To Snatch a Thief (18 page)

She hesitated for one second. ‘Um, not yet. A trainee cadet. If I survive my probationary period, I can enrol as a proper cadet; go to the Academy.’ Stubbornly, she pushed thoughts of death threats away. ‘It’s been pretty boring so far,’ she said. ‘I’m mostly stuck in HQ while the others go out and do the juicy stuff.’

‘Isn’t it weird seeing it from the other side? I figure it’d be weird.’

A trickle of sweat ran down her back. King’s body was hotter than hell. The brimstone was swilling uncomfortably in her gut. She shifted back a fraction as the song changed. ‘I’m getting used to it, and the money’s handy. What are you up to, or can’t you tell me?’

King cocked his head to one side. ‘Can I trust you?’

She poked him in the chest. ‘Maybe you’d better not. Just don’t do drugs, okay? I don’t want to find you in HQ charged with pushing X.’

‘Nah, my sister over-dosed; dealer sold her some bad stuff. I don’t touch it.’ He shook his head, glanced from side to side. ‘But I got wind of something. A cousin of a geezer I know knows a bloke who works in this place. Really solar, you know what I’m saying?’ He tapped his nose. ‘Gonna see if he can get me a job there. Ace perks if you can keep your mouth shut.’

‘O-
kay
. Totally confused.’ They circled one more time before Skye broke away. Circling, she decided, wasn’t a good idea right now. ‘Just be careful, yeah? I’ve got to get back to my friend.’

‘Sure. Good to see you, Skye. And thanks again for keeping your mouth shut.’

He melted into the crowd; a fugitive on the run. His decision, but it didn’t stop her worrying about him.

Ashleigh toasted her with her glass. ‘Not all frogs then. You seem chummy.’

‘Chummy?’

She laughed, topped up their glasses to finish the bottle. ‘Something I heard in a holo I watched about some old war. Who was he? And why isn’t he taking you home?’

‘Ash, get your mind north of your gold-ringed navel. He’s a casual friend, and I’d rather you forgot you saw me with him, okay?’ Because she was thirsty she drained her glass.

‘Okay, Miss Too-Fussy-By-Half.’ Ashleigh was slumped half across the table, propped on an elbow, one cheek scrunched in a hand. It made the mythical creature list to one side.

‘Look, I’m about ready to split, Damien’s finished his shift. You okay to get back on your own?’ As she spoke, the barman appeared with a coat slung over one arm.

Skye nodded. Her head was reeling from the heat and the amount of alcohol she’d downed. ‘I need to sober up before I think of going home. I’ll order a coffee and then get the larsh shush… the lasht… oops. You know those things…long, green…people shit in them.’

Ashleigh seemed to find that hysterically funny. ‘Think you’ll find that’s sit,’ she snorted. ‘But, then again…’ Damien led an unsteady Ashleigh away. ‘Stay safe.’

‘You too. Keep in touch.’

She was staring glassy-eyed into a cup of mock coffee, when she felt someone slide onto the bench next to her. ‘Go way,’ she said, without looking up. ‘I don’t wanna dansh, I don’t wanna drink, and I sure as hell don’t wanna…’

‘What the devil are you doing in a dive like this?’

‘Hmm – that’s funny. Devil, Lucifer’s.’ A small part of her brain asked why Hunter should be sitting next to her looking dark and sexy and drop-dead gorgeous, but right now she didn’t much care. ‘Hello,’ she said snuggling closer. ‘I’m collating… no I’m collecting. I’m collecting informashion vital to the case.’ She waggled a finger at him. ‘Do you wanna hear it, Hunter, do you? You’ll think I’m very clever when I remember what it is.’ It felt right to rest her head on his shoulder.

‘Get up. You’re drunk. I’m taking you home.’ Without ceremony, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her off the bench, then marched her through the whirling dancers to the door.

‘Hey, I haven’t finished my…’ The words jammed in her throat as the cold air outside hit her. All she remembered was the feeling that all the bones in her legs had somehow turned to marshmallow, and then suddenly the world was swaying back and forth and her face was pressed against Hunter’s shoulder again.

She started to protest about being carried, then decided to enjoy the moment. The cold air was clearing fog from her brain. Close contact with Hunter’s body was doing something quite different to her stomach. Risking a peek at his face, she expected to see his profile set in his normal scowl. His eyes slid down to her, an amused smile hovering on his lips. ‘What
am
I going to do with you, Forrester?’

She sighed. ‘You tracked me down, didn’t you? Used your flipping electronics to keep tabs on me? I should be cross, but I’m not.’

‘You should be
thankful
. That club’s crawling with low-life. Somebody could easily have slipped you some Slapper or Mate, and you’d wake up in a strange bloke’s bed not knowing what you’d done, with how many, and how the hell you got there.’

