Scarlet Rain (The Escaped #2) (22 page)

“What kind of power is this?” Mother asked. “It is one I have never seen before.”

“It’s Eva. She is the only one who can affect it in this way. I must go to her.” He pinched the crystal between his thumb and forefinger and, without the help of the Furies, disappeared from Tartarus.

• • •

“Think creatively.” James dropped his forehead into his hands and stared down at his desk. Almost everyone had gone home for the night, which was perfect for the young detective. Now he didn’t have to worry about bored, nosy cops—or worse, his partner. “There has to be a way I can get into Pierce’s office and to those samples.” He studied the stacks of files and various papers neatly placed in labeled trays, and let his gaze wander the pile of magazines he’d swiped from the bathroom. An old issue of Wired Magazine poked out from the stack, and James silently read the exposed text. “
How George Lucas changed movies forever.
”

“Definitely not something I would know. I haven’t been to a movie in ages.” Schilling’s twang rolled around in his memory as the beginnings of a plan emerged. “That’s it. That’s how I can get in.” He dug into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and texted Pierce.

What’s Veronica’s number?
he typed, and sent the question before glancing up at the clock and adding,
Sorry it’s so late.

Pierce responded almost immediately with Veronica’s number and the words “
GOOD LUCK”
in all caps.

James composed a short message inquiring about the movie Schilling said Veronica invited him to, and clicked send before he had the chance to talk himself out of his ingenious, although not-very-well-thought-out plan. Minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly while he stared at the screen, waiting for her to reply. “She’s probably asleep or out. This was a stupid idea.” He sighed and dropped his phone onto his desk. It vibrated loudly against the wooden surface. He scooped it up and rushed to read her response.

Glad you want to come! Movie is on Sunday. I’m downtown with friends. Want to come out for a drink?

“Maybe this isn’t so stupid after all.” He smiled to himself and typed a reply asking where to meet up.

“Now how’s that for thinking creatively?” With a somewhat-thought-out plan for how to gain access to Pierce’s office, James gathered his things and headed for his car.

James turned the stereo up and drove the short distance to where Veronica and her friends were waiting at Vintage 1740. James had only been in the cozy wine bar twice before. Both times on awkward first dates that led nowhere. Hopefully, on this trip, he’d be able to suss out a way into Veronica’s workplace without creating too much suspicion. He maneuvered his car into the narrow strip of the last parking space in front of the bar, and punched out a quick update to Bridget.

Coming in from the brightly lit street, his eyes adjusted to the romantic glow emanating from the wine bottle fixtures.

“Detective James. Please, sit.” Veronica motioned to the empty seat next to her at the bar.

His leg grazed hers as he slid onto the stool, arousing the bundle of nerves he’d managed to keep under control until now. “Please, call me James. Just James.”

The golden light pouring from the backlit bar display deepened her skin tone to an even richer shade of caramel. “Okay, just James. I am glad you came. The notice I gave was so short.”

“I’m glad I came too.” He looked around, expecting to see at least one person he needed to introduce himself to. “Where are your friends?”

“I have a confession.” She averted her eyes and traced the rim of her nearly empty glass. “I knew they were leaving, but I wanted you to meet me, so I told a small lie and said they were still here. I didn’t want you to be scared of being alone with me.”

“Me, scared of you? That doesn’t sound like me. Not at all. Nope. Not. At. All.” He tugged at his rigid shirt collar and smiled awkwardly. “I think intimidated is the word you’re looking for.”

Wrinkles formed on the bridge of her nose as she laughed. “Are you going to get a drink? We are at this beautiful bar filled with wines, and you are without a glass.”

“Wish I could, but I can’t. Have to stay sharp. A detective’s job is never done,” he chuckled stiffly.

“And I’m sure you are an amazing detective,” she purred, and locked her gaze with his.

“Yes. I, uh.”

She delicately placed her palm on his thigh and slid it up and down his leg.

“I fight lots of crime.” He let his eyes sweep over her killer figure one final time before clearing his throat and bringing himself back on task. “Speaking of jobs, you guys must have some tight security over at the office, what with all the personal effects you handle.”

