The Empathic Detective: A Mystery Thriller Page 4

  Bryce looked left, right, seeking escape. Featureless walls, windows and doors greeted him, offering no mercy.

  He felt the weight of his sidearm, and considered drawing it. A news van swooped down, four cams sticking out from the vehicle, broadcasting and recording from different angles.

  No, if he turned and shot the men closest to him, everyone in the city would see it.

  She’d work it against me, he thought.

  He was running out of breath, the closest pursuer gaining on him.

  The chirp of a siren from a squad car startled everybody, as it floated down to street level, its headlights flooding the crowd. The passenger door opened.

  “Need a lift, Detective?”

  He dove through the open door and shut it. Jenkins quirked a smile at him. No emotion radiated from the officer, as usual, despite the facial expression.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Looked like you were in a bit of a spot there.”

  Jenkins floated the squad car up 30 feet in the air and joined half a dozen others facing the mob. He unhooked the car’s mic and flipped the PA switch. When he spoke, his voice amplified through the speakers under the hood.

  “Disperse! Disperse immediately!”

  By this time, the rest of the mob caught up with the frontrunners. They screamed hatred at the squad cars, waiving their fists in anger and frustration.

  “Disperse! This is an unlawful assembly!”

  Bryce stretched his neck, looking down. He picked out Lamont, near the rear of the crowd now. She raised her arms and swung them up in a throwing motion, as if controlling the crowd by pantomime.

  A rock hit the bottom of Jenkins’ car. Rioters picked up rocks, bricks, litter, anything loose on the street, and began throwing it all up at the squad cars.

  Jenkins flipped off the PA switch, sending the mic back to the com channel.

  “All cars, fire your teargas.”

  He flipped another switch. Ports opened on either side of the squad car.

  Thumpf! Thumpf! Thumpf! Thumpf!

  Four teargas canisters flew out of the ports and landed in the middle of the crowd. The other cars followed suit. In seconds the street filled with gas, the protesters choking, their attention if not their emotions temporarily diverted.

  The gas drifted out and upwards. Jenkins and Bryce exchanged glances. The car was hermetically sealed, with a backup air supply. They could float in the cloud of tear gas for half an hour or so, if need be.

  “Good job, Jenkins.”

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  For a moment Bryce felt a flicker of emotion from the stoic policeman. Pride. Satisfaction. A bit of redemption for spilling so much of Bryce’s private life to Desiree Lamont.

  Bryce looked down again, searching for Lamont. He found her away from the scattering crowd. She stopped near an alley between two buildings. She held the scarf close to her nose, coughing, trying desperately to filter out the gas. Her eyes looked up into his car, seeking him out.

  He caught her eye at a distance for a moment. He felt her hate pierce his skull like an arrow as she glared up at him. Then she turned and ran down the alley.

  -+-

  Bryce had Jenkins drop him off in front of Marti’s. His heart sank when he saw the entrance to the pub. The windows were smashed, the door was kicked in.

  Inside chairs and tables were scattered everywhere. Marti stood off in the corner crying. An officer seemed to be doing her best to comfort her, while trying to take her statement at the same time.

  Marti looked up as Bryce approached, tears streaming down her face.

  “Oh, Jerry! Look what they did to the place!”

  He hugged her. She sobbed into his chest, her shoulders shaking.

  “Where’s Mack?”

  “They took him to the hospital. I think his heart gave out when this happened. They wouldn’t let me on the ambulance. Some of our customers got hurt too and there was no room.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll go see him. My car’s outside.”

  He turned to the officer.

  “Are you finished with her?”

  She nodded. Bryce led Marti out, gently holding her arm.

  “Why would anyone want to do this, Jerry? Why?”

  Bryce held his tongue. He thought, probably for the same reason Lamont killed her own husband. Probably for the same reason she tried to kill me.

  But he knew the real reason the mob had wrecked Marti’s place. Revenge.

