The Blood In the Beginning (18 page)

He passed over a tablet opened to another set of mugshots. ‘Recognise any of them?' He went back to work and I swiped through the images.

Half an hour later, I said, ‘Not a one.' I turned off the tablet and slid it across the desk. ‘Dead end?'

‘Not necessarily. I'm going to interview Daina Fleming's friends again, Celeste and Rachel. Good work, connecting those dots.'

‘I could ask Daniel Bane if …'

‘Leave the questioning to me, Ava.'

I blew out a breath. ‘Sure, but what's the deal with Flanagan? He was going to nail my ass.'

Rourke rubbed his jaw, a sure sign that he wasn't going to say much. ‘New to the precinct. Former FBI, suspicious of everyone.'

‘That's how he opened my sealed file?'

‘Maybe. Still not sure.' Rourke leaned back in his chair. ‘He went over my head. Nothing I could do. Stroke of luck you had Jones pull him up on it. How the hell did you land her?'

‘Doc-tor Mee-guel Rossi.' I exaggerated each word like a talk show host.

‘What's the connection?'

‘I was hoping you could help me find out.'

Rourke scooted his chair closer to the monitor and I came around to watch. He gave me a quick look and snapped his fingers toward the other side of the desk. I sighed and went back to my chair. Rourke ran the background check, swiping the trackpad in a series of quick moves. I could tell he liked doing this.

‘Anything?'

‘Hang on.' The keyboard clicked under his fingers, then he was back to the trackpad. ‘He graduated Harvard, summa cum laude.'

‘Summa …' That tidbit hadn't been on his resume. If it had been me, I'd have led with it, for sure. I guess he was humble, or had enough other accolades.

‘Means big brain, right?'

‘Very big. How long ago?'

‘Fifteen years. He has a string of letters after his name, more than the usual.'

‘He doesn't look old enough. Birth data?'

Rourke read it out, which put Rossi at thirty-two, eight years older than me, and a Capricorn, I noted, symbolised by the sea-goat; the mythical half-caprine, half-sea serpent impossible creature. It represented ambition, both pragmatic and mystical, something most people found difficult to combine. Interesting. ‘Was he out of high school at age twelve?'

‘Don't know, but he's made some major contributions to projects with names I can't pronounce. Senior lecturer, UCLA. Worked for CHI Tech.'

Nothing new there. ‘That's it?'

‘His nose is clean.' He frowned. ‘CHI Tech took him to court for defamation of character.'

‘And he lives to tell?'

‘More than that. He won.'

I wondered if Kathleen Jones represented him.

Rourke raised his brows, setting eyes on me. ‘Looks like you could have yourself a mentor in Rossi.'

‘Maybe.'

‘Ava, I know it's hard for you to trust —'

‘Anyone?'

‘I was going to say men, or medical doctors, take your pick, but the point is, sometimes paranoia can be more dangerous than the thing that's really after you.'

‘Paranoia? I've been attacked twice in the same week, Rourke. I think my paranoia is justified.'

‘Is it? You're looking over your shoulder, suspecting damn near everyone. Hell, Ava, you probably suspect me of being the copycat as well.'

‘I thought about it, but you lack motive.' I laughed; he didn't. ‘It's easy for you to say drop the paranoia. You're not the bait in this cat and mouse game. I am.'

‘If I thought you were in real danger …'

‘Two attacks and a bus crash, Rourke. That qualifies as danger.' I said it a bit louder than necessary.

‘And you think it's Rossi? The man who hired you the best defense attorney in the State?'

I clicked my tongue. ‘It's not Rossi. I know that.'

‘Then accept his help, Ava.' Rourke winked. ‘Look what happened when you finally accepted mine.'

That stopped my comeback dead in its tracks. ‘Yeah, maybe you have a point.' I stood to go, shouldering my gym bag. ‘I'll think about it.'

‘See you in class? It's jujitsu tonight.'

‘Planning on it.' I patted my bag and left.

* * *

I took the stairs to ground level, submitted to the scanner again and collected my .32 and holster. With the cool air left behind, I found walking into the sweltering sun twice as brutal. I trotted down to the street, mulling over what Rourke had said. ‘Screw it.' I pulled out my phone and tapped Rossi's name. ‘I'm free.'

