Omission: The Darby Shaw Chronicles, #4

By Liberty Speidel

Raising the murdered is a heavy responsibility…

It's been three years since police Detective Darby Shaw found out she's a superhuman who can revive the murdered. In that time, she and the Department of SuperHuman Affairs have had a tumultuous relationship. But when one of their agents ends up dead in her jurisdiction, Darby must set aside her hate in order to pursue justice, especially with the Department hostile to her and Mark.

Mark Herman, her partner, is still reeling from the revelation Darby kept secret for two years: he's not normal, but neither is he a superhuman. Angry, hurt, and confused, he wars with himself—is she worth the trouble? When new department psychologist and empathic super William Young makes moves on Darby, Mark must face his own jealousy—and try not to piss off Darby in the process.

Equal parts mystery, superhero tale, and romance, OMISSION is sure to keep you up past your bedtime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Splashdown Books
• Release date: Dec 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540144898

Liberty Speidel

Liberty Speidel thought she found herself years ago. But she recently discovered she's not the person she believed. Always striving for more understanding of self, Liberty writes tales of people discovering themselves—and others. A native Kansan, Liberty lives with her muggle teenage daughter, hobbit preteen son, and their menagerie of pets. (And, yes, her name really is Liberty.)

Book preview

The Darby Shaw Chronicles: Omission

Copyright 2016

This edition published by Splashdown Books

Cover photography: Liberty Speidel & Philip Jackson

Cover design: Liberty Speidel

Police badge designed by: Kat Heckenbach & Kessie Carroll

Editor: Grace Bridges

Proofreader: Steve Mathisen, Odd Sock Proofreading & Copyediting

Background images:

Front cover: Liberty Memorial, Kansas City, Missouri

Back Cover: Kansas City Scout, Penn Valley Park, Kansas City, Missouri

––––––––

Fonts: Future TimeSplitters; Decade

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

ISBN-13: 978-1-927154-47-2

ISBN-10: 1927154472

Table of Contents

Copyright

Also By Liberty Speidel

Dedication Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Acknowledgments

Contact the Author

Also by Liberty Speidel:

The Darby Shaw Chronicles

Emergence

Retaliation

Capitulation

Books 1 - 3 Box Set (includes Pursued)

Standalone short stories

CSI Effect

For my husband

Thank you for always believing in me,

Even when I don’t always believe in myself.

Love always,

~ LS

CHAPTER 1: Prologue

Saturday Morning. Mark

Well, that was a mistake.

Mark Herman had known it the minute they’d gone upstairs last night, yet he went with her anyway.

He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling and tried to work up the nerve to exit gracefully. Somehow.

Genova Murphie grunted softly and rolled toward him. Her violet eyes were open, studying him. You’re thinking too loud, Detective.

You shouldn’t have let me in your door.

He looked over the curves of her body hiding beneath the sheet, remembering the feel of her just a couple hours earlier. If she’d been another woman, last night would have been perfect.

She pouted a little. You weren’t thinking with your brain last night.

He snorted, his mind going back to the day before, on an airplane from Costa Rica, when Darby had dropped a figurative bomb on him—and admitted to lying to him for the last two years. The admission had sent him looking for a way to drown the pain.

He turned toward her. We’d better not mention this to Darby.

For your sake? Or hers?

Mark thought over the long couple years he’d spent trying to make romantic advances with his partner. He honestly didn’t know.

Genova brushed his arm. I’ll make breakfast.

I don’t think that’s a good idea.

She smiled tightly. And flirting with me the last couple years was?

You don’t have to remind me.

She sighed. Maybe you should just go home. I’m pretty sure you’re confused. And for that matter, I am too. I don’t make a habit of taking my friends’ men to bed.

There was a touch of rebuke in her tone.

Darby doesn’t think of us as a couple.

She treats you as though you are, Genova observed. Why else would you think of her when you’re in bed with me?

Mark scraped his hands down his face and rolled to a sitting position. His head throbbed a little. He’d had too many adult beverages on the corporate jet yesterday, then between him and Genova, they’d downed nearly two bottles of Riesling.

If Darby found out about last night, how would she...?

No. She lost the right to have a say when she admitted lying to you, Mark.

I have to go.

