Your subconscious really is a lot smarter than you are.
I dreamed of blood, rivers of it. It was flowing through the city, down streets and splashing up against buildings. I was keeping ahead of it, running through small alleyways and twisting down back streets, but every time I turned my head it was gaining ground. I was trying to outrun a monstrous wave of it, heading for a giant freezer that I thought would offer some protection, when I was mercifully woken by my phone ringing. I fumbled around on the floor next to the chair, my neck aching with every move, until I came up with it.
“Yeah?” I looked at my watch. It was ten till noon. I’d gotten almost six hours of sleep, and I felt almost human again. I stretched and tried to make all of my joints move the way they should once again.
“Jake, it’s Howard. I thought I’d let you know what I found out last night, if it’s a good time?” He sounded busy and distracted. Still working the case, I guessed, but with enough evidence to give me an update. It probably wasn’t good.
“I’m not sure it will ever be a good time, but sure. I can be down at your office in… gimme half an hour?” I tried to turn my neck to the right and grimaced in pain. I should have known better than to sleep in the chair. I must have been dead tired to fall asleep there.
“See you then,” he said and hung up. I slid the phone onto the coffee table and levered myself up out of the chair, creaking and groaning far beyond my years. I refused to feel like I was getting old when I hadn’t even hit middle age yet.
A hot shower helped, but only just. I could move my head and shoulders without swearing, and that was going to have to do for now. I still didn’t feel clean, though, as the memory of the dreams of blood, waves of it crashing over my and soaking me to the skin, was so vivid I’d woken up feeling coated. Though in my mind, the blood was oily and slick, and impossible to wash off completely. My stomach turned over at the thought of the coppery smell of that much blood, and any idea of breakfast was squashed.
I shook my head, the motion sending little splinters of pain down my neck. But it did clear out the vision. Just what was my brain trying to tell me? Or was it just a reaction to having seen that apartment, all that blood? I still refused to think of it as Sandra’s, and I could be in denial until I talked to Howard. I took comfort in that. I quickly dressed and reached into my top drawer to get my Colt 45. If there was ever a day I needed my lucky gun, this would be it. Sitting next to it was the velvet pouch holding Sandra’s original pearl necklace. I reached for it, but pulled my hand back, my fingertips just skimming the surface of the velvet. Images of the blood room once again rose in my head. I quickly holstered the gun, shut the drawer, and left the apartment.
On the way to the office I made calls, checking in with everyone on my team. No progress had been made in the Robert case. The police were suspicious, since it hadn’t been a robbery and they couldn’t find any other motive, but they didn’t have anything to go on. They figured it concerned his job, and were more than willing to let the agency take over, even if they couldn’t officially say that. Jason’s death, likewise, was set on a back burner, chalked up to a mugging gone bad. But Daniel had found some strange similarities between the two killings. Robin hadn’t been able to provide a description, as she’d neither seen the men or heard them speak, but what she had been able to tell us was important. The men – she was sure there had been two of them – had said nothing, not waking Robert up before they shot him with a silenced pistol. And they’d left directly after. No searching, no talking. That pointed to a cold, calculated hit. Only this time, they didn’t try to disguise it as anything, and that didn’t make sense.
Reading up on the reports when I got to the office, I saw why. A neighbor of Robert’s, an older lady who was stereotypically nosey, had heard some noises and reported it to the police. She’d complained of thumps and what sounded like muffled gunshots. It’s amazing what sticking a glass to the wall can make it possible to hear, I thought. The funny thing was, as closely as she paid attention, she’d seen or heard no one leaving the apartment between the time of the gunshots and the arrival of the police. When the police got there, they’d found Robin still hiding in the closet, no sign on anyone else, though the door was unlocked. The obvious conclusion this brought to my mind made the bile rise in my throat. I knew we had a spy in our midst, the problems keeping a wrap on the Sandra situation had proven that. I didn’t think it was Robin.
I went to where Daniel was pecking away at a computer and motioned for him to follow me back to my office. I’d known Daniel for ten years, and if there was anyone in this office I trusted, it was him. “Daniel,” I said quietly. “I think I know who the spy is.”
“I think I agree,” he said grimly. When I looked at his quizzically, he explained. “You picked up on it when you read the same case file.”
I nodded. “It seems almost too obvious, why doesn’t everyone else jump on it?”
“Because little old ladies are unreliable, and there’s no reason an agent would do such a thing,” he said. “Think about it. Think about if this were a different case, and we had no reason to suspect someone on the inside working against us. How possible is it for a man to have slipped in and out without the little old lady noticing?”
“Quite,” I agreed. “She couldn’t have been keeping watch the whole time, what with the listening and calling the police. It is very possible she missed something. Especially if it was a pro. I swear some of those guys could walk right by you on a sunny day on a deserted street and you wouldn’t notice them.”
“Exactly. But we’ve been looking for something. Something out of the ordinary, and we’ve found it. There’s probably something else, other things buried in your subconscious that are telling you something was wrong. Something about her, something you saw but didn’t really notice.”
“Don’t worry, I trust my gut on this one. Has she been out of anyone’s sight since the incident?” At his mention of subconscious, my brain had filled again with images of blood. I’d seen a fair amount of blood in my career, but that room was going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Daniel pulled out his phone and made a quick call. I didn’t really listen as he talked to the agent on the other end, whoever had been sent to keep an eye over the Robert crime scene. We’d been stretched pretty thin last night, and I felt guilty for having gone home and slept while everyone else was out working. It didn’t matter that I’d been up for almost forty-eight hours, as the one in charge I was supposed to be there.
“They’re just about to release her. The police have been questioning her, and she spent some time with a counselor,” he said. “Apparently she’s a bit shaken up by the incident.”
I looked up sharply. “Really? Shaken up as in she might request some leave kind of shaken up? From being safely tucked away in a closet when someone she didn’t even know was killed?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that kind.”
To others it might seem heartless to doubt the psychological impact of being a witness to a murder, but they didn’t know Robin’s history. She’d been in stickier situations, and even killed several people, and never batted an eye. And sure, this could have been the last straw, and it could have sent her over the edge. But personally, a lot of us believed there was no edge for Robin. She didn’t seem to have either a conscience or a moral compass. And while that made her a great spy, it also made it very hard to trust her. She’d been top on our list save one thing. We couldn’t figure out why she’d switch side, or who she’d be working for.
“I want eyes on her twenty-four seven,” I said. If we were going to catch her, we needed to make sure she never got out of our sight. “But keep it very quiet. If she comes in and requests time off, she gets it, but give her a hard time about it. Then lull her into a false sense of security.”
He nodded, and relayed the information. If she was going to make a move, it would be now. There was a chance, no matter how slim, that she hadn’t gotten rid of the gun. If we could get that, we’d have her.
“You want ears at her place?” he asked.
“If we can, but I do not want anything that would tip her off, you understand?”
He nodded, and gave more instructions over the phone. Then he closed it and sighed wearily. “This is the worst part of the job. It’s okay when the bad guys are bad, but when it’s one of your own…”
“I know. But maybe it won’t turn out that way.”
“It’s possible, but I’m not holding out much hope.” He nodded at me and left my office, leaving me feeling the exact same way about Sandra. It was possible she wasn’t dead, but I was no longer holding out much hope.
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