Alien Rites (9 page)

He waited for the reaction, but Mel just turned, nodded, and gave him a wan smile. “We'll find her.”

David nodded.

Mel stuck his hands in his pockets. “What do we do now?”

In all the years David had partnered with the man, Mel had never asked what to do.

David kept his voice matter of fact. “The point of intersection is Annie Trey. Miriam was working on the Trey infant's autopsy.”

“She was trying to prove Annie Trey was innocent.”

“She told you that, Mel?”

“Not in so many words. It's the impression I got.”

“I'd like to see her lab notes.”

“And she disappears same night as Cochran. Probably
with
Cochran.”

David nodded. “So we follow the Cochran thing, and we find out who stopped her mail and newspapers.”

“You got to know this Cochran is dead, David.”

“Doesn't mean Miriam is.”

Mel would not meet his eyes. “You got any idea what she meant by that thing she said? That I saw her, and didn't go away?”

David had been married a long time. He knew what Miriam meant. He also knew he couldn't explain it.

SIXTEEN

David walked down the hallway toward the homicide bullpen, wondering if Mel had been kidding, or if everyone had known about him and Teddy. He told himself not to be self-conscious.

The shift was well underway, almost every desk manned. Conspicuously unoccupied were String's standing work station and Della's desk, computer glowing, chair pushed back and sideways.

Everyone looked up when David and Mel walked into the room. There was a long, perceptible pause. David felt his mouth go dry, and he knew his face was turning red.

A voice came from the hallway, muted but distinct. Della, her voice up an octave.

“String, you knew about this kind of thing, you should have
warned
me. I'm a baby when it comes to Elaki romance, I don't—”

“This all new territory, with the human involvement. Think of this to be an enhancement.” String's tones were an urgent mumble.

“
Enhancement?
You call chemical pheromones—”

David saw Captain Halliday's office was dark. Just as well.

“This office is getting as bad as your kitchen,” Mel said.

David shrugged. “Nobody threw anything when we walked through the door.”

Mel turned sideways, head tilted back. “Has it come to this, David? You find happiness when you come through a door and nobody's trying to take your head off with the crockery?”

“Mel? I know you're upset about Miriam. I know everything else seems like penny-ante bullshit. But—”

“Save the lecture, I've heard it before.”

David sighed. Was everyone going to be pissy today?

String's voice rose and fell in the hallway.

David went through the bullpen, the haphazard scatter of desks and computers that psychologists claimed would increase productivity more than neat rows. Any increase in productivity was lost in the time it took detectives to negotiate the maze. One guy had gotten so pissed one night, he stood on his desk, beat his chest, and used the other stations as stepping stones to get to the door.

The captain hadn't been around that day either.

David stuck his head in the hallway, saw Della, hair neatly back in a wrapped wedge. For a minute he thought of Detective Yo-Free, Arson, now deceased.

His irritation with Della faded, and he was able to be gentle. “Your hair looks good today.”

She frowned, eyes bright with tears. “
What?
”

“I said your hair looks good today. And I like your shirt. I like white cotton shirts. I'm thinking of collecting them.”

“David, what is going on with you, you trying to psyche me out?”

“Maybe I just want your shirt.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to String. “This means everything is a fake, it's all—”

“Della?” David said.

“
What now?
”

“Conference room, please. You can talk to String where everyone in the bullpen can't overhear. And who knows, we might even exchange a few words on the Cochran case.”

Della put her hands on her hips, twisted sideways so she could look at him eye to eye. “The conference rooms are full of visiting Elaki dignitaries from DEA, I have been here since five
A
.
M
. getting the statement from Cochran's car, and String and me have been
whispering
, so what's your
problem
?”

Mel scratched his head. “This Homicide or junior high?”

“Junior high,” David said. “Let's go talk in the principal's office.”

“Principal what?” String slid sideways.

“This way,” David said, leading them into Halliday's glassed-in cubicle.

“Where's the captain?” Mel said as they passed through the darkened doorway. “Lights up.”