She sat up, pulling the sheet around her. I think that’s for the best.

He began to put his clothes on, refusing to look at her. If he did, there was little doubt in his mind that he’d end up back in bed for another round with her. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

This time...so am I.

This got him to turn. She stared down at the sheets, tracing a design on the surface, regret written all over her face.

He didn’t know what to say as he buttoned his shirt.

She filled the silence. We’re both pretty awful people, aren’t we?

He sat down again, careful to keep distance between them. I don’t know. He stared down at his hands, feeling a little sick to his stomach. I don’t think I’d say awful. Flawed, most definitely.

She looked up at him through lashes thick with yesterday’s mascara. That sounds exactly like something Darby would say.

CHAPTER 2

16 Days Later - Monday. Darby

I wasn’t entirely sure about this, but I sat down between the victim in Mark’s and my latest case, and the person we were almost positive had killed him. While my partner stood off by a few feet, arms folded, my friend, Medical Examiner Holly Stack, nodded and smiled at me through the observation window a few meters away.

I glanced at Mark, even though he’d been standoffish for the last couple weeks.

He didn’t look at me.

Dang it, I needed some reassurance here. He’d been my rock so long, I didn’t know what to do now that I was getting a mostly cold shoulder from him.

Next to me, our presumed killer was sedated. She’d been a handful to bring in, and Mark was going to have the bruises to prove it. She’d managed to kick him just about everywhere and had been going for the groin when I’d managed to grab my stunner and knock her out.

Well, get on with it, Mark said, speaking to me for the first time since we’d arrested our suspect. We don’t have all day.

I swallowed. I hadn’t supported the arrest, not completely at least. Mark and the D.A. had. As the junior member of the team, I’d been overruled.

The harsh attitude Mark had had since Costa Rica had long since gotten old, but I knew I’d brought this on myself.

Pull it together, Shaw. Now isn’t the time.

I took a bracing breath and placed my hands on both victim and murderer at the same time. Energy instantly began to flow from the murderer to the victim.

I could just about hear Mark say, I told you so in my head. And even though my gaze hadn’t locked on him, I could see that smug smile in my periphery.

Some days, I wanted to smack him.

Lately, it had been most days.

The resuscitation lasted a couple minutes. When my hands dropped away, a medical team rushed in and swept both people on stretchers out.

I put my head between my knees. This one wouldn’t be as bad as they could be. I kept telling myself that, but there’d be a headache. And maybe some mild nausea. And the fatigue.

God, I hated the fatigue.

Couple that with my chronic insomnia, and I didn’t sleep enough.

Mark passed me a recyclable cup filled with cold water.

Our fingers grazed and a bit of electricity passed between us, like what I’d just experienced with our victim and killer. Mildly painful, though. I tried not to wince. Good thing I had three years of practice at hiding the pain.

I glanced up.

His jaw had tightened even further. He was going to need dental work again if this kept up.

Thank you, I murmured.

He grunted in response, then pulled his hand away quickly and stuffed it in his pocket.

I drank the water, relieved that the pain associated with his light touch would wane.

It took a few minutes, but I felt stronger. When I was certain I wasn’t going to collapse, I slowly got to my feet, bracing for wooziness that didn’t come.

We’d better get back to the office, Mark said. We need to file our reports, and there’s a ball game on tonight I want to watch.

I nodded, filled the cup again on our way out the door, then hustled to catch up with his long strides. Three weeks ago, he would have slowed up for my short legs.

The civility had stopped when we got off the plane from Costa Rica.

At least he had the common courtesy not to leave me at the hospital and was waiting under the portico when I finally exited the building.

At Kansas City Bendex PD headquarters, we settled into our respective desks across from each other. He barely even acknowledged my offer to get him a cup of tea from the break room, although he drank it willingly enough when I brought it back for him.

Inwardly, I sighed as I logged in to begin my own report.

Mark and I needed to talk.

Desperately.

But even though I’d hinted around, he hadn’t taken the bait. Maybe it was time to be blunter.

Although I didn’t know what to say to him. He was pissed at what I’d told him. Pissed I’d not said anything for two years. I supposed I could understand why.

Didn’t mean I didn’t feel at least somewhat justified in doing it.

