by E. A. Copen
And then it hit me. If he was planning on a cover-up, I would be the last person he would tell. “You’re not going to do it?”
Abe shrugged. “We shall see what evidence I can find. I believe this is a test of loyalty from the new director. He does not trust me. Perhaps he is right not to.” He offered me a tight-lipped smile that made me feel a little better.
I walked around my desk to sit. The desk wobbled when Abe pushed off it to stand and face me. I pressed the power button on my laptop and waited for it to boot up. “You said you were here for two reasons?”
“Yes,” Abe said, then put his hands behind his back so he was standing in parade rest. “I am here to evaluate your performance in the field.”
My fingers froze as they walked across my keyboard, and my heart picked up speed. An evaluation? That could be good or bad news. Considering my history with BSI, it was probably bad. After a bad review, they could can me, and nobody seemed to know what happened to agents if they were removed from their post. All my research said they disappeared, and something told me it wasn’t because the government was sending them to Tahiti.
I swallowed the lump of nervousness in my throat. “You don’t say?”
“They were going to send Gerry, but since I had to come anyway, I volunteered. I told the brass you and I have rapport.” His smile widened, and he spread his fingers over the surface of my desk. “Do not worry, Judah. Unlike Gerry, I happen to like you. Do not give me any reason not to, and this will be easy for both of us.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, then, you might as well make yourself useful while you’re here and help me with my caseload. Will you hand me that red folder over there?” I pointed to a pile of folders sitting on a shelf.
“This one?”
“No, the other red folder. On the right in the basket on my door. Yeah, that one. Thanks, Abe.”
“Abraham or Agent Helsinki, if you please.”
My response was an absent affirmative noise. I was too busy flipping through the file, looking for a name among the dossiers there. I flipped one of the pages over and scanned the back before I found what I was looking for on the next page. Hector Demetrius’ name was halfway down the page. It sat alongside the other fifty names of new occupants in Concho County that I still hadn’t got out to visit as of last week. I was supposed to check in with every name on the list and see if they needed anything. Unfortunately, there were so many new BSI registered residents in Concho County every month that I was hopelessly behind.
I pulled the page out and held it out to Abe. “Hector Demetrius,” I said. “Registered practitioner. Nothing impressive. Looks like he barely registered on the XYZ scale.”
XYZ was short for the Yates-Zimmerman scale. Whenever the bureau printed the results of the XYZ, they printed out a line and stuck a big, red X at the corresponding point, hence “XYZ.” The farther along the line the X, the more dangerous BSI considered the practitioner to be.
Abe frowned. “If he is so unremarkable, why are you pointing him out?”
“He’s part of a case I’m working. You did hear about the fire out by Eola?”
He nodded once. “The arson case, yes. I heard about it on the radio. He is one of your suspects?”
I opened my middle desk drawer, pulled out a clean file folder, and stuck the page inside after circling his name. “No. The primary suspect in the case is Father Gideon Reed. You met him last time you were in town. Unfortunately, I have no idea where he is. I’m waiting on a warrant to go through so we can search Reed’s house. It should be here any minute, actually.”
“And this Hector Demetrius has what to do with our case then?”
“He and his group own the property where the barn caught fire. He was evasive and even insulting when we tried to question him last night, and I have eyewitness testimony that says there was rem being grown in there. When we drove out to the main building, I saw more greenhouses. I think this guy is in on the rem trade.” I pulled a thicker file folder from the corner of my desk and flipped it open. Stapled to the inside was Mara’s picture. After looking at it for a moment, I spun the whole folder around for Abe to see. “And Mara is involved.”
Abe drew his gloved hand over his chin. “You have a thing for hopeless causes, do you not, Judah? Yet you cannot find time to organize your office.”
