Fractured (15 page)

DiNapoli raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture and tossed an annoyed look over his shoulder at Nancy. “We’re trying to cover our bases, Ms. Jeffries. The victims were indeed deceased prior to the fire. We think the murderer may have set the fire to cover his or her tracks.” His watery eyes lifted to mine for a second, and I forced myself not to look away.

“How were they killed, exactly?” Diane challenged.

“I am not at liberty to say,” the detective responded. He scratched his chin and sat back in his chair. “We were hoping Lela might have some information about that.”

I shot back from the table until the chair hit the wall. Every adult in the room tensed, like they were ready to jump on me if I tried to escape. “Are you saying you think I killed those guys?”

“You do have a history of violence, Lela.” Nancy said it like she’d been waiting for this for the past year.

A thick swell of anger rose in me, hot as lava. “You find it easier to believe I offed two guys in some burned-out meth house rather than I’m on the straight and narrow? Thanks for believing in me, Nancy!”

Detective DiNapoli shrugged. “The one guy stole your phone. He provoked you. Maybe the other one got in the way.”

“Seriously? You’re giving me a lot of credit if you think I could do something like that.”

Diane’s grip on my shoulder was iron as she pointed to the picture on the table, at the bright green eyes of the kid I’d tried to save. Nick. Smeared black eyeliner smudged beneath his sad, empty eyes. His lips were swollen and cracked.

“Who are these guys, anyway?” she demanded. “You tell me who they are. Or don’t. Let me guess. Street people. Into drugs. Prostitution. They’ve both got that look.” Her chin was sticking out. Her eyes were blazing pools of darkness. I was suddenly very glad she was on my side.

The detective looked down at the picture in a way that told us Diane had just hit the nail right on the freaking head.

“
Mm-mm-mm
. That’s what I thought. Does it really make sense that a high school girl with a scholarship to URI, who was volunteering at a
soup kitchen
, would attack and murder
two
guys like that? Maybe they killed each other! Or how ’bout their tricks? Dealers? Pimps? Are you telling me
this
young lady is your prime suspect, just because you found her stolen phone on the scene? Detective, I’ve worked in the corrections system for a quarter century now, so forgive me for being skeptical.”

Her finger was up and waving now. Her head bobbed back and forth on her neck as she spoke. To me, she looked like some kind of avenging superhero. “And Lela’s not saying another word to you without a lawyer. I know the rules, so with all
due
respect, don’t think you can come in here and mess around with us, sir.”

“The Department of Children, Youth and Families has custody of Lela, Diane, not you.” But Nancy had picked up her purse, and the detective had gotten to his feet.

Diane nodded. “I’m well aware of that. So you get her social worker on the line, and you tell them that the police are trying to violate this young lady’s civil rights.”

“Ms. Jeffries.” Detective DiNapoli was almost at the door, looking a little shaken. “Apologies for any inconvenience. We’ll arrange to talk with Lela at a different time.”

Diane’s finger was still waving. “You do that.” She pointed at Nancy. “And you arrange for a lawyer if that’s what’s going to happen. She’s no throwaway, so don’t you treat her like one.” Her outrage shook her usual honey voice.

I watched, stunned, as Nancy and DiNapoli retreated, probably planning to regroup and form a strategy for their counterattack. As soon as they pulled out of the drive, Diane sank into the chair across from mine. It squeaked under her weight. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have asked more questions before you even got home.”

“Thank you.” I leaned across the table and took her hand. Her eyes grew wide as I squeezed her fingers. “I didn’t do anything to either of those guys, Diane, I swear.”

She looked up at me and gave me a fierce return squeeze that might have cut off my circulation. “I know, baby. But even if you had, it would have been justified.” Her words were quiet but clear as crystal. “If someone ever tries to hurt or take advantage of you, you fight back, and don’t apologize for it. Don’t let them hurt you.”

I stared into her chocolate-brown eyes. I’d never talked about what had happened to me, had never admitted why I’d nearly beaten the life out of my foster father, Rick, who had been using me as his personal chew toy for months before I’d snapped. But I think Diane had figured it out a long time ago. “I’ll try. But this—what are they going to do?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. We’ll sort it out. I’m going to call your social worker before Nancy does.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. “Can I go to Malachi’s, please?” I needed to get back to work.

