The Empathic Detective: A Mystery Thriller Page 3
Bryce twirled on the barstool, extending his pistol, aiming for center mass, seeing the stranger for the first time. A large man, wearing an overcoat. A look of rage on his face.
He pulled out a shotgun the same time Bryce swung around. Semi-auto, Bryce noted. Multi-round. The stranger began to scream in rage. His finger tightened on the trigger.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Three shots, center mass, just like they trained him at the academy.
The stranger dropped the shotgun, the look of anger on his face replaced by one of shock and surprise. He crumpled to the floor holding his chest.
“Everybody stay calm! It’s over! Marti, call nine-one-one.”
Bryce approached him carefully, gun still trained on the man. His ears rang from the shots. Most of the pub’s patrons were on the floor, in the positions they’d scrambled to when he started shooting.
The stranger took a few shuddered breaths as he approached. Bryce hit an artery. At least one shot went straight to the heart. Pints of blood pooled on the floor.
Bryce carefully nudged the shotgun further away with his foot. He didn’t want it going off accidentally. Then he bent down to examine the man. He locked eyes with the stranger.
The stranger took two more ragged breaths, then closed his eyes and died. No more hate radiated from him. Bryce could feel . . . nothing. When the man’s spirit slipped away, it took all the emotions with him.
-+-
The next morning, the Captain called Bryce and Parker into his office.
“The investigation into your shooting is officially closed, Bryce. The Rangers are shutting the case.”
Bryce allowed himself a smile. Texas Rangers, the statewide investigative division of the Department of Public Safety, examined all police shootings in the state.
“That’s got to be some kind of record, Captain. They usually take a day or two.”
He had given his statement to a Ranger on the scene last night, before going home. A man named Parsons, he recalled.
The Captain nodded. “In the old days it would take weeks, sometimes months. Consider yourself lucky. But this was pretty much open and shut. You probably saved the lives of everyone in there.”
He leaned back in his chair and looked at the two detectives pensively.
“Funny thing about the perp you shot last night, Bryce. He used to work for the Lamonts. He was in charge of their landscaping. The gardener, so to speak.”
Bryce’s eyebrows shot up.
“That’s an interesting coincidence, Captain.”
“Yeah, well here’s another one. Yesterday afternoon, he visited your girlfriend Desiree at the Travis County Jail.”
Bryce and Parker exchanged glances. Bryce picked up the Captain’s dry sense of humor behind the term, “girlfriend.” Parker missed it.
“Okay. But, that still ranks as another coincidence. I mean, she doesn’t know my routine or anything. There’s no way she could have known I like to stop by Marti’s after work for supper.”
The Captain frowned at him, and turned toward the communications screen on his desk, featuring an AI secretary.
“Send Jenkins in.”
The door opened, and Jenkins walked in with a troubled look on his face.
“Have a seat, Detective. Tell us what happened when you and Miller booked Mrs. Lamont yesterday.”
Jenkins hemmed and hawed, stumbled and stalled, but eventually over the course of several minutes he revealed that Desiree Lamont had pumped him for all the information he could share about Bryce.
“So, you told her I like to go to Marti’s after work?”
Jenkins nodded glumly, staring at the floor.
“I told her pretty much everything, Bryce. How you’re an outcast here in the department. Where you live. The food you like. Everything. Everything I knew.”
He looked up. Bryce, Parker, and the Captain stared back at him, expressionless.
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. She was just so easy to talk to. I don’t know what came over me. I wanted to tell her everything she wanted to know. It just felt good to talk to her, let it all spill out.”
Finally, the Captain dismissed him, and Jenkins left the room. He stared down at the floor while walking out.
“Still think it’s a coincidence?”
Bryce shook his head slowly. “No. It’s starting to make sense.”
Parker spoke up. “I don’t understand how somebody could have that much loyalty to her, to be willing to kill for her like that. He was just the gardener? How was she able to talk him into taking a shotgun and going after Bryce?”
The Captain shrugged. “Maybe he was her lover.”
Bryce shook his head again. “I don’t think so. I’ve been involved in homicide investigations that were ‘crimes of passion.’ The emotions I sensed in those cases were different than what this guy was feeling. He had nothing but hate coming from him. It was one of the strongest sensations of pure hatred I’ve ever felt. In fact, it’s what clued me in that trouble was brewing the moment he walked into Marti’s.”
“So, what, then? You had her arrested and he decided to hate you and try to kill you?”
Bryce grimaced, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered Parker’s question.
The Captain spoke up. “You told the Chief she was an empath, like you. This have something to do with that, you think?”
Bryce nodded slowly, thoughtfully.
“I’m beginning to think maybe so.”
“I don’t understand,” Parker said. “Can empaths control people’s emotions? Can they control their minds and make them go out and try to murder someone?”
Both Parker and Wilton stared at him, waiting for an answer.
“No. At least, I don’t. All my life I’ve been able to sense other people’s emotions. And yes, I was able to figure out that Desiree Lamont has the same ability. But manipulating other people’s feelings? No. For me at least, it’s a one-way street. I sense the emotions in others, but I don’t transmit the emotions I want them to feel.”