“Mara was never hopeless, just a little lost.” I jabbed a finger at her picture. “She’s been avoiding me. I don’t know her status, state of mind, or anything. I spoke to her at the compound and she seemed okay, but according to my witness, she might have been taken against her will. I think Hector is hiding Reed, or they’re working together. He’s sure as hell not himself. I need to bring them both in.”
There was a knock at the door, and Quincy Adams, Tindall’s old partner, stuck his head in. The precinct hadn’t yet given him a replacement, so he was doing the detective thing solo. He’d lost enough weight that it showed in his cheeks, and his face had a permanently frazzled look in it. He held up a handful of papers. “Were you waiting for some warrants? They just got faxed over.” His eyes traveled to Abe and then widened. “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t know you were in a meetin’.”
Abe held out his hand, and Quincy deposited the papers with a mumble of thanks before he slunk away. I stood, expecting Abe to hand the warrants over, but he decided to flip through them first. “’All available members of SRT are prepared to assist with the execution of the warrant at your command,’” he read. “What is SRT?”
“You still driving that ugly truck, Abe?”
He sighed. “It’s Abraham, and yes.”
“Get your coat. I’ll brief you on the way.”
I gave Abe the short version of everything and brought him up to speed on the way across town after calling Espinoza. Most of SRT was already on the rez when I called, and they were just waiting for my signal. The two missing members, Espinoza said, were questioning someone else on an unrelated case. The whole team was in position by the time I arrived at the church.
Paint Rock’s only church was a small white steepled building. Reed rented a power washer from someplace in Eden once a month to keep the dust from settling into the siding and re-painted it once every few months. He spent hours every week pulling weeds and placing rocks strategically around the property so it stayed attractive. He loved his church, but he loved the people in Paint Rock even more. He made it a point to visit the sick and troubled, even those who didn’t attend church. That was the kind of person Reed was. I still couldn’t believe he’d attacked Ed and me like that. The whole thing felt off.
Reed lived in a tiny white two-bedroom house behind the church, surrounded by an iron fence. Stepping stones traced a path from the back door of the church all the way up to a gate. Red-tipped yucca plants brushed against the fence in the light wind, creating the illusion of whispering as I walked toward the house.
The black van SRT had arrived in sat behind the church, and when Abe and I came into view, the double doors in the back opened. Four officers in modified SWAT gear emerged. Black Kevlar body armor rustled, and I paused, worried when I saw they were armed with M4s.
Espinoza got out of the front of the van and walked toward us. He wasn’t wearing the same tactical gear, but he did have the vest on over his uniform.
“Reed lives alone with his cat,” I said to Espinoza. “I hardly think his cat warrants military-grade weapons response, Espinoza.”
He gestured to the four men who had already assumed defensive positions at the gate. “Old Boy Scout motto. Always be prepared. You don’t know what’s hiding behind that door, Black. Wards, werewolves, shapeshifters, giants…” He shrugged.
Abe bobbed his head in agreement. “She does tend to draw the attention of trouble.”
“Good to know.” Espinoza thrust out a hand at Abe. “Lieutenant Espinoza of the Concho County Special Response Team.”
“Special Agent Abraham Helsinki,” Abe answered as the two traded grips.
Espinoza nodde
d. “My guys are carrying basic protective wards on their equipment, but given that you two are more equipped to deal with any magical protections that might be in place, you two can take point, and we’ll cover your six.”
“Good enough for me,” I said as we started toward the fence gate.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Abe asked.
“Anything that tells us about Reed’s state of mind, evidence he was involved with rem, or that he knew Hector Demetrius. Espinoza, did Hector happen to show up?”
“No, but there is someone at the station you’ll want to talk to.”
“Who?”
Espinoza paused at the gate and stopped to address me, hooking his fingers in his belt. “Remember that unrelated case I mentioned when you called about the warrant? Might not be so unrelated after all. Trespassing and harassment complaints got filed this morning by some girl out at the compound. Guy we arrested for trespassing happens to be your witness, Black. The kid who was fighting Reed last night.”
