by Jamie Davis
Dean pulled up Ashley on his phone and pressed the send button to call her. He waited to hear her voice. She would know how to calm him and ease his anxiety. She always did. He waited and waited, and then it went to voicemail. He did as Brynne said and hung up rather than leave a message. Her smartphone would show he had called, so that was enough. She would call him back.
“Not picking up?” Brynne asked. “Okay, I’ll text her and tell her to call me right away.”
There was a knock at the station door, and Dean flinched. Brynne went over and looked out the window into the parking lot. Dean waited for her to tell him who it was. She turned and looked a little pale.
“It’s the police, Dean,” she said. “I’m going to let them in. Don’t say anything, just request an attorney and then shut up.”
“But why don’t I just tell them I didn’t do it?” Dean asked. “We work with these guys all the time at accidents and other emergency scenes. They know us.” The police outside knocked on the door again.
Brynne headed to the door. “You don’t say anything. They could twist anything you say to mean something different. Just stay quiet. Request an attorney. That’s it.” His partner held his gaze for a moment to let what she said to sink in, then turned to walk across the squad room to the parking lot door.
Brynne opened the door and stepped back as two uniformed police officers, and a plain-clothes detective with his badge on a lanyard around his neck entered the room. Dean recognized the two uniformed officers from the scene, and he knew them as the police officers from the law enforcement version of Station U.
The detective spoke up as he came in. “Dean Flynn? I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Detective Ricketts. I’d like to ask you a few questions. We are all a little curious as to why you didn’t identify yourself as the resident of that apartment to the officers on the scene when you responded back there?”
Dean started to answer the question, to defend himself, but caught Brynne’s quick shake of her head out of the corner of his eye and stopped himself. “Uh, I’d like to have a lawyer present before I answer any questions,” Dean said quickly. Brynne nodded and gave a little smile of encouragement.
The detective seemed to notice the byplay. “If that’s the way you want to do this. You know that asking for a lawyer only serves to make you look guilty in our eyes. It will go better if you just tell us what happened back there at your apartment.”
Dean couldn’t resist. “How would I know? I didn’t even stay there last night.”
“Well that might be true, but your landlord,” the detective paused and pulled out a notepad and glanced at it. “A Mrs. Baxter, says that you were there just a few hours ago. She saw you go upstairs this morning around five thirty AM. Would you care to explain that? I could understand if you surprised a burglar. It could all just be self-defense.”
“Dean, don’t say another word,” Brynne cautioned. “Wait for your lawyer like I said.”
“Ma’am, I’ll ask you to stay out of this,” the detective interjected. “I have questions for you, too. I wondered why you didn’t remain on the scene longer? I was surprised when you weren’t still there when I arrived. It seems that you may have a part in this, too, since you tried to hide evidence.”
“What evidence?” she shot back. “I only pronounced the victim dead. That was why we were called to the scene. Once that is done, we’re obligated to put our unit back in service. We usually hang out on the location for a while when we have nothing better to do, but nothing says we have to.”
“Did you recognize the victim?” the detective asked her. “O’Malley here says he does. Isn’t the deceased your former partner at this ambulance station?”
“He is. But you didn’t ask for his identity,” Brynne replied. “I was just doing my job pronouncing death. I will let you all do the police work.”
The detective sighed and motioned to the two officers. “Okay, if that’s the way you two want to handle things. Dean Flynn, you are being taken into custody for questioning in the death of Zachary Castle. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you by the court. Do you understand these rights as I have recited them to you?”
Dean nodded as O’Malley and his partner came over and put a pair of handcuffs on him, pulling his hands behind his back. “Dean,” O’Malley said. “This is protocol, that is all. Just come along quietly, okay?”
Dean nodded in response, feeling the cold weight of the steel cuffs settle on his wrists.
“I need you to say you understand out loud,” the detective said.
“I - I understand,” Dean whispered. He felt suddenly overwhelmed by the events and wanted to say something, anything to stop this from happening.
“Dean, don’t say anything,” Brynne reminded him. “I’ll have James get the attorney to meet you downtown at the police station.”
Dean just nodded. He didn’t talk, he didn’t say anything. This was all just too much to handle and process. He knew he didn’t kill anyone, but he also knew how it must have looked to a police officer examining the scene. It looked like there had been a fight, and they knew that Dean had a connection to Zach. They also knew that he had been at the apartment earlier that morning. He didn’t know how he was going to get out of this.
Officer O’Malley and his partner led Dean outside into the bright morning sunshine. Dean blinked and wished he had his sunglasses. Of course, how would he put them on? He was in handcuffs, after all. The two officers escorted him to the marked police car, opened the rear door, and settled him into the back seat. O’Malley leaned in and snapped the seat belt across him. They shut the door, and Dean was alone in the back of the police vehicle. It was a first for him, and he looked around. There was a metal grate that separated the back and front seats and the interior of the police car smelled of disinfectant, bad aftershave and old french fries.
Dean looked out the window and saw Brynne standing in the parking lot outside the station, talking on her cell phone. The two officers climbed into the front seats and started to drive him away to the police station. He watched Brynne talking on the phone, her eyes following the car as he left in the custody of the police, watching as he was taken off to jail.
