The Chief keeps trying to light it. ‘Who’s going to report me, Reis?’
‘Not me.’ Isabel pushes up from her seat. ‘Anyway, I’m going to see if I can get something booked in with him sooner rather than later. If Julio is anything like his father, I don’t want to agitate him any more than necessary. Oh, hope it’s okay but I’m ducking out for a couple of hours, got a medical today. I’ll come straight back to the station after.’
‘Isabel.’
She stops, hand already on the door handle, cursing her shitty luck. ‘Yes?’
‘Voronov. Any thoughts so far?’
Isabel pauses, wondering how frank she should be. ‘It’s only the second day. I’d be lying if I said I feel comfortable with having him at my back given his history. I guess time will tell.’ Despite wanting to get the call to Soares out of the way, she turns to look at her boss. ‘I’m curious as to why him of all people, what with his record and all the rumours.’ She kind of expects to be told to fuck off.
The Chief gives her a sober look. ‘Because I don’t think the rumours about him are true.’
Isabel’s not sure what to say to that.
They’ll have to wait and see.
Chapter 14
The day has turned sunny and sharp and the tourists are out in full force.
The emotions that drift towards Isabel aren’t too intrusive; pure bubbles of excitement tinged with anxiety here and there, but nothing more than that. Isabel breathes a sigh of relief. She was feeling oversensitive from the headache that plagued her all night. Emotions she can handle; as long as their thoughts stay out of her head right now, then she’s good.
The pill always brings with it a sense of claustrophobia, as if she’s choking off a part of herself. In a way, she is – it’s a form of walling a part of herself in, a reminder that what she does to keep her power manageable isn’t the natural way of things. But right now, having the barrier it provides in place is the only thing allowing her to get through her morning. Even if she’s going to pay for it anyway. A vicious circle.
Isabel stops for a coffee and her eye catches on the newspapers displayed on the nearby kiosk. She grabs her drink and heads over.
‘Bom dia,’ she says, and reaches for the newspaper, fishing out a euro from her pocket. ‘’Brigada.’
The man tips his head to her. ‘Have a good day, menina.’
Isabel doesn’t look at it until she’s on the metro and by then she thinks she shouldn’t have bothered paying for it – she can see the same headline staring at her from all around the carriage. Despite the protection of the pill being in place, she pushes her natural walls higher, just in case, brow puckering with the effort. She glances down at her own paper as it shakes and shivers with the movement of the metro.
DR GIL DOS SANTOS, HEAD OF NATIONAL
TESTING INSTITUTE, DIES IN ACCIDENT
UNDER INVESTIGATION BY POLÍCIA JUDICIÁRIA.
‘Well, that didn’t take long,’ Isabel mutters and scans the rest of the article briefly to see if anything else has made it on there, but luckily no one’s managed to get a hold of hers or Voronov’s names yet.
That should improve the Chief’s mood.
Isabel tucks the paper under her arm and closes her eyes, breathing out.
The clinic is quiet when Isabel walks in. It’s mid-afternoon and there are a few people sitting in the waiting room, some flicking through magazines. A couple of older ladies have their romance novellas out for the wait.
The receptionist, a young woman called Susana, looks up from the computer and smiles at her in recognition.
‘Inspector Reis, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.’
Isabel smiles back. She’s always liked Susana. ‘Thanks Susana, I’m doing well. What about you? They made you the boss of this whole thing yet?’
Susana laughs. ‘Not yet,’ she says, wry. ‘Though you’d never guess if you saw what I do around here.’
‘I have,’ Isabel says, ‘and I believe you. Is Michael busy today?’
Susana glances down at the computer. ‘He’s booked up, but he should be on break right now.’
‘Should I call ahead and come back some other time?’ Isabel doesn’t relish the idea of going back to work like this, but she might not have a choice.
‘No,’ Susana says, ‘go ahead. I’ll buzz him to let him know you’re on your way.’
‘But if he’s on break—’
Susana waves that away. ‘You know he always makes time for you.’
Yeah. Isabel forces a smile to her face.
