Fire from the Midst, page 14
Truthfully, there wasn’t a whole lot to see. In the midst of the fear and confusion, not everyone had gotten a chance to pull out their phones. Most of the evidence that was recorded was blurred or out of focus. There were few decent shots of the shifters, much to Candace’s relief. As she and Gary worked, several fellow officers made their way over, jokingly asking if they’d found any evidence of monsters yet.
“Not yet,” they’d reply with a laugh. “Not unless you count the employees for selling bad coffee at those prices.”
“What’d they put in that coffee, though, to make several folks there claim the same thing?” another homicide detective had wondered aloud. “You don’t suppose they’re spiking the coffee drinks with something a little stronger? Like something illegal?”
Candace pursed her lips. “Might be something to look into,” she said seriously. “A coffee shop would make a great cover for running illegal drugs. Who would ever suspect that?”
Whether her colleague would take her up on the bait she’d put out, she didn’t know, but he meandered away, muttering to himself.
Once the phones had been cleared of anything that both the public and their fellow officers didn’t need access to, the phones were then turned over to Digital Forensics to pull any images that might relate to the scene itself—of which there were few. Detective Ewing’s neck felt tight with strain. After pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee from the pot someone in the office had thoughtfully brewed, she stepped outside in the chilly spring evening to try and collect her thoughts. To get her bearings on what she’d done and was doing.
“When I first became a cop thirty-plus years ago, I never foresaw my career going like this.”
She half-turned, acknowledging her partner with a grim smile.
“Boy, you ain’t kiddin’,” she muttered, lifting the mug to her lips. The steam from the coffee, juxtaposed against the cool evening air, temporarily warmed her face until she lowered it back into her other palm.
“Remind me again how we both got roped into this mess?”
Gary stood next to her, holding his own coffee. “Good question,” he shrugged. “I guess the hows and whys don’t matter. What matters is this is where we are.”
“I don’t like it.”
Gary slid her a questioning glance. “Still planning on fighting the inevitable?”
“Why does it have to be inevitable?” she demanded, frustrated, spinning to face him fully. “I’m not Sean Costas’ lackey, or anyone else’s.”
“That’s funny, coming from someone who spent most of the day covering Sean’s people’s backsides,” he reminded her.
She didn’t appreciate the attempted jest.
“I didn’t do it for him. I didn’t do it for his people. I did it for the people of this city, and for us. Last thing we need is panic over the monsters among us.
“Oh, and maybe for that girl, Ellie,” she went on, idly rubbing the bottom of her mug with her free hand, savoring the fading warmth against her skin. “I don’t know exactly how she plays into this mess, besides being married to Ballis, but I don’t think she’s one of them.”
“The one you said Nosizwe almost killed.”
“Yes, her. I ran background checks on her and her family. Clean, all of them. Squeaky clean, in fact. I was glad to see Ellie survived the attack, but it makes me wonder how someone like her got mixed up with a group like Costas’ and a man like Carter Ballis.”
“She can’t be too much of a shrinking violet. Not if that’s really her in the security footage downing the female perp.”
“True.” Candace considered the rough footage she’d seen of the young woman rising from behind the counter, gun in hand, taking out one of the bad guys with a couple of slugs and dead aim. “Could be she’s not as innocent as I’d like to think.”
“Maybe. Either way, she saved us a lot of trouble by removing one of the perps. Talk from the brass is since the bad guys are dead and no bystanders were harmed there’s a good chance of this case getting shut down.”
That both relieved and frustrated Candace. Relieved, since it meant the secret of humans altering into monstrous forms was liable to stay safe from the city. Frustrated, since it might be her best lead to tying Nosizwe—Elia—to the scene and exposing her as a criminal. Not that she had any actual proof of Elia’s involvement, but Candace strongly suspected that, with a little digging, proof wouldn’t be hard to come by.
“You’re being awfully quiet,” her partner observed, when she failed to offer any sort of response to his observation.
“Thinking, Gary. I’m thinking.”
“I know you are. I can see the wheels in your head spinning behind your eyes. That’s what scares me. What are you cooking up now?”
“Not cooking up anything. Trying to decide if this incident is worth pursuing. If it could be used to bring down Elia and/or Sean Costas.”
Her partner’s expression shouted that he wondered if she’d lost her mind. His next question confirmed it.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Not at all,” she stated calmly, sipping at her coffee. “If I could prove the assailants worked for Elia and were sent by her to attack someone who worked for Costas—and proving Ballis works for Sean Costas wouldn’t be hard—I could prove criminal intent and possibly lock her away, at least for a while.”
“You’re setting yourself up for trouble,” Gary warned. “Even if you could prove the orders came from Elia—and I highly doubt any of her people are going to flip on her and confirm that—you’d have to establish motive. What motive could Elia, world-class entertainer, possibly have for assaulting Sean Costas, a Texas businessman, independent of what’s actually going on? He didn’t invite her to perform at his latest fundraiser? He refused to donate funds to her favorite charity?
