Winter's Reckoning

Chapter 2

Two

In some small way I’d been lucky to not have to pay the morgue a visit since my first case back in March. I hadn’t seen Assistant Medical Examiner Tricia Karo in that long either. Still I felt bad about not reaching out to her since then. Besides, that road went both ways.

She sat at a lab table; eyes pressed close to a microscope when we entered. The doors gave a pneumatic hiss as they closed behind us.

“Just a second,” she said without moving.

I took the time to get myself back in the mindset of being a cop instead of an emotional wreck clinging to my need for justice. I knew Tricia wouldn’t narc on us for looking into Desmond’s death even though the case was closed. Despite that I still worried she might refuse my request. I’d practically had to twist her arm to test the knife my mother had used to kill herself.

“How can I … Ezri. Hey, long time,” she said, spinning around in her chair.

“Yeah, it has been,” I agreed and stepped up. Jacquie stayed put near the door.

“You working a new case?” Tricia eyed the folder tucked under my arm.

“Not exactly.” I opened the file just enough for her to see Desmond’s face from his department ID photo. “I just had some questions.”

“You aren’t the investigating officer. I can’t talk to you about it,” she said.

I grabbed her wrist to keep her from rolling away. The smell of berries tickled my nose as a little magic slipped out, willing her to stay put. “I just need to know if you left anything out of the official report. Was there anything off about the bullet?”

“Off? Like what?’

“Like inexplainable stone dust at murder scenes,” I answered.

The color drained from her face. “Everything I found is in the report. I wish I could tell you differently, but there was nothing remarkable about the bullet. The g*n hadn’t been used in any other crimes according to analysis.”

“Are you sure? Could you test it again? Maybe the killer has gotten bolder in the months since and it will have a match now.”

Tricia shook her head. “It would have come up if anything new was logged into the system.”

“Please, can you check just one more time?”

Tricia gave me a sad look, but nodded and turned to her computer. I exhaled, not realizing I’d been holding in a breath as she typed. I waited, watching the progress bar on the search through the ballistics database. My heart leapt into my throat as it came up with zero matches.

“I really am sorry. I know you were friends.”

“Something like that,” I murmured, and my left hand grazed the pendant hanging from around my neck. After we’d reconnected, Desmond and I had agreed to keep our familial connection, far flung as it was, quiet. “Thanks for trying.”

Jacquie gave Tricia a wordless nod as we retreated back to the car. “Now what?” She prompted.

“Now, I need to go for a little stroll down memory lane.”

“Your fiancé is going to be pissed as hell at you for that.”

“Only if he finds out,” I reminded her as she put the car in drive.

The trees rose up along the street, their branches barren and forlorn as we made the trek to the condo J.T. and I had shared since September. It had finally started to feel like home. I wasn’t eager to go diving back into my own trauma. Also, Jacquie was right, J.T. would be mad at me for doing it without any magical back-up. I didn’t always emerge from these trips unscathed.

Sitting in the middle of the living room of my condo, watching Jacquie pace did nothing to help my nerves.

“You really should call him,” she said, finally planting her feet.

“J.T.’s on shift right now. And it’s not like someone else is going to try attacking me. It’s my own memory. I’m safe.”

I needed her to believe my words, because my track record for going into memories without ending up injured or worn out wasn’t great. Except this time, I had no choice. If Desmond wasn’t going to come out to play, I’d just have to go in and dig around myself.

“Maybe I should go with you. Two pairs of eyes are better than one,” Jacquie offered.

“I appreciate the back-up, but I’m looking for signs of magic. And as kickass as you are, that’s not really something you’ll be able to help with.”

“Just be careful.”

I settled onto the couch and closed my eyes. “Can’t make any promises.”

My magic snapped to attention around me as I began to feed it my intent and desire. It built up around me like a bubble, encasing me within its protection.

The condo and Jacquie faded away, replaced by the bright autumn sunshine of a late September day. The hustle and bustle of the city rose up around me with the shadow of the bank looming behind. I stood a few paces away from the memory version of myself and Desmond. Swallowing the lump of fear in my throat, I let the memory play out.

