What You Can't See (20 page)

H
E WAS FALLING
—hard, fast, and headfirst. Heat scorched Zach’s skin, oppressive air clogged his lungs. He tried to spread his arms to slow his descent, but his limbs didn’t respond. He fought to open his eyes. They wouldn’t open. He wanted to call out to someone, anyone, but his throat was constricted, his body felt like stone. The heat intensified to unbearable. He couldn’t scream his agony.

His spine snapped when a force took hold of his feet, halting the velocity of his wild descent. His body hung suspended, the heat suffocating, pain searing his lungs with each breath. Then by an unknown force his body turned upright and shot up. The heat cooled to warm as his body continued to rocket away from the incinerator below.

To hurry his ascent his feet moved in a jerky scissor-kick motion. Just as suddenly as the pull began, all motion stopped. His eyes opened—to darkness.

And silence.

No, deeper than silence. Utter nothingness with just the distant roar of rumbling air engulfed him. He hung suspended, like a puppet floating in a pool without strings.

A sharp force tugged at his foot, jerking him downward. A greater force from above yanked him free. A screech like a wild animal caught in a trap echoed through the dark, searing straight into his heart. Fear flashed into his consciousness. His body shuddered

Then—nothing. His body grew heavy. His breaths slowed. He drifted…

A sharp pull from below jerked him back into awareness. An equal pull from above pulled back. He felt like a bone in a tug of war between two pit bulls. He was powerless to stop it. He tried to blink his eyes but in his suspended state he could do nothing. Except listen. And feel the dark and light forces of energy swirl around him, battling for possession.

In a forceful jerk, his body catapulted upward. The screech below resonated in his ears before it abruptly ended.

He must be dreaming…

Time stood still.

Oddly, while conscious of his surroundings, he felt no emotion, no pain, just a sense of being. It occurred to him at that moment, he could not even feel the dull rhythmic thud of his heartbeat.

The distant ring of a telephone shattered the moment.

Where the hell am I?

The phone continued to ring. Louder now. High, shrill rings. He envisioned an old-fashioned black dial phone, the same kind in the Perry Mason shows.

His body lurched, an invisible force guiding it. He felt like a side of beef on a conveyer hook being led to the butcher.

The ring increased in pitch.

Far ahead the glow of light in the form of a rectangle illuminated the darkness. The ringing came from somewhere beyond it.

Zach tried to move his head to look around, to get a sense of place. His sharp instincts failed him. He had no feeling of good or evil, safe or dangerous.

How did he get here? Where
was
here?

He swallowed.

No pain from the collision.

Collision!

His recent memory flashed. Anger flared when he remembered Santos’s reckless driving and the last malevolent smile before he tried to kill him!
Son of a bitch
. He was going to let that fool have it when he got back. Zach’s skin flashed hot. He welcomed the sensation. The light became brighter and as he approached he saw that it came from behind a door. The shrill ring of the phone continued, demanding attention.

A dull throb knocked on his temples.

His feet touched a floor.

He reached a hand to the handle illuminated by the bright light.

Miraculously it obeyed his command. Sensation filled his limbs, the rush overloading his nerves. He shook it off.

Slowly he turned the knob. It gave easily under the pressure of his fingers. He pushed slowly, and as it opened, bright light rained down on him. The warmth of it penetrated to his bones. Instantly he raised his face to it, like he had raised his face to the sun as a child. Sharp pain stabbed at his head as he remembered his childhood days. Memories he had pushed far and deep into his consciousness, too ugly to bear. Yet, here, they raged out of control like the screeching goblins from his childhood nightmares.

Zach closed his eyes and shook his head. Demons from his past swirled and dove at him, snapping at him with sharp fangs. Their crazed laughter rising to a fevered pitch.

He put his hands over his ears to drown out the sound, but the gesture only brought them closer. Just as quickly as the demons appeared, a sweet rose-scented breeze swept them away. Warmth filled his heart. He lowered his hands and smiled. She came for him?

“Danica…” he whispered. He could feel her loving presence everywhere around him. It drew him up, gave him strength. His skin tingled, every hair on his body rose.