‘Where are you?'

‘Precinct. Downtown.'

‘They didn't arrest you again, did they?'

‘No. Meeting with Rourke.'

‘I'll be there in fifteen minutes.'

Did he have a jet?
Or maybe he was just around the corner. Clearly not at the hospital, which was forty minutes away, if there wasn't another car on the road. I'd planned to grab a late lunch before he arrived, but a snack would have to do. I went to the coffee vendor up the street, looking over my shoulder. Rourke was right. I was beginning to see a potential killer in every face. Definitely not soothing on the nerves, or fair to the general population. I searched for something more pleasant to busy my mind and the thought of Miguel Rossi as
sexy guy in my future
popped into my head completely uninvited. I slammed the door in its face.
Not going to happen, for so many reasons.
Armed with a list of questions, I sat on the precinct steps and drank my coffee between large bites of a fresh nori roll. There wasn't long to wait. Ten minutes later, he pulled up in a silver Audi.
Nice.

Rossi leaned across and opened the door from the inside. I got into the passenger seat, thinking he looked good in a strong, powerfully built, slightly feral sort of way. He was wearing dark sunglasses, making his chiselled jaw stand out, jeans that fitted perfectly, and a long-sleeved grey tee-shirt. Who was this guy? He wanted something from me, I could tell, but what? If Rourke hadn't said he checked out, I wouldn't be in the car with him. Yeah, I was a bit uptight. We ran out of polite conversation in less than a minute, then settled into an uncomfortable silence. Fun. I wondered if it would be this stilted if we were chatting online.

I broke more ice. ‘So what's the deal with Kathleen Jones?' My voice fractured the air between us.

‘She owes me a favour.'

That made me blink. ‘So, now I owe you?'

‘Not how it works, Ava.'

Okay.
Every answer took me deeper into the confusion as the world rushed by. I checked the speedometer. ‘Speed cameras next two blocks.'
How could he not know that?

He downshifted, and took a left on West Sunset.

‘Where're we going?'

‘My place. It's a few minutes north. Is that alright with you?'

North? The only places a few minutes north were so upmarket I'd never been near one. I nodded, and again, the awkward silence settled in. After ten minutes of staring at highway 405, I tried a new angle. ‘Your paper on blood antigens and typology interested me.'

‘Of course it would.'

Could he be this arrogant? More minutes of silence dragged by, so I got out a scalpel and cut deep. ‘I know you have links to CHI Tech.' I was on the edge of my seat, ready to throw myself out of the speeding car if this conversation went south.

‘Had, not have.' A cloud crossed his face. ‘I worked for them years ago. Not any more.'

‘Before or after the Big One?'

‘Before.'

I crossed my arms. ‘You're not old enough.'

He looked at me like I'd just spoken Swahili.

We took the Mandeville Canyon exit. Once an inland park, this bit of turf was now prime beachfront. I squinted as the sun made the seascape sparkle.
Okay, a billionaire if he has property along this coastline.
We wound our way down to the Sunset Strip Yacht Harbor, the sparkling sea opening up to show the new and extremely rugged California coastline. I was mesmerised, and scared shitless. That much open space, that much water? Um, no. Not for me.

‘Is there any progress on identifying your attacker?'

The subject change pulled my attention back. ‘Like I said, we met up again.'

‘And?'

‘I shot him dead.'

‘What do you mean “dead”?'

‘I mean, no pulse, no respiration, the usual indicators.' He was a doctor, right?

‘Tell me what happened.' His hands gripped the wheel.

‘He stalked. I shot. Twice. Point-blank. He wasn't breathing. No heartbeat. CPR didn't help. Then, when I wasn't looking, he disappeared. And no, he wasn't dressed in the latest fashion of bulletproof vest.'

‘You must have missed his heart, if he didn't go down.'

‘Are you listening? He went down, alright. I was drenched in the bastard's blood. Then he upped and walked away.' I lowered the window, letting in the salt breeze, wondering why it was so hard to converse with this guy.

‘And the cops picking you up?'

I shut my eyes.
Did he miss the part about the reanimated corpse?
I was trembling. Saying it aloud was making it real again. I hadn't fully processed this crap.

