Fragmentary

by LeAnn Mason

  “You're too cute.” I smirked. Laying a hand to his defined cheek, I rubbed my thumb lightly near his mouth before stretching up to plant a slow kiss to his perfectly bowed lips, my other hand coming to rest on his opposite cheek. I couldn’t resist.

  The masculine throat clearing from only a few feet away broke the spell. With one last quick peck, I removed myself from Holden's delicious mouth, taking a step back for good measure before turning my attention to the interloper – Devlin.

  “Nice of you to join us,” I shot at him.

  “Thanks for keeping the mouth molestation to a minimum,” he countered, leveling me with a droll look.

  “Whatever. You won't look at this case objectively because the best option is your girlfriend, and you’re giving me a hard time?” I heaved.

  I'm with Devlin, Nat.

  I shook my head slowly, “Et tu Brutus?” I couldn't believe that Holden couldn't see it either. I mean I knew I wasn't a Primal, and I was so new to enforcement that I was still under constant supervision, but I had special knowledge. I was just taking a logical step. The fact that Holden wasn't backing me stung more than I would have thought.

  I'm sorry, Nat. I just don't see anything in her nature that would suggest she was capable.

  I waved him off and moved to the door of the SUV. Tugging on the handle with a bit more force than necessary, I pulled myself into the vehicle. Before closing the door, I volleyed, “Get in the car. On the street is probably not the place to be having such a discussion.” My eyebrows once again shot up in inquiry.

  Both men thought that I was being a tad dramatic and were a bit disbelieving, but they went to their respective vehicle doors and entered.

  “Let’s go check on Jesse. See what he has to say. We’ll drop you back at the CP, Holden,” Devlin said as he maneuvered the large vehicle into gear and away from the curb. I’d made sure to situate myself into a rear seat. I didn’t really want to have to speak to either of them right now. Call it teenage irrationality, but I was mad that they didn’t like my conclusion. I really thought, over the last couple of months, they would have seen my worth. They relied on me to tell them what was truth, the little things that no one ever knows, but they didn’t want to follow my intuition now. Apparently, unless my telepathy confirmed what their mouth said, my hunches weren’t relevant. Good to know.

  The quiet ride continued even after we dropped Holden back at Sam’s and headed to one of the apartment compounds of Minefield. It was an interesting area, not really falling into either the Sage or Primal regions. It was where the NE’s tended to reside. There were a few Sages and Primals in the building, the ones who didn’t feel the need to stick to their respective groups or who didn’t have a clear place in the town’s structure. The floaters.

  This building was the nicer of the two but still not anything special. It didn’t get updated unless a resident was able to do their own repairs, or it was something that affected the entirety of occupants. Then the council would find a way to get it done.

  Following the numbers, we came to the one marked 3B as indicated on the scrap of paper that we’d received from Walt at the diner. The hallway was narrow and dingy. The walls a yellowed color, whether by age or abuse, I couldn’t tell though the occasional splatter of color made it appear almost as a child’s watercolor painting. The blue carpet was shorn and threadbare. Apparently it wasn’t one of the things that warranted council intervention for replacement.

  3B was on the third floor and was the first door on the right after exiting the stairwell. The door was a lovely shade of turquoise, one that stood out, not only for its brightness but also for the fact that it just didn’t really mesh with anything around it. This complex appeared almost like a patchwork quilt, only not a cute one that is soft and cozy. No, this one was made from any scraps one came across that were big enough to fit, and some materials were of the scratchy variety. It made me itchy. I just wanted to take a rag to the walls. Wash away all the various stains and blemishes to see if what was beneath was capable of being pristine or if time and defeat had already claimed the space and rendered it a lost cause.

  Devlin’s knock was almost more than the door could handle, the impact rattling the wood in the frame. Wouldn’t take much more for him to bust it open and go in all gangbuster style. But that wasn’t our style, and we had no cause. This was only a “knock and talk” to a witness, not an arrest of some high value target. Not to mention we were not a tactical team, just one tactical guru and one hybrid trainee. I didn’t have a weapon.

