Flame in the Dark (Soulwood #3)(22)
“Special Agent Ingram,” I said, tapping my earpiece with a fingernail, reminding him we were being recorded and every word would be transcribed.
“Right.” Occam gave me a cat grin, all self-satisfaction. “Wish I’d seen that, Nell, sugar.”
“We got two RVACs in the air now,” JoJo said. “And local LEOs just obtained footage from traffic cams showing an armed figure fleeing the scene, heading south on South Gay Street. Obtaining the images now. Stay in position. SWAT is clearing the Carhart Building.”
Occam said, “The Mithran and I cleared the roof and building at our nine.”
“I’ll let the local LEOs know.”
In the wake of the EMS unit pulling away, two others backed out, each carrying injured. Occam cat-crawled higher into the tight space, close enough for me to feel his were-warmth as he lay on the pavers beside me. Close enough for me to be uncomfortable, though he never indicated he was aware of anything untoward in lying on the ground so close to me. It was odd. And oddly comforting, to have a fellow agent in the cramped space with me.
Fellow agent. That was what I thought of him? A small part of me questioned whether it was just any agent or Occam himself that created the comfort. Occam and I had unfinished business between us. Or I thought we did. He had asked me out for a date, nearly a month ago, for a dinner that had never happened. The memory of that invitation surfaced and I blushed for no reason I could fathom. I had thought about that invitation off and on and figured he had changed his mind since he never mentioned it again. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or insulted or disappointed, but since I didn’t date, not ever, I had settled on relieved. But I still thought about it, mostly at night before I fell asleep. Thinking about it now made me break out in a hot sweat and made me suddenly cranky. I wondered if the werecat could smell my change in physical state. And that made me more cranky.
However, I didn’t want to look at those questions, not in the middle of a shootout, and so I shoved my feelings away and turned my attention back to the actions along the street. We waited, not sure if it was safe to move yet. Not talking, just sharing the narrow gap, holding position.
“Okay. Got the images from the traffic cams,” JoJo said. “Looks like either the same shooter from last night or a similar creature. Fuzzed features. Male gait. Seems to be carrying an M4 carbine, just like last night. Looks like we have a single shooter, at events where the senator, his rich brother, and their wives are.”
“Where’s the shooter now?” Rick asked.
“They don’t know. He took a turn through an alley and vanished. The alley has access to buildings on either side, to their roofs, to a parking lot, and to three streets front and back. Two minutes after he vanished, a black SUV pulled into traffic. Then a Mercedes and a beat-up truck like Nell’s. Two motorcycles, probably Yamahas, sped past traffic cams. And a bicycle. They’re clearing the buildings and the parking lot, but my personal opinion is, they lost him.”
? ? ?
The next hour ticked by slowly, sharing the space behind the planter with Occam while the SWAT officers in tactical gear and the uniformed officers cleared every single building up and down the street. It was almost pleasant, even though the brick was cold and I was freezing. And I was thirsty. And I had to go to the bathroom. And Occam was lying so close. Not that he did anything untoward or unpleasant, but . . . I had never been so close to a man for so long. Not even when I was married. Marital relations between John and me had been fast and mostly unpleasant and most nights I had then slept elsewhere.
“I wish we had coffee,” he muttered after an unconscionable amount of time.
“And some of that cold pizza on the ‘All’ shelf of the refrigerator in the break room,” I fantasized.
“Who brought Elidios’ pizza in? It’s all the way out on Callahan and Central Avenue Pike.”
“I’d guess Rick. He doesn’t sleep much,” I added, “except on the new moon.”
Occam swiveled his head to watch me in the darkness. “And you know that how, Nell, sugar?”
I shrugged. It was part of the claiming/healing. I just knew things about Rick sometimes, and when there was no moon, he slept hard and deep.
Occam let it slide. “You never ate at Elidios’ Pizza?” When I shook my head no, he said, “The unit should go there for supper one night.”
I made a noncommittal sound and Occam turned his attention back to the streets and the wait that was both boring and too full of turmoil. When the city police had determined that the immediate area was safe enough to move, I crawled to my feet, left Occam lying there, and entered the closest restaurant, begging the use of the bathroom and something to eat. Anything they had left over. The restaurant manager, two cooks, and three waitpersons had been hiding in the kitchen, and they opened the place up just for the emergency responders, offering sandwiches and reheated soup, food that they claimed would be thrown out anyway. It was pretty good eatin’, according to the officers who came in for something warm. But to a girl raised in the church, where women knew how to cook, the bread was slightly stale and the soup needed bay, thyme, and black pepper. I didn’t say that, though. I knew about gift horses and minding my manners and I was hungry enough to eat that gift horse.
Once I had used the facilities and stuffed soup and a sandwich in my mouth, and Occam had eaten three hoagies with double meat, we went our separate ways, Occam to take Rick some food and work with him on perimeter and rooftop examination, as well as the pattern of physical evidence. Crime scene techs showed up and began the collating and collection process. I traced up and down the street with the psy-meter 2.0, catching small spikes on level four again. So the readings hadn’t been erroneous. Our shooter creature, whatever he was, had a definite pattern. It suddenly hit me. I read a low-level four. But . . . I didn’t spike. So this thing wasn’t a whatever-I-was. Relief, and maybe a little regret, moved through me like a slow tide.