She brought her hand back to her glass and took a sip. “Not really. I just swipe my card and enter the one one one one on the number buttons, and it stops the beeping.”

“Oh, you need a keycard to enter,” he said, more to himself than Veronica. “That’s more than I expected.”

“But I don’t want to talk about work. I come here to forget work and—” Her shoulders bounced, and she politely covered her mouth with her fingertips. “
Lo siento
. My stomach has not been well, and now it is very angry.” Beads of sweat sprouted on her smooth forehead, and she used her free hand to fan her face.

“Are you okay?” James asked.

Veronica heaved forward, clenching her stomach and shaking her head. “No, I—” Again she lurched forward. This time her hand shot up and clamped over her lips. Eyes wide, she hopped off the barstool and darted off in the direction of the restroom.

James ordered a glass of ginger ale and went over his plan as he waited for Veronica to return.
Meet with Veronica. Check. Figure out security at Pierce’s office. Check. Gain access to office. I’m marking that as a half check. There’s still time. It could happen.
He glanced at his phone. No word back from Bridget. He hoped her plans were going more smoothly than his own.

“I am very sorry for being sick.” Veronica collapsed onto the barstool and dabbed her face with a stray cocktail napkin. The richness of her brown skin was overtaken by a sickly green, and sweat shimmered on her face and chest. “It was the oysters.
Mi madre
always said, ‘do not eat food that carries around its house.’ I should have listened.”

James stifled a cringe. “Food poisoning. That’s the worst. If you’re sick, you can go. Don’t stay here because of me.”

“I would love to leave, but I must ask a favor. I have no car here. You will drive me home?”

“Yeah, sure. Definitely.” He set some cash on the bar for the full soda, and led Veronica out the front door. “My car’s right here.”

“
Gracias
.” She shakily fell into the passenger seat.

James closed the door and rounded the car, patting down his pockets for the pack of gum he usually kept in his jacket. “Here.” He offered her the foil-wrapped stick, and smiled apologetically.

“Ah,
sí
. You’ve come prepared.” A weak grin momentarily brightened her eyes.

The drive to Veronica’s house was mostly silent, except for the succinct directions she offered.

“I didn’t realize you lived so close to where you work.” James let his car idle in the driveway.

“Easy commute.” She dug the garage door opener out of her purse, and pressed the button. “Thank you, James. You are a very nice man. Just like Tom said.”

“Schilling said that? Huh. Well, it’s really no problem. I hope you start to feel better.”

Her stomach growled so loud it made James grimace. “Oh, no,” she muttered.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?”

Without answering, she kicked off her stilettos and darted into the open garage.

“Okay, I’ll get those for you.” He collected her spiky heels from the footwell, and trotted into the garage after her. Stiffly, he stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. A hall light illuminated the way to the bathroom, and he set the shoes down outside the door. “Just going to leave these outside here.” The sound of Veronica retching made his stomach turn. “So, I’m going to go and leave you to it.” He waited for a response, but only heard more heaving. “Okay, I’ll text you.” He retraced his steps back to the kitchen, but paused before leaving. Veronica’s ID card swung listlessly from the key hook next to the door. He unhooked the lanyard and turned the card over. A magnetic strip ran across the empty white expanse of the back of the card, and James couldn’t help but grin.
It’s still a go.

“Hey, Veronica!” he hollered again. “Changed my mind. I’m going to run out for a sec and get you some stuff from the store to help you feel better. I’ll be back soon.” He quietly slipped the card into his jacket pocket and bounded out to his car. A baleful wave of anxiety rushed through him as every mile brought him closer to Pierce’s office.

“This is not illegal, James. You’re not doing anything wrong. Well, technically yes, it
is
illegal, and I’ve already broken a number of laws. Shit.” He turned off his lights and coasted into the parking lot. “Okay, don’t think of this act of burglary as a blatant disregard for your career and everything you swore to uphold. You’re here to save the planet and all the realms. Kind of like an Avenger. And people, for the most part, like the Avengers. You’re doing the right thing here, James. Good pep talk.” He turned off his car and dug a ball cap out from under the gym bag in the backseat. There was no way he was about to risk getting spotted. He liked his job and his freedom too much and, with friends like Bridget and Eva, he needed to stay on the right side of the law.