I dove into my report, finally finishing it about thirty minutes before end of shift. I tapped my glass screen and sent it to Mark’s unit for approval before sending it up the chain, then stood up and stretched. I was feeling good, all things considered. Tired, yes, but not exhausted. If the resuscitation today hadn’t been our case, it would be ten times worse than it was now. We weren’t sure why it happened that way, just that it did. My doctors had no explanation for the difference in how the resuscitations affected me.

Not that I was going to run a marathon anytime soon. Those days were behind me with the resuscitation business anyway, but at least my headache was subsiding for the most part.

Well, it was now or never on the Mark front. My courage was bolstered, and I didn’t want to back down now.

I was thinking about grabbing some barbecue after shift, I said to Mark. You want to join me?

He ignored me for a long moment, long enough I thought he’d not heard. Was he so mad he’d intentionally ignore my request, ignore me? Surely, he wasn’t that harsh? If he was, then he wasn’t the Mark I’d grown to know.

When I was about to ask again, he finally turned and opened his mouth.

Which was precisely when both our comms rang. I sighed and put mine in my ear. Detective Shaw.

Shaw, Detective Darby, the mechanical voice said. Please report to 7683 Burlington. Address sent to your in-vehicle unit. Probable homicide. Please acknowledge.

Acknowledged. On our way. I turned it off but left it in my ear. I glanced at my partner. Grab your gear.

Where is it?

East side, I think. Have you heard of Burlington?

Yeah, my sister used to live near there. Close to Raytown.

I nodded as I pushed all five-foot-one of me to my feet, uncoded my desk drawer and retrieved my Glock 53 to place it in its holster. You’re driving.

We stopped in the detective’s locker room for our gear and belongings, then were out the door. Mark took the helm of our company Flexion.

We were quiet on the way to the scene. I’d thought if we could grab dinner after shift, we could hash out some of what had gone down in the last couple weeks, but with a fresh body, it could be hours before we left.

Did you have a good weekend? Maybe if I asked after his family—who he was almost always with on weekends—he’d crack a little. He loved talking about his family.

He grunted. Camping with Melinda and Moira and their crew.

Two of his older sisters. Nine kids and five adults? Crazy!

The oldest two had things to do in the city. So, it was a little smaller.

I let things go quiet before speaking again. How’s your mother?

Fine. She and her boyfriend are going to Florida next month.

I winced.

Marie Herman had started dating someone from her senior grief group a few months earlier. Tricky topic for my partner.

Delicately, I asked, What do you think of that?

He shrugged. She’s a grown woman. I don’t get a say.

Mark’s dad, Major Mark Herman Senior, had been killed in the line of duty about three and a half years earlier, six months before Mark and I had become partners. I’d always gotten the sense it hurt him more deeply than he let on. It may have explained one of the tattoos he bore. I’d never taken the chance to ask him about the markings shaped like our badges with words inside I’d never quite been close enough to read.

I don’t think I’d handle it well if Simon was dating. He’s been a widower a lot longer than your mom, too.

He grunted in response.

I took it to mean he didn’t want to talk about it. I folded my hands and looked out the window. 

Several minutes later, Mark parked our SUV inside the scene barriers, and we got out. After signing in with the sergeant in charge of security, we headed into the house. I tucked my hair back in a bun while we walked.

The house was a modern style with lots of stone on the lower half of the main floor exterior, and a small, stone-walled courtyard leading to the front door. A water feature gurgled happily near the entry to the home. The pond attached to the fountain held several large white-and-gold koi.

We sealed our hands and feet at the door with Scene-Guard spray, then followed the noise of activity to an office space off the expansive kitchen.

A dozen officers and CSU-types were working either in the room or just outside it. Mark led the way, flashing his badge at a few of the newer patrol officers.

Holly Stack glanced up from her work near the body in front of the large mahogany desk. I hoped you’d be assigned.

Long time, no see, I quipped, squatting next to her. Mark crouched on the opposite side of the body facing us. What have we got?

Female victim, mid-thirties. Not sure what killed her. These wounds could potentially be from a knife. I’ll have to get her back to the morgue to know for sure.

How long has she been dead? Mark asked, not taking his eyes from the pretty face of the victim.

Indicator shows it as last night. Probably around eight-forty-five. They have a good day’s lead on you.

