. But there was nothing normal about a teacher leading a kidnapped child and an unsuspecting teenager into a dark building at midnight. I jumped back, shoving Christie behind me.

  “I think you’ve had one too many power drinks.” Captious reached into the doorway and hit a light switch. He patted me on the head and pointed to a brass plaque on the corridor wall.

  “Greensburg Police Hall of Justice, established 1892,” I read out loud. Oops. My face grew hot, and I grinned apologetically.

  “Rinnie, I am one of the few people you can trust. Please. Let’s get this poor child back to her parents.” He smiled and led Christie down the now bright hallway. Shocked, I followed him in. This night’s events had me seriously rattled.

  As we approached another door at the end of the hallway, voices grew increasingly loud. No sooner did I clear the entrance when the stench of stale cigarettes and unwashed bodies made me choke. The chairs and benches were packed with more dirtbags than I had ever seen. A harmless looking man with a thin, stringy beard shifted his eyes between Christie and me. He was in handcuffs and chained to the bench. The poor man’s hair was filthy, and I felt sorry for him. One side was plastered to his scalp. The other side stood straight up as though he’d been riding with his head out the car window like a dog. The kids in school worked for hours with mousse and styling gel to accomplish what I was sure this man had created by pure neglect.

  He smiled at me with small brown teeth.

  “Hello, girls,” he said in a syrupy sweet voice as we passed him.

  I gagged quietly from his stench, and decided that Mummy’s Magic Mix must have scraped ingredients from him. A very uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach, and suddenly, I didn’t want to be there anymore. It wasn’t the smell…there was something else. His voice was more familiar than it should have been. Christie had moved closer to me, and terror was in her eyes. Then I realized who I was looking at.

  LaReau had grown a beard.

  Captious turned quickly and punched his finger into LaReau’s forehead. “Don’t speak to them, you detestable abomination.” As we continued walking, Captious wiped his finger on his pants.

  “Who’s he?” I asked. Did the cops have any idea who was chained to that bench?

  “A dog who eats his own vomit,” Captious muttered. “Not worth the air he pollutes.”

  Really? Captain of the Fan Club he was not. So much for my theory that Captious was in league with Mr. Smelly.

  Captious stopped at the clerk’s desk. “Chief in?”

  The clerk slowly lifted his bloodshot eyes from a magazine. He leered at Christie and me, then rolled his eyes with disgust at Captious before returning to the magazine. “Who’s asking?”

  Captious just shook his head. We followed him around the counter, along a short hall, and into an open office door. Chief Dalrymple perched behind a massive desk of polished mahogany, his pale orange hair spiked perfectly. Stacks of papers cluttered the corners of the enormous desk.

  “Chief, I think I have LaReau’s victim,” Captious said.

  The night was full of surprises. How did they know? Then I realized this must have been the big mission Andy and the Kilodan were on tonight. They had arranged for LaReau’s capture. But how was Captious involved?

  Dalrymple’s stern gaze fell on Captious, then softened when he saw Christie and me. “Hi, honey, what’s your name?”

  Christie squeezed closer to me and stared at the floor.

  “She’s Christie Jasmine,” I said. “She’s ten.”

  Dalrymple’s eyes got wide, and his face became absolutely charming. “Well now, how do you know this, Miss Noelle?”

  “She’s my sister’s friend. How do you know me?”

  Dalrymple smiled. He had a surprisingly kind smile. “I know your father.” Then to Christie, “Is that your name, dear?”

  Christie nodded and turned her face up. “I want to go home.”

  “And you will, very soon.” Dalrymple shuffled through the papers on his desk and pulled one out of the stack. He picked up the phone and punched some numbers. “Hello, Mrs. Jasmine? This is Police Chief Maximilian Dalrymple. My apologies for calling at such a late hour, but I have some very good news for you.”

  After he hung up, Dalrymple turned to Captious. “Our source never mentioned this one. How did you find her?”

  “Right place, right time.” Captious smiled his smug little poodle smile.

  Dalrymple’s eyes narrowed. “Good work, Ben. You’ll have to fill me in. In the meantime, why don’t you take the girls into the file room to wai
t for Christie’s parents? The lobby is crowded, and Christie has seen enough slime, I think, to last her a lifetime.”