Protected by his hat, and feeling a bit like a vigilante, James slinked over to the front doors of the medical examiner’s office. He pulled out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and hunted for a place to slide Veronica’s ID card. A metal box was affixed to the building, and James swiped the stolen card and pressed the “one” button four times like Veronica had said. The light flashed from red to green. James yanked open the door and entered the same lobby he’d been in earlier that day. The alarm beeped rapidly, and James searched feverishly for a way to disarm it. He skidded to a stop in front of the keypad and, with a slightly trembling hand, passed Veronica’s card through the reader and punched in her four-digit code. The alarm stopped abruptly, and James took a deep, relieved breath before pointing his flashlight in the direction of the autopsy rooms. He’d only been inside a handful of them, but remembered seeing a steel refrigerator in the area that held a bunch of expensive-looking lab equipment. He pushed through the swinging double doors and stealthily tiptoed down the hallway.

Pierce’s office was always a little creepy, and rightfully so, but James never thought about what it’d be like skulking around the macabre building afterhours. With the infected from St. John’s Hospital still fresh in his mind, James kept his ears perked for sounds from anything unnatural possibly lingering in the dark.

He stopped outside the familiar door, ignoring the biohazard warning signs taped to the wood. He shone his flashlight in through the narrow window, stopping when the beam of light reached the tall refrigerator. “That’s it.” He smiled to himself and twisted the door handle. The door to the lab was locked. “Shit.” He jiggled the handle a few more times to be certain before guiding the light around the doorframe. A keypad glinted, and he typed in Veronica’s code. A light flashed red and went dark. He tried the door. Still locked. “What the hell?” James punched in the number again, and again the red light flashed. “She doesn’t have access to the lab. Dammit.” Annoyed that he’d gotten so far only to fail, James smacked his palm against the keypad. The light flashed green and James seized the opportunity to gain entry into the lab.

A rancid odor hung in the air, and made him gag when he opted to breathe out of his mouth. He shook away his disgust, and made a beeline for the refrigerator. The soles of his shoes squeaked across the slick tile, and he held his arms out to steady himself. Before taking another step, James guided the light to the floor. Sanguine sludge coated the formerly white tiles, and he followed the puddle to its origin on the far right wall.

The metal rectangles he thought of as body lockers stretched from floor to ceiling. Red ooze dripped from the doors of several of the lockers, and James resisted his instinct to retreat back to his car. Instead, he pushed forward, ignoring the wall of bleeding steel and focusing on his ultimate destination. The narrow beam of light swept the floor around his feet as he carefully maneuvered forward. James grimaced at the wet clumps dangling off his shoes with each step toward the refrigerator.

He pulled open the heavy door, and his breath caught in his throat. The same red ooze coating the floor pooled on the top shelf and steadily dribbled down, streaking the edge of each clear ledge in its descent.

“Oh, disgusting.” James shivered. “But good. This is good. These samples can’t possibly be sent to the CDC now, and whatever bodies were in those lockers, well, they aren’t bodies anymore. At least we don’t have anything to worry about on this end.”

He released the steel door and it slapped against the frame with a hissing suction. For a moment, he stood motionless to let his eyes adjust to the gloomy black of the room.

“Shit. What am I going to do about these shoes?” The detective in him, and his reemerging common sense, wouldn’t let him walk out into the hall and leave a trail of bloody footprints that screamed, “Look! Somebody broke in!” He panned the flashlight around the room and slid over to the glinting paper towel dispenser. Stuffing as many as he could into his fist, James trudged back to the door. The ooze felt like sandy Jell-O and stuck to his fingers when he wiped it from his shoes. The smell seemed to get worse as more moisture stuck to his hands, and he swallowed against the bile building in his throat.

With his feet as clean as they would get, James balled up the paper towels and headed for the sink in the room he and Schilling spent the most time in. He pressed his back against the door and said a silent prayer of thanks as it swung open. He tossed the wad into the bin and rushed to the sink and twisted the tap. Steaming water splashed against the sides of the metal basin, and he plunged his hands under the warm stream.