Nocturnal: A Novel

Bryan leaned back. “Robin, we just need to bounce ideas off you. It’s okay. You don’t need to get involved.”

Her feelings of shame shifted to anger — she’d forgotten about Bryan’s misplaced sense of chivalry. John got a beer clink, but Robin wasn’t valued enough to help with something this important?

“Getting involved is my decision, not yours,” she said. “If Zou is playing judge, jury and executioner, then … well then fuck her right in her fucking fucker.”

Bryan glared at her, but John started giggling, a soundless thing that only moved his hunched shoulders.

Pookie raised his eyebrows. “Hey there, sailor, you just arrive on shore leave or something?”

Robin felt her face flush red — they were laughing at her? “You guys swear all the time.”

Pookie nodded. “Yes, but we’re trained professionals. Dropping three f-bombs in one sentence is punching above your weight class.”

Bryan wasn’t laughing. He shook his head. “Robin, Zou is done with warnings. Things might get physical from here on out, and I can’t let you be part of this.”

“You can’t let me? Oh, I’m sorry, should I be wearing my burqua and averting my gaze from you brave men? Or maybe can I run to my bedroom, toss on a nice gingham dress and bake all you brave warriors some cookies? Because that’s where women belong, right? In the kitchen?”

The room suddenly felt uncomfortable. Bryan just wanted to protect her, sure, but he didn’t own her. Robin was the only one who understood the depth and breadth of the Zed discovery, and how that information might help catch the other killers.

“Well then,” she said, “since you three wild stallions are going to play lone wolf, I guess you don’t need to know what I’ve figured out in my pretty little head.”

“Hold on there,” Pookie said. “First, that’s two animal metaphors in one sentence. I think that’s against union regulations. Second, I am also not wearing a burqua, so Bryan doesn’t speak for me. I’d find your help to be most excellent.”

Bryan turned on him. “Do you mind, Pooks? This shit is going to get bad. You want Robin getting hurt?”

Pookie shrugged. “Of course I don’t want her hurt, but she’s a big girl. She’s smart enough to understand the risks.”

Robin gave Pookie a single nod. “Thank you, oh elevated one.”

Pookie winked. “Plus, you got a hot ass. What cop team is complete without a hot ass?”

Bryan stared at her. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then nodded to Robin’s right. “That purse on your chair, you take that to work today?”

She looked down at it, then understood what he was saying. “Yes, dear, that is my purse and yes, dear, I am packing heat.”

“Show me.”

God, this man could be infuriating. She unhooked her purse, reached in and pulled out her Kel-Tec P-3AT handgun. Bryan had given it to her on their third date. Nothing spells love like a subcompact .380. The gun weighed only half a pound and was just over five inches long. She could even get decked out for an evening on the town and put the weapon in a clutch, the perfect accessory for the nightclubbing girl on the go.

She ejected the magazine, then pulled back the slide to pop out the round. She held the weapon butt-first and offered it to Bryan.

“Happy?”

He looked at the weapon, but didn’t take it. “Happy that you’re armed, yes. I’m not happy that this could put you in harm’s way. But I guess you’re going to do what you’re going to do, so can we at least try to keep you off Zou’s radar?”

Robin remembered how Zou had been standing right behind her, and how that had scared her silly. Staying off of Zou’s radar sounded like an excellent idea.

“Yes, Daddy, I promise to be a good girl.”

“Nice,” Pookie said. “Now that we’re done with invitations, Robin, do you think you could say daddy again? I think I jizzed in my pants a little.”

“Me too,” John said. “More than a little, actually.”

Robin sighed. Responsibility and immaturity were not mutually exclusive traits, it seemed. She slid the magazine home, racked the slide to chamber a round, then put the P-3 back in her purse.

“There will be no repeat of the daddy incident,” she said. “I’ve got some mind-blowing stuff to show you, and it might impact what you decide to do next. Mind if I go first?”

All three men nodded. Robin walked to a cabinet drawer and grabbed a pad of paper and a black pen. She sat back down at the table.

“I’ve been trying to process all the weird genetic info we’ve found so far,” she said. “First off, the guy we had in the morgue today, that was Bobby Pigeon’s killer. So where were the wounds from Bobby’s gun? They were there, two small scars on his chest — I think the bullet wounds healed.”

“Hold on,” John said. “Maybe I’m late to the party, but you can’t heal a bullet wound in a few hours. Trust me, I know.”

“We’re dealing with something new,” Robin said. “Blackbeard had the Zed chromosome. We have no idea what that chromosome is or what it codes for. We already know we’re dealing with people who are strong, have abnormal muscles, abnormal bones, may have abnormal mouths, and have an internal organ no one has seen before. Based on the observed data, I have to make the hypothesis that the Zed chromosome also allows people to heal very fast.”

Bryan’s fingers drifted to his forehead, fingertips tracing the line of three black stitches.

“There’s more,” Pookie said. “Tonight I saw a guy jump from a ten-story building to a four-story roof, and that jump was across a street. Two lanes, plus parking, plus sidewalks. Sixty feet at least. I saw him land, roll, and he was fine. Oh, and he carried a bow and was wearing a cloak like Robin Hood or something.”

That was impossible, yet Pookie clearly believed what he was saying. Bryan believed it as well.

John looked at Pookie, then at Bryan, then at Robin. “If the three of you are messing with my head, just tell me now. You win, I lose. A new chromosome? A guy who can jump across a street?”

“In a cloak,” Bryan said.

“Like Robin Hood,” Pookie said.

John rubbed his face. “Yeah, sure. In a cloak. Like Robin Hood.” He tapped the table twice with his finger. “From this moment on out, if you say ha-ha, we punked you, I will probably shoot someone in the face.” He turned to Bryan. “And yes, Daddy, I’m definitely packing.”

Bryan leaned back and laughed. “Shit, Black Mister Burns, maybe you’re not so bad after all.”

“It happened,” Pookie said. “John, you and I go way back. You’d know if I was bullshitting. Am I bullshitting?”

John stared at Pookie. Robin waited and watched. She couldn’t believe the story, but why would they lie? Pookie must have misinterpreted what he’d seen.

John sighed and sagged. “You’re not BS-ing, Pooks,” he said. “At least that much is true.” John turned to Robin. “Well, keep going. Might as well let me hear all of it.”

She could try to explain physics to Pookie later. For now, she had real information to share.

“I’ve got a theory,” she said. “The fact that Blackbeard had no testicles got me thinking.”

She drew a box on the pad, then a vertical and horizontal line through it, making four smaller squares. Across the top, she put an X above one column, a Y above the other.

“A Punnett square?” John said.

Robin nodded. “You use this to predict the outcome of a breeding experiment. Men and women have two sex chromosomes. A sperm or egg cell, known as a gamete, gets just one of those chromosomes. Bryan, know what this XY represents?”

“A man,” Bryan said. “He can give an X, or a Y.”

“That’s right.” She drew an X on the outside of each of the two left-hand boxes. “Pooks? Know what the XX represents?”

“A woman,” he said. “With gigantic hooters and questionable moral judgment. Oh yeah, I took Biology 101, girlie.”