  Oh, wait. Yes, I did. I kept forgetting about the prod, probably because I hoped to not have to use it. The voltage the thing could produce was kind of scary.

  The door creaked open to unveil a tall, skinny young man with disheveled red hair and tired grey eyes. He was all arms and legs. A bit of an acne problem highlighted his face and stole the focus from whatever unique features he held. Poor guy. It was rough enough being a teen, and Minefield was no exception. He reminded me of an alternative punk song I loved about being a teenage outcast.

  “Jesse Chambers?” Dev took the lead again, adopting a soft approach with the wary teen. He kept his tone questioning and posture slack in his attempt to minimize his effect. “We’re with Minefield Enforcers. I’m Enforcer Harlow, can we speak to you?”

  After a wary moment, Jesse opened the creaking door wide enough for Dev and me to enter the domicile. The unkempt visage of the building was somewhat absent from the apartment we walked into. It was small, looked like a one bedroom, which was off to the right, past the living room where the doorway was. To the left was the kitchen and small dining area with a two chair table. A high, bar-seat-counter acted as a room divider.

  Jesse wandered back to us after scurrying to close the bedroom door, his thoughts a tangle of embarrassment and shock. The lingering distress from finding our victim was more than understandable. It was the rush to close the door that I was interested in.

  His mother was asleep. No, passed out was a better description of her current – and perpetual – state. I took in the couch, which had a ratty quilt thrown across its back. I maneuvered so I could see around the side. Sure enough, a pillow sat on the floor, neatly tucked up against the end of the ugly green fabric clad couch which apparently acted as a bed.

  Jesse's mother was a drunk, and Jesse was the one tasked with keeping them afloat and with a roof over their heads, meager though it might have been. Well, that explained why they lived in this rundown building and why this apartment was a bit nicer than its shell. Jesse took pride in it, made sure it was clean and in working order. He'd even painted it a soothing grayish color, much newer than the yellowed whitewash of the corridor leading to it.

  Jesse stood awkwardly in front of us, his eyes downcast and hands wringing. His mind now shifted away from his mother and his living to focus back on the sight of the dead man he'd stumbled upon earlier. Devlin cleared his throat and began after giving me a sideways glance, to which I responded with an almost imperceptible nod.

  I was ready.

  CHAPTER 23

  “MR. CHAMBERS,” DEVLIN BEGAN, “can you tell us the circumstances under which you came across the man in the alley?”

  The kid cleared his throat a little after his first attempt to answer produced nothing more than a mousy squeak. “I was helping Walt in the kitchen like usual. There was finally a break in orders, so I took the moment to clean up the pass area. The trash was almost overflowing, so I decided to take it out.”

  “And that's when you found the body?” Devlin took notes, as usual, while I took a second set pertaining only to thought. This way, each of us could recall what we learned at a later time. Memory was a funny thing, especially in regards to traumatic events.

  Jesse nodded, his mind replaying the moment for me. He'd pushed open the steel door, weighed down with a large, heavy trash bag nearly half his height and reeking of the discards of the kitchen, when his eyes had lit upon a large and unmoving figure on the dirty, pudd
le-ridden alleyway, just as we'd seen him earlier.

  Jesse had dropped the garbage in shock and inched his way to the man. He'd known he was dead but convinced himself to “just check” on the off chance he was wrong and the unmoving man, who was completely soaked with what he’d assumed to be rainwater, wasn't dead.

  He'd put two fingers to the man's neck after trying to rouse him verbally. No pulse. Jesse noted the cool temperature of the flesh and realizing that he was, in fact, touching a dead man, promptly freaked out. “I got out of there and ran to get Walt to call emergency,” Jesse finished.

  “What time was this?” Dev asked, playing with his pen while waiting for Jesse's reply.

  “Uh, I think around one? It’s all kind of a blur. I was – am, really freaked out by this,” he said, becoming more agitated. “I need this job. I can't lose this place.” Jesse turned large, pleading eyes to me then Devlin, beginning what could only be described as one heck of a volleyball game as they moved rapidly between Devlin and me.