Any idea who she is? I asked.

House is owned by Prairie Rasmussen. No one’s found a purse or anything in the house to confirm, but now you’re here, you could see if she matches the data in the state system. She frowned and seemed like she wanted to say more.

Mark nodded to me, and I stood and stepped back to the edge of the room. Even if we were at odds with each other, we could be mature adults at a crime scene. In three-plus years of partnership, we could do a lot by tacit agreement too. I pulled out my glass and tapped the name into the system. The glass went opaque in my hands, searching for the data, then brought up a driver’s license picture and data sheet on Prairie.

I compared from the glassy-eyed victim to the screen. Looked like a match to me.

Who found her? Mark asked.

A uniform stepped forward. I did, Detective. A coworker was worried when she didn’t show up for work, and I was sent over with the coworker to see if she was okay. When we arrived, the front door was unlocked, though not open.

Not locked?

The cop nodded. Yessir. I thought it was suspicious, so I had her remain outside.

Has the house been fully cleared? I asked.

The uniform turned to me. Yes’m. Once additional officers arrived, we cleared the entire house, including the basement and garage.

Thank you, Officer.

Has the coworker been informed? Mark asked.

The officer shook his head. No, sir. I’m sure she’s got it figured out by now, though. Especially with you on scene, Detective Shaw.

I’d become something of a local celebrity. And I hated it. Not only did I dislike the attention, it also made doing my job tedious. It made killers hesitate to talk, and it gave families too much hope I would be able to bring back their loved ones. Being a superhuman capable of bringing the murdered back to life had its downsides.

Mark, Holly, and I exchanged a look. Holly looked to the officer. Please escort her in. She can verify identity.

As the officer hurried off, my partner stood. Any info in there on what she does or next of kin?

Neither, I said. Mark sidled up next to me. I glanced around the comfortable home office. Whatever she did, she either got paid well, or was extended through the nose.

A cursory sweep of our victim’s credit would give a solid picture of which. We’d check it just to look for motive, though I wasn’t certain a creditor would stab someone so many times over an unpaid debt.

Agreed. He waved his hand over my glass and grunted at the lack of information.

We turned at the sound of a sob behind us. A woman somewhere between my age and Mark’s stood outside the door next to the office. She was easily a half a foot taller than me, maybe a bit more, with golden curls which made the girl in me a little jealous—and made me wonder if the color had come from a bottle. Other than the fact she was carrying a few extra pounds, she could have stepped off a modeling runway.

Prairie! she cried and tried to rush into the room.

Mark and I plus a couple of the other officers blocked her attempts. Once she stopped fighting to get into the crime scene, she calmed a bit, though tears streamed down her face.

My partner said, You can confirm the deceased is Prairie Rasmussen?

The woman nodded, swiping at tears. Yes, that’s Prairie. What happened?

We’re not sure yet, I said.

Mark lifted his chin toward the staircase; I nodded. At least that still worked. We still understood each other, at least enough to do our jobs.

Come on, let’s go somewhere so we can talk, I said. I took her elbow. If I’d been taller, I’d have put my arm around her shoulder, but she was closer to Mark’s height.

The staircase was wide enough for all three of us to sit side-by-side, but Mark stood in front of the woman and me. I patted her back gently.

What’s your name? Mark asked, taking out his own glass. If he followed protocol, the record feature was on before he said it. It would take some video, but mostly audio of the interview.

Winifred. Labbee. I work with Prairie.

And you’re sure that’s her in there?

She sniffed. I didn’t get a great look at her face, but I recognized her hair. Her clothes. That OU sweatshirt was a favorite.

I glanced at Mark. We could take her over to see the victim to confirm, but not with the scene in its current state. It was the kind of thing to give one bad dreams if they weren’t prepared to deal with it.

Mark caught my gaze and shook his head slightly where Winifred probably wouldn’t notice. All right then.

What do you both do? I asked, shifting back to Labbee.

We work for the Department of SuperHuman Affairs. Prairie and I are in the compliance department, you know, making sure those supers are keeping us updated on their residences and abilities. Issuing fines to those who don’t register or update.

I gulped and attempted to hide the shudder that tried to break through. The DSHA? Just hearing the name sent waves of panic through my system. Two years earlier, they’d spearheaded an operation to kidnap me and take countless vials of my blood, all for some testing I’d refused to be a part of willingly.