Rossi put his hand on my shoulder.
You really don't know?

I nearly flew out of my seat.

‘Breathe, Ava.'

I wanted to jerk away from his touch, but after a moment, the feel of it, the weight of his palm pressing down, the strength of his fingers, settled me. He was like a grounding wire. Calming. When he took his hand away to turn into the parking lot, I felt like I might float out of my seat. ‘Did you hear me? I shot a man dead and after a little rest, he bailed.' I thought about that for a second. ‘No, he up and
jogged
away!'

It happens.

The words were sounding in my head, but his lips weren't moving. It wasn't the first time. As I grappled with it, we pulled to a stop. I jumped out of the car before he was around to my side. ‘What did you just say?'

‘It happens, Ava. You know that.' He frowned as he spoke, as if rethinking something.

I rubbed the back of my neck, and then lifted my eyes, taking in our location. The view swept all previous thoughts from my head. I'd only seen this harbour once, when it had been built, and that was a live online feed. In person, it was even more spectacular. A large chunk of the Aftermath funding had gone to repair the new coastline, making it livable, fast. Sunset Strip south of Old Ranch Road had never looked so good, so they said. Rows of yachts filled the berths, their tall masts rocking slowly in the wind. Rich people's paradise. The scene stretched out in a horseshoe shape that covered a mile of coastline. ‘You live here?'

‘For now.' He gave me that quirky half smile of his. ‘I'll show you.'

I guess a former CHI Tech employee who sued those bastards and won would be loaded.
Like really loaded.
Sure, I was expecting upmarket, but this? It was beyond the major leagues.

‘This way.' He opened his arms toward the docks.

I followed him down wooden steps, the smell of the sea hitting me full in the face. It was mixed with a bit of tar, creosote, gull droppings and fish. I didn't mind. The water made me nervous though, as it would anyone who couldn't swim.

Rossi gave me an incredulous look, then went back to leading the way.

Eventually, we stopped in front of one of the larger yachts. ‘This is you?'

‘In the summer.'

The boat was long, maybe a hundred foot, sleek, white with a mast nearly twice the length. Under the bowsprit was painted a black jungle cat's head in simple, sumi-e design. ‘Do big cats like water?'

‘This one does.
Leopard3
, contender in the super-maxi circuit, Farr's signature design. A classic.'

‘I have no idea what any of that means.'

He laughed, and we crossed the plank and stepped aboard.
Hello, vertigo.
I paused to gain my bearings as the world undulated beneath my feet. ‘You live on this?'

‘It's the only place I can sleep.'

I scrunched my face. The guy had some quirks. Rossi led me around the decking until we stood facing the sea. The panorama was spectacular, if you liked such a thing. Personally, I felt freaked. Aside from the cool wind, and incessant rocking, there was all that water. It brought up my worst childhood fears. I couldn't afford to go there.

What's wrong?

I shot a look into his eyes and saw myself, reflected in his shades. My hair was down, sweeping around my face, my expression dumbfounded.

Ava, can't you hear me?

I took a step back. What the hell was going on with this guy and my head?

‘Come out of the wind.' He unlocked the cabin door. ‘We'll talk inside.'

I followed him down the steps into a world I wasn't expecting. The main room was huge, with dark teak floors, a plush black couch running down one side and oriental throw rugs and cushions. Light streamed in from the windows above the bulkheads. It didn't look like he hung out here much. It was spotless. At the other end, just before the kitchen, there was a large desk and although it wasn't cluttered like Rourke's, I could tell he spent time there. An ultra-thin LCD screen sat in the centre, with a microscope and centrifuge on either side. There were shelves above the work area, filled with books, held firmly in place by black bands across each row. Next to his desk were multiple drawers, like a filing cabinet made of rosewood. I glimpsed the kitchen opposite his work area, which had teak cupboards, matching the floors. Beyond was a closed door.

I took a seat with my back to the kitchen, keeping the exit in sight. Rossi sat beside me, turning to face me straight on. Oddly, he appeared to be a bit nervous too. It didn't instil confidence.

‘You're good at staying in form. I'm impressed, Ava.'

What is he talking about?
‘Jones said you'd have answers, but I'm only hearing riddles.'
And your damn voice in my head. What is up with that?