Arc Angel (14 page)

Miranda blinked, still trying to adjust to the doctor’s shockingly mellow attitude.

Finally, she sputtered, “So you b-believe that I’ve b-become a comic book character.”

“Well, first off, you haven’t become anyone. You’re still Miranda James. Remember that. But in terms of you taking on superpowers? I think it’s definitely possible, and a fascinating idea. Though I can see how it might be problematic for you.”

She continued to stare at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“Look,” he continued, “I’ve seen enough medical oddities to have learned to keep an open mind about the abilities of the human body. I don’t think anything can shock me anymore. No pun intended.” His white teeth flashed in amusement.

She tried to smile back, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Dr. Harris leaned forward on the stool, resting his elbows on his legs, his fingers knitted together at his knees. He waited to speak until he’d caught her eye.

“Miranda, I completely believe what happened to you, and I want to help you learn more about it.”

The doctor couldn’t have sounded more sincere, but Miranda still couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the idea that he spoke the truth.

He continued on in the same warm tone. “But if you’re more comfortable with me not believing you, I can try to pretend I don’t…”

His light teasing finally made it all the way into Miranda’s brain. He believed her. She could relax a little. Her shoulders dropped a notch, and she inhaled deeply for the first time since entering the exam room.

“Thank you for believing me.”

“It’s my pleasure, Miranda.” He straightened up on his stool again, back in doctor mode. “Are you ready to get down to details? I’m very curious about your particular case. Would you be willing to show me what you can do?”

Miranda frowned. “I… can’t. It’s not the anxiety,” she hurried on, “it’s just that… I can’t really control it very well right now.” She expected that this lack of proof would close even this amazingly open mind. But the doctor didn’t appear to be at all fazed.

“Well, if you say you can conduct electricity, I say okay, let’s figure out how that’s happening.”

He smiled his infectious smile again, and this time she couldn’t help but smile back, her lips curling up fully. She’d told someone else the whole story, and he hadn’t freaked out on her. Unlike some other people.

Thinking of Bryce brought on a twinge of pain. And it reminded her of the one thing she hadn’t told him. “I don’t only want to find out what happened: I want the powers to go away. Can you help me?”

***

Gavin Brooks strode into the station like an honored guest, instead of the “person of interest” he actually was. But since Kate had called him in under the pretense of discussing the new museum exhibit, his attitude didn’t surprise her. Annoyed her, but didn’t surprise her.

Kate had been waiting for the reporter, wanting to get a look at him before the actual interview started, and now she stepped forward and offered her hand.

“Mr. Brooks, I’m Detective O’Hara.”

He clasped her hand in both of his and held tight.

“Of course you are. I’ve seen you in court several times, though this is the first time I’ve been lucky enough to meet you face-to-face.”

He squeezed her still-trapped hand before finally letting go. It took all of Kate’s self-control not to wipe it against her pant leg.

“I hope you don’t mind coming back to one of our interrogation rooms. It’s the best place to get some quiet and avoid interruptions.”

“I don’t mind a bit. Though this time I’ll be interrogating you, won’t I?” He laughed, white teeth flashing. “For the story of course,” he added, attempting to look abashed and failing miserably.

Kate forced herself to smile back at him. “This way, please.”

She led him back to the same room in which she’d interviewed Miranda James. It seemed appropriate.

“Have a seat, Mr. Brooks.”

He gave the chair a quick dusting before sitting down. Probably didn’t want to mess up his fancy suit.

Kate took the seat across from him. “I hope I didn’t take you away from something else this morning.” She gestured to his apparel.

A tiny blip of confusion crossed Gavin’s face. Then he must have realized she meant his clothing, and he straightened his tie and preened.

“No, no, nothing like that, Detective. I simply choose to be camera-ready at all times. You never know when a big story will break. And speaking of camera-ready, I know you said on the phone that you’d prefer not to be filmed for this piece, but I do hope you’ll change your mind. It would be great for our viewers to put a face with the name of the person protecting this momentous exhibit. And quite a pretty face it is, too.”