The c***k of the sniper rifle echoed in my ears as Desmond fell to the ground. I stood immobile as Memory Me went to him, calling for help that wouldn’t be able to save him. I watched in horror as his magic latched on to me, binding us tight until it faded into the pendant. On instinct, I pressed my hand to the pendant. Nothing happened, but I didn’t expect anything would either.

“Time to slow things down,” I told no one in particular.

Before my eyes, the memory rewound and slowed to a frame by frame progression. I wanted to fast forward past the point where Desmond hit the ground, but I needed more information. So, I forced myself to walk forward and move around to Desmond’s other side. I caught the bright light of the muzzle flash from a rooftop high above me. There’d been nothing to find up there, despite officers searching for clues. The sniper had been a professional.

This time, I waited for the bullet to appear in front of me and with a little bit of will, it stopped before striking Desmond. I plucked it from the air and studied it. The fact it felt warm against my fingers seemed odd. I suppose it made sense since being fired from a g*n would cause friction and heat. Only it felt almost as if the heat was rippling from within the bullet, not just on the exterior.

Without losing control of the memory, I focused all of my senses on the bullet, the way the metal felt against the pads of my fingers. The weight of it and the smell of it. I expected the scent of gunpowder to waft from its surface, but that smell was overpowered by another, nauseatingly familiar scent. It stank of Reuben Wickham’s magical signature.

“Got you now, you son of a bitch.”

I tossed the bullet on the ground, grinding it out of existence. I knew it wouldn’t change the memory. It wouldn’t save Desmond’s life, but it made me feel just a little better. I turned my attention to the origin of the shot. All the magic in the world couldn’t reveal the identity of the shooter from this distance. I’d been looking off to the side when the shot was fired. No part of my peripheral vision had caught anything I could use to make a credible ID. But the fact that Reuben’s magic fueled some sort of spell with the bullet gave me a place to start.

The condo living room flooded my senses and I was grateful I’d already been sitting down. Still, my vision swam, and I bent over sucking in air to keep from puking. A ‘clink’ told me someone—probably Jacquie—put a glass of water on the table beside me. I reached for it and caught a glimpse of a decidedly male hand pulling away.

My heart stopped for a moment, hoping Des had finally decided to make an appearance. Instead though when I lifted my head, I caught J.T.’s concerned gaze as he stood beside the couch in his paramedic uniform.

“You’re supposed to be working a double,” I said, after sucking down a large gulp of water.

“You were in that weird a*s trance for hours, Ezri. I had to call him,” Jacquie said from across the room.

“What? No, it was only like twenty minutes,” I argued.

J.T. showed me the time on his phone. It had been early afternoon when we’d gotten here. It read 8:12 p.m. s**t. “I didn’t realize it was that long. I’m sorry.”

“Want to tell me what you were doing?” J.T. prodded. He might not be a cop, but he spent enough time around them to pick up the interrogating tone.

“It was for a case,” I evaded the real question.

“Jacquie says you aren’t working any active cases,” he said, eyeing my partner.

She didn’t look apologetic. “I really didn’t mean to freak you out. It’s kind of like another world when I go into someone’s memories, even my own,” I said.

“Ez, please, tell me what is going on. I can help,” J.T. protested, sitting beside me and gripping my left hand between both of his. I felt the weight of the engagement ring more acutely than I ever had before.

“I was trying to see if there was anything I might have missed about Des’ shooting.”

“So, you went into your own memory without back-up.” It wasn’t a question.

“Believe me, I wasn’t happy about it either,” Jacquie muttered.

“You can both be mad at me later. I found something. I picked up the scent of someone’s magic ... Reuben Wickham.”

“The guy who took Carly and the others?” J.T.’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I don’t know if he was the shooter, but I know his magic was involved. It was like it was embedded inside the bullet. Which means I need to pay him a visit.”

“Not tonight you don’t. Besides, for all of his brushes with the law, we can’t even find his home base,” Jacquie quipped.

I had other ways of finding him. “I’m going to get some air. I’ll be back.” I kissed J.T. on the lips and squeezed his hands.

“I promise, I’m not going to go charging into a face-off with that bastard … Not without you,” I told Jacquie as I donned a jacket, not giving either of them any time to stop me or talk me out of it.

Time to see a bartender about a douchebag.