“Think, Candace,” her partner urged. “You can’t supply any motives that will stand up in court unless you expose what’s really happening. And, judging by how hard you worked today to conceal what’s really happening from the public, we both know you don’t want to do that. I’m sorry, but your back’s up against the wall. It’s time to let this vendetta go and admit that you lost.”
Gary wasn’t pulling any punches, and he for sure wasn’t sugarcoating anything. His words made Detective Ewing’s jaw clench and her gaze narrow. She knew, deep down inside, that he was right. She had one of two choices. She could continue her vendetta, as her partner called it, against the two shapeshifter leaders, thereby exposing their secret to an unsuspecting world who wasn’t ready to handle it. Or she could leave it alone and let them kill each other off. In the end, as long as innocent bystanders weren’t harmed, them slaughtering each other might make her job a little more difficult with the unsolved crimes, but at the same time they were erasing each other, which was kind of a solution all by itself.
Maybe, she acknowledged silently, unwilling to give her partner the satisfaction of knowing he’d been right all along, maybe it is time to drop this. I’ve been after these two, on and off, for months, and where has it gotten me? Nowhere. Actually, it has. It’s gotten me to help cover up the truth of their existence in order to protect my city. I’m not either of their lackeys, but it’s also time I realized I can’t be their judge, jury, and executioner, either. Especially since they seem to be doing a pretty good job of that on their own.
Her longtime partner had remained silent while she debated internally. Gary was smart enough to know when to stay silent. When not to push, and, for sure, when not to say, I told you so. Gary was well aware that either of those moves would likely thrust her stubborn self right back into the fray. He didn’t want that. He’d made it clear from the beginning she should let the matter drop.
“You okay?” he said quietly, breaking the lengthy stretch of silence.
Was she? Would she ever be, knowing those two were out there breaking the law, defying restraint, and there was basically nothing she could do about it?
“No,” she replied honestly, “but even I know when I’m licked.”
Her fellow detective nodded his bearded chin. “I don’t like it, either. But sometimes we have to make tough choices in this line of work. C’mon. Let’s get back inside. I’m getting cold out here.”
She was tempted to say, “You go,” and remain outside a bit longer, wrestling with her decision. However, Candace knew there was no point. Her decision was made. She had to protect the citizens of Fort Worth, even if that meant overlooking certain things she wasn’t equipped to deal with.
Tossing the rest of her now cold coffee on the ground, she followed Gary back inside without a word.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was well into the evening by the time Carter drove me back to my hotel. At some point, to keep my family off my back, I’d sent them a group text letting them know I was okay and my business had taken longer than I’d figured. I did not tell them anything about the coffee shop. That afternoon, as Carter and I periodically reviewed the news headlines and monitored local news stations online, I kept an eye out for my name. For both of our names. Neither appeared.
One station showed a brief clip of the shop’s security camera footage, but it was black and white, grey, and grainy. Barely anything could be discerned, and I was still back behind the counter. I breathed a sigh of relief that, as far as I knew, my secret was safe. After nearly dying mere weeks before, and being unable to confide in my family why and what had happened, I really, really didn’t want to have to try and explain how my life had been put in danger again, and so soon.
Also, I couldn’t help being impressed, in a sort of sick way, with Carter’s ability to jump on top of this problem and negotiate ways around it. He was on the phone most of the afternoon, in and out of the living room where I mostly stayed. If he wasn’t speaking with someone he was typing out messages, giving directives, orders, suggestions. I didn’t know how much of the cover-up was due to his direct involvement or the clout of Sean Costas’s well-oiled power machine, but Carter was certainly a big part of that. As much as I didn’t want to be awestruck by an ability like that, it was hard not to be. But by evening other stories were starting to supersede, and not a single image of the shapeshifters—or me, for that matter—had emerged.
By around 7:30, Carter came walking back into the living room and dropped heavily onto the couch.
“You want to go get something to eat?” he asked.
My first instinct was to say, “I’m not hungry.” Truthfully, I hadn’t eaten much lunch, and the hours in-between lunch and now were starting to tell. Maybe, out of guilt for having killed someone, I figured I wasn’t supposed to be hungry, but I was. Verbally, I agreed that, yes, I could stand getting something to eat.
“That’s my girl,” Carter chuckled, patting me on the thigh before rising. “Never let a little trauma stand between you and a meal.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I sniffed, getting to my feet, ignoring the hand he’d stretched out for me to take. Despite my touchiness, it hadn’t escaped my notice the way he called me my girl, or the giddy little quiver it sent through me.
“It means I remember the first night we were together. The last thing I thought you’d bug me about was food, but you kept pestering me until I sent someone for crap Mexican fast food. Remember that?”
Of course I remembered. I’d been starving that night. Carter had made quips about my ability to eat during stress, and how much a short person like me ate. He’d seemed to find it funny. I guess he still did.
“I can’t help that I get hungry,” I said, making a show of ignoring him while I searched around for my purse.
“That’s one of the things I like about you.”