When she gets up to Michael’s floor, he’s already at the door, waiting for her.
Michael Campos, Isabel’s personal doctor. Also, her ex-boyfriend of two years.
His effect is instant, her body becoming stiff in her awareness. She can’t be at ease in his presence. Not any more. If she had a choice, she wouldn’t be here at all. He’s in his white doctor’s coat. He’s not much taller than her, short and messy light brown hair, large hazel eyes and dimples that flicker gently as his eyes light on her.
‘Hey,’ he says, and waits at the door until Isabel reaches him, hand warm on her upper arm as he leans in to kiss her on either cheek.
Isabel stands there, awkward and wanting to step away but not wanting to be rude. Although the break-up hadn’t been pretty, they hadn’t walked away hating each other either. It had been two years. They’d now been apart as long as they’d been together.
‘Hi,’ she says, stepping in when he moves back, ‘sorry to come in without calling.’ Her gaze flicks over the desk that sits by the windows and at the half-eaten sandwich on it.
Michael closes the door behind her. ‘I don’t mind.’
Isabel doesn’t comment, going to one of the chairs on the other side of the desk that Michael keeps for his visitors and patients.
‘It’s not like you though,’ he says, going around to his side and sitting down, ‘are you okay?’
Isabel eases back in her chair. ‘Yeah. I have a bit of a situation happening. I don’t think S3 is working as it should.’
She takes him through it all, explains that her dosage is up to three or four pills a day and about the crushing headaches, how they’d been manageable before but that now they’re even bad enough that her partner has started to pick up on them. ‘I can’t have people at work thinking I’m not okay. You know that’s a dangerous situation for me.’
‘No, of course not.’ He leans forward on the desk, eyes tracking her face, concern clear there. ‘Are there any other symptoms? How bad are the headaches?’
She takes a deep breath and shrugs. ‘Six on a good day. Mostly a seven.’ She’s learned to function through it. ‘It’s not tamping down my Gift like it was before. And HR is on to the Chief about my retesting.’
He nods and stands up, tugging at the stethoscope around his neck. ‘All right, we’ll do some quick checks and make sure it’s not something else throwing the S3 out of whack.’
‘Okay.’
‘You’ll need to lose the coat.’
Isabel turns her face away as she shrugs out of it, irritated that she has to be here at all.
‘Are you taking anything for the pain?’
‘Aspirin, but it doesn’t work.’
‘I’ll ask Susana to schedule in a retesting to make sure it’s on file in case anyone comes sniffing around.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can you face me for a bit?’
Isabel hates this part, but stays still while he shines a light in her eyes and checks her ears, manages not to fidget when he takes her wrist in his hand for her pulse.
‘I’ll need to listen, now,’ he says, touching the stethoscope.
Isabel twists in the chair and stares at a point over his head as he lowers himself in front of her, fitting the earpieces of the stethoscope into his ears. She braces herself and lifts up her top.
The stethoscope is cold when it presses against the bare skin of her chest. She ign
ores it, focusing on his quiet instructions on her breathing. Then she stands so he can put it to her back. The cold air makes the hairs on her back rise, she can feel the sensation. He’s too close. She can feel the heat emanating from him and for a moment, she thinks she feels him breathing against her hair and instinctively pushes her walls higher.
‘All right . . .’
Isabel steps away and tugs her top back down. She sits down and starts rolling up her sleeve without making eye contact. When she sticks her arm out and he doesn’t automatically move to take her blood pressure, she forces herself to look at him again.
He’s already turning away from her though, jaw locked tight.
‘So. You have a partner now?’ he asks, getting the cuff out and wrapping it around her arm. ‘When did this happen?’
Isabel shrugs. ‘I’ve just been paired up with him for a new case. Don’t know if the Chief wants us to keep working together after that.’
‘Do you get along with him?’
Surprised by the question, she looks at him. ‘It’s early days.’
Michael nods and starts the pumping. She feels the cuff tightening on her arm. ‘And he’s okay about you being Gifted?’
