The Empathic Detective: A Mystery Thriller Page 2

  Then, with no inflection at all he said, “Desiree, will you excuse me for a moment? I’ve got to speak with the Chief.”

  “Certainly, Detective.”

  She put the gold certificates back in the safe, closed its door and reset the bookcase as he walked out.

  The Chief waited outside the door, just as Bryce had sensed.

  He motioned for the Chief to follow. They walked outside.

  “I think we’re out of range now, Chief.”

  “Out of range?”

  Bryce nodded. “Book her for first degree murder. We’ve got probable cause with fifty-eight million credits in gold certificates stuffed in a safe behind the bookcase. Throw in attempted bribery of an officer of the law. I’ve got it recorded on the handheld here.”

  He held his computer next to the Chief’s and transmitted a copy of the recording to it.

  “She’ll have a strong alibi. We might be able to find surveillance video showing her in the house at the time of the murder, but there won’t be any for the room it occurred in. Also, she won’t have gunpowder residue on her hands, due to the electronic nature of the weapon. My guess is the murder weapon is in the hidden safe.”

  The Chief’s eyebrows raised.

  “Safe?”

  “You’ll need a warrant to get in there. It’s hidden behind the bookcase. The red leather book in the middle trips the hidden door. It’s a voice activated combination, tuned to her vocal print. I bet the recording will do the trick. Just play it back at the safe’s door once you have that warrant.”

  Bryce paused, and drew a deep breath. “But that won’t be your biggest problem, Chief.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “She’s an empath. She’s going to be able to sense the emotions of anybody who interrogates her. And she can play them like a harp.”

  “Like you, huh?”

  Bryce nodded. “Like me. Better, even. She’s a master at manipulating emotions. I just read them off people. She’s . . . she’s something more.”

  “Did she figure out you’re one, too?”

  Bryce nodded again. “I think so. She was able to ferret out my deepest feelings and start using them to her advantage. She recognized what I am when she got deep enough.”

  A long and awkward silence followed. Finally the Chief broke the spell, clasping Bryce’s shoulder.

  “Glad you’re on my team, Bryce. I’m also glad you use your powers for good. I’ll take it from here. Probably get Detective Jenkins to book her, he’s about as emotional as a fish.”

  Bryce watched as the Chief headed back inside the mansion, then turned toward his car. Grief, regret, and most of all loneliness swept over him as he walked.

  He finally found someone like him. Someone who shared his abilities, someone who understood what he had to go through every day. And she turned out to be bad. Evil. A murderess and a thief. That hurt more than not knowing if he would ever find someone else out there like him.

  I could have gone away with her, he thought. Escaped to Europe. Fifty-eight million credits would go a long way. She’s attractive, too. We could have had quite a relationship.

  He put these thoughts aside for more realistic ones. Eventually she would have noticed the one inescapable emotion that would have overcome all the others inside him. Guilt.

  She would have known he felt guilty about leaving his responsibilities, his job, no longer using his powers for good. He would have felt guilty for leaving Melody behind, even though they were divorced. He would have felt guilty for not turning Desiree in, no matter how good their life together might have been.

  She would have known as surely as he would. There would be no hiding it from either one.

  And then what? Would she murder him, too? Make it look like an accident? Find somebody else to spend the remaining money with?

  “Sucks being good sometimes,” he muttered as he reached his car.

  Several news vans floated down outside the police line. Reporters jumped out wearing helmet cams, chattering excitedly to audiences back home.

  The front door to the mansion opened, and Desiree Lamont walked out in hand restraints with Jenkins and Miller right behind her, directing her toward a squad car. She looked at the cams, then turned her head as she swept the grounds. She caught Bryce’s eye, and shot pure anger and rage into his mind.

  He took an involuntary step backwards from the force of the emotional blast.

  Then Jenkins had her at the car, pushed her head down with his hand, breaking her line of sight. He shoved her into the car, and shut the door. It floated up in the air, turned and headed downtown.

  The Chief came out and the reporters turned their cams on him. He stood on the front steps to make a statement, reporters crowding around him shouting questions.

  “Then again,” Bryce muttered softly as he opened his car door. “Being good’s not so bad.”

  That last look toward him must have been very similar to the one she gave Charles Lamont, he thought. Right before she killed him.

  Chapter Two

  Bryce walked into Precinct Headquarters the following morning. He had slept well enough, but his dreams were troubled by images of Desiree Lamont, and gold certificates swirling in the wind.

  A vid screen on the wall showed footage from the day before of Lamont walking to the squad car in restraints. A breathless reporter’s voice recited the latest details of her husband’s murder and her arrest.

  Jenkins waved at him. Bryce walked over to the desk Jenkins shared with his partner, Miller. Bryce’s own desk stood nearby.

  “Found the weapon in the safe just like you said it’d be. Tech boys ran the recording of her voice saying the combination and it opened right up. They mentioned something about it being an older model safe. Apparently newer ones aren’t as easy to crack.”

  Bryce nodded. It felt good to have his hunches confirmed.

  “She’s lawyered up. Not going down without a fight. All we have is circumstantial. Looks like the DA’s going for it, though. Murder one.”

