Magic Rising (15 page)

“Whenever you’re ready.” He nodded. “Do you want me to come inside?”

“Sure. Observe. I could always use an extra set of eyes, but we have to hurry.”

“Why?”

“We have to beat Farmer here.”

Deirdre walked into the station with Tech on her heels. Most smiled and waved, business as usual. A few turned their backs to her, but much of the department stayed friendly during her visits.

Noah Smythe was the first to come up to her, nearly hugging her, before protocol kicked in and he left it at a smile. She loved his smile, so warm and full of life. For a cop, he was an optimist. It was an endearing trait that would no doubt later get him killed in the line of duty.

“Deirdre, this is a pleasant surprise.” His eyes lit up. “I can spare a few minutes if you’d like to get something to eat.”

“Hi, Noah. I’m afraid that I’m here on official business.” For a split second she wished she was visiting him, just because he wanted her to. “It’s rather unpleasant, I’m afraid.”

“What’s up?”

She couldn’t find her voice. Cops stuck together and whatever alliances she’d formed could shatter over her allegations. She had to do something though. Farmer had come into her home, threatened her, stalked her, and whatever game he was playing had to end. There were bigger troubles than a petty detective.

“I need to file a complaint against Detective Ryan Farmer.”

The station seemed to fall silent but that had to be her imagination. Noah, led her to a back room and had Tech sit at the table next to her while he went after a supervisor. This would have to be handled delicately.

“What happened tonight?” Tech glanced back at the door.

“Let’s just say I got a nasty surprise when I got home.”

Noah brought in a burly, angry gentleman who Deirdre had met before. He’d been involved briefly in another job she’d done a few months ago. At the time, he made little impression on her, now she hoped he wasn’t in the same state of mind as Farmer. Not everyone in the force appreciated her business or the fact that her clients held little faith in the police department.

“Ms. Flye, Smythe tells me that you need to register a complaint against one of our officers.”

He didn’t introduce himself. His name tag read Tim Merchant and she got the impression that he was more irritated by her raising a problem for one of the officers than by her profession.

“I don’t mean to cause any trouble. It’s just that Detective Farmer seems to have a problem with me. He was waiting outside my home today. When he saw me pull into my driveway, he came inside, and tried to threaten me.” She let emotion fill her voice, it was fake but necessary. Merchant would only respond appropriately if she showed fear. “He accused me of starting a fire at an old school I attended and told me to get out of town or he’d come after me.”

“Now why would Detective Farmer do that?” Merchant put his hands on his hips, disbelief coloring his face.

“He said that I was a thorn in his side and had caused him trouble on the force. He thinks I’m some sort of vigilante.”

She lowered her head, not wanting to see the expression on Tech or Noah’s face. Playing the damsel in distress never fit her but if she didn’t do this now, she would be in distress when Farmer decided to press charges. She had assaulted him.

“How do I know anything you’re saying is true?” His voice kept a patronizing tone, his smile, a sad smirk.

Deirdre looked up at him. “I suppose there are missing periods of time when he was at a place called Stone House. You could check his computer for any searches he’s done on me.” She waited then looked up as if the last part had just occurred to her. “There’s something else. I don’t know how important this is but it demonstrates how strange he’s become.” She hesitated, just a beat, enough to let her words sink in. “The detective also said that he hadn’t shot Jack Shope. Some female officer on a motorcycle had. You could check the bullet taken from his body against Ryan Farmer’s weapon. He told me that he didn’t want another woman showing him up, so he claimed to have shot the perp.”

Tim Merchant looked at Noah. “All of you stay right here.”

As soon as the door closed, Noah and Tech looked at her, holding a mix of shock and concern in their wide eyes and open mouths. They knew better than to accuse her of lying. She would stretch the truth or omit parts when necessary but lying was something only to be done as a last ditch approach to survival.

“When did this happen?” asked Noah, choosing his words carefully.

“He confronted me right before I came here. I didn’t know how far he’d gone until then.” She turned and looked at Tech. “Did you see Detective Farmer leaving?”

His brows knitted a moment. “Oh, shit. Now that you mention it, I saw a brown sedan pulling out when I turned onto your road. I was too nervous to notice the driver but it looked like Farmer’s car.”

At once, they all stopped talking. The silence held physical weight, and she wished someone would say something. Noah only glanced between his watch and the shine on his shoes while Tech picked at his fingernails.

“You two are fun tonight.”

Noah and Tech both looked at each other. She supposed they were in awkward situations. Tech felt like a shit for investigating her. Noah had an entirely different problem. He was interested in her but her report would put a rift in any relationship, or whatever he worked toward having with her.

She nearly laughed at the idea. A simple home life wasn’t possible, her playing some Susie Homemaker while waiting for her big bad cop husband to get home. She could see their two children coming home from school. Sure she could. Deirdre knew she wouldn’t fit in on a PTA or at little league. Maternal instincts had probably been beaten out of her at Stone House.

“Ms. Flye.” Another officer came into the room, this one carrying papers. She’d seen him before and at least he’d always been friendly. “Merchant is doing some work and wanted me to take your complaint.”

“Really?” This could mean that Merchant didn’t believe a word she’d said. “That’s wonderful. Would you mind if I used the little girls’ room before we get started?”

“Sure. It’s down the hall on the right.”

Tech gave her an odd look but kept his mouth shut. Noah didn’t catch the cutesy way she spoke to throw off the officer who had been sent to do the paperwork, but Tech knew how she operated.

She stood from the straight backed chair and left the room, careful to close the door behind her. Instead of traveling to the restroom, she turned left where the detectives’ cubicles filled one room near the coffeemaker and bottled water.