4
The process of being fingerprinted and photographed at the police station was humiliating. He wanted to shout out that he was innocent, but he knew Brynne’s advice was correct. He refused to answer any questions and had waited for his attorney to show up to represent him. It didn’t stop Detective Ricketts and the other police officers from talking around him about how it was always a good idea to cooperate with police and tell your story. He knew they were just trying to get to him. He gritted his teeth, kept his mouth shut and waited. It took several hours, but he was eventually taken from his cell to where a well-dressed man in a three-piece suit waited in an interview room. There was a mirror on one wall that he assumed was one-way glass.
“Sit down, Dean. Let’s talk about your situation,” the man said as he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table. “My name is Mansel Hood. I’m Mr. Lee’s personal attorney, and I’m here to be yours as well.” He opened a manila folder on the table between them and looked over some papers before continuing. Dean looked around the room’s sterile gray walls while he waited.
“Our focus right now is to get you out on bail while we figure out how to proceed,” the attorney continued. “Mr. Lee told me to assume you are innocent of the crime in your apartment. I, frankly, don’t care. The only thing I care about is that you don’t lie to me. Understood?”
“So you think I’m guilty?” Dean asked, shocked. He buried his head in his hands. This was getting even worse. If his own lawyer thought he was guilty, then he was done for.
“No,” Mansel said in a calm voice. “I said ‘I don’t care.’ There’s a difference. My job is to get you cleared of this
crime. As long as you tell me everything you know, and answer every question truthfully, I have a good chance of doing that. If you choose to tell me whether you committed this crime or not, I only ask that you tell me the truth. Otherwise, we’ll work on the assumption that you’re innocent.”
“Okay,” Dean started. He tried to calm down, taking a deep breath before continuing. He cleared his throat began to speak, then stopped and stared at his hands for a moment. He looked up and met his lawyer’s eyes. He noticed the irises were an odd shade of amber. This man was an Unusual of some sort, which made sense, given who he represented. “Mr. Hood, I will tell you now, and forever more, that I am innocent of this crime. I didn’t kill Zach, leave him in my apartment, go to work and then come back to my apartment to pronounce him dead. It makes no sense. I’m being framed for this crime.”
“I agree,” Mansel said. He jotted a note on the yellow legal pad before him then continued. “That will be part of our defense, along with our expert testimony which will refute the medical examiner’s estimate that the time of death corresponds to your time in the apartment before work. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For now, we are focused on getting you released on bond, which Mr. Lee will guarantee. In a little while, we are going to go to court and face a judge. I’ll talk with him and the district attorney some, and then you will say only what I tell you to say and nothing more. It’s all just a formality at this point. You’ll get your chance to defend yourself later on. For now, just follow my lead.”
Dean nodded as he clenched his hands into fists. This was getting worse and worse. James was paying the lawyer, and he hated being in debt to anyone, let alone James Lee. Now he was going to owe James even more for bailing him out, on top of the attorney’s fees. He listened to the words coming from his attorney, but they didn’t register in his mind as his thoughts raced over the events earlier in the day. Mansel gathered up his legal pad and files and packed them back in his briefcase. He walked over and knocked on the door. A guard came in after a few moments and opened it. The guard came over and helped Dean stand up, leading him back down the hallway to the cells. The last words from the attorney stayed with him.
“Keep your mouth shut and wait for the arraignment hearing in a few hours,” Mansel had said. “I’ll see you there, and we’ll get you bailed out of jail and back home.” He made it all seem so matter-of-fact and straightforward. Dean hoped it was that easy.
* * *
———
* * *
The judge rapped his gavel and Dean sighed. One million dollars bail or one hundred thousand dollars bond for his release. That was what the judge had decided. That was what he was worth. Not that it mattered much. He didn’t have the lesser amount, let alone the full million. He had resigned himself to going back to the city jail, when the attorney, Mr. Hood, announced that he would make the payment arrangements within the hour. He made it sound like he was paying the electric bill, and not a particularly expensive one.
Dean was led back to a holding area in one of the lower floors of the courthouse after the hearing. Dean didn’t have to wait long. True to his word, Mansel showed up less than an hour later to pick Dean up as he was released from police custody. There was some paperwork to fill out to sign for his belongings, confiscated upon his arrest and intake into the system by the police earlier. By the time he walked out of the courthouse with Mansel, it was late, nearly eight in the evening. There was a black town car waiting at the curb outside the side entrance to the county courthouse. Mansel gestured to the car, and a gentleman in a dark suit jumped out and opened the door for Dean and his attorney. The driver then jumped in the driver’s seat and started off. Within a few minutes, they arrived at the Nightwing Building downtown, just a few blocks away. The car pulled into the underground garage after the driver slid a keycard in the slot next to the gate. They stopped one ramp down, in front of the elevator doors.
