by Patti Larsen
“Already on it.” The detective snapped her fingers at one of the security guys. “Phone.” Right, she likely wasn’t carrying hers on her. Where would she keep it under that skintight dress? Which made Kinsey wonder if Gerri was unarmed, too. And almost giggled, her typical reaction to stress, another thing she blamed on spending too much time with the redhead. Who was she kidding? The detective was a weapon.
Kinsey glanced behind her, feeling eyes on her, spotted Benedict at the door, eyebrows tight over his dark eyes. She ignored the tall, brooding vampir, turning her back. While she understood his desire to keep her safe, she still considered him a tool of her grandmother. Yes, she trusted him, at least to a degree. Far more than she trusted Margot after years of manipulation and lies. But no way was he going to keep her from helping her friends the way she had been doing in the past.
Gerri would never know how much it hurt Kinsey she’d been cut out of her life the last three weeks. But the blonde was determined she’d never let anything come between them again.
“What’s going on?” Kinsey looked up, startled, to find a handsome man had slipped through the door and hovered close to her. She recognized him as a TV guy, some host of a reality show or another. The Maze?
“You shouldn’t be in here.” She used her best authoritative voice, but he just flashed a smile and eased around her. Kinsey tried to catch one of the security guy’s attention, but they were busy blaming each other for not being here to protect the congressman. And Gerri was rapid fire chattering into the phone, likely to CSI Tommy Binks and probably ordering an ambulance at the same time.
Mayor Price moved past Kinsey, the TV host—Doug? She thought his name was Doug—close on his heels as if he was supposed to be there. The young man was already inside the small room, bending over the body. The lead aide had joined him, hugging herself with an expression so tight and hurt Kinsey felt for her. Completely ignoring the wife who struggled to remain upright. Captain King strode forward as well, the odd, small space where the congressman lay getting crowded from what Kinsey could see just as Ray stood and exited into the main office, taking the phone from Gerri.
It happened so fast, Kinsey had no idea why or what triggered it. But the moment Ray cleared the threshold of the small room, a sharp, throbbing alarm sounded and, with a hiss of what sounded like air jets, a sliding door lurched sideways and slammed shut.
Sealing a handful of people on the other side. Including Gerri.
***
INT. – THE PANIC ROOM – NIGHT
Gerri knew what the alarm meant, was already lunging forward for the exit, but the body was in the way, a small knot of people who shouldn’t have been anywhere near her crime scene blocking her way.
The door slammed closed long before she reached it, tripping over the hem of her gown, throwing her forward to thud against the sealed exit. A strong hand grasped her arm, helped steady her, but she shook off the grip before realizing it was her boss.
“Sir.” She did her best to deep breathe through her anger as Captain King nodded to her. “You realize we’re in a panic room.”
He looked around, swore softly. The pale gray walls, concrete from the look of them, housed a few cupboard-like doors. A small, inset desk at the back wall showed a monitor over it, a place for the inhabitant of the room to observe outside, though it was black at the moment. The bare floor was smooth, at least, unable to soak up the congressman’s blood, a single panel of fluorescent light buzzing overhead in the solid concrete ceiling. Bare, sparse, and way too full for Gerri’s liking. A tingle of panic rose, her bheast hating the tightness of the space, the instant taint of too many bodies in too little air, hot with the tang of copper.
She squashed it as quickly as she could. There was lots of oxygen. Lots of room. And she would be fine. Her bheast panted once and growled at her.
Mayor Price looked puzzled while Gerri’s mind clamped down on her inner wolf, the aide’s hand flying to cover her mouth, eyes wide. Linda Barnes shook, weeping as she stared down at her husband, hands still crusted in blood. A young man with wide eyes and a fascinated expression hovered next to them. How the hell Doug Divers ended up in here with them was lost on Gerri, but she was now stuck with way more people than she needed, all of whom were messing with her crime scene.
Binks was going to kill her.
“I don’t understand.” Mayor Price joined them at the door, a steel panel that looked about as forgiving as the walls, looking for a way out while Gerri’s heart sank, his bulk making her wish he’d just back the hell off already. “Open it.”