  At the door, Marti turned and surveyed the damage again.

  “I don’t think we’ll ever rebuild, Jerry.”

  She broke down in sobs again. He turned her around gently toward the door, and walked her out.

  Chapter Four

  “How you doing?”

  Bryce sensed the concern behind Parker’s question, and felt grateful. Few in the department cared much for him, and he appreciated her sincerity.

  “I probably look about as bad as I feel. Spent all night at Seton helping a friend with the death of her husband.”

  “I heard your favorite pub got trashed by the mob last night. Did they kill somebody too?”

  Bryce nodded.

  “He was in his eighties. The docs say his heart gave out in all the excitement.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She touched his shoulder. He felt it. Sympathy. Genuine sympathy, not just the simply expressed kind so many people offered in times of grief. Again, he felt grateful for the genuine expression of her emotion.

  Wilton opened the door to his office.

  “Bryce. Parker. Get in here. Jenkins and Miller, you too.”

  As they walked into the office, the Chief stood up.

  “Chief Jones, you know Detective Bryce, Detective Jenkins, and Detective Miller. This is Detective Parker, newly hired. She’s Bryce’s new partner. Detective Parker, meet Chief of Police, Jeremiah Jones.”

  Hands were shaken all around, and everybody sat down.

  “As y’all know, the DA released our suspect from the Lamont murder case with no charges. I chewed out my brother for this, and I understand you did too, Detective Bryce.”

  His dark eyes flared for a moment, and Bryce felt the muffled outrage within him as he struggled not to show it. Instead, only a look of mere annoyance betrayed itself on the Chief’s face before he continued. Bryce nodded in acknowledgement of his prior conversation with the Assistant DA.

  “And as y’all also know, a riot occurred last night near Detective Bryce’s apartment, a riot costing several hundred thousand credits in damages to local businesses. Maybe more, they’re still doing estimates.”

  “And one life,” Bryce murmured softly.

  The Chief raised his eyebrows.

  “A bar and grill owner had a heart attack while his place was torn apart. He passed away at the hospital.”

  “I see. Well, the point of this meeting is . . . Captain, play the video from last night.”

  Captain Wilton waved at his vid screen and dash cam footage from a squad car appeared, showing the riot from above.

  “Notice the ringleader. She’s in the back of the crowd at this moment.”

  The video zoomed in on Desiree’s hooded face and froze as she looked up and into the cam.

  “The pupil scan shows incontrovertibly that this is our suspect, Desiree Lamont.”

  Parker breathed in a bit too sharply. Bryce sensed her surprise. He sensed nothing from Jenkins, who regarded the revelation with the same levelheadedness he regarded most things in his job. Mild interest emanated from Miller, the more jovial of the older two detectives.

  “So.” The Chief turned back to the detectives, who refocused their attention on him. The freeze-frame of Lamont’s face remained onscreen.

  “We have a problem. We’ve already arrested this woman once for first degree murder, and she was let go almost immediately. Detective Bryce warned me she was . . . special . . . before we booked her. I had no idea how special she was.”

  “I di
dn’t either,” Bryce said.

  “Shortly afterwards, a gunman she was associated with tries to shoot up your favorite bar, Detective, and next thing we know she is leading a riot in your neighborhood.”

  The Chief sighed, and slumped back in his chair.

  “I honestly don’t know what to do. If we arrest her again, assuming she lets herself even get arrested, the DA will likely throw the charges out again.”

  “Couldn’t you have her charged without meeting anyone? Without seeing anyone she can influence to drop the charges?”

  “I’m not sure we could get away with anything like that without violating her rights, Detective Parker. Besides that, I’ll bet that any contact with anyone after an arrest could be disastrous. Play the vid again, Captain.”

  Wilton restarted the video.

  “Look at the way she’s controlling that crowd. They’re like puppets on a string.”