Was that an actual leer? Was Gavin Brooks coming on to her? In an interrogation room? She’d never been fond of the man—she tended to get her news from WKLF instead—but her lack of interest was rapidly turning into disgust.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks. As I said on the phone, I’m happy to answer a few questions for you, but not on camera.”

The last thing she needed was more publicity for this stupid project, but she’d known dangling a story about the artifact as bait would get Brooks to come in. But she’d never live it down with the guys if she showed up on TV for some silly little puff piece.

“Of course, of course. But if you change your mind, call me.” He pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table to her. “Any time, day or night. No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

He flashed his thousand dollar smile again.

Kate ignored both the card and the smile.

“What do you want to know about the museum exhibit?”

He pulled a small notebook out of the other side of his jacket and uncapped the silver pen clipped to it.

“You don’t mind if I take notes, do you?”

“Of course not. You don’t mind if I do?” She pointed down to her own notebook, already lying on the table.

“Of course not. Though I’m not sure what notes you’ll have. I’m the one doing the story.”

Kate just smiled at him expectantly.

“Right. So, Detective O’Hara… May I call you Kate?”

“No.”

Gavin faltered for the first time, clearly not expecting her negative response.

“Erm, sure, Detective.” He cleared his throat, looked down at his notepad and then up at her, megawatt grin back in place.

“Let’s start with some background on the exhibit itself. How did it come about?”

“As I’m sure you already know from the many stories already done on it, the museum recently acquired a very unusual Native American artifact.”

“I understand the piece came from a private collector. You wouldn’t happen to know more about that, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Too bad. It would have added some color to the story.” He waved his left hand as he scribbled notes with his right. “Moving on, then. The museum actually received the artifact on Thursday night, correct.”

“Yes.”

“And I assume it’s under tight security.”

“Of course. We’re taking every precaution with this remarkable find. We’ve had two teams of security guarding it around the clock until the artifact is moved to its permanent home.”

“And where will that be?”

“As I’m sure you already know, the museum cleared out a large portion of its east wing to accommodate both the security required for the piece and the anticipated crowds.”

“Ah, yes, people will be coming from all over the area to get a peek at it. Have you seen it yet, Detective?”

She had. The memory of that strange energy seeping into her still gave her the creeps.

And she wouldn’t be sharing that with Gavin Brooks.

“I got a quick peek.”

Even her deliberately low-key response flustered the reporter, and he began to rattle off question after question.

“What did it look like? They said it’s some type of tablet. Could you read it? Did you touch it?”

“Grey, it is, no and no.”

Gavin looked at her blankly.

“The answers to your questions.”

He frowned but nodded and wisely moved on.

“Can you tell me more about the security that will be in place once the artifact is moved to its permanent home?”

“It’s already there. We moved it yesterday afternoon.”

The reporter’s head jerked up, and he stared at her, his blue eyes sharp.

“Really? I thought that wasn’t supposed to happen until later today.”

“We were ready yesterday, so we moved it early.”

And deliberately told all news sources that it would happen today. She may not be a big city cop, but she wasn’t stupid. It was standard procedure to mix in a bit of misinformation with the information the force supplied.

“Fascinating. So it’s in the east wing now?”

She nodded.

“And how is the Elder’s Grove PD keeping it safe? Surely a piece this old would be worth a fortune on the black market?”

“Any museum-quality piece is at risk of theft, and this piece is no different.”

Except that it was, somehow.

“As for security,” she continued, “I can assure you that we have a number of systems in place to keep it well-protected.”

“Such as…?”

Fine. It wouldn’t hurt to put some general information out there. As long as she didn’t get too specific, knowledge of the strong security might actually work as a theft deterrent.