I closed my hands into fists. “Ed. I’m going to wring his neck if he compromised this investigation. Are they pressing charges?”
“Don’t know yet. It was all pending when I left.” Espinoza shook his head and then gestured to the gate. “This is as far as me and my guys go until you’ve checked for magickal booby traps.”
Abe slid in front of me. “Allow me.” Abe placed a hand on the gate handle and raised an eyebrow at me.
I was more than a little irritated at being shoved aside. He knew I was just as capable as him at disabling any defenses that were on the property.
“Wards are my specialty,” Abe said with a smug grin.
He unhooked the gate, and the SRT officers standing nearby stiffened. “Iron disrupts the flow of magick,” Abe explained with all the patience of an intro-level professor. “The iron fence forms a complete circle around the property. Unless it is broken, even the most skilled practitioner would not be able to see what magicks wait on the other side.”
The smile that Abe flashed me made me feel stupid for ever thinking he would discount me as an agent. He knew better. The two of us had already fought side-by-side before. By taking command of the operation, he hoped to teach SRT a few things before they got in over their heads. It hadn’t been about me and my abilities at all. I rolled my shoulders and pretended not to notice.
Abe swung open the gate and extended both hands into the space the fence gate had once occupied, his thumb and two fingers extended. “The walkway and front yard are laced with an early warning detection system. There is something stronger attached to the deadbolt ahead and laid over the windows, but I cannot determine its purpose at this distance.” He lowered his hands. “The house is safe to approach, but do not touch the doors or windows until I have finished.”
He took off through the gate and up the walkway, his long strides leaving the rest of us scrambling to catch up. I almost had to run to arrive on Reed’s porch in the same breath as Abe. He stood in front of the door, fingers extended in the same position he’d used a moment ago, eyes closed. “Your priest has a knack for fire spells.” A smile touched Abe’s voice, though it didn’t show on his face. “Opening the door uninvited would be very bad for anyone’s health.”
I extended a hand toward the window in front of me and sent a quick pulse of magick into the air, feeling for Reed’s wards. True to Abe’s word, there was something there, something with enough power to knock me on my ass, but I couldn’t tell what kind of ward it was or what it might do once triggered. I withdrew my hand. “Can you undo it?”
“Not if you wish it to remain a secret. The moment I do, he and anyone else who is watching this location through magickal means will be aware that his protections are down.”
Abe gave me a wary look. He hadn’t said it aloud, but he was worried someone else might be watching and waiting for a chance to come in and search the place. We might be doing their dirty work for them, breaking down the wards. Once we left the scene, anything we didn’t take with us in an evidence box would be free for the taking.
I nodded once. “Break it down.”
He closed his eyes again. The air on the porch took on a heavier quality, making it more difficult to breathe, and magick hummed briefly against the door. Then there was a loud pop, a spark of light, and the door popped open of its own accord.
Abe was the first one through the door. He took two steps and then fell forward, flailing like a cartoon character. Reed’s skinny white cat scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding Abe falling on him. Abe crashed to the floor with a resounding thud. The cat flicked his tail and jumped up onto Abe’s back, where he proceeded to sit and lick his paw without so much as acknowledging the rest of us. I stifled a chuckle while Abe had a few choice words with Russian for the cat, who scampered off when Abe pushed himself up off the floor. Abe turned to sneer back at the doorway while several of the SRT guys snickered at him. “You should have warned me about the familiar, Judah.”
I stepped into the narrow hallway and sidestepped Abe. “Pretty sure he’s just a cat and not a familiar. Come on. We’ll take the room at the end of the hall. The rest of you, fan out.”
Abe stood, dusted himself off, and muttered something about cats never being just cats.