“Sir,” Gerri said through clenched teeth. “If I’m right, if this is a panic room, there’s no way out. Not without a specific code and the knowledge of how to open the door.” She turned as understanding dawned on the mayor’s face, a bit of hope in her heart at the sight of the wife wavering on the other side of the space. The ten by fifteen room wasn’t big enough for all of them at the best of times. With a dead body bleeding onto the tile, they available floor space was greatly reduced. “Mrs. Barnes,” she said as gently as she could. “We need the exit code.”
Gerri knew the moment the woman lifted her face, eyes red from weeping, they were shit out of luck.
“Andrew never told me what it was,” she whispered, hoarse voice carrying despite the muffled insulation of the concrete that crushed sound. The detective felt like she was inside a padded box. “I’m sorry.”
She then collapsed to her knees, rocking and hugging herself.
Great. Just great.
Next try, but she was sure it was a lost cause. “Ms. Krist?”
The older woman’s body trembled. “I was his aide and confidant,” she said, “but he kept some secrets to himself.”
Bad to worse. Only a fucking moron didn’t share the code to his panic room. What if he got hurt and couldn’t get himself out? Gerri sighed, rolled her shoulders. The company who installed it. They’d have a failsafe, surely. She just needed to get in touch with them.
“Sir.” She turned to the captain. “Your phone, please?”
He handed it over, before scowling at Doug Divers who bent over the body with a look of sick fascination on his face.
“No one,” Dominic King growled, “touches the body.”
Gerri did her best not to grin as she dialed Ray’s number. Then Kinsey’s. Jackson. It took her a moment to check for bars. And swear a chain of curse words so convoluted even Captain King looked shocked.
“Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all. “This room is shielded against cell phones, apparently.” No bars. No god damned fucking bars.
Well, could be worse. She could be at the party still. Way to look at the bright side.
“We can’t just stay here.” The mayor sounded a little panicked. Just her luck he’d be claustrophobic or some shit. Like her own bheast wasn’t stirring all over again.
Gerri turned her back on the room, studied the door and the wall on either side. Her fingers found a soft spot on the right hand side, pressed down. A small, hidden hatch popped open revealing a keypad.
And, bless the Universe, a hand set for a land line. She jerked it off the wall and heard a dial tone. Exhaled as she dialed out, Jackson’s number. And held her breath as it rang.
And rang. Went to voice mail. Son of a bitch. He had to pick now not to answer a number he didn’t know. Asshole. She dialed again. Again. Again. Almost gave up and tried the precinct, only to hear the click on the other end.
“This better be the fucking lottery telling me I’m a millionaire.” He sounded irritated.
He had no idea.
“It’s me.” She didn’t bother chewing him out. “Cells don’t work in here. Panic room. Call the fucking company that built it and get the fucking code.” She kept her voice down, hoping the acoustic padding would keep her words from carrying. Because the longer she talked, the more pissed she was getting, the more worked up her bheast. “Now, Pierce.”
Gerri slammed the phone down and turned to find t
he captain scowling at her. She actually blushed.
“Sorry, sir,” she said. “I didn’t mean to take over. You’re the superior officer.”
“We pay you the big bucks to run the show,” Mayor Price said, dark eyes shadowed with worry. Was it just her imagination or was he sweating? “But, we can do without all the swears, if you please, Detective.”
Fucking crappy. Swears were her favorite and about all keeping her from losing her shit.
Gerri’s mind was already taking stock of the room. She noted the panel in the back, partially open, and the empty chair at a computer console against the far wall, which appeared retractable. The bright lighting had dimmed when the door closed, probably an energy conservation thing. And the people.