My hand on my purse, I twisted to glance up at him, a little taken aback by the seriousness in his tone. After him asking me what we were going to do about us, once I’d finally drawn myself out of his arms, the subject had been dropped. He hadn’t said anything further about it. Neither had I. There were too many variables; too many things to consider. Now, a ring in his voice had me studying him quizzically, scanning his features, trying to gauge his seriousness. That was the thing, though. When I looked at him, his dark eyes were nothing but serious. So serious, in fact, that for once it was me trying to deflect the moment with humor.
“What, you actually do like something about me?” I teased, straightening to loop the strap of my handbag over my shoulder. “I thought I was too religious, too short, too skinny, and too human for you to like.”
“You are all of those things,” he agreed. “But you’re also—”
He stopped. Curiosity prompted me to goad, “I’m what? Special? Unique? Naïve? Sheltered?”
“You’ve been hanging around me too much. You’re way beyond the sheltered part.”
“Thanks. I guess that’s a compliment,” I said wryly.
I waited a beat for him to pick up the break in the conversation, to admit what he thought I was. I was surprised by how much I wanted to know his genuine opinion of me, and if, after everything we’d survived together, it was favorable or not. He wouldn’t admit it, though. Whatever his true thoughts, I guess he wasn’t planning on going there.
“You ready?” he inquired instead, redirecting the moment.
“Whenever you are.”
I could have pressed, but I was half-scared to. Half-scared because, if his estimation of me had changed, honestly, so had mine of him. This territory was so new, considering my very recent vendetta against him, that it terrified me. I didn’t know what to think, and that kept me silent as he ushered me out to his car.
I noticed, like always, his guard wasn’t down. His eyes were continually scanning the area for any signs of danger. Absently, I considered what it must be like to live always on the lookout for someone—or something—ready to attack you and take your life. I’d been involved with this world for less than six months, and part of that had been spent living in relative peace in the Pacific Northwest, away from shapeshifters and their ongoing conflict. I couldn’t imagine living this way as a matter of course, for years, for most of my life. It sounded exhausting, draining. No wonder Carter had come across as bitter when we first met. It had taken time and trial for me to start peeling back some of the layers that comprised this man, to see the person underneath.
Once we were safely inside the car, he questioned me again on where I wanted to eat.
“I’m open,” I shrugged. “Wherever you want to go. I like pretty much everything.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He rolled his eyes a little as he put the vehicle in reverse.
I shot him a sideways look. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means anyone who actually wants to eat fast food doesn’t have very high standards.”
“It means anyone who actually wants to eat fast food doesn’t have very high standards,” I mimicked. “Well, aren’t you classy? Okay, where would you like to eat, Mr. Socialite?”
“Nope. I asked you first. I know how women are. I pick a place and you say anywhere but there. Not falling for that. You choose.”
For some reason, the exchange struck me as humorous and I laughed out loud. Now it was Carter’s turn to give me a funny look.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because,” I said, “this is what married people do. Where do you want to eat? I don’t care, where do you want to eat? I don’t care, but not there. We’re not even in a real marriage—” I waggled my fingers in air quotations. “—and look at us. We’ve got this down.”
Initially, I thought he might be offended, given his expression, then he smirked and shook his head.
“We’re just that good, I guess.”
“I guess we are.”
“We could be good at other things too. Might take a little practice, but, you know, that’s half the fun.”
I completely ignored both his innuendo and the accompanying wink. I wasn’t about to go there.
None of this solved the dilemma of where to eat, but in the end, without my asking, he chose a drive through anyway. Neither of us were quite ready to step foot inside a restaurant after today’s event in the coffee house. We ate in the car, exchanging few words. But every time the smallest incident would happen, like our hands brushing when we reached for our sodas at the same time, I felt a reaction all the way through my body, like a thrill. Definitely unlike anything I’d felt with any other man. Definitely enough to keep me off guard, questioning myself, and confused.
Very confused.
Our meal was consumed by the time we pulled up in front of my hotel. Twilight had settled over the city landscape. Carter put the car in park and we both sat there a minute, perhaps unwilling to break the rare, genuine truce we’d forged. At last, Carter turned to me and asked, “Are you going to be alright?”
“I hope so,” I said. “I guess I don’t have any choice except to be okay. I don’t want my family finding out about today, so I can’t fall apart once I get in there.”
“Are you about to fall apart?”
Strangely, I wasn’t.
“I’m right here if you need to,” he went on, without giving me a chance to respond. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
I turned to study him, straining to pierce the gloom and appraise his sincerity.
“Are you for real, or is this one of your roundabout attempts to get close to me?” I teased, deciding to keep the moment light.
Carter snorted derisively, leaning back in the seat. “If I wanted to get close to you I’d just say so. I haven’t exactly been shy lately. You ought to know by now that you’ve got an established offer of sex from me anytime you want to take me up on it.”
Laughter bubbled out. “That sounds more like the man I know,” I said, gathering up my purse and opening my door.
We met somewhere around the back of the car, where I halted, leaning up against the trunk. Tilting my head back, I stared up at the sky, remembering and missing the beauty of the stars in small-town Washington, where I’d recently lived. Very few stars could be seen here, due to the city lights. Carter stood next to me, but he wasn’t studying the sky. Without being obvious, he was scanning the area around us, searching for any signs of danger.
