“Actually no,” she replied as she hovered her thumb over the send button and glanced up. “I was valedictorian. I just didn’t want to sound too pretentious.”
“Jeezus, Mandalay.”
“What?”
“Nothin’.”
“WHAT, Storm?”
“Well, it’s just that you’re a pretty good copper.” He gave her an embarrassed glance and half shrugged as he spoke. “And, sometimes, like when you fix yourself up… Well, you’re kinda hot.”
She squinted one eye and shook her head at him. “Storm, are you hitting on me? Because if you…”
“Hell no!” He scrunched his face and gave her a dismissive wave as he rushed to cut her off. “I’m just kinda surprised to find out you’re a nerd too.”
Mandalay rolled her eyes then turned her back to him as she dropped her thumb on the keypad and headed out into the living room.
“I’m going to check the television,” I announced as Ben began fat-fingering his own cell phone.
“Yeah,” he called over his shoulder absently. “Friggin’ media is prob’ly interviewin’ the bastard on every channel as we speak.”
I gave Felicity a nod, and we skirted around the massive Native American obstacle. He sidestepped as I gently nudged him, moving against the wall and allowing us to pass. We rounded the corner at the mouth of the small corridor and moved into the edge of the living room.
An earlier thought pushed itself up into view from the swirling tumult of my overtaxed brain, and I faltered for a moment before coming to a halt.
“Caorthann?” Felicity called my name in Gaelic, her voice threaded with mild concern. This was a pet name she’d had for me back before we were married, and I hadn’t heard it in a long while. “Are you okay, then?”
“I’m fine, honey.” I reached over and gently took hold of her arm. “What does the Queen of Swords mean?”
“The tarot card?” she answered. “I’m not sure. Mourning isn’t it? Feminine sadness? The tarot is really not my strong point, but that’s what I seem to recall from the little white book.”
The little white book; I hadn’t heard that one in a while. It was an affectionate nickname given to the booklet of definitions provided with what had to be one of the most widely known decks on the market-the Rider-Waite tarot.
“I know, mine either,” I told her as I felt my brow crease with concentration. “I think you’re correct, but it just doesn’t feel right.”
“Aye, where did you see this card?”
“When Albright had me up against the wall,” I explained. “When she was touching me, I saw a vision of the card.”
“Aye, you’re sure it was the Queen of Swords, then?”
“Pretty sure,” I nodded to her as I answered. “I had to really concentrate on it since it was upside down.”
“Upside down?” she echoed. “Inverted, then. That would change the meaning, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re right,” I said.
“I still can’t be sure, but I think that reversed it means something like malice.”
I reached up, pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers, and let out a sigh. I was still grounded, but something out there was knocking at the ethereal door leading into my brain, and it was being very insistent. I had a feeling that it was going to call for reinforcements soon.
“You’re sure that you’re okay?” Felicity asked again.
“Yeah,” I looked back at her with a slight smile. “Just tired.”
“Aye,” she returned. “I’ll be right back.”
She turned to the side and started away from me with a determined stride.
“What…” I began.
“The door,” she answered without waiting for the rest of the question. “It needs to be locked.”
I personally didn’t feel that the task was an imperative with both Ben and Constance here, but I didn’t disagree with her. If the simple act of setting the deadbolt would make her feel better, I was all for it. Besides, it was easily possible that she was picking up on things that I wasn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I glanced around and saw that Mandalay had paced her way into the dining area, so I headed directly for the coffee table and scooped up the remote. Aiming the controller at the corner, I pressed the power button. The screen on the television flickered to life, and I immediately thumbed the volume down a few notches just in case.
I brought my gaze up and saw that Felicity had one hand on the knob for the deadbolt and one on the swing bar, pressing it tight against the door. Her head was down, and her shoulders relaxed noticeably. Apparently, that small measure of security had meant more to her than I realized.
Looking back to the television, I saw a tight aerial shot of what appeared to be an old multiple-story, warehouse-and-office type of structure. The front side of the building filled the screen, but any details that might have been present were all but faded into the background.
The scene was dark, but emergency lights were painting predictable swaths of red and white as they flickered from the tops of squad cars. I watched intently as they strobed, revealing a level of decay that told me the building was probably abandoned, or at the very least, had been vacant for quite some time. The setting was generic enough that I couldn’t place exactly where it was, but it did appear to be somewhere near the riverfront.
The vehicles in the foreground were angled haphazardly across the partially cleared street, nosed into piles of snow along the curb. The tableau looked, at first, like toys left in disarray by a child in the midst of an imaginary game. Closer inspection showed that there was some amount of method to the madness, in that they formed a rough, staggered barrier.
Between the patrol cars and the building, a dark-colored sedan sat with the corner of its front bumper against the wall of the building. The car’s headlights were still burning, slicing into the darkness to illuminate a small section of the structure’s brick face. At the moment, it seemed to be the primary focus of the officers’ attention.
Across the bottom of the tube, a stylized graphic cut a colorful streak; culminating on the left in the station logo. Words were emblazoned across the stripe, spelling out in slanted block letters, BREAKING NEWS.
I felt Felicity next to me as she slipped her arm in around my own then interlaced her fingers with mine and squeezed. Her other hand slipped across and closed in an unrelenting grip on my bicep.
With my free hand, I clicked the volume back up a notch as we both stared at the event playing out on the screen.
“…Shortly after six this evening,” the reporter’s voice-over faded in as I continued to mash the button and brought the sound up to a more discernible level. “An apparent car-jacking led to a high-speed chase which involved officers from five separate municipalities, as well as the Missouri Highway Patrol, Saint Louis County, and the Metropolitan Saint Louis Police department.”
“Car-jacking my ass,” Ben muttered from behind us.
“The chase began in the county near the Interstate Two-Seventy, Highway Forty interchange and proceeded through several neighborhood streets before continuing on eastbound Forty at a…”
“They’ve got the bastard cornered,” Ben spoke again, louder this time.
“Ssshh!” Felicity urged.
“…Sideswiped another vehicle, injuring the driver, before exiting Hampton to Highway Forty-Four. Metropolitan police attempted to stop the car as it exited at the riverfront on Memorial Drive. The suspect then literally crashed through a construction barrier at Third Street and Washington, narrowly missing pedestrians who were crossing the street on their way to Laclede’s Landing.
“The chase finally ended here at this abandoned warehouse on Second Street where the suspect fled the vehicle with a woman who is believed to be a hostage, and they are currently inside the building.”
“There are two agents on the scene,” Mandalay offered into the lull that followed the reporter’s words. “Porter is definitely inside, and he has Sullivan with him.”