She thinks about the Chief and can’t help smiling. ‘I suppose he’s getting as much choice in the matter as I am. Whether he has an issue with me being Gifted, well he hasn’t shown it yet.’
When she looks back at him, Michael is watching her with a peculiar expression.
‘Okay, I think we’re good with this.’ He unwraps the cuff and tugs it off.
Isabel rubs at the spot where the cuff had been, trying to get rid of the sensation of tightness still on her skin before rolling down her sleeve.
‘Have you spoken to your sister lately?’
Isabel pauses in shrugging her coat back on and frowns. ‘Rita? Why?’
Michael puts everything away and shrugs his shoulders.
‘You’ve been talking to Rita?’ she asks, unsure of what she’s feeling.
‘We’ve bumped into each other a couple of times,’ he says and sits back down, scribbling something down on a notepad that already looks filled with other little notes.
‘No. I haven’t seen her in a while. I’ve been busy.’
‘Right. Work.’
It’s the way he says it.
It brings with it echoes of bitter silence and passive-aggressive doors shutting in the quiet of her apartment.
And this is part of why they were here, like this. Too many scenarios like this one, as well as his inability to understand that sometimes she needed to be alone. To breathe and not have someone else’s thoughts pouring into her head in the middle of the night. He’d always taken it so personally. Her work, her need to have a day off from everything and everyone. Attempting to explain had always ended up in these silences.
Imagine if he knew just how clearly she could hear him in those moments when her wards slipped and there was no pill to keep his thoughts out.
‘Look, I’m clearly taking up your time. What should I do about this?’ she says, getting to her feet and tapping her head.
Michael doesn’t look up. ‘Your vitals seem normal. If anything, you just seem tired. I want you to keep a diary for me of the headaches. Jot down your log times for the S3 and the times the headaches start, when they intensify, when they calm down, when they go away.’
‘Okay.’
‘We might have to mess around with your dosage. I don’t want you taking more than you have to.’
‘Okay. Are we changing it right away or . . .?’
‘Let’s give this two weeks. Come back then, we’ll look at your log and see what we can do. But if it gets worse, don’t wait, just come back. It might be a bit risky, but if we have to, I can arrange for off-the-record tests.’
‘All right. Thanks. I know—well. Anyway, thanks. I’ll let you get back to your lunch.’
Michael nods and leans back in his chair, watching her walk to the door. ‘It was really good seeing you, Isa.’
Her mouth tightens at the nickname. ‘You too, Michael.’ She doesn’t look back again as she leaves.
Chapter 15
When Isabel gets back to the station and the case room, she finds Voronov sitting in her chair and rifling through papers.
‘What’s up?’ Isabel tosses her bag under her desk, motioning for Voronov to lean forward so she can drape her coat on the back of the chair. She casts her eyes over what he’s looking through and relaxes when she recognises them as the little documentation they have so far.
‘We’ve had a witness come forward. The owner of the bag. Carla got her settled in interview room three, sweet-talked her into waiting to speak to us.’
Isabel’s mouth forms a small O of surprise. She hadn’t expected anyone to come forward. Despite the constant pressure of her headache, curiosity gives her some much-needed energy as they head to the interview room.
Luisa Delgado is a curvy young woman in a flattering yellow dress that clashes with the weather outside. She tucks her brown hair behind her ear as her gaze darts from Isabel to Voronov. She’s got her bag back already and is clutching it to her chest like they might yank it out of her hands again. The coffee she either requested or was offered sits on the table in front of her, still full.
‘I’m Inspector Isabel, this is my partner Inspector Voronov, thank you for your patience. We really appreciate you taking the time to speak to us.’ Isabel holds out a hand and continues speaking as Luisa starts to reach out to shake it. ‘I want to make you aware that I’m Gifted, but please, understand that I’ll respect your boundaries. I gain nothing from something that is not freely given in this scenario.’
Despite her words, there’s a hesitation on Luisa’s part before she forces a tight smile to her face and shakes Isabel’s hand.
Isabel wasn’t lying when she told Luisa she wouldn’t poke into her head, but she isn’t above using the short contact to get a deeper read on the woman’s emotions. Nervous. Uncomfortable. Luisa doesn’t want to be here.