  They watched as Desiree moved her arms, directing rioters right and left. Then she started making throwing motions, and the crowd began throwing rocks and debris up at the patrol cars. Finally, the tear gas canisters rained down on the crowd, and clouds of gas obscured the scene as the rioters ran off in different directions.

  When the video finished, the Chief sighed. Bryce felt his frustration.

  “I’m open to suggestions, people. Detective Bryce, you’re the one most qualified to address this issue. What do you suggest we do?”

  All eyes turned to Bryce. He slowly rubbed his chin in thought, eyes to the floor. Everyone fell quiet in the room. Captain Wilton took a sip of coffee, his gentle slurp the only sound.

  Then Bryce’s eyebrows popped up as a thought struck him. He looked up. Everyone else in the room stared at him, intently. He sensed their expectation.

  “We have to kill her.”

  The room exploded in noise. The Captain spit out his coffee. Parker gasped, the Chief broke into a coughing fit. Even Jenkins emitted a strong wave of shock, although the only outward expression he gave was to drop his mouth open for a couple seconds.

  “Detective—”

  “There’s no other way, Chief. Anytime you get somebody too close to her, she’ll turn them. She’s too powerful. And you don’t know what she’s willing to do with that power. She’s already gotten away with murder, sent out another murderer to do her bidding, and riled up a group of rioters.

  “What’s next? Who will she manipulate? You? The Mayor? She could have this entire city in chaos anytime she wants.”

  “Detective Bryce, I cannot condone taking out a suspect like that without due process.”

  “Of course, Chief, I understand that. But what if she’s killed in self-defense? It’d be like any other justified shooting.”

  “How do you propose to find yourself in just that sort of situation, Detective?”

  “I don’t know. Let me think about it. But I feel pretty strongly that I’ll be meeting Desiree Lamont again sometime in the near future. I think we can find a way to legitimately take her out.” e

  -+-

  Parker landed her car in a floating parking lot and walked over to a small security booth in front of a pneumatic tube reaching straight up in the air. A sign nearby read, “Nightsky Cigars & Fine Dining. Private Club.”

  She introduced herself to the guard, and waited patiently as he spoke into his com link and consulted with somebody upstairs. The sun sank slowly in the west as evening encroached.

  After several minutes he said, “I have permission to send you up, ma’am.”

  She thanked him and stepped into the tube. Immediately, the floor shot upwards.

  She looked down with some bemusement at the parking lot below, and the ground hundreds of feet below that. The city splayed out underneath her, the transparent tube offering an excellent 360-degree view.

  Good thing I’m not afraid of heights, she thought.

  Nearby, a few hundred yards in either direction to her right and left, more parking lots connected to other floating clubs via pneumatic tubes.

  Soon she passed a red line painted around the cylinder, and realized she must now be above city-controlled airspace. Next came an intricate layer of netting. Not long after that, her transport container slowed as she neared the tube’s terminus.

  It stopped with a gentle rush of air, and she stepped out into an elegant reception area. Another club employee waited for her as she exited the container.

  “Ms. Parker, so delighted to have you. If you will follow me, I will lead you to Mr. Bryce’s room.”

  As they walked down an elegantly carpeted, mahogany-walled hallway, the employee maintained a steady patter of conversation, taking the opportunity to inform her the club offered several delightful dishes prepared by their private chef, an impressive wine collection as well as any imaginable concoction of cocktails, and the latest craft and imported beers on tap.

  “And of course,” he wrapped up the spiel as they neared a door toward the end of the hallway, “should you desire a cigar, we have the finest selection in Texas.”

  He smiled politely as he opened the door, and a waft of fragrant cigar smoke enveloped them both.

  “Mr. Bryce, your guest is here.”

  Bryce placed his cigar down in an ashtray and waved her over.

  “Come on in.”

  “Would you like to place an order for anything Ms. Parker?”

  “Sure. I’ll take a glass of chardonnay.”