A bead of sweat broke out on my brow, and I swept it away as casually as I could.

Mark glanced up and gave me a quizzical look before diverting his attention back to Winifred. Why did you call and have us come out?

We were supposed to have a big meeting today, and Prairie was giving the main presentation. She had all the files, but she never showed up, no one heard from her saying she was sick. When I tried calling her, she never answered, and that isn’t like her. Winifred took an unsettled breath, then looked expectantly at Mark. What happened? Who killed her?

We’re not sure yet, my partner said mildly. But we’re going to figure it out. Was Prairie having problems with anyone? A super? A co-worker? Boyfriend or husband?

There’s always something going on, but Prairie was one of the best. She could smooth things over with just about anyone.

Do you know what she was working on?

Winifred opened her mouth, but then clamped it shut again. She seemed to weigh her words carefully, even scrutinizing me. A flicker of recognition had swept across her face before she reset it. "I’m afraid I can’t give you that information. Especially since she’s here."

Oh, crap. I’d been afraid she’d recognize me.

Slowly, I pushed myself up to stand.

Mark said, Detective Shaw is a cop, Ms. Labbee.

I’m sorry. The information is confidential. You’ll need to get a court order.

CHAPTER 3

Mark

Mark scowled at the witness, very aware Darby had moved alongside him. He could sense her nearly vibrating. He’d seen the quick look of panic cross her face when the name of the DSHA was invoked. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her—and hoped she’d hold it together to get through the interview. They could re-evaluate when they were done.

He said, Ms. Labbee, you want to see Prairie’s murderer caught, and her possibly revived, don’t you?

I don’t think Prairie would want to be brought back, she sniffed.

She surely would want her killer brought to justice, though.

Winifred crossed her arms. You’ll have to get a court order.

Mark ran his tongue over his teeth. Time to change tactics. I’ll need the names of any next of kin you’re aware of, as well as her boss’s name and contact information. He offered her his glass and digital pen.

She took it and scribbled down some names, and a number for their boss, then handed it back to him.

Mark glanced over it, angling it for Darby to see. Even if he was pissed with her on a personal level, he could be professional.

So, this Ian Brecunier, that’s her boyfriend? Darby asked.

Winifred scowled at her, which gave Mark the unsettling feeling the woman didn’t like supers, although she worked for the DSHA—or maybe even because of that. If Winifred showed open contempt for Darby, it would set his partner off.

The history between the DSHA and Darby was long, complicated, and convoluted.

That’s right, the no-longer-crying witness said. They’ve been dating about two years.

He glanced down at the screen, taking in the information known about Prairie from the state database. And her family is in Oklahoma?

Winifred nodded. When she applied to the DSHA, there wasn’t a need in the Tulsa office, so they offered her a place here.

Mark took out one of his cards and handed it to her. If you think of anything helpful, please contact us. Please don’t say anything to anyone until we’ve had the opportunity to inform her next of kin and her boss.

She nodded.

Darby waved an officer over and had him escort Winifred out of the room.

Mark stared down at his glass, looking over the list of data the co-worker had input. Without glancing at his partner, he said, DSHA involvement opens up a whole other can of worms.

Darby moved next to him so they were faced in opposite directions. I can handle it.

She was bluffing and they both knew it. He gave her a sidelong look. You sure?

She shrugged. They’re only the agency who abducted me two years ago, kept me sedated, and made me feel like I was an inch tall when I was awake. What’s the worst that can happen?

Mark pressed his lips together, remembering his own panic when she’d gone missing. It had been around that time he’d come to the realization that he had been falling for her...and she’d been completely oblivious. While he wanted to say that the DSHA had been dealt with, their involvement, even in passing, made him unsettled.

Especially after the bombshell she had launched at him on the plane a couple weeks earlier.

He said, Right. Worst that can happen is they claim conflict of interest. It wasn’t just you, I also have issues with them after what they did.

This is the murder of one of their own. You’d think they’d realize we’re the best team for the job.

Or maybe they’ll want to call in someone from the federal level.

Darby nodded. If they do, we’ll deal.

Word of warning. If I think you can’t handle this case, I’m pulling you off.