The air conditioner compressor kicked on and a radio began to play.

“Air yes, radio no, lights
on.
” Mel looked at David. “I thought he got this fixed?”

David settled behind Halliday's desk. Mel and Della exchanged looks.

“Don't get delusional there, David,” Mel said.

David leaned back in the chair, waiting for String to find a corner and be still.

The Elaki skittered sideways, shedding scales. “She does not know for the hormone usage enhancement. Do you gentlemens think—”

“Drop it, String.” Della's voice was steel-edged.

“What, you want privacy now, after screaming this stuff out in the hallway?”

“Mel—”

“What about the car?” David said.

Della sat on the love seat, swung a leg over the edge. “There were three of them, three Elaki.”

String became still. “This traveling of threes is significant.”

“Significant how?” David said.

“Is not the natural grouping, unless there is belligerence involved. Three of the grouping is Elaki strong arm technique up none to the good.”

Mel leaned back in his chair. “Elaki goon squad? Boggles the mind, don't it?”

String waved a fin. “Is not goon the small furry child cartoon?”

Della shook her head. “No, those fuzzy red things are loons, not goons, y'all pay attention. So around this car we got Elaki goons. Car says Cochran got in first, in the back seat.”

Mel pursed his lips. “Forced in, then.”

Della nodded. “Car couldn't tell, but sounds like it. Cochran had the car programmed just for him, but he gave it a release, let the Elaki do what they want.”

David nodded. Forcibly, then.

“But, David, then it gets weird.” Della pulled her leg in, sat forward. “Car says at that point a woman approached. And, I mean, it's hard to put together here, because you know it all gets mixed in with oil pans and navigational stuff, but I think what happened is they put this woman in the trunk, and … Mel?”

“I'm okay.”

David looked at his partner, saw his face had gone chalk-white. He glanced at Della. “You able to ID this woman?”

Della shook her head. “Probably get something physical out of the trunk, if we turn up a body.”

“The car say anything that makes you think there
is
going to be a body?”

“David, they put this girl in the trunk, okay? Not a benevolent act. But get this: According to the car—which was kind of pissy over it—this woman tears a hole in the back of the trunk and crawls into the cab of the car. Proceeds to start whacking the Elaki with a tire iron or something. That's what caused the accident on that exit ramp.”

Mel looked at David, eyes deep-set and circled, a tired grin on one side of his mouth. “'Atta girl.”

SEVENTEEN

The police garage was well lighted, cavernously large, hot. Huge fans blew air through the concrete shell, turning it into a wind tunnel. Conversation took volume and perseverance. Voices echoed, and tools clanged on the oil-stained concrete.

Luke Cochran's black Visck was up on blocks, doors open, trunk lid up, lights on. One of the tires had been removed. The forensic mechanic stood to one side, talking to a male apprentice. She wore a Greek fisherman's cap turned backward, her shoulder's were slumped, hands hanging loose. She was overweight, her hair tied back with a thick white rubber band.

“Two kinds of cookies,” the apprentice was saying. He was young, probably just out of school. His hair was neatly razor cut, his shoulders wide, hips slim. “How about one macadamia nut and one oatmeal raisin?”

David looked at the set of the mechanic's shoulders, the way her hands hung by her sides. She was unhappy about something. She would want chocolate chip.

“You go ahead, I'm not hungry.” She caught sight of them over the boy's shoulder. “Kevin, this is Detective Silver, Burnett, and String. You know Della.”

“String?” the boy said.

“That would be the Elaki,” Mel said. Kevin blushed and ducked his head.

String slid toward the car. “Have there been much scatter of scales, Vanessa?”

The woman tilted her hat farther back on her head. “'Bout a million and one, up front. Sam's already been here, getting samples to double-check his results. I think maybe he found something weird.”

“Weird how?” David said.

She shrugged. “Dunno.”

“You had much of a chance to look at the car?”