‘Did you have audio on?’

Hunter said nothing.

‘You did, didn’t you?’ Now she struggled to sit up. ‘Put me down! I can walk. Damn it, you said you’d only use it in emergencies.’ The short purple skirt she’d worn for the evening had ridden to her waist, and her hair was a tangled mess. Attack, she decided, was the only way to regain any dignity from this humiliating situation. ‘So, what? You don’t trust me to keep state secrets, is that it? Or maybe you’re intending to give any bloke I meet the third degree? Is that part of the plan? Lock me up in a safe house and expect me to live like a nun. Who do you think you are, my freaking father?’

‘That place violates every public noise level code,’ was his only comment, but he stood her on her feet. ‘Get in the car.’

More than annoyed, she sulked for a while, then decided it was a waste of time. Hunter would do what he wanted, when he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it.

‘So, apart from getting drunk,’ he said, as they sped through the night. ‘Did you have a good time with your friend?’ When Skye said nothing, he glanced over. ‘What’s the face for?’

‘You see, breathe and eat with it. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, sir.’

‘Funny aren’t you?’

‘I amuse myself constantly.’

He muttered something under his breath, but the atmosphere between them dissolved.

‘Nice car,’ she remarked. She didn’t know what it was, just that its sleek lines suited him almost as much as the Dart. Expensive, she thought. A Lieutenant’s pay must be mega to afford something like that.

When they reached her home, he followed her to the door.

‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

He was staring at her, his eyes very dark, very focussed. Her heart thumped. Slowly, she turned.

‘Skye.’ He took a step forward, ran his fingers down her arm, letting them find her hand.

‘Yes?’ Butterflies hatched in her stomach and migrated to her throat. If she wasn’t careful they’d escape through her mouth. His gaze lowered to her lips. ‘Yes,’ she repeated. It was no longer a question.

His mouth curved into the faintest of smiles, one eyebrow rose. ‘Be careful little one,’ he whispered. ‘You don’t know what you’d be unleashing here.’ Slowly he slid his free hand around her neck, holding her gaze as he lowered his head.

‘It’s going to happen,’ was her only thought, as her eyelids fluttered shut and her heart raced. ‘It’s really going to happen.’

On his wrist, his klip bleeped. Abruptly he dropped her hand, straightened. ‘Saved by the bell,’ she heard him mutter. ‘Hunter.’

Crushed by his abrupt rejection, she watched Hunter’s eyes harden. Suddenly he was all snatcher, the transformation sliding over him like a cloak.

‘Lieutenant, we have another one: sixty eight year old, black male, 105 Burns Road, White City. His son came home from the pub and found him stone cold in a chair.’

‘Damn. Damn it!’ Is the scene secured?’

‘Yes, sir. Officers Smith and Newman are attending. They asked you be notified.’

‘Tell them I’m on my way.’ He disengaged. Not seeming to notice her hurt expression, the way she was biting her lip to stop it trembling, or the way her cheeks burned with humiliation, he nodded towards the house. ‘Go inside now, Skye, and secure the doors.’ He’d almost reached the car when he stopped. ‘I nearly forgot,’ he said, turning. ‘It’s a bit late, but happy birthday.’

.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The moment he strode into HQ, Skye jumped up from her workstation and the top of her head blew off. She pondered glumly of the lingering torture Brimstone left in your brain.

‘Could I have a word, sir?’

‘If it’s about last night,’ he said, not bothering to stop. ‘No. Corporal Smith, are those toxicology reports back yet?’

‘On your desk, Lieutenant.’

‘Sergeant Newman, I’m giving a press conference at twelve. I want you there. We’ll give them the usual – all leads are being followed, we’re doing all in our power, blah, blah. Don’t let the media twist your words.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Dawson. Where’s Dawson?’

‘Not in yet, sir.’

She heard Hunter growl; a proper wolf-like sound. Fascinating if not a little creepy.

‘Soon as she comes in, I want to see her.’

They’d reached his office. He hesitated, one hand still on the door handle. ‘You still there? I’ve a briefing at ten, and I’ll need those reports you’re copying.’

‘They’re done.’ She’d crawled out of bed an hour early to make sure they were; a superhuman feat of mind over matter, she reckoned, in her present condition. The fact she’d tossed and turned all night hadn’t helped. ‘Already forwarded to your console, sir.’

He grunted something unintelligible and opened his door. Confused, and not a little scared by her own feelings, she was half-relieved he obviously wasn’t going to talk about what had happened between them last night. But what had happened, she reminded herself for the hundredth time? The near kiss had clearly meant nothing to him; in fact the call had probably been a blessing in disguise. After all, she thought, dejected, how could she, a complete novice as far as men were concerned, ever hope to compete with someone as solar as Narelle? He’d have been disappointed, big time. Best to forget all about it. Except… ‘Actually, it’s about the briefing,’ she ventured.