He opened his eyes wanting with his entire being to see her face. The light dimmed to normal. He was greeted instead by the ringing phone sitting on a desk in the middle of the room with a single chair in front of it. He scoffed back a laugh. The phone
was
the old black desk type just like in Perry Mason.

Tired of the incessant ring, he hurried across the white tile floor and picked it up. “Garett,” he said.

“Take a seat,” a deep, authoritative voice commanded, “I’ll be right with you.”

Zach opened his mouth to argue but the dial tone told him he had no audience. He replaced the handset in the cradle, looked beside him to the straight-backed wooden chair. His gaze traveled the perimeter of the room. Maybe fifteen by fifteen. In the corner to his right, another door. As he sat down the door opened.

A man about his age stepped through. He wore black jeans and a black T-shirt, but Zach could see it was damp and there was a hole, like a gunshot to his chest. The man’s dark eyes swept across Zach’s face. He nodded imperceptibly, and said, “He’ll see you now,” then exited the door Zach had just walked through.

Unhurried, Zach stood. He swallowed and for the first time felt the hard burn of his throat. He touched his fingers to it and winced. Pain exploded under the pressure. What the hell?

He took a deep breath, the whistling sound of air fighting for passage through what he was sure was a crushed larynx.

Zach didn’t bother to explore the depth of his injuries. The fact he was alive, standing and breathing, was good enough for him right now. He had worse things to consider. Like was this some new IA mumbo-jumbo tactic? Were they trying mind games to get him to cop to the dead CI? Or why the hell he’d totaled another city vehicle? Hell, why his partner had tried to kill him?

Zach stepped into the room he was directed to. The man standing behind the white desk in the benign room was a stark contrast to it. He was taller than Zach’s six-three frame. He was dressed in black from his head to as far down as Zach could see from where he stood in front of the man’s desk. Dark blue eyes flashed beneath dark slashes of brow framing his face. Full lips, set in consternation, hovered over a square chin. Long wavy black hair flanked his broad shoulders.

“Welcome, Detective Garett.” The man reached out a long arm, and pointed to the chair in front of his desk.

Zach shook his head. “I’d rather stand if you don’t mind.”

The tall one nodded. “I do mind. Have a seat so that we may begin.”

“Begin what?”

“Our chat. About what happened to you today.”

“I’m not answering one question until my POA rep gets here
and
my attorney.”

The man sat, the gesture slow and fluid. He reminded Zach of a jungle panther. Steely control and the ability to pounce on its prey and deliver a fatal strike in less time than it would to blink.

“Who are you?” Zach demanded. He’d let his union rep know about this bullshit tactic. He turned to walk out the door. He gave the guy two seconds to come up with info. The man remained silent. “I’m outta here.”

Zach strode toward the door and snatched it open. An enormous draft of hot air sucked him forward into raging flames just outside the threshold.
Holy shit.
Zach jumped back and slammed the door shut.
What the hell?
He turned, warily narrowing his eyes at the stranger.

“Where the hell am I?”

The man’s face turned to granite. “Only heaven knows.”

“Who the fuck are you? Why am I here?” Zach moved closer to the center of the room. “Where
is
here?”

“Can I get you a glass of water or something, Detective?”

“No, thanks. Just tell me how to get out of here.”

“Have a seat, and I’ll explain your choices.”

“Choices? You’re giving me choices? I don’t even know who you are and you’re talking about giving me choices?”

“My name is Michael.”

“Michael what? Sergeant, LT? Captain?”

Michael smiled and inclined his head toward the empty chair. “Please, sit and hear what I have to say before you leave.”

Zach didn’t trust the guy’s tone. He smelled a setup. Despite that, he walked the remaining way across the room and sat. “Make it quick.” But he wasn’t sure where the hell he would go if he didn’t like what Michael had to say. It wasn’t like he had an option two.

“I’ve watched you for a very long time, Zach. You’ve made some very bad choices with very serious consequences. Have you heard of the Ten Commandments?”