  Bryce nodded again.

  “Circumstantial should be good enough.”

  Unless she can manipulate the emotions of the jury somehow, he thought. No doubt I’ll be called to testify. I better keep an eye on the entire trial, though. Just in case she tries anything.

  The door to the Captain’s office opened. He stuck his head out, looked around.

  “Bryce! Get in here.”

  Blue eyed and freckled, with a ring of dark orange and light gray hair circling a bald top, Captain Justin Wilton also neared retirement age like Jenkins and Miller. Several extra pounds gathered around his midsection, betraying years behind a desk.

  The Captain held the door open for Bryce, closing it after he entered. A woman stood up and stretched out her hand. About five foot eight, Bryce reckoned. Slim. Attractive. Straight blonde hair.

  “Bryce, this is Emily Parker. She’s your new partner.”

  Bryce shook her hand. It was warm to the touch. She projected curiosity toward him. No horror, no revulsion. No worries he’d uncover her secrets.

  Refreshing, he thought. But then, she doesn’t know me yet.

  “Parker is transferring here from San Francisco,” the Captain said to Bryce.

  Turning to her, he said, “Bryce hasn’t had a partner in months. Go easy on him.”

  Parker flashed a smile, showing perfect white teeth.

  She looks younger with makeup, Bryce thought. She must be about thirty. It’s hard to gauge, though. Could be twenty-eight, could be thirty-two. Her blonde hair isn’t natural, either. He could see darker roots, and she hadn’t colored her eyebrows. She was pretty. High cheekbones. A simple gold band on her left hand indicated her marital status.

  “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  -+-

  They left for lunch together. Bryce had spent the morning showing her the department’s computer system and discussing procedure. He made the rounds and introduced her to everybody.

/>   He could read their skepticism. Nobody thought she’d last long as his partner. He couldn’t blame them, either. Nobody had lasted very long as his partner.

  “You have any dietary restrictions? Vegetarian or anything?”

  “No. I like hamburgers.”

  “Okay. I know just the place.”

  He took her to an alley between two large buildings where somebody had wedged in an old dining car from a train. Who the owner had bribed at the city to let him get away with it was a mystery. Nobody complained too much, though, because the burgers and fries were excellent. And try as they might, health department inspectors could never find many violations on their frequent visits.

  A sign at the front read, “The Dining Depot.”

  He held the door open for her. They went inside and grabbed a seat at one of the tables. A vid screen nearby showed an anchor reading the news.

  “The latest Janus has opened, extending the string to another planet. Scientists have not yet decided on a name for the new world, but are excited to begin exploring and cataloguing its life forms . . .”

  Bryce tuned it out. He ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries, all the way.

  “Everything on it but jalapenos. Unsweet iced tea to drink.”

  The waitress nodded and turned to Parker.

  “I’ll have the same thing.”

  They sat back in their chairs while waiting on the food. Bryce absently scanned the lunch crowd, keeping an eye out for visible threats or violent emotions from the customers.

  Sensing none, he relaxed. The waitress returned with their tea.

  He shifted his focus to Parker. He took a sip of tea. She wanted to ask. He could sense it.

  Finally, she did.

  “So, you can read minds?”

  He smiled and put down his glass.

  “Is that what they told you? No, of course not. Nobody can read minds. I can’t hear what you’re thinking.”

  “But you can make extremely good guesses, right? I’ve heard the stories.”

  He nodded.

  “I can sense emotions. Most people can sense emotions one way or another. Facial expressions. Body language. Tone of voice. I can sense those as well or better than the average person.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. He could sense the skepticism.

  “You’re selling yourself short. They say you can determine a suspect’s guilt by spending a few moments talking with them.”

  He nodded. It was true, more or less.

  “Emotions seem to broadcast from people, like a radio signal. And I’m able to tune them in. Like I said, better than most.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a gift. Or a curse. I’m not sure which, yet.”

  “We’re learning so much about the universe every day . . .”

  She nodded at the vid screen, where the news anchor continued talking about the new planet opening along the string. The screen switched to a graphic, showing a giant ring in orbit. A spaceship approached, entered the ring, and disappeared in a flash of light.

  “. . . and yet, I don’t think I’ve heard about your ‘powers’ before.”

  He nodded. He’d had this conversation at least a dozen times.

  “I think there’ve been plenty of people who’ve been acutely sensitive to emotions down through the ages. I don’t think it’s been recognized as a ‘power,’ as you put it. But certainly it’s been used to advantage. I suspect many fortune tellers, oracles and swindlers shared my ability. As well as, I would hope, some psychiatrists and social workers.

  “I’m sure there are others like me. But, I suspect most people keep it a secret. Or, perhaps they don’t even think of it as special or noteworthy. They’re empathic to a higher degree than those around them, but they chalk it up to their own personality and don’t consider it a ‘power.’ And those with this power, skill, whatever you want to call it, tend to use it one way or another in life. Some of them might be counselors, others might be con artists. I choose to use mine for police work.”

  He paused, and took another sip of iced tea.