Linda had stopped crying, sat on the floor hugging her knees, staring at her dead husband. Meredith stood next to her, hands at her sides, face ashen in the low light. She, too, stared, as if unable to take her eyes off the dead congressman. Doug Divers seemed to be completely digging the whole scene. Gerri could see him practically taking notes. Her estimation of his assholishness ratcheted. The blond young man seemed attracted and repulsed, wiping his hands on his pant legs as though they were somehow dirty just by his thoughts alone and what he witnessed. The mayor and her captain both seemed calm, though Gerri’s guess about Price’s claustrophobia appeared accurate as Captain King crossed to their boss and whispered in his ear, one hand on his elbow.
And the vic.
“Can anyone here tell me if there is any reason why the congressman was killed?” Gerri knew the question was harsh. But she had a body to deal with and her patience was about as thin as the fabric of her dress.
“No idea.” The young man spoke up first, shook his head, blond hair catching the light. He used too much product. “Everyone loved him.” She noted the fact he was dressed in a suit, not a tux like the other men. Not a guest, then?
“Who are you again?” Her gut whispered, liar. Enough to prompt more questions.
“Alan Jenkins.” He cleared his throat. “Congressman Barnes’s junior aide.”
“Alan is right.” Meredith looked away from the body at last. “There was no reason to kill him. None.” Gerri’s instincts seemed to waffle. She was telling the truth, but… there was more to it than what she said.
Well, it wasn’t like Gerri should expect outright truth from politician’s employees, should she?
The dead congressman wasn’t going to be much help, either. Gerri didn’t have gloves, so she couldn’t search the body. If he carried the code with him, it wasn’t accessible. Though, there was a chance the idiot kept it in his desk.
Gerri turned to call Jackson back. Hopefully, Barnes really was that stupid.
The phone rang before she could pick it up. “Go,” she barked into the handset.
“Merry fucking Christmas to you, too,” Jackson said with a cheery voice. He really was a jackass. “House is sealed, I’m running interrogations.” He sounded cocky about that. Like he had some delusions he might be in charge or something. She’d beat some sense into him later. “Clearing the house one at a time, telling everyone there’s been an accident.” At least he had the sense to lie about the murder, though Linda Barnes’s little show downstairs likely had people talking otherwise. “Talked to the owners of the company that built the room, Safety Room. Said no way in or out without a code. They’re sending a tech. He might be able to get in, but will take a few hours.” So fucking smug. She was going to wring his neck for enjoying this so much. “Have fun in there. Don’t run out of air or anything.”
Douchebag. Though, for a moment Gerri’s heart stopped again. Was it that sealed after all? But no, surely the room would have access to fresh oxygen. Else what would be the purpose?
“I hate you, Pierce,” she snarled, just for him.
“Stop being a baby,” he said with far too much cheer for his own good, especially after she escaped this tiny hole of hell. “Sit tight. Let me handle the case.” He was grinning, she could hear it in his voice. “You have fun babysitting the bosses and the dead body and shit.”
Jackson hung up before she could tell him just how much she was going to hurt him before he died.
***
***
INT. – CONGRESSMAN BARNES’S HOUSE – NIGHT
Ray paced the short space outside the panic room while Kinsey spoke with Officer Candace Mills. Mills and her partner, Blake Purcell, had just arrived and cleared the room of all but the congressman’s security detail and the irritated Tommy Binks.
“No crime scene,” the tall, skinny tech said.
Ray shrugged, thinking how silly he looked in his booties and white coverall with nothing to investigate. “I had a look at the body,” she said. “Not much, enough to guess at blunt force trauma as the COD.” Since she couldn’t see his death, Ray could only assume the congressman had been a paranormal, not as shocking a discovery to her as it would have been a few months ago. At this point, she honestly wondered if anyone of import she had encountered wasn’t part vampir or bheast or dervish.
How blasé. Victoria would love it.
Ray was acutely aware of CSI Cat Chase keeping back, head down, refusing to meet the medical examiner’s eyes. Which only irked Ray further. She knew she’d let Gerri down in the past, hated that was true. Missed the wet clothes of the dead professor/writer at Silver City College, mistimed his death and almost ruined the case. And took the rap for Chase, blaming her own exhaustion and her issues with Cici.
But damn it, Chase was just as responsible. And Ray was about to make her pay for it. Not before she made certain she was right about cause.