“Dean,” Mansel said as Dean climbed out and stood outside the back door to the town car. “I will be in touch regarding the next steps for the case. In the meantime, don’t talk to anyone but me, Mr. Lee, Ms. Garvey or the Eldara about the events of this morning. Anyone else could be in league with our opponents. Understood?” Dean nodded, although he was still in a bit of shock from the day. Mansel said something to the driver and the car pulled away, leaving Dean standing there.
He was heading over to the elevators, planning to go upstairs to his temporary apartment, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. James had texted him and asked him to come up to the penthouse level. He pushed the up button outside the elevator doors, scanned his keycard to gain access upstairs, and rode up to the vampire’s apartment. Dean’s shoulders sagged with weariness as he approached the double doors on the penthouse level and reached to ring the doorbell.
The doors swung open, and he looked up as Ashley rushed to him, the tall brunette nurse still dressed in her pastel blue scrubs from the ER. She pulled him close and hugged him tightly without saying a word. He looked past her shoulder and saw the grim faces of Brynne and James staring back at him. He squeezed his arms a little to return Ashley’s hug and then released her.
“Dean,” James said, gesturing inside. “Please come in. I know you have had a long day, but there is a lot we need to discuss. We will work to get to the bottom of this situation; I promise you. I have everyone working on it. Apparently, we underestimated our opponents, their will, and their intentions.”
Dean followed James and Brynne inside the spacious penthouse apartment sitting atop the Nightwing building while Ashley trailed at his side, holding his hand in hers. The group went into the living room area and sat down. Dean and Ashley took the love seat while James and Brynne sat together on the matching white leather sofa.
“Well, I guess I can use my mug shot in my Christmas cards this year,” Dean said, using humor to blow off steam. It was good to be out of the jail cell, but it was like his mind was still there. He felt locked in by the situation and didn’t see a clear way out. The lawyer, Mansel Hood, had not given any indication of his thoughts, just telling Dean to go in and get some rest.
“Have you thought what you are going to do next, Dean?” Brynne asked.
“I don’t know. I guess, since I’m out of jail now, I’ll just go back to work while I wait for the trial,” Dean said. He couldn’t think of anything else to do but return to his routine. He noticed that his three companions were silent and glanced back and forth as if deciding who should speak up. Was he missing something?
“What is it?” he asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Brynne started to say something and then stopped herself, looking from Ashley to James.
“Now you’re all are freaking me out, and I didn’t think I could be freaked out any more than I already have today,” Dean said.
Brynne broke the momentary silence that followed his statement. “Dean,” she began. “You are under arrest for a felony, a violent crime. The chief had to suspend you - with pay, but suspend you nonetheless, pending the result of the inquiry. You can’t come back to work.”
Dean felt his shoulders sag as if he couldn’t be any more depressed by the day’s events. Being a paramedic was all he had ever wanted since he had watched an ambulance crew save his girlfriend’s life, after the car accident they were in had nearly killed her. Now, his career was being taken away from him, too. He found he suddenly was having trouble breathing, and his vision clouded with tears. He wiped them away, not wanting to show weakness here, especially in front of Ashley. She squeezed the hand she was holding in silent support.
“There’s a bigger problem at hand here,” Ashley said. “Since Dean’s arrest, I have felt a shift in the balance of power in this struggle. When I said that Dean and James would figure strongly in resolving the situation here in Elk City, that has now changed. It’s still a possibility, but the previous course of action has faded. It’s much more tenuous in nature now. That concerns me bec
ause I still believe that it is the solution to these attacks and the push against the Unusual population here.”
As an Eldara and messenger of the Gods, Ashley could sense the correct or best path for the good of a situation. She had earlier predicted that Dean and James were linked to some future event; some event that would bring the current attacks to a resolution, restoring what Ashley had called a balance to the region. That was why she had come here and attached herself to Dean in the first place.
“So, Eldara,” James asked. “What do we do to change back to the future envisioned before?”
“I don’t know, not yet,” Ashley replied. “I can’t understand what is different. We got Dean out of jail, and he is free for the foreseeable future. Maybe it has to do with him being discredited as a paramedic. People won’t trust him now, because of what they think he did, perhaps?”
“That is not the case among my people,” James said. “If anything, thinking Dean killed one of the attackers who had been preying on them would raise the opinion of him in their eyes.”
“That’s true, I guess. But what else could it be?” Ashley asked. She waved her hand in front of her eyes. “I can’t see through this fog shrouding my other sight from another course of action.”
“I think you are all missing the obvious reason for the change in the potential future,” Brynne said, breaking into the conversation between the two Unusuals. “It’s a simple change of a variable in the equation. Dean is suspended, probably for weeks. What if he had to be a working paramedic to take the action he was supposed to take, in order to resolve this conflict? What if, now that he is off the streets and not riding the Station U ambulance anymore, he will no longer be in a position to do or say what he was supposed to?”
Dean watched as they all looked back and forth and then at him. This was all a moot point from his standpoint. He wasn’t a paramedic anymore. He couldn’t ride in the ambulance and help out his Unusual patients. Right now, he didn’t have any particular purpose in the world. He had nothing to offer to anyone, at least, not until this situation was resolved. He stood up, letting go of Ashley’s hand.