You think I can’t handle it? Now she turned to face him, her brown eyes beginning to flare in anger.

Didn’t say that. But if I think for even a minute that you can’t, I’ll have you removed from the case.

She scoffed. What’s this about, Mark?

Now, he turned. You don’t have a great record on emotionally trying cases.

"Emotionally try—I don’t even know this woman."

But I do, Holly said from behind them.

They both turned to the doctor. The lovely woman who always seemed so polished to Mark was visibly shaken.

What do you mean? Darby asked, crossing to her friend and fellow superhuman.

"I know her. I should’ve recognized her. It’s Prairie Rasmussen." She said the name as though it held some meaning.

Darby glanced back at Mark.

Yeah, Doc? he asked.

Holly pressed her hands together and brought them to her lips. She handled my file last time I was in the DSHA office. Remember when you both helped me move?

Darby nodded. When you did the address change?

Yeah, she did my re-interview and testing. I was close to up on my time anyway, so kill two birds, right?

Mark scowled, but neither of the supers caught it.

Darby put a hand on Holly’s arm. Are you okay? Do you need to call in another M.E.?

She shook her head quickly. I’m done for now. My assistant is going to help load her body up. I can’t believe I didn’t catch on when I first got here!

Will you be able to do the autopsy?

I may have to hand it off. It’s different when it’s someone you know.

Darby squeezed Holly’s arm now. How well did you know her?

Holly took a deep breath and shook her head. Not well, not really. Never outside the DSHA headquarters. But I saw her. I liked her.

Well, it’s up to us to find her killer.

She nodded. I know. And they’ve got the best team working the case.

CHAPTER 4

Darby

I was standing against our company Flexion nearly an hour later when Mark’s footfalls alerted me of his approach.

Mark stopped in front of me, arms folded over his chest. CSU have anything?

While I wouldn’t say anything to him, today he was particularly roguishly handsome, especially with the late September sun streaming through his black hair. He’d greyed a bit more at the temples in the last few years, but his fortieth birthday was quickly approaching. I preferred to think it was a result of age, and not the stress of the job.

I shook my head. He’d tasked me with following up with CSU while he dealt with the canvas team. Maybe they’ll have some trace evidence, but they’ll need time to analyze.

Time’s exactly what we don’t have.

We climbed into the Flexion.

Where to? I asked.

Inform the boyfriend? We’ll have Tulsa Bendex inform the parents.

I tapped into my glass, which automatically received the data from Mark’s. As partners, they were linked so we always had the same data. Ian Brecunier. He lives in Lee’s Summit. Says he’s a bouncer and occasional bartender at A Glass Half Full in the Light and Power District. He’s also a trainer at a gym in the Northland.

He goes all over the city, doesn’t he?

Sure looks that way.

Ian’s half-duplex was dark, and no amount of knocking made a difference. No door service was evident, which would have allowed us to make inquiries on when he would return. Mark had me check the neighbor to the north while he visited those to the south.

The neighbor I spoke with indicated she’d seen Ian take off earlier in the afternoon.

I rejoined Mark a few minutes later in our vehicle.

I’ve got nothing, he said.

I told him what I’d found.

Make some calls. I’ll head back toward the core of the city.

I got on the comm while Mark disengaged the auto-drive and took Route 350 out of Lee’s Summit back into Kansas City. We’d been out of jurisdiction—Lee’s Summit didn’t contract with Bendex for their police protection.

Years ago, about a decade before the Super Uprising and the subsequent SuperHuman Bill of Rights, there’d been a move nationally to privatize police departments. Something about less government involvement meaning less corruption and more competition. It came down to large corporations who mostly subsidized the programs.

Our company, Bendex, had contracts with about half of the major departments nationwide, and about two-thirds of smaller city departments and sheriff’s offices. The nice thing was it made transferring easy: your spouse gets a promotion and has to move from Chicago to Phoenix? No sweat! Bendex would transfer you within the company.

It also made jurisdictional issues a partially moot point. With so many cities within, say, the Kansas City metro, about half of them contracted with Bendex. So if we had a case that starts in our jurisdiction of Kansas City, but a lead takes us into Olathe, Kansas, we didn’t have to worry about checking in with Bendex there. When we crossed into Delta’s or Virgin Ltd’s territory, it could get dicey, but the lawyer types had mostly worked out the border issues between municipalities and state-to-state problems.