A long silence ensued as everyone digested his comments.
At least, Bryce thought, I’ve never tried it. Not consciously, anyway.
Finally, the Captain spoke.
“I think we should operate under the presumption that Desiree Lamont might indeed have the power to control other people’s actions to some extent.”
Bryce and Parker nodded in agreement.
“Or at least,” Bryce said, “their emotions, which leads them to acting the way she wants them to.”
“Either way. As we’ve seen, whatever the extent of her power, it’s dangerous. I’m going to make some calls, see if I can have her put in isolation at the jail. The Chief will want to know about this, too.
“Okay, that’s all. Be careful out there.”
Chapter Three
Bryce floated his car down near the courthouse in one of the spaces reserved for police vehicles. As they exited the car, he and Parker noticed the crowd of reporters on the front steps of the building.
“What’s going on?”
Bryce shrugged. They began walking toward the entrance.
They stopped suddenly as the doors to the courthouse burst open. Desiree Lamont came out, along with several uniformed officers and a tall man with tinted glasses, a blue Italian suit and matching fedora.
The reporters swarmed them, shouting questions.
The procession halted at the top of the steps. The tall man raised his hand for silence. The reporters respectfully stopped shouting questions, turning their cams and mics toward him.
“I am Simon Gustavo Antonio Perez, Junior. I am representing Mrs. Lamont in this and other matters as her legal counsel. We have a short statement for the press.”
He cleared his throat, and the reporters held their collective breath in expectation.
“It is regrettable that Mrs. Lamont was wrongfully arrested for the murder of her husband, Charles. She clearly had nothing to do with his death,
and being falsely accused and imprisoned for a crime she didn’t commit has compounded the stress and grief she is under following the demise of her beloved partner and soul mate.
“Fortunately, the District Attorney’s office has realized the Police Department’s error, and the charges against Mrs. Lamont have been dropped.
“We appreciate the efforts of the District Attorney, and we hope to use the coming weeks as a time to begin the healing process for Mrs. Lamont during this difficult period of loss.
“Thank you. We’ll release a more detailed written statement later.”
As they moved to leave, the reporters shouted questions.
“Mrs. Lamont, do you know what happened the night of your husband’s death?”
“When will you do an interview? Would you do an interview for our audience?”
“Mrs. Lamont, will you be suing the Police Department?”
The last question made her stop suddenly, and she turned to the cams. The reporters quieted down again.
“It’s just so hard to be falsely accused of killing someone you love. I just couldn’t believe the police would ever do such a thing!”
As if on cue, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked earnestly into the news cams.
It all felt very staged and cheesy to Bryce, but everyone else reacted differently, feeling a strong emotional tug of sympathy for Lamont.
Then she, the officers, and her lawyer swept down the remaining steps through the crowd of reporters. She and Perez entered a waiting limousine. Its doors closed and it swooped up into the sky.
Bryce and Parker exchanged glances.
“Well, that’s just great.”
“I can’t believe they let her go, Bryce. But even I felt sorry for her just now.”
“Not only that, I’m pretty sure she just transmitted a wave of sympathy for herself on TV.”
-+-
“We had to let her go.”
Jonah Jones was an assistant DA. Tall, thin, and black, he seemed to be a rising star. Forty years old, he had made his reputation prosecuting some of the county’s most difficult cases. Bryce knew him well. The Chief of Police was Jones’ brother.
“We had her. Murder weapon had her prints. It was in her safe, the one only she and her husband could get into. House video shows her going into the room the murder occurred near the time of death. Come on, man.”
Jones shook his head. “Look, Bivens herself made the call on this.”
Bryce’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Bivens is the DA,” he said to Parker. Then, “How did she score an interview with Bivens, Jonah? That’s highly unusual.”
Bryce felt a pang of embarrassment shoot out of Jones as he quickly looked down at his vid sheets.
“You made the arrangement, didn’t you?”
Jones looked up for a moment, then began shoving vid sheets into his briefcase. Bryce could tell he called it correctly.
“Shouldn’t it at least go to a grand jury? Come on, you have to admit this is way outside the norm.”
“Look, we shouldn’t even be having this conversation. I’ve got to go. Bivens made the call to drop the charges, and that is that. Good day, detectives.”
The door closed behind him. Bryce and Parker stared at each other in amazement.
Then Parker cracked a smile.
“How do you like that? Do all your cases go like this?”
“No. But I’ve never dealt with an empath before, much less one who can control other people’s emotions. I thought we were going to have trouble with the jury. I didn’t think about having trouble with the District Attorney’s office first.”
-+-
Bryce landed his car in the parking lot of a floating restaurant. Cars heading north zoomed by on the right. Cars going south passed to the left of the island, following the old Interstate 35 route hundreds of feet below.
“You like Tex-Mex?”
“Sure. We do have some of that in California, you know.”
“Not like this, I bet.”
They walked toward the restaurant’s entrance. A sign in large letters floating above the building read, “Tia’s Flying Tacos.”
Smaller letters floated below spelling out, “and Menudo.”