“Cut to the chase,
Mike
.”

Michael opened a black folder sitting on the desk. Zach blinked in surprise. He was a paid observer and he was damn sure the folder wasn’t there a minute ago. Michael smiled at him, the gesture neither friendly nor challenging. More like knowing.

“At the tender age of ten you broke twelve-year-old Billy Kershaw’s hand after he stuck said hand down your sister’s panties.”

Zach’s back went rigid. “How do you know that?”

Michael shuffled a few papers, appeared to read one, then turned those incriminating eyes on him. “A year later when Billy retaliated by strangling your dog Sheba, you broke both of his hands then removed his right thumb and shoved it down his throat and told him the next time he touched anything you loved you’d kill him.”

Zach pushed back in the chair, the legs scraping on the floor. No one knew about his encounters with Billy, except Billy, and Billy couldn’t talk, because he was anchored off the Farallon Islands.

“I don’t know who the hell fed you this bullshit, but unless you have proof, I don’t need to listen to this crap.” He stood.

“Sit, Zach.”

The commanding tone of Michael’s voice stirred the air in the room. As if there were a hand on his back pushing, Zach sat.

“Six years later, after Billy raped your baby sister, and you beat him to a pulp, you left him to die.”

“I came back.”

“After he bled out. Why?”

At that moment, Zach didn’t give a shit who knew the truth about Billy. When he’d made the decision to out Santos he knew his career would be over, and he didn’t care. He was tired of who he had become. “Kershaw was a piece of shit. He’d robbed, raped, and bullied his way into running our neighborhood. When he raped Kimmy, I snapped. He had to be stopped, and he had to disappear. It sent a message.”

“And so the savior of the neighborhood became a cop to continue his vigilante rampage and up the body count.”

“Our justice system is ass-backwards.”

“So you took it upon yourself to clear the earth of criminals.”

“I like to think of it as saving the taxpayers some of their hard-earned cash.”

“What about Danica?”

If Michael had hit him in the chest with a sledgehammer it would have hurt less than the pain the mention of her name invoked. “Leave her out of this.”

“That will be difficult. She is a very integral part of why you’re here.”

“You got it all wrong, boss. She hates me. And she should.”

“Because you set her up and then betrayed her?”

“Why ask me questions when you already know the answers?”

“I’d just like to hear it from you.”

“I don’t discuss Dani with anyone. Now tell me why I’m here. I have a case to wrap up.”

“Zachary, in less than three minutes you will be dead.”

The warmth drained from his body, leaving his skin feeling cold and damp. Like a corpse.

Michael pulled a remote from a drawer and pointed it behind Zach. He turned to see a white flat screen emerge from the wall behind him. In slow motion the car chase he was just involved in came into view and played out. He cringed as the car flipped then landed with a crash on the asphalt. The picture freeze-framed.

“What do you remember after the crash?”

“Nothing.”

Another picture flashed up on the screen. Zach’s temper soared when he watched Santos shatter his larynx and laugh about it. Instinctively he touched his fingertips to his neck. Pain flared.

The frame froze. Zach turned back to Michael. “Who are you?”

“I am the guardian of humanity, Zachary Garett, and humanity is about to engage in a battle with a force so strong no nuclear weapon can stop it.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Your Danica is the key to keeping the scourge from reaching earth, and you are the key to her understanding her destiny.”

“Danica hates me! She’ll shoot me the minute she lays eyes on me. Find another stooge to save the world.”

“Don’t you care?”

“I’m going to be dead, remember?”

“Do you know where you were headed before I snatched you from your fall?”

Zach remembered the oppressive heat from his dive bomb south and the unbearable weight on his chest. His body shuddered, and he suddenly felt like he was going to puke.

Michael extended a hand to the door. “You’re free to continue your descent. Just walk through that door.”

“As opposed to what?”

“I send you back to earth. Get Danica to understand her destiny by any means necessary, and together you save the world.”

“Funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“
You
go kill the bad guys.”

“I cannot take a human life, but I can give one back—conditionally.”

Zach sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course, now here comes the rub.”