Bendex was the top dog where police protection services came into play, with Delta and Virgin Ltd. behind us. Other companies, and some company conglomerations, especially in small towns where they wanted one or two police officers, were small fish comparatively.

Dutifully, I carried out Mark’s directive to find Ian Brecunier. A failed call to the gym sent me to the bar. An employee confirmed Ian was tending bar.

After finishing the calls and putting the address into the computer, I leaned back and rested my head. The brief conversations I’d had with Ian’s bosses showed me a man seriously in love with Prairie. Sorrow for the man we were about to inform overwhelmed me.

It never got any easier.

CHAPTER 5

Mark

Mark tried to keep his mind focused on the case on the twenty-minute drive to downtown. But he could practically hear Darby thinking in the next seat. He wasn’t sure what was up, but he finally groaned inwardly and decided to try to be hospitable. It wasn’t a barbecue night, and it seemed she’d forgotten about her invitation since it hadn’t come up again.

He cleared his throat as he exited the highway near the Light & Power District. You’re distracted.

I’ll deal with it.

DSHA?

How’d you guess?

Because they’ve been a thorn in our side since you found out you were superhuman.

She shifted in her seat and began to rearrange the contents of her gear bag. Yeah. Doesn’t mean they will be in on this case. Prairie’s job may not play into her death at all.

Mark lifted his chin. You saw how the co-worker reacted when she realized who you were.

DSHA’s offices closed hours ago. Can’t dig into that tonight.

He nodded. He had the distinct impression she wasn’t relishing the thought of going to the DSHA offices in town. But maybe that was more his perception than what she was thinking.

Mark double-parked outside the bar, and joined Darby on the curb. Several drivers felt the need to roll down their windows and yell. A few flipped them the bird.

A scream rang out down the street. Both Mark and Darby looked toward the noise.

On the ground not fifty yards from them was a woman screaming and pointing to a man in a baseball cap running right for them. Darby moved to block his path. Stop! Police!

Mark watched helplessly as the guy barreled into Darby. When it looked like the guy was going to take off again, Mark tackled him.

You not understand English, buddy? Mark hauled the guy up and slapped on a pair of cuffs. Cop says stop, you stop, got it?

The guy growled.

Darby rolled onto her side.

Mark glanced down. Shaw, you okay?

She nodded. Need a minute.

The woman who had screamed ran up. Oh, thank you! He stole my purse!

Just doing our job, ma’am, Mark said.

When the patrol units arrived, Mark told them what had been observed and turned custody over to them. Then he crossed to where Darby sat on the sidewalk. He squatted next to her, the arthritis in his knee screaming at him.

You sure you’re okay?

She shook her head. Not really. It feels like he could’ve cracked a couple ribs.

He’s a big guy.

I barely noticed before he barreled into me. A deep breath had her wincing in pain. We’d better go do what we came to do.

Mark stood and offered her a hand up. The tingle made its appearance. He’d been shocked before while doing routine maintenance at home. Their connection was like that, but stronger, and yet not painful. It got his heart racing, though whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was yet to be seen.

But it was worse when she was hurt. An ache went right to wherever she was feeling bad. Now he could feel her ribs were bothering her. Even though he was still upset about their fight a few weeks earlier which still hadn’t gotten resolved, he didn’t want to see her hurting. As they talked to the officers who had arrived to take their purse snatcher into custody, Mark casually left a hand on Darby’s arm. Normally, he’d be reluctant to do so.

But the fact she’d be healed of her injuries if all he did was touch her had him feeling sympathy for her, at least for now.

Besides, it beat the hell out of her having to go get an X-ray later and maybe being put on restricted duty for a few weeks.

She winced occasionally, yet didn’t ask him to stop.

Being Monday, the bar was quiet. The after-work crowd had already come and gone. Mere blocks from downtown, their business was driven by the workers in the tall skyscrapers, or when there was a concert or tournament at the aging convention center a few blocks away.

A few patrons were scattered around, some watching a baseball game on the screens scattered around the room. One screen had Monday Night Football, which was still in pre-game. Two guys, one in drag,