  “If I lose my job, we lose this place. We have nowhere else to go!” He was frantic now, focusing on the consequences – in succession – of what would happen if he didn't work. It wasn't pretty and was an unfortunate aspect of life in Minefield. One I never really saw before becoming an enforcer. Vagrancy.

  Those with no marketable skills and no one to take them in sometimes found themselves without a home. It was rare here because if you pulled your weight, you had what you needed. Some just didn’t pull their weight. They were few, but they were there, and for some reason, they seemed to be mostly Non-Enhanced. The thought that this poor boy could join their ranks nearly made me crumble. Boy? Ha! He wasn’t much younger than me, and I wasn’t old, only eighteen. Eighteen and investigating murders. I never thought this was where my life had been heading. I was sure I’d never see more than the inside of that loathed campus.

  “All we care about, Jesse, is finding out who killed the man you discovered,” Devlin said in an attempt to get Jesse’s eyes to deflate from their current saucer size.

  “You’ve done nothing wrong Jesse,” I broke in. “We are merely gathering details, trying to pull together as accurate a picture as we can. That’s all. A picture. A story.” I gave my best earnest expression; I’d been learning to empathize. Jade was trying to mold me, teach me her ways. She’d yet to admit that I couldn’t curb my lack of filter between brain and mouth. I spoke in reaction and often without careful thinking.

  “One more thing, and then we’ll get out of your hair, Jesse.” I smiled sweetly, instantly raising Devlin’s internal alarm system. “Did you see Cara at all, during the lunch rush, before you made your discovery?” I hurried on, not giving Dev time to cut off my question. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see the stone wall of irritated-man that was a match to his internal litany of curses.

  He wanted me to let it go. That I questioned Cara pissed him off, and that fact pissed me off. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t follow the breadcrumbs. The man is whipped! Whatever. I’d find out the truth. I always did. I focused back on Jesse as he thought about when he’d seen Cara that morning.

  “Um, yeah, I’m sure I saw her. I am always in and out of the back, helping Walt where he needs.” He looked confused at the question. “Why?”

  “Cara had a run in with the deceased. We are just checking leads,” Devlin jumped in heatedly before I could answer. Typical. I rolled my eyes.

  You’re showing your age, Hybrid.

  That little comment only made me scowl harder. I found myself wondering if I could turn the man to stone with just a look. I really hoped so, but it appeared there would be no such luck as Dev just smirked that smug, self-satisfied twist of lips that I’d come to loathe. Asshole.

  “What did she look like?” I threw out while still giving Dev my non-stone-turning look.

  “Huh?”

  I broke off my stare, it seemed that I needed to give Jesse a little more to go on if I wanted an answer. “Was she hurt? Wet? Scared? Angry?” I tried to reign in the look I was giving him. I knew it was the one I reserved for those I felt were a bit slow. The kid didn’t deserve it. Not yet.

  “Oh, uh…” Jesse sifted through various visuals flitting through his mind. His eyes looking up and left as he did, visually indicating his mental recollections. “I’m not sure really. I saw her being harassed by that group of guys – wait. It was that guy. The dead guy. He was harassing her.”

  Ding, ding, ding! One point for the busboy! I tried to keep it from my face though as I nodded neutrally. “That’s why I’m wondering if you noticed anything odd about Cara today.”

  “Wait.” He was confused again, as everybody seemed to be when confronted with the idea of the meek waitress as a killer. “You think Cara had something to do with this guy’s death?” Jesse asked, incredulous. “There is no way.” He shook his head almost violently. “Cara is a sweetheart, and she’d never be able to hurt anyone, let alone kill someone.”

  Why was I thinking about the song whose lyrics were about needing people to remember that she was only a blonde? That she liked to pretend she was dumb? I smiled a little at the thought. Music could always bring me levity. I needed my fix. I’d gone too long without it today. I required some time to just shut the world out. I’d had enough of being in people’s heads. Too bad we had more people to speak with after Jesse. No lyrical retreat in my near future, just more sifting and prying. Yay!