“Yeah. And Della, you were right. Sam thought the same thing and I had no trouble establishing casebook confirmation, if we need it for court. Somebody went through the trunk here, up into the cab.”

Mel and Della moved around the car, peering into the trunk.

“You have found something to interest the tires?” String asked.

Vanessa grinned. “Let's say the tires interest me. It's just a routine check, soil samples, broken glass, gravel. You know the drill. We're not likely to find a damn thing, but you never know. You guys find this Cochran yet? Got any leads, come up with a body?”

Mel cleared his throat.

Vanessa put her hands in her pockets. “'Cause if there's any chance the kid's alive, I can give you a holographic reconstruction. If you're stuck for leads and you got the budget, this one's a good candidate. Nav program still intact, I can probably give you the whole blow by blow.”

David looked at Mel, then Vanessa. “Let me check with the captain—”

“David.” Mel's voice was unusually quiet. “If we learned nothing else in all our years of punting red tape, it's don't ask a question when you don't want an answer. My guess is that if we tell Vanessa here that Miriam Kellog may be involved—”

Vanessa's hands went deeper into her pockets. “Miriam? I did a seminar with her at the university.”

Mel nodded. “So if we were to ask you to go all out on this, we could kind of pass the buck around on the approval, and let the shit fall.”

“Chips fall,” String said. “This be the expression.”

“String, it's just short for ‘shit chips,' so don't be correcting me.”

Della folded her arms. “Vanessa, what was it Sam Caper was double-checking?”

“Something in the trunk. Matching blood samples on the seat in the back.”

EIGHTEEN

The elevator was hot, and David, crammed next to String, Della, and Mel, wished he'd opted for the stairs. He took a breath, stuck a finger in his shirt collar. He looked at Della and String, wondered what the big commotion in the hallway had been about. Something to do with Della's love life, and he knew she was seeing an Elaki. What had String said about enhancements? He closed his eyes, speculating on sexual incompatibility.

“David?” Mel's voice.

“Yeah?”

“Our floor, which you would know by now if you'd open your eyes.”

David walked off the elevator, saw a thin, blond woman standing by his desk. For an instant he thought it was Teddy. It only took a second's focus for him to realize that the similarity was nothing more than wishful thinking working overtime.

David glanced back at Mel. “Not getting off?”

“I want to talk to that Caper guy.”

“He'll call when he gets results,” David said.

“I know. I'm going up there anyway.”

The elevator door asked if everyone was ready or not, and closed.

David looked at String. “Check up on Miriam's last movements. When she was last seen, you know the drill. See if you can get anything out of her sister. She's a beat cop. Works out of the Carlton First.”

“She has not been to report the Miriam pouch-sib to be missing?” String said.

“Mel says not.”

“Isss interesting this.”

Della frowned. “You want me to stay with background on this Cochran kid?”

“Hit hard on the finances. That's an expensive car he was kidnapped in.”

“It's his too; I checked.”

David nodded. “Meanwhile, his girlfriend, Annie Trey, holds her breath when she goes through the checkout line at the grocery store, unless I've misjudged that one.”

“Want me to look into her?”

“She's the connection between Luke Cochran and Miriam.”

“Both of whom are now missing. Wonder who the father is on that baby that died.”

David scratched his chin. “Newspapers never were able to dig that up.”

“I look like a newspaper hack to you? Look, we'll talk later. You got a visitor, don't keep her waiting.”

David headed for the blonde.

She was thin, shoulders narrow, hair hanging down her back. She got older the closer David got. There was a stoop to her shoulders, a shyness in the way her arms hung tight to her sides that made her seem younger at a distance. But lines of hard living and late-night worries showed across the tan, freckled forehead, and around the mouth and neck. She had a double chin where the skin in her neck had sagged, flaccid and tired. Her hair was cut in short bangs, and everything about her—from the cheap plastic sandals to the crooked, uncared-for teeth, bespoke years of poverty and living on the edge. The shape of the jaw, the wide-set eyes, gave her an inbred look that kept her from being pretty.