‘Take a fixer, Forrester, you look like something the cat’s dragged in.’ He shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of his chair, then sat at his work station, running a scanner over his upper arm to engage the display. Light bloomed over the rectangular surface.
Master lock override acknowledged. Full access granted.
His hair was loose today, she noted, flowing over his shoulders as he began running his fingers over the table, selecting, dragging, scrolling.

So that was how he was going to play it. Throw insults so he didn’t have to confront her. Two could play at that game. ‘And a bright and happy good morning to you too, sir,’ Skye retorted, eyes blazing. With clenched teeth, she made a big show of looking around. ‘D’you think maybe, I mean correct me if I’m wrong, but if you had some pictures or photos or even a few of those snazzy executive toys around, it might jazz your office up a bit, and then you’d feel more like starting your day with a breezy smile? Um, I’d like to sit in on the briefing,’ she said, rushing on when his eyes lifted and narrowed.

‘Really. And what parallel universe are you living on?’

‘Look, I’m sorry about that last remark,’ she gushed. ‘You’ve probably been up all night and it’s pissed you off. Well, I can see it has, but you told me if I wanted to help my friends, I had to think like a cadet, so I am.’

He lifted a brow. ‘Try acting like one.’

‘That’s my whole point, I don’t, I can’t. I came from the area these deaths are happening. I know the people there. They won’t talk to snatchers because they don’t trust you, but they’ll talk to me.’

‘Console pause task.’ She’d got his attention. ‘Go on.’

‘Somebody may have noticed something. Some little thing that seemed out of place, but they put it away: too tired, too hungry, too everything to bother thinking about it. I could wheedle it out of them.’

‘Like you’re wheedling me?’

‘How am I doing?’

‘Are you familiar with the law regarding breach of security; the penalties for leaking information that could jeopardise public safety?’

Yeah, yeah.’ She nodded.

‘State it.’

Skye barely managed to
not
roll her eyes. ‘Yes, I understand I will be taken from this place and hung by the neck until dead.’ She smirked. ‘I’ve watched classic movies.’

He gave her a cool-eyed stare. ‘Don’t be smart. This is no joking matter.’

‘I wasn’t aware I was joking.’

She saw his eyes flash. Heat rose on her neck. She swallowed.

He waited a beat, two. ‘Briefing room, ten o’clock. Sit at the back, only speak if you’re asked to, and lose that grin. That’s an order.’

Too late she realised coffee was essential for those attending a briefing. With hips cocked on tables, officers chatted in groups, insulated cups steaming in everyone’s hand. Ten minutes early, and caffeine deprived, Skye slid, as instructed, onto a chair at the back of the room.

Dawson swaggered over. ‘You sitting in?’ With one hand on the weapon at her slim hip, she lifted her coffee, took a long swig and sighed. ‘God, I needed that.’

Skye felt she needed it more, but as Dawson was armed and she wasn’t, she decided against ripping it out of her hand.

Dawson drank another mouthful. ‘How come you’re here?’

‘Hunter wanted me in.’ It might have been petty and small, but Skye enjoyed the quick burn of annoyance that crossed Dawson’s face.

Hunter strode into the briefing room a few minutes later accompanied by his superior officer, Captain Yao. Shorter than his lieutenant by a good four inches, the captain’s stiff military bearing nevertheless radiated authority. Black hair, blacker oval eyes that looked like they’d miss nothing; his presence snapped the room to attention.

‘Carry on, Lieutenant.’ He moved aside as Hunter ordered the wall screen on, then touched a memory square against it.

And a picture bled onto the screen.

‘Sydney Vernon Moyer, better known as Legs. Licensed street performer; worked a hip-hop dance routine with twenty eight year old son, Clive, outside pubs and clubs; lived with same son in one room flat for past five years. According to Clive, he worked alone last night, which apparently wasn’t unusual. Alleged his father was fine when he left him at nineteen hundred hours. When he got back just before midnight, Sydney was, as you see in this crime scene picture, deceased in his chair. Note the upturned mug on the floor. ME report states time of death took place at eight thirty P.M. Stomach contents show the deceased ate a light meal of soy cheese and bread around six o’clock, plus a half pint of beer. The son verifies he and his father shared a pint and a sandwich at that time. There was also a microscopic amount of black tea in the stomach, which was also the beverage found in the mug and in spill stains on Sydney’s clothing and floor. Tiny traces of an unknown substance in the throat. Food samples taken from the flat came up negative. No signs of forced entry, son alibied by pub landlord for time of death.’