  As the door closed behind her, Parker glanced around the room. It looked to be about the size of a typical living room. Two rich leather recliners shared a coffee table. A sink and other kitchen accoutrements ran the length of the back wall. A dining room table and eight chairs stood near the kitchen. A door, presumably leading to a bathroom, occupied the left wall, while an entertainment center featuring a vid screen dominated the right.

  The fourth wall was missing. In its place: an outstanding view of the city below, with only a rail between the room and open air.

  Parker sat down in the other recliner, facing the view.

  “Nice room.”

  “It’s a lanai, technically.”

  A knock at the door was followed quickly by a tuxedoed waiter, who delivered Parker her wine. When he left she took a sip, then activated the recliner’s footrest, kicking her feet up.

  Bryce took another drag on the cigar. The smoke drifted out and up, over the city.

  “I didn’t know you belonged to such an exclusive club.”

  Bryce shrugged.

  “It’s not exclusive, really. Anyone can join. It’s just expensive.”

  Parker nodded. She took another sip of wine, then pulled back, realizing guiltily the glass may be costing her partner a pretty penny.

  Bryce chuckled.

  “Don’t worry about it. The alcohol is cheaper than the cigars.”

  Her ears grew red as she realized he had accurately guessed what she had been thinking. She forced down a couple more sips.

  “Do y’all have ‘free air’ clubs in San Francisco?”

  She shook her head.

  “I think the law in Texas is different. We don’t have a ‘free air’ rule.”

  He nodded. She was probably right, he thought. Texas had passed the Free Air Law, allowing establishments above a certain height to offer customers products forbidden in the cities below. Like cigars.

  The sun was almost gone now, and city lights started turning on. In the distance, spotlights flared, lighting up the Texas Capitol building and the Governor’s Mansion.

  “It’s beautiful. I can see why you like it up here.”

  Bryce nodded. He tilted his chin toward the Capitol.

  “It’s bigger than the one in D.C. They made sure of that.”

  Parker laughed in genuine amusement.

  “Everything’s bigger in Texas!”

  “They paid for it with land, in the eighteen-eighties. Handed over something like three million acres to the building contractors. It was so much land, it stretched across ten counties. Big
, West Texas counties. The contractors turned it into the world’s largest cattle operation. They called it the ‘XIT Ranch,’ the X standing for the Roman numeral ten. They avoided calling it the ‘Ten in Texas Ranch’ for obvious reasons.”

  She laughed again. They both lapsed into silence as darkness grew over the city.

  Parker finished the last sip of her chardonnay about the same time Bryce pulled the last puff of his cigar. She glanced over at him, a speculative look crossing her face.

  “So. We’re here because you have a plan to find her. Can you sense her out there in the city?”

  His lips quirked into a smile, his turn to be amused.

  “I’m not a superman, Parker.”

  She nodded, then had another thought.

  “Are you limited by proximity, then?”

  “I guess so. I never thought about it much. I’ve never tried to read the emotions of somebody at a distance. I never really thought of myself as special, or different, or having extraordinary powers. It’s just something I grew up with, and learned to use in police work.”

  “But surely you realized you were different, growing up.”

  He nodded slowly, considering the question carefully.

  “I suppose I did notice that I was different, in that not many others I met seemed to be as closely in tune with the feelings of others. But I didn’t think much about it.

  “Have you ever watched kids on a playground? There will be one kid taller than all the rest. He’s out there playing, and he’s the tallest one. But he doesn’t know he’s tall. Maybe on some level it registers with him that the other kids in his class are shorter, that he has to look down to meet their eyes when he’s close to them, but he never really thinks much about it.

  “Later, if the difference stays and he remains taller than others, somebody will say something about his height. Maybe they’ll tease him and call him a freak. Then he’ll fully realize he’s taller than normal. He still won’t think much about it, though, until others point it out to him all the time.

  “That’s the way I was with my ability. I didn’t think of it as different from others. I didn’t think of it as extraordinary, nor did I think of it as something negative. It was just . . . me. It’s who I was. Who I am.”