Not unusual for people who aren’t used to being in a police station. It never helps when a short trip where you just expected to grab your bag and leave turns into being asked to wait and interviewed as a witness. Probably the last thing this woman had wanted.
‘Miss Delgado,’ Voronov says reaching across the desk too.
‘Are you also Gifted?’ Luisa asks.
‘No, I’m classified as Regular.’
Luisa nods but doesn’t say anything else.
‘Miss Delgado – or would you prefer Luisa?’
‘Luisa is fine, thank you.’
‘No problem. Luisa, we’ll be quick. We understand that you were sitting near the victim during the incident that occurred early yesterday morning at Gare do Oriente.’
‘I was by the window,’ Luisa says.
‘Okay. Did you notice anything out of sorts before the incident took place? Anything that seemed strange to you?’
‘No. I had my earphones in. I didn’t realise anything was happening until the young man got up to try to subdue him.’
‘You didn’t by any chance see the victim take anything? Drink anything or use any kind of substance?’
Luisa shakes her head.
‘May I ask where you were headed?’
‘It was my day off. I work at a bank in Lisbon. I’m a manager there. Days off are a little scarce right now. I was going to spend the time with some friends who live in Coimbra.’
‘Luisa,’ Voronov says, scooting forward in his chair. His voice is kind and the frosty blue of his eyes seems to warm. ‘What happened after the incident? You weren’t with the other witnesses.’
Luisa swallows and starts fiddling with her bag handle. ‘I panicked. When the other young man started to try and hold him back, the train was still on the platform and I ran. I didn’t even realise I didn’t have my bag until I tried to get a cab home. I had my phone in my coat pocket and I contacted my boyfriend to pick me up. Luckily, he wa
s in the city and came to get me right away. I’m sorry I didn’t come forward,’ she looks from one of them to the other, ‘but I really didn’t see anything suspicious before . . . before.’
‘Of course. Luisa, can I ask you one more thing?’
Luisa’s grip on the bag tightens but she motions for Isabel to go ahead.
‘Normally in that kind of scenario it’s hard to remember everything in detail. Things can get quite confusing and what we’re able to recall isn’t always accurate. It’s the same for everyone. Our mind does what it has to do to cope with the situation. Would you be open to letting me look at your memory of that morning? It’d be helpful to us, I could maybe spot something that’s buried just a little deeper than what your mind picks up when it’s remembering.’
Luisa’s face pales and she sits back from them. ‘I’m really sorry’ – she licks her lips and shakes her head – ‘but I don’t think I can do that.’
Damn it. ‘That’s fine too, I understand. But if you change your mind, please contact me. Memories get fainter with time, so it’d be useful to take a look as soon as possible. But as I’ve said, we won’t force you, of course. It’s completely up to you.’ Isabel pulls a card out of her pocket and hands it over. ‘This is my contact number, both at the station and also my working phone. It’s always on me, so if you remember anything, have any questions or change your mind, feel free to contact me on those numbers okay?’
Luisa takes the card from Isabel’s fingers and shoves it into her pocket. ‘Thank you, I will.’
Voronov stands when Luisa does. ‘I’ll show you to reception so we can get you signed out.’
‘Thank you,’ Luisa says, then, giving Isabel another one of her nervous smiles, ‘thank you again, Inspector.’
Isabel nods at her and meets Voronov’s eyes before he opens the door and leads her out.
As soon as Isabel senses they’re out of earshot, she groans and rests her head on the table. She’d been hoping for a little more from that. Their meeting with Armindas earlier that morning hadn’t produced as much as she’d hoped either. They know Gil was headed to a morning presentation with the European Gifted Union. They know that Célia Armindas had spoken to him the night before but experienced nothing out of the ordinary. But that spike of emotion during their interview with her hadn’t felt normal and had left Isabel wanting to pick at it a little more. And then they have HSL at 14.15 and that Julio Soares was possibly the last person to speak to Gil alive.
The Colours of Death Page 8