Inside, Bryce ordered beef fajita soft tacos and unsweet iced tea. Parker ordered chicken fajita nachos supreme, covered in lettuce, cheese, diced tomatoes, sour cream, guacamole, and bacon bits.
“I’ll start my diet tomorrow.”
Bryce snorted, and smiled to himself. Parker looked trim and fit. He doubted she needed to diet much.
The vid screens showed the afternoon news. The lead story featured Desiree Lamont’s release from jail.
They sipped on iced tea, waiting for their food, watching the news. The screen switched to a reporter on scene at the courthouse.
“Wait for it,” Bryce said. “See if you don’t feel something again.”
When the reporter finished his update, video rolled of Perez’s statement on the top step of the courthouse. The cam panned back, showing the police, Lamont and Perez walking down the steps, reporters shouting questions.
Desiree stopped, the cam zoomed in on her as she spoke, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“There!”
A wave of sympathy swept over the restaurant.
Bryce grimaced. “I was right. She’s able to transmit emotions even through video. Everybody in the city who saw that is feeling sorry for her right now.”
He scanned the crowd in the restaurant, sifting through the emotions of all who watched the news.
“She’ll get the same reaction when it runs tonight at six and ten.”
The news switched to a commercial break. Those watching it refocused on their food and companions.
Bryce picked up snatches of conversation.
“I can’t believe the police would arrest that poor woman.”
“Yeah, what’s the matter with those guys? She’s clearly innocent.”
“That poor thing. Losing her husband like that . . .”
A waiter delivered their food. They ate in silence, Bryce still focused on the surrounding crowd and their emotions. Many not involved in conversations were paying attention to virtual screens from their phone implants.
“You know,” Parker said between bites of nacho chips. “We’re never going to be able to arrest her again.”
Bryce’s attention snapped back to her. He nodded, wiping his lips with a napkin.
“I think you’re right. She’s inoculating herself against future arrests.”
“Don’t you think that’s dangerous? I mean, even I felt sorry for her just now.”
Bryce nodded. “Yeah, she’s dangerous. The problem is, I’m not sure what to do about it.”
He chewed down the last of his taco, deep in thought.
“If we were to get her incarcerated, she’d have the entire prison wrapped around her finger. She’d be able to manipulate anybody in range, even in solitary. She could easily convince the guards to set her free. Or have the inmates all kill each other.”
He shoved away his plate.
“I had no idea she was this powerful. I mean, she can even transmit manipulative emotions through the news.”
“We’ll figure out a way, partner,” Parker said, munching on a chip. “No one’s invulnerable. We’ll get her.”
-+-
Another day late at the office. Another day eating supper at Marti’s. Bryce sipped his beer lost in thought, absently monitoring emotions in the pub.
Mack yelled from the kitchen.
“Jerry’s Reuben is done!”
Marti limped over carrying the plate.
The news came on the vid screen above the bar. Desiree Lamont led the first segment.
“That poor girl. Why’d y’all arrest her, Jerry? She didn’t do nothin’.”
She shot her husband, Bryce thought.
Instead of saying anything he just smiled back at Marti, and pulled the sandwich plate closer.
The sympathy Marti felt was real. Just like anybody else watching the news right now. All across the city, they’re all feeling genuine sympathy, he thought.
A graphic flashed across the screen: “This just in.”
“Turn it up, Marti.”
Marti waved her hand at the screen, turning up the volume.
“This just in. We’re learning of an anti-police rally taking place near downtown. We have someone live on the scene in a news van, our own Patricia Harley.
“Patricia, tell us what you’re seeing.”
The scene shifted to an overhead shot of a large crowd moving fast down a darkened street. People spread from one sidewalk to the other. Maybe three hundred strong, Bryce estimated. Angry. Shouting. Waving their arms and walking fast with a purpose.
The hair on the back of his neck went up as he recognized the neighborhood.
“Maria, we are here near downtown where a large crowd has gathered for a police protest. The crowd is on the move now as you can see. It appears to be led by this person . . .”
The van’s cam zoomed in on a woman in the front and center of the mob. She wore a hoodie, her face covered by a scarf.
She turned to the crowd and shouted, swinging her arms, then she turned again and marched down the street. The crowd followed her, shouting, screaming.
Bryce gulped down the last of his beer. He grabbed what remained of his sandwich and jumped off the barstool.
“Marti, call nine-one-one again. That mob is headed is this way.”
“But why? They ain’t done nothin’ yet.”
“They’re fixing to. Do it. Tell them an officer is need of assistance.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond, but ran out the door shoving the sandwich in his mouth.
He heard the crowd noise first, then felt the waves of anger rolling out in front of the people. They came around a corner, and onto the street.
A hundred yards away, her eyes met his. He recognized them, even at that distance. Her hate hit him like a tidal wave.
She turned and screamed to the crowd.
“There’s one! Get him!”
With a roar they broke into a run. Bryce turned and ran away.
He took a left, then a right. The front edge of the crowd neared him. Anger seethed from the people. As the men in front gained on him, their feelings intensified.