The room at the end of the hall was Reed’s living room. I’d only been in Reed’s house a few times before, but I thought he was an immaculate housekeeper based on how he kept the rest of the place. The living room reflected that. His coffee table held neat stacks of newspapers and a notebook with a pen resting against the pages. An old, rotary-style phone sat next to the notebook. Behind the coffee table was a well-loved sofa with a Navajo blanket thrown on the back. His Bible sat open on the cushions beside where he would have been sitting if he were writing in the notebook.
Abe went to check out the sofa and the items on it while I walked the perimeter of the room. Reed’s walls were mostly bare. There wasn’t a photograph to be found anywhere in the room and no knick-knacks. That made the few items on display even more noticeable. I stopped in front of an oil painting depicting a dark-skinned man in a striped tunic holding an infant. The artist had captured Joseph’s fatherly smile as he looked down at his crying son. It was an odd choice of moments to capture, the Son of God crying helplessly just like any other child and his father attempting to calm him with a calloused hand on the babe’s chest.
“Looks like a diary.”
I glanced at the notebook. “More like a devotional journal. Looks like he stopped mid-sentence, too.” I shrugged. “Not a smoking gun, but might be useful. I’d bag it.”
I turned back to the wall and walked along it until I came to a bookshelf. It held exactly what you’d expect to find in a priest’s bookshelf. Devotionals, various editions of the Bible, theological guides, concordances, atlases, and histories lined the shelves. The third shelf was only half full, the books stopping abruptly halfway across the shelf against a kneeling angel bookend.
The living room began to feel crowded as more SRT officers flooded in, so I walked back along the wall to where another narrow hallway waited. An agent stood at the mouth of the hall at parade rest, having searched the rooms down the hall and found them clear. I nodded to him and stepped past to search the first door on the left.
It looked like a bedroom. Reed’s neat freak streak disappeared. The room was a mess. Blankets had been torn from the bed, and dresser drawers pulled out and turned over. Reed was a neat freak, and every man’s bedroom is his sanctuary. If it was a mess in there, it was because someone else had made it that way. The place was tossed, but not destroyed. Someone else had been searching for something, someone who could get past Reed’s wards.
I stepped in cautiously, sweeping my eyes back and forth and drawing my gun. I kept the barrel pointed at the floor. SRT had declared the house clear, but they could have missed something or someone, especially if they weren’t looking for signs of magick.
“Who were you, and what were you looking for?” I
muttered. “And the better question is, did you find it?”
I spun at a sudden sound, leveling my gun at the closet. A dark shape shifted on the other side. “Come out with your hands on the back of your head!” I shouted. “I know you’re in there.”
“Take it easy, love,” said a familiar voice. The white slatted doors of the closet slid aside and Creven stepped out with his hands in the air. “And don’t alert your vampire friend that I’m here.” He pressed one finger to his lips.
I cast a look behind me at the open door, dropped my gun, and stepped over to close it. “What the hell, Creven? This is an active investigation and my suspect’s home. You can’t just break in here and contaminate any evidence! What are you doing here?”
Creven slowly lowered his hands. “Orders from above,” he reported. “It’s unrelated to your investigation.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I said, dropping my gun back into its holster. “You just happen to be tossing the home of my suspect? Orders from who? And what are you looking for?”
Creven pressed his lips together. “Those answers are more complicated than you realize, lass.”
“Creven, so help me—”
I stopped when the elf’s head shot up, eyes glued to the door. A heartbeat later, muffled screams sounded on the other side of the door, followed by rapid gunfire that lasted only a few seconds before going eerily silent. I looked at Creven for an explanation, but he shook his head. This wasn’t him or whoever had hired him. Neither of us spoke. We passed about five seconds in silence before we noticed the smoke coming from cracks around the door.
Chapter Nine
Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. In this case, it must have been on the other side of the door, meaning Espinoza, Abe, and the other members of SRT were either trapped in it, had retreated to a safe distance, or they were dead. The gunfire and its abrupt end suggested the latter. With the smoke pouring in and the temperature steadily rising, Creven and I would meet the same fate if we didn’t act quickly.