She pursed her lips. “Baby—”

“Please, Diane. I just—I need to see him.”

She stood up and pulled her hand from mine. “You’ve only known him for a week.”

I mentally kicked myself for not asking to go to Tegan’s, but I was still too scattered and panicked. “I know. But he’s important, and I feel safe with him.”
And, oh yeah, he broke my heart, and now looking at his gorgeous face feels like crawling naked over broken glass, but whatever
.

Her expression softened. She was wavering. “Is Mr. Raphael at home?”

“I’m sure he is—all the parents were notified about this morning. He’d want to make sure Malachi was all right.”

She nodded. “Go ahead. But you be home for dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I got up from the table and walked as slowly as I could back to my room. I closed the door behind me.

“Lela,” greeted Raphael. He was sitting on my bed.

“Shit!” I gasped out. “
That
is creepy. Couldn’t you have sat at my desk?”

He raised an eyebrow in a way that told me he thought I was ridiculous. I took a deep breath and leaned against the door. “I was just thinking I needed to talk to you.”

“That’s why I’m here. You summoned me.”

“I did? All I had to do was think about you? Since when?”

He smiled. “Special circumstances.” He pulled his buzzing phone from his pocket. “One moment, please.” He held his phone to his ear. “Hello? Ah, Ms. Jeffries. Yes, I’m home. Terrible tragedy, today. Malachi is extremely sad. He knew the boy who died. It would be such a help to him if he could see Lela.” His gray eyes rose to mine. “Thank you. I’ll be here if you’d like to talk, of course.” He hung up. “You are free to go.”

I scooted over to my bed and looked under it. “I need you to take something for me. I can’t be seen with it.”

He shifted his legs as I scrounged through my junk. “Are you looking for this?” He held up the belt and sheath. “We have no intention of allowing you to be tried for murder.” He nodded at my desk, upon which sat a receipt for the new phone.

I sank into my desk chair. “Couldn’t you have spared me the tense moments back there?”

His look sharpened. “We won’t control people, Lela, contrary to what you believe about us. I will intervene as necessary for you to do your job, but I will not interact directly with the Mazikin, and I will not interfere more than is absolutely necessary with the living. The judicial process will have to take its course. But there will not be sufficient evidence to press charges.”

“You can’t stop them from questioning me, can you?”

He looked entirely unconcerned. “What I can do and what I will do are sometimes two different things. I am not here to give you what you want. I am here to—”

I held up my hands. “To give me what I need. I
know
. Fine.” I folded the phone receipt a few times. “Okay, then, I need a few things,” I said as a plan formed in my mind.

He tilted his head. “I’m all ears.”

“I need camping stuff. Used. Heavily used.”

“What, exactly?”

“One tent. Two backpacks. A sleeping bag or two. And a bunch of old clothes. Like stuff you would find in the dark city. But I could do without the … you know, stringy, slimy stuff?” I could only go so far in the line of duty.

“Non-slimy but heavily used camping equipment and clothes.” He stood up. “They’ll be waiting for you at the Guard house.”

I stood up, too, not willing to let him get away yet. “Hey, where’s Aden’s soul now? Can you tell me? Is he in the Mazikin realm, or is he somewhere else? How does that work?”

For the slightest moment, the edges of Raphael blurred and glowed, and I tensed. He frowned. “As that police detective said, I am not at liberty to say.”

“Why not?”

The glow disappeared. “Need, Lela. Only things you need.” And then he disappeared, too.

FOURTEEN

THE MOMENT I PULLED
into the driveway of the Guard house, Malachi was out the door and on the porch, striding forward to meet me. He looked like he was planning to rip the car door off its hinges and scoop me into his arms. His relief and desperation made my heart beat double-time.

But then he stopped dead at the edge of the walkway, like he’d run into an invisible wall. As I got out of the car, his smile faded to nothing. “We’ve been waiting to hear from you, Captain.”

I ground my teeth. “Sorry about that. It turned out to be a minor complication. I hope.” I slowly walked past him and up the steps.
Grab me touch me tell me it was all a mistake. Tell me you want to be with me. Tell me you were worried sick and then kiss me and make me forget
.

