engravings between small jewels inset in the metal. He looked at it and took a deep breath.
Suddenly a voice from behind startled him.
“Sir?”
He turned to see Garcia.
“What is it?”
“You better come see this,” the sergeant said.
“Jackson Godspeed flying out of his Commissioning?
I heard. But I’ve ruled him out already.”
“You’ll want to see this anyway.” Garcia’s expression was grave. Sylvester set the box carefully on the desk in front of him and rose out of his chair.
They walked down the hall together, their bodies throwing long shadows in the amber glow of the emergency lights. Garcia led him to the TV in the waiting room, where several people had already gathered to watch the ANN special report. A serious-looking anchor was announcing the breaking news.
Sylvester turned to Garcia.
“Jackson? Who did this?”
“Wasn’t me,” the sergeant said. “And it wasn’t anyone on our team, either. I checked.”
Sylvester turned and walked quickly back down the hall. Passing his station in the bull pen, he walked back toward the offices and burst into Captain Keele’s office without knocking. The captain, who was signing some paperwork, barely raised an eye as Sylvester came in.
“Oh good, David, we were just about to have you join us.” He motioned with his pen behind Sylvester. “These gentlemen are here from the NAS. From the Council’s Disciplinary Department, I’m sure you’re. . familiar with it?”
Sylvester looked behind Keele. He could just make out the outline of two large figures in the darkened office. They seemed imposing, ominous. He couldn’t see their faces. He turned back to the captain.
“Sir, Jackson Godspeed has nothing to do with this.
That is a totally unrelated situation.”
“You yourself had him questioned—”
“And quickly ruled him out.”
The captain regarded Sylvester patiently.
“They seem to think otherwise, Detective. They say they have good reason to suspect him, and I’m inclined to believe them. I think they have more experience in these matters, wouldn’t you agree?”
Sylvester looked at the captain in disbelief.
“Then show me the evidence,” he countered. “They can sit down with me at my desk and show me what they’ve found. If I think it’s relevant to the case, I’ll share what we know from the crime scenes.”
Captain Keele leaned forward in his chair, the leather chirping.
“David, how long have we known each other?”
“A long time, sir.”
“Good. Then you can trust me when I tell you to just leave this one be,” he said. “Let this go.”
Sylvester was furious.
“This is my investigation—”
“Actually, it’s not,” the captain said, his voice turning impatient. “The chief and I are handing the investigation over to the NAS. They’re simply more experienced and better prepared to handle this sort of thing than we are. The department will, of course, still be involved, but in an auxili-ary capacity. You’ll be providing them with any assistance they need, and they will be making the decisions. Understood?”
Sylvester glanced at the two shadowy figures again.
They had not moved since he entered.
“These orders didn’t happen to come directly from Mark Godspeed, did they?” Sylvester asked.
The captain looked down at his desk.
“Sir, whatever’s doing this is extremely powerful, and extremely dangerous,” Sylvester said. “Something terrible is out there, something from another world, and I’m getting closer to finding it. This investigation is too important to be used as a public relations stunt for the NAS. In fact, there is reason to believe high-standing members of the Archangels might be involved in this violence.”
The captain’s gaze flickered briefly to the agents standing in the back. His expression was almost embarrassed.
“David, I think I made a mistake when I pulled you off your light duties. I can see now that you’re not emotionally equipped to handle something like this at present. Starting Monday, you’ll resume your work downstairs. Now I want you to go home and get some sleep. You look like you need it. That’s all.”
Sylvester turned without saying anything and left the office.
He walked slowly back down the hall to his temporary cubicle and sat. His computer monitor had clicked over to a colorful screen saver. He removed his glasses and polished them.
After a moment Garcia appeared from the hall again.
“I heard,” he said.
“Go home, Bill,” Sylvester said. “Your wife and daughter haven’t seen you for days.” Garcia looked regretful, but nodded in assent.
“For what it’s worth, sir, you did a hell of a good job on this one.”
Sylvester looked up.
“You proved a lot of people wrong, sir, including me.”
Garcia hesitated a moment longer, then turned and shuffled away down the hall.
Just as he was getting closer to the truth, the NAS was pulling him off the case.
Sylvester sat back in his chair and stared at the small box he had set on his desk. A minute passed. Then two. Suddenly he sat forward and began scooping up files and papers and stuffing them into his satchel. He threw in his Bible, along with a handful of Red Vines from the tub. Then he picked up the small box again, opened the lid, and looked inside. Appearing satisfied at what he saw, the detective snapped it closed and put it in his pocket. Standing, he pulled on his overcoat from the wobbly rack in the corner and prepared to face the weather outside.
It was going to be a long night, and he had work to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jacks kept a watchful eye on the sky as they worked their way across the city, using side streets to avoid Angel Boulevard, then cutting up north toward Maddy’s house.
The power outage, if anything, had worked to their advantage. Inky blackness covered all of Angel City. It was much easier to go unnoticed in the dark. Twice Jacks had pulled them into alleys to wait as helicopters passed overhead.
By the time they arrived at the house, rainwater had soaked through Maddy’s shoes and socks. She was shivering. They stayed out of sight and worked their way around to the kitchen window. Maddy peered in. There was Kevin, face drawn with concern, lighting candles and placing them around the house. The beginnings of a fire crackled in the fireplace. Maddy felt a lump rise in her throat.
“Is he alone?” Jacks whispered.
“I think so.”
Jacks touched her shoulder, and she turned to him.
“Maddy, are you sure we have to do this?” His tone was uneasy. “It’s dangerous.”