  “If you’re good at it, like I am, you can become very skilled at figuring people out. You understand what they like, what they don’t like. You can even stumble across their deepest, darkest secrets. But until you learn to keep your mouth shut around friends and coworkers . . .”

  He grimaced inwardly at some bad memories.

  “. . . they tend to become afraid of you. So, people like me don’t typically let the world know what we can do. If we’re smart.”

  She nodded, letting his words soak in.

  “So, that’s why everybody in the department hates you. You weren’t smart.”

  He smiled.

  “Yeah. Eventually everybody wonders if I know they cheated on their wife last night, if I know they falsified their last police report, if I know they drink too much when they’re off the clock, and so on.”

  “Well? Do you know all those things about people?”

  He drew a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh.

  “Yes. I know all sorts of things. And I know now, after several years in this line of work, to keep my mouth shut about it. Most of the time. Unfortunately, it took me a while to learn that. And so, everybody in the department thinks I’m a ‘mind reader,’ and they avoid me like the plague. They’re all afraid I’ll tell everybody their secrets.”

  “So why not leave? Go to another city. Start fresh.”

  He shrugged.

  “Why bother? My reputation would catch up to me eventually. Law enforcement is not a very big pond, really. Eventually somebody would hear about what I can do, and I’d wind up with the same set of issues in the new place.”

  The waitress brought their burgers out, set them on the table along with tubes of mustard, mayonnaise, and ketchup.

  After several bites, Parker looked up, and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  “This is really good! It’s going to wreak havoc with my diet, though.”

  “We’ll go someplace healthier tomorrow.”

  -+-

  The remainder of the day proved productive but uneventful. Bryce finished his report on the Lamont case, taking time to show Parker how to file notes and reports. He showed her how his recording of the conversation with Desiree was stored on the department’s secure server and accessible to other investigators.

  They chitchatted throughout the day while he worked on the report and she learned the system. She told him her husband was a software executive. He had gotten some kind of promotion, so they had to move from the San Francisco Bay area to Texas. No kids. Evidently they were wealthy enough that she didn’t have to work if she didn’t want to.

  “I’d go crazy staying at home all day. Besides, I feel like I can make a difference doing police work. You know?”

  He nodded. He knew. Despite the drudgery of the job, the endless paperwork, the political and social pressures, he had not yet burned out. He still held the notion that what he was doing made a difference somehow. She felt the same way.

  Saying their goodbyes, she headed home to supper with her husband. Bryce headed toward Marti’s, near his apartment.

  Marti’s was a pub run by Marti and her husband Mack. As soon as Bryce walked in the door, Marti grabbed a frosted mug and began filling it from the tap of a local craft brew, Bryce’s favorite.

  After he sat down at the bar, she limped over and handed him the mug.

  “What’ll it be tonight, Jerry?”

  “Wings, I guess. Haven’t had your wings in a while.”

  She smiled and limped over to the kitchen window to yell at her husband.

  “Mack! Make Jerry a plate of wings and fries!”

  She limped back to his place at the bar and smiled, ready to talk.

  Bryce appreciated the gesture. Mack and Marti were good people, and he rarely sensed negative emotions from them. They were salt of the earth types, quietly living out their dream of running a pub in the city. They treated customers well, especially regular
s like Bryce.

  He felt a twinge of sadness later, as Mack rang the bell and carefully placed his plate of chicken wings and fries on the ledge. Marti limped over, brought it to Bryce then began pulling another mug of beer from the tap for him.

  How long could they keep going? He figured they both had to be somewhere in their mid-eighties. Maybe older. He didn’t know what Marti’s limp signified, although she’d been limping all the time he’d known her. He’d found the place shortly after moving into his apartment after the divorce.

  Age will eventually catch up with them, he thought.

  Marti limped off to wait on other customers while Bryce started on the wings.

  The food and beer and conversation are really good here, he thought. Don’t know which one I’ll miss most after they’re gone.

  The vid screen over the bar changed from a commercial to a news desk, and the anchor gave a plug for the nightly news.

  “Tonight at ten we’ll take a closer look at a Russian mafia group known locally as the ‘Bolshoi Boys.’ Also, we’ll look at proposals for tuition increases at . . .”

  The little bell on the door jangled as someone new walked in. The hair on the back of Bryce’s neck rose as he felt a strong sensation of hate.

  “Sit anywhere you like. I’ll be right with you,” Marti said.

  The stranger didn’t sit, but stared at everyone in the place.

  Bryce wiped his mouth and hands on a napkin, and kept his back to the man. He reached inside his coat, and slid his pistol gently out of the holster. He took care to leave his finger off the trigger while easing it out. All police personnel in the department were required to carry their sidearms in ready-to-fire condition. No cycling of the slide necessary, or safety to take off. Just point and shoot. “Condition zero,” as the instructor at the academy called it.

  The hate continued to flow from the stranger, edged with a bit of fear. And one other feeling that alarmed Bryce the most: anticipation. The anticipation started peaking.

  Bryce felt it when the stranger’s decision came. A moment of conviction, of commitment. Everything switched to slow motion.