Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society, R.D. Hunter [good english books to read txt] 📗

the floor. Leaving against medical advice wasn’t illegal, but I didn’t want to waste time having to answer a lot of questions. And if my boss, Captain Barker, was still in the building and got wind of my departure, he’d likely have every cop in the vicinity looking for me. I couldn’t have that.

I passed by the waiting room on my way down the hall. I risked a glance inside and saw Pam, Bill’s wife, sitting in a chair, her shoulders shaking silently as sobs wracked her frail frame. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rush forward and comfort her, but Captain Barker was sitting beside her, gently holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement in her ear.

Besides, Pam Perkins was a fighter, just like her husband. She’d rather see the man that injured Bill brought to justice, rather than receive empty words of encouragement from me. I said a quick, silent prayer, then continued on my way.

I made it to the elevators and down to the lobby, when the sight of Harold Mason and his big, beefy bodyguard coming in the front entrance made me freeze in my tracks. Up to this point, I hadn’t given much thought towards my emotions. I was worried about Bill, of course, but the majority of my thoughts had been centered around Hawkins; what he was going to do and what, if anything, I could do to stop him.

But as soon as I saw Mason striding through those double-glass doors, his suit neatly pressed with a million-dollar smile capable of wooing even the coldest of hearts, a new sensation hit me; anger. I was pissed. I was pissed that a young girl lost her life to a power-mad psycho who was still out there, planning to send even more souls to the grave. I was pissed that my carelessness had resulted in my partner and friend being hurt, maybe killed, and I was pissed that the man who had put it all into motion was coming towards me, not a hint of guilt or remorse on his face.

“You!” I snarled, marching towards him like a woman on a mission. Perhaps sensing the rage seething off me, Bo-Bo the Gorilla stepped between us, his hand outstretched as a reminder to keep my distance.

Say what you will about him, he was obviously well-trained. Almost by instinct, he adopted a firm, wide stance, his gun side away from the advancing threat (which was me), and kept his other hand free to employ any defensive or offensive techniques. But he made the one mistake I had been counting on. Seeing a ticked off, 5”6, 130 lb. girl in all her majestic glory, he did what almost everyone else in his position would have done; he underestimated me.

He didn’t go for his weapon. His outstretched hand was more symbolic in nature, rather than any sort of active restraint. The only thing really keeping me from my target was the mean look on Bo-Bo’s face, which promised severe consequences if I became a true threat to his charge.

I wasn’t impressed.

I slipped inside his guard with one deft step, hooked my foot behind his and rammed by shoulder into his solar plexus. Caught off guard, he let out a low whoofing noise, then stumbled backwards and fell on his ass with a look of supreme surprise and embarrassment. His right hand shot inside his coat, obviously reaching for a gun. I didn’t move, betting he wouldn’t shoot an unarmed female in public.

“That’s enough, Mr. Meadows,” Mason said in a commanding tone. His bodyguard froze. “It seems Detective Graves has something on her mind she wishes to convey. The least we can do is hear her out.” Bo-Bo climbed to his feet and stood to one side, glaring razor blades at me the whole time. I ignored him and fixed my gaze on Mason.

“You did this,” I said coldly. He blinked.

“If you’re implying…”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it outright. You used your money and your connections to find the most unscrupulous private eye in the city, and hired him to locate a class of people who didn’t want to be found. Now, he’s out there on a mad power trip, and my partner is in there fighting for his life.”

“I just came to offer my condolences…”

“Don’t! We don’t want them. There is nothing you can do here to make anything any better.” He seemed to consider this for a moment.

“I see. Then what should I do?” I got right in his face, although I had to look up to make eye contact with him.

“Own it.” He blinked in again, this time in surprise. “Own the fact that your hubris caused innocent people to die and get hurt. Go to bed at night with that knowledge. Let it eat at you. But, most importantly, let it drive you to do better.”

From the moment I first walked in his office earlier today, Harold Mason had been treated me with a certain amount of indifference, bordering on amusement. To his eyes, I was an errant child; something to be humored but not taken seriously. But hearing the venom in my voice as I called him out, he began to regard me with something different. I think it was respect.

“I see,” he said quietly and with great difficulty. “Then I’ll be going. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

He turned around and started walking towards the front exit. His gait was a little slower, a little less confident. More than likely, I’d just committed career-suicide. Dressing down a major financial backer of the police department tended to have that affect. But right now, all I cared about was nabbing Hawkins, which meant I had to practice what I preached.

I took a deep breath.

“I need a ride,” I called after Mason. He stopped and turned around,