“The museum’s basic security system is quite good, if a bit typical. It uses cameras, locks—both electronic and physical—and security guards. For the foreseeable future, the number of guards will be doubled 24-7. If all of that isn’t enough, we’ve set up lasers around the artifact’s case, while the case itself contains a pressure detector. If anyone breaches either of those systems, alarms will sound throughout the building as well as here at the station. All the entrances and exits will be sealed and put on a timer. They’ll stay closed for an hour, giving us ample time to prepare to apprehend whoever broke in.”

Gavin scratched notes so swiftly she didn’t know how they could possibly be legible.

“So you’re not at all worried about the possibility of theft?”

Who would want to own the freaky thing?

Just thinking about the piece rattled her, and her response came out more flippant than she’d intended.

“It would take a whole team of highly trained professionals to get into that museum with all of the precautions we’ve taken.”

More pen scratching. Great. A quote like that would make the Chief’s blood pressure go up by 20 points.

“Is there anything else you’d like to share with the viewers, Detective?”

She knew she needed to make up for her earlier remark by trotting out a more polished soundbite. She could only hope he’d use this one instead of the other nonsense.

“The Elder’s Grove PD is proud to have been part of such an historic exhibit. It’s important to learn more about our heritage, and this new exhibit at the Elder’s Grove Museum will help the whole community do just that.”

Gavin scribbled the quote across his page and then capped his pen.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any pictures to share, would you? Of the artifact itself, the new setup, whatever?”

She frowned, and he quickly added, “Since you won’t agree to be on camera, it would be great to have some visuals to share with the viewers.”

“No. No pictures. If people want to see it, they’ll have to visit the exhibit when it opens next week.”

“Of course. We’ll drive them over to the museum. Great. Thank you very much, Detective.” He tucked the notepad back in his pocket and started to stand.

“You’re welcome. While you’re here, would you mind doing a little quid pro quo? I have a few questions for you as well.”

Gavin sank back onto the chair. His smile remained on his lips, but disappeared from his eyes.

“Of course, Detective. Though I’m not sure what you think I can help you with.”

“Oh, only a little follow-up from yesterday evening’s security incident on Jackson Avenue.”

“Jackson Avenue?” His smile wavered slightly.

“Yes. I believe you were trapped in an apartment building due to a malfunctioning security system.”

“Ah, yes, our adventure! That alarm beeped so loudly I swear I can still hear it.” He rubbed his ear ruefully.

“Do you have any idea what set off the alarm?”

“None at all. Probably one of those electrical glitches that happen sometimes.”

“And you were there alone?”

“No, no, my cameraman, Hank, was with me.”

“Why were you at the building? Do you have friends there?”

“We were there to do an interview, actually. I don’t know if you saw my piece on Friday morning about a mugging on Jackson Avenue?”

She didn’t bother to respond, and he rambled on, as she’d known he would.

“It’s quite a fascinating story, actually. The young woman who stopped the attack, a Miranda James, seems to have some kind of special powers. I was going to interview her for a follow-up piece. I’m thinking of calling it ‘Superheroes in our midst.’”

He actually believed that Miranda had zapped the mugger. Kate hadn’t been able to come up with a different explanation that truly satisfied her, but her rational mind still couldn’t accept a supernatural intervention. Did Gavin know something she didn’t?

“Ms. James let you into the building.”

“Yes. Er, no. Actually, the other woman involved in the attack, a Mrs. Dobrusky, buzzed us into the building. I’d brought her flowers to wish her a speedy recovery from her ordeal the night before.”

“And how did the interview go?”

“Not well, actually.” Irritation flashed in the man’s eyes.

“Why not?”

“She wasn’t home.”

“How frustrating for you.”

He nodded and seemed pleased that she understood.

“This story is going to take my career to the next level. Not surprisingly, I’d like to get it in the can as soon as possible.”

“She knew what time you were coming?”

“Yes. We’d set it up earlier that morning.”

“No reason she would have changed her mind?”

“Of course not. She was looking forward to it.”

“But she wasn’t there.”