He didn’t. He followed me, keeping a respectful distance as we entered the house. Jim and Henry were in the living room, sitting next to the computer. The empty chair in front of the keyboard was overturned. Malachi leaned over and set it upright. “We were trying to fulfill your orders to check Facebook. And I’ve called or spoken in person to all the individuals we sat with on Friday. All are accounted for and appear to be themselves.” He gave me a weird look. “Ian Moseley asked how you were doing.”

“Huh? It was his best friend who died.”

“Yes, but he said … because of Nadia. Her suicide.”

I fiddled with the zipper on my jacket. “Yeah. That was … nice of him, considering what he’s been through today.”

“Very nice,” he said in a hard voice, drawing my eyes back to him. His hair was messy, and some of it was standing on end. His jeans were low on his hips and his T-shirt was fitted enough to make me look away.

I thought of what Tegan had said about Laney. “How many of the girls you called invited you over to comfort them?”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t think—”

“Three,” said Jim.

My gaze slid to Malachi’s face. He was staring at Jim like he’d love a chance to rough him up in a dark alleyway.

“It’s fine.” I motioned for Malachi to move and sat down at the computer. Instead of getting his own chair, he stepped behind me, close enough so that I could feel the heat of him.

I combined some research with a lesson in computer literacy for Henry and Jim. We checked YouTube—two more videos of the Animal Guy, except it was obviously two different Mazikin, with different body types and hair color. One was in the cemetery near the burned-out nest, but it had been taken before the fire. The newest video had been taken beneath a highway overpass near the waterfront.

“That’s one of the homeless camps,” I said, pointing to the tents in the background. “Henry, I think you were right about these being favorite spots for the Mazikin.”

I got up and stretched. “Raphael left some equipment for me in the basement. I’m going to get the stuff ready before I have to get back to Diane’s. We’ll patrol tonight. Henry, you’ll be with me.”

Henry nodded and silently walked toward the stairs.

I glanced up at Malachi as I edged past him. “Like I said on the phone, you and Jim can go sniff around the emergency shelters.”

His footsteps dogged mine as I hit the stairs to the basement. “What equipment did you request?”

I entered the training room to find a pile in the middle of the floor. “Henry and I are going undercover,” I explained. “It’s supposed to be a little warmer tonight, and that video showed that there are people staying in that camp. We’re going to join them. I want to see if we can talk to a few people—and maybe be in the wrong place at the right time.”

Malachi stared at the equipment on the floor, which closely resembled a mound of garbage. “You’re hoping to get attacked.”

“I’m hoping to grab one of them to interrogate.” I picked up a checkered sleeping bag that smelled vaguely like canned dog food. “I figure if I layer up and cover my hair, they won’t recognize me. And Henry already looks like a street person, so it’ll be easy for him.”

“Jim and I could set up a perimeter. I can keep watch—”

“You can go to those other places like I told you to,” I said firmly. “There are only four of us, Malachi. We need to be in as many places as possible. We keep missing them, and it has to stop.”

“Of course,” he said, keeping his gaze focused on the equipment. “It was only a suggestion.”

I dropped the sleeping bag and picked up a knit cap. Ignoring the smell of all the unwashed heads that had come before, I jammed it over my hair. “See? Don’t I look like a vagrant?”

Malachi’s lips twitched, which made my heart skip. “Hardly.” He blinked and turned his back. “What weapons will you carry?”

“I don’t know. Care to advise me?”

He straightened his shoulders. “Knives. You’ll want to stay light and agile.” He paced over to the pile of old clothes. “Choose your clothes, and put them on.” He began to paw through them.

“Now? I have to get back to Diane’s by six.”

“That’s enough time for us to outfit you and practice. Your plan may be to capture instead of kill, but surely you do not intend to enter enemy territory unprepared.” He looked up at me and arched an eyebrow, his expression full of challenge.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I grumbled.

He tossed me a thermal shirt with heavily stained pits. “Tight on the bottom, loose over the top.”

It took me several minutes to figure out my outfit, which ended up consisting of two sets of long thermal underwear beneath a pair of holey jeans, which Malachi made sure would stay up by fastening a belt around my waist, where he secured two horizontally sheathed knives. He kept chivalrously turning his back as I wiggled into the clothes, and patiently waiting until I gave the all clear to turn around and start helping me again. He strapped a holster around my shoulders and torso that held four more knives. When I protested that it was overkill, he leaned down and looked me in the eye. “Underestimating the danger is a mistake. Do not make this mistake.”