From the corner of the room she could see Merchant looking through Farmer’s computer. She might’ve gone up and helped him but on the opposite end Farmer entered. His face was still red and he wasn’t walking very quickly. It was time for her to retreat.

Around the corner she hesitated, hearing Farmer ranting, screaming at Merchant for being at his desk. Then she heard her name, it echoed through the room, reverberating until all the other voices went quiet to listen in on the commotion.

“I’m telling you that she assaulted me. I want a warrant issued. I want two squad cars to go to her house and arrest her at gunpoint. She’s dangerous and needs to be taken down…brought in.”

“Just what were you doing at her house tonight, Ryan?”

Deirdre went back down the hall to the room where an officer sat talking to Noah. She shut the door behind her and took her seat. It was tricky to prove wrongdoing by a cop. They stuck together for the most part. It was forgivable considering the stress of the job, however, causing her grief was something she couldn’t overlook.

Noah was asked to leave, then the session began, taking longer than she’d expected. Usually someone else gave the statements, with her only getting involved when the officer insisted they had to speak with her. This ordeal made her glad her information wasn’t required for every case.

An hour after the paperwork began she finished retelling her story and was permitted to leave. For whatever reason they didn’t grill her over the charges. She expected the department to put up a fight, even thought they might arrest her and do a full booking. Perhaps her story had already been dismissed.

There was no sign of Merchant or Farmer as she left the station. Even Smythe had managed to disappear. A few officers whispered as she passed but none spoke to her. Apparently their minds hadn’t been made up yet. At least she wasn’t in jail. Deirdre never felt so glad to leave the station and step into the cool night air.

“So, what’s Farmer’s problem?” Tech fell into step behind her in the parking lot.

“I have an idea, but it seems petty.” Deirdre stopped in mid thought. The world seemed darker, something bad felt close. She looked around, wondering what lurked in the surrounding darkness, as an arrow swished through the air, hitting the small decorative Dogwood tree at the side of the parking lot. “Well, it seems I’ve been followed.”

She looked over at Tech who had dropped to the ground with both hands covering his head as if they were under heavy fire. For all his assets, he was no warrior. Cute in a dorky way, but no warrior. She hoped Sabrine had a positive effect on the boy.

“If someone wanted to kill us, they wouldn’t have shot the tree.” She tried not to make fun. Tech wasn’t a coward but he wasn’t far from it either.

“Oh.” He laughed nervously, looking up at her from the edge of the lot. Cautiously, he stood, looking around and taking forever to get to full height. “Would you mind not telling Sabrine about this?”

“Sure. Now see if you can get the arrow out.”

Deirdre scanned the area where the arrow had come from. There was a small hill with a few bushes. Behind those sat a brick building, some doctor’s office. Noises scattered from the vicinity, changing from branches to hard footfalls on pavement. She could go after them, but it had been a very long day. For now, she would let them go.

Tech reached for the arrow, having to use both hands, and a lot of tugging, to pull it free. Paper had been wrapped around the shaft near the fletching. She didn’t want that to be a note.
Oh please let it say “made in China” or property of some twerp who lived down the road.
He untied the string, pulled the paper free and handed it to Deirdre.

It was a struggle to hide her fear from Tech. He didn’t look at the message. The paper rolled back up, like some mini scroll, the moment it was off the shaft of the arrow. Her hands started to tremble, as she unrolled the paper. She didn’t want Tech to see, so she turned her back to him.

Dragonfly,

How lovely of you to visit me? I will see you tonight. There is much for us to discuss.

Niam.

P.S. I want the girl.

Deirdre read the note again, then a third time. Niam was going to visit her tonight. That couldn’t be good. His version of discussions was messy and often involved serious injury.

Then there was the mention of “the girl”.

There was only one girl Deirdre knew of and Lora Shope wasn’t connected to Stone House or Niam. Of course she was the granddaughter of the man who had owned the property. Niam shouldn’t have any involvement with her.

Deirdre tucked the note into her back pocket. Damn, she wanted this day to end, instead it grew worse. Her head and shoulders ached, and any chance of crawling into bed would have to wait until she’d dealt with Niam or whoever he sent to deliver his message.

“Come on Tech. Let’s get you out of here.”

She always thought that she would die young. No matter how great a fighter she was, someone always existed who was better. She just hadn’t expected to face her mortality this soon.

Chapter Ten

The interrogation room smelled of old sweat, the kind left behind from worried men frantically thinking of an alibi to rid them of any connection to whatever crime they’d committed. It was the scent of desperation, an end to schemes, and the beginning of hopelessness.

Ryan Farmer didn’t like it in here. He didn’t belong in this pale green room where the truth was squeezed out of so many perps. This was where Merchant had taken him, sitting him at the old wooden table. Graffiti marred its surface. Names and obscene pictures had been left by men trying to pass the time while hoping someone else would believe in their innocence. Some pictures were in pen, others carved by fingernail. One large word decorated the desk in a mix of elegant lines. This one word mocked him, “Deirdre”’. Even in here, waiting to explain himself Deirdre haunted him.

He looked down at an obscure skull and crossbones. The carving wasn’t very deep, probably done with a fingernail, scratching away bits of gray paint on the soft pine table. Whether the artist had marked this table as dangerous or tried to leave a passing statement about his own life, Ryan Farmer had no idea. At least the crude rendering held his attention, keeping his eyes off her name.

“We need to talk Ryan.” Merchant stood in the doorway holding a folder at his side as he went through the standard formal bullshit associated with an interrogation. Names were stated, a recording started, and rights were read. “What is going on with Deirdre Flye?”

Ryan closed his eyes, wishing he’d never heard her name. She had to come into this town, mess with his life. He’d had one opportunity to rid himself of her presence, and failed miserably.