“Give me your phone.” Ray took Jackson’s cell from him, hit redial and waited. Gerri answered gruffly on the other end.
“We need to continue the investigation on this side,” Ray said. “And you have my body.”
Gerri’s tone altered completely when she realized it was Ray. “What do you want me to do?”
“I only had a quick look,” Ray said. “I need you to examine the wound.” She glanced aside, wondering how safe it was to speak up about his “weird” nature in a room full of people.
“Ray,” Gerri sounded pained, “I can’t touch anything. No gloves.”
Damn it. Ray chewed her bottom lip, spun on Binks. “What can Gerri use in place of gloves to preserve the evidence?”
He shrugged, annoyance fading. “What is her dress made of?”
Gerri answered satin. Even Ray knew it was too porous to make any difference.
“Hang on.” Gerri’s voice was muffled on the other end before she came back on the line. “The captain has a plastic sleeve he keeps his credit cards in.”
Ray thought about it before relaying the information to Binks. The tech sighed and shrugged.
“Not much space to work with. Just wipe it down first and keep whatever it is you wiped it with.” They could test both for trace and eliminate anything that might have contaminated the surfaces, as long as Gerri could keep her own DNA from interfering. “I just need you to part his hair in the back and tell me what the wound looks like.”
Gerri grunted, the sound of the phone thudding against something hard followed by a moment of silence, then murmuring voices. Ray struggled for patience as she waited. A moment later, Captain King’s voice rumbled to her.
“Long, narrow cut,” he said, relaying what she couldn’t make out of Gerri speaking in the background. “About four inches long. She can see pieces of bone and brain matter.”
So, fractured skull, likely enough damage to the soft tissue to kill him quickly. She knew the weapon must have cracked open the skull to create that blood pool. “Can she see any other injuries?” For all Ray knew, he’d been shot in the chest, though from the blood she had seen it was centered around his neck and head.
“She wants to know if she’s allowed to turn the body.” The captain’s tone said he was tired of playing games, but even he had to know this wasn’t a joke. If they screwed up, whoev
er killed the congressman could walk on an evidence error technicality.
Ray asked the question of the CSI and raised an eyebrow to Binks who finally shrugged. “Flip him,” he said. “The scene is compromised from what you told me. The wife’s been all over him. Just keep everyone out of the original blood pool and take pictures.” He stepped closer, voice raised. “Lots of pictures.”
“Got that, sir?” Ray waited as Captain King grunted.
“The body is over. No trauma from what we can see.” He paused. “Pictures duly taken on my personal cell phone. Please tell CSI Binks he’ll have more than he could ever want.”
Ray didn’t bother. Too hard not to smirk at the captain’s sarcastic tone.
She handed off the phone to Jackson and spun, hooking a finger at Chase. The young tech’s gaze widened, darting nervously to her boss before landing on Ray again. “You,” the medical examiner snapped. “Come with me.”
Binks let them go, Kinsey watching with bemusement but staying behind. Ray stopped Chase in the hall outside the room and jabbed her in the chest with her index finger.
“You and I,” Ray said, “are going to find the murder weapon. Got me?”
Chase nodded. “You’re sure you want to trust me with this?” Ray tried not to feel sorry for her, but the poor thing clearly had her confidence shaken. Well, too bad. Mistakes happened and they either learned from them or moved the hell on.
“Suck it up, buttercup.” Ray always hated that saying, but there was great satisfaction in using it now. “And find me a blunt object with blood and brain tissue on it big enough to create a four inch impact cut and shatter the back of a skull.”
Chase seemed heartened by the order and, with a look of grim determination, joined Ray in the search.
They didn’t have far to look. Smart thinking, Ray had to admit, when Chase suggested the garbage chute built into the side of the dumb waiter leading to the kitchen. Ray sent her downstairs to the bottom, shining a borrowed flashlight from Purcell’s belt down the hole. She heard Chase’s shout of triumph rise from the kitchen below and, five minutes later, cheeks pink from the climb and beaming, Chase appeared with a black statue in a plastic bag.