  I followed Captious as he led Christie down the hall. He opened the door to a dark room, felt for the light switch, and motioned us in. A desk and some chairs were crammed against one wall. Filing cabinets squished together on the other. In between was cramped and dingy and packed with cardboard boxes, dusty old newspapers, broken furniture…and spider webs everywhere.

  Captious sat on the desk and motioned us toward the chairs. I sat beside Christie and caressed her hair. She leaned against me and smiled, like she was coming out of a trance. Captious was back to his old self, talking incessantly, but I didn’t pay attention. I needed to figure out what was up with him, but not tonight. I relaxed, content that my mission wasn’t a total failure. LaReau was in chains. Scallion was still out there, but Christie was safe. The night had begun to catch up with me, and I was ready for bed. I surveyed the room, wondering how long we’d be stuck waiting.

  Suddenly, I caught my breath. The floor! Black and white squares of linoleum tile, like a massive chess board…I tore my gaze to the door, and there, in the frosted window, was a hole, just the right size to spy through from the other side. Fear flooded my mind.

  I was sitting in the room where Amos Munificent was murdered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Captious's Secret

  While Captious blabbed to Christie about how everything would be okay, I desperately tried to remember what I saw in my vision of Mr. Munificent’s murder. There was something important in this room. Where was Andy and his MPU 3000 when I needed him? I studied the tiny room, looking for anything that might spark recognition. Spider-filled corners, chairs stacked on chairs, tile, door with a spy-hole, an old typewriter. Nothing clicked.

  Then I saw it. There in the midst of five black, shiny new filing cabinets sat a dull green one, battered, out of place—instantly, Mr. Munificent’s image, soggy with sweat, zipped through my mind. He leaned beside the ugly cabinet, his hand clutching the drawer, second from the top. He forced it closed, when a shadow appeared outside the frosted glass window.

  Suddenly, the office door opened and I nearly jumped out of my chair.

  “There’s someone here to see you, Christie,” Dalrymple said as he strolled through the doorway.

  I definitely needed sleep.

  “Christie,” a woman sobbed, shouldering her way past Dalrymple. She scooped Christie out of the chair. “Christie, thank you, God, thank you. Everything is all right, now, honey. It’s all right.”

  Christie simply nodded and buried her face in her mother’s neck. “Momma.”

  “Ma’am.” Dalrymple placed his hand on her shoulder. “I want to get you out of here as quickly as possible, but I need to ask a few questions, and we’ll have to examine Christie. The doctor is on her way.”

  Christie’s mother shuddered and managed a weak “Yes, anything.” Then, “Is it true, officer? You found the man who took her?”

  Dalrymple smiled. “Yes, ma’am. An anonymous informant tipped us off. We have the kidnapper in custody.”

  An anonymous informant with an angelic mask and electronically altered voice. This was good. I sighed as the frightened images I saw in LaReau’s mind dissolved. Being a Psi Fighter was definitely worth the headache.

  Mrs. Jasmine hugged her daughter tightly. Christie picked her head off her mother’s shoulder as Dalrymple led them out of the room. The eyes that had prayed for help in the SSA’s mirrored countertop now looked content and tired. She smiled at me.

  Definitely worth it.

  “Make sure she gets home safely,” Dalrymple said, pointing to me.

  “I’ll handle it personally,” Captious promised.

  Dalrymple closed the door.

  “Now it’s time to take care of you, young lady.” Captious held up a finger. “But first, I have to make a phone call. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  I wondered what he meant by taking care of me…was it only because I was tired that it sounded like something the mob does to people who get in their way? Before the door had completely closed, I bounded to the battered green cabinet and jerked open the second drawer. It screeched like a zombie rising from the grave. I froze, expecting the whole police force to come running, but the only thing I heard was the murmur of crabby voices down the hall. Slowly, carefully, I opened the drawer the rest of the way, cringing as the frozen steel wheels grated against the track. Did these people not understand the concept of oil?

  The drawer was packed tighter than the little room. I tugged at a folder, but it was wedged. Delirious from lack of sleep and determined not to be outmuscled by an inanimate object, I pulled hard. The contemptible thing shot out like a Pop-Tart, spraying papers everywhere. I fired a quick glance at the door, then back to the papers strewn across the tile.

  A picture of a woman in a dark blue business suit. The same woman in a bright orange jump suit. The words grand larceny, embezzlement, fraud.