  We headed out after that. We had exhausted Jesse’s mental capacity for the time being, and we had others to visit. The walk back to the SUV was guided by the same drabness and breakdown I’d noted on our way in. This definitely wasn’t the cream of the crop that Minefield had to offer. I’d bet that this was where a decent portion of Minefield’s NE population was relegated, another line in the sand dividing this place. In a town full of people who were extraordinary in one way or another, the ordinary fell to the wayside, forgotten in oblivion and needing to scrape for everything they had.

  The car ride was quiet of spoken words, but Dev decided we both needed a musical distraction for our internment in the vehicle, so he blessfully cranked up the dial on the hair band rattling on about being a survivor of war. Not a song to give the warm and fuzzies. In fact, it had us both lost in the death of the big brute we were investigating. Not quite the distraction I was hoping for.

  Our talk with the dead guy’s buddies didn’t yield anything helpful either. Just more of the same. They badgered Cara while she served them during the lunch hour at the diner, then they all headed out. Trey said he was going to piss before he left, and the rest said their goodbyes and left. None of them witnessed further interaction or even knew anything was wrong until now. They hadn’t known the guy had gone chasing after Cara or that he was now dead. Thoughts confirmed their stories. I was almost sure that these guys had all known just what their buddy had in mind when he “went to piss.”

  They hadn’t though. They weren’t the most tactful bunch, but they didn’t seem to be bad guys, unlike their friend. I was pretty sure he was a grade-A asshole. Was it rude to speak ill of the dead?

  We were almost back to Sam's, the car full of unsaid thoughts. So many questions surrounded this death and the death of Sasha Jenks. Was it always like this? More questions than answers? No trail? No. It couldn't be. We just lucked into a bad situation where nearly all gatherable evidence had been destroyed, in both cases. Perfect.

  Wait a minute…

  “What did you say?” Dev asked as he reached over to turn down the ancient stereo system.

  “Huh?” I asked, confused.

  “You said something.” Devlin continued to look at me without fully diverting his attention from the road, still managing to convey just how crazy he thought I was. No mental notes needed. That didn’t stop me from getting them however.

  “I’m not crazy.” Man I really hated when people started thinking that. Made me want to lash out, use my new favorite unmanning knee move on unruly subjects – or te
am leads. I really had a love-hate relationship with this man. I respected his seniority and tactics for the job, but man was he an ass in everyday life, especially to anyone outside his bubble of esteem, which was nearly everyone other than Primals, it seemed.

  Maybe he was confusing me with the song blaring from the speakers. Wouldn’t that be something? Man, some songs just resonated, could be applied to so many situations. I relaxed, laying my head on the headrest and peering out the window, the familiar surroundings of Minefield blurring by. The little One Horse Town that we were trying our hardest to escape. Well, some of us at least.

  Devlin seemed to drop his line of questioning, leaving me to think about the epiphany I may have just had and accidentally voiced. I’d rather think about the possibility rolling around in my head before spouting it out. There was every possibility that I was wrong, but there was also the slight possibility that I wasn’t. Those defending the gorgeous Amazon warrior Cara would probably latch onto it. After all, it would mean she didn’t kill anyone, and everyone was so sure she couldn't have. I was the only skeptic of her innocence so far.

  I needed to pitch my budding theory about her missing time to the whole team and see what they thought. Then, I needed to escape to the barn. I needed some pony time after today, and I needed to get back on the horse. Pun intended. My head hurt, and I had too many things to think about. I just wanted to turn it all off for a few before I had to pick it back up in the morning.

  Devlin and I exited the vehicle in verbal silence once arriving at the CP, but I was getting awfully sick of his internal criticism. If he didn't let up soon, I couldn't be held responsible for my actions. He knew I’d fight dirty. He'd witnessed it earlier today. The thought brought a self-satisfied smirk to my face. Yeah, that was a good move. I needed to keep nut crunching at the top of my Enhanced ninja arsenal; it had proven an effective tactic. Holden had been right. Go for the soft spots, and always fight dirty.