  I had evidently stumbled onto criminal records or something. I jammed the papers back in the folder, and forced it into the drawer in frustration. I would need hours to go through those files. I didn’t have hours. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I pushed through the remaining folders. They were packed in so tightly they barely budged.

  “This can’t be right,” I whispered, and closed the drawer. I opened the top drawer. It was packed even tighter. I opened every drawer in the cabinet, but each was crammed. A spider scurried down the wall and disappeared behind the cabinets. Wonderful.

  I concentrated on my vision of Munificent again. His image flashed and disappeared. Then he was back, about to close the file cabinet drawer. He held something in his hand, then forced it into the drawer, slamming it shut.

  Suddenly, I heard Captious’s voice in the hall. “Yeah, what do you need? I’m in the middle of life and death here.”

  I was out of time, so I reopened the second drawer in frustration and tore out a handful of folders, hoping against hope that nothing would crawl on me. If I could transport the folders from the building, Andy would have some sort of thingamabob to scan them in the comfort of his spider-free tech lab, instead of this arachnophobe’s nightmare of an office. The remaining folders expanded and pushed themselves neatly together to fill the open space. As the gap closed, I noticed something lying on the bottom of the drawer, hiding. I reached in and plucked out a yellowing envelope.

  As soon as I touched it, fear gripped my heart. An image of Scallion danced in front of my eyes, searching, sniffing like a wolf, hunting for— Suddenly I heard the click of a doorknob and I pushed the vision out of my head. Just as the file room door opened, I shoved the envelope inside my secret agent pocket and forced the folders back into the drawer.

  Leaning against the cabinet, I smiled at Captious.

  “Stay out of there,” he snapped. “Those are police records, not fashion magazines.”

  The jerk. “Is Christie okay?”

  “She will be,” Captious said. “Now, let’s get you home.”

  Yeah, right. “I know the way.”

  “This isn’t the friendliest part of town. Come on. I called your father. He knows I’m walking you home.”

  Lovely. Not tonight, Bucko. I was about to throw a carefully calculated hissy fit and escape through the back door, when I noticed how awful Captious looked. His eyes were sunken as though he hadn’t slept for days. His comb-over had flopped to the side like a gigantic earmuff. Must have been a rough phone call. If I hadn’t been so tired myself, it would have been hilarious. I suddenly felt sorry for the little round man, so I followed.

  As we moved down the hall, panicked voices reverberated from the holding area. “Get an ambulance! He’s in cardiac arrest!” A uniformed policeman rushed past us. “I need a bus!” he shouted into an open office door.

  The holding area had been cleared of prisoners. There on the floor, eyes glazed and wide, greasy hair askew, lay Norman LaReau, his
face a gruesome shade of gray. Dalrymple knelt over him, his thick arms stiffened and his back hunched as he compressed LaReau’s chest again and again, counting softly.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Justice,” Captious said, shielding me from the grisly sight with his little round body.

  I grudgingly followed him out into the street. The night air was cool but refreshing after the stench of the police station. Captious appeared to be lost in smug thought. We walked for a few minutes in silence. Then I asked again, “What happened to that guy?”

  “I’d like to think a slow, agonizing death, caused by implements you only read about in Tortured Weekly, but I’m afraid it was just a heart attack. I’m surprised Dalrymple tried to save him. He hates child slavers.”

  “Child slavers?”

  “Criminals who kidnap children and sell them into the overseas child labor industry as farm workers.”

  Human traffickers. So he knew. “I take it you’re not fond of them, either.”

  “If there is a Hell, I would like to personally send every one of them there.”

  Okay, things were getting weird. An hour ago, I wanted to batter Captious, because I was certain he was taking Christie to LaReau. Then he rescues her right out from under me, and almost dances the Macarena when LaReau goes belly-up in the police station. Now, he was walking me home like he was my nanny. If I could say, “Curiouser and curiouser” without sounding like a complete dweeb, I would.

  What was up with this guy? I wasn’t surprised that Dalrymple knew him, because of his war on drugs at the high school. But it was like everybody at the police station knew him, too. And showing up at the Shadow Passage just when Christie was there? That was no coincidence. Dalrymple even seemed perplexed about it. Lack of sleep had made me cranky, and I revisited the idea of beating Captious to a pulp. Purely for informational purposes.

  “Out of curiosity,” he asked, “why were you out on a school night in this part of town?”