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Even when my legs shake, and a part of me screams that being left like this is nothing short of degrading, I don’t dare move. Not when I’ve learned better.
My power, but on his terms.
“Clean yourself up,” Broderick demands from the door. “And don’t drip on the floor.”
FIVE
devan
Fingers snapin front of my face, and I blink at Adam, our IT wizard.
“Devan, what the heck, my dude?” Adam is the type who wants to be cooler than he actually is, so he tries out different slang when the mood suits him. Poor guy.
At least he and the other goons in the basement are damn good at their jobs. I'm not sure where anyone at the Ninth Precinct would be without them, although no one wants to admit we’ve got them. They are our boogeymen. Not feared in the traditional sense but the source of much pride and embarrassment.
“Are you overloaded with cases again?” he asks. “You’re about a million miles away and not paying attention to anything I’m saying. You look like you’re on Mars.”
“I probably am.”
I used to walk right by our geek squad and pay them no mind. With all the changes in the precinct over the past two years, with the changes in the person who shared space with me at the desk, I’d become a little more open with the geeks.
Go figure.
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “I’ve got no excuses.”
Adam gestures toward the back of the room in an exaggerated gesture. Ah, perfect. He’s got something to report, then. My mind, scattered to the four corners of the fucking earth this morning, slowly starts to pull itself together.
A cold shower, jerking myself off, and about five straight hours of sleep were supposed to set me right today. I woke up to a baker’s dozen texts from Naomi, including a link to a song she always listens to when she needs to be cheered up (surprisingly, not the talented Miss Spears).
Adam is still wrenching his head toward the stairwell, his eyes rolling back into his head to show me nothing but white, the gesture large enough to give him a headache if he doesn’t already have one.
Sadly, the IT guys don’t come up to this level of the building often, and his mere presence is enough to have some of the veterangood old boysI work with eyeing the two of us strangely.
I grab a stack of papers and lead the way toward the rear stairwell of the warehouse building the precinct occupies. The one that always smells like mold and burnt toast no matter what, so no one uses it anymore.
The door closes behind us, and Adam lets out a breath of air once it’s just the two of us alone.
“What do you have for me?” I ask him, on edge and a little excited. “Were you able to put a trace on the owner of the chat room?”
He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his complexion almost fishily pale in the watery yellow light from overhead. “I wasn’t able to find anything on Darkling,” he begins.
“Are you serious?” I groan, scrubbing a hand through my hair. “Come on, Adam. You and Bill are the best guys we’ve got. You had to have found something out.”
The duo really are the best at their job and trustworthy, which counts for a lot in my book. They aren’t owned by anyone, and although I wouldn’t put them above reproach, so far, they’ve shown their loyalty to the force and to me. I scoped them out myself for months before I started investigating any online activity in relation to the Black Market Syndicate, my own side project. Adam has been with me every step of the way and the first person I called when it came to figuring out Darkling’s identity.
“I’m sorry, buddy, but it’s impossible. Whoever it is…they’re king. You get what I’m saying?” Even Adam looks impressed, and it takes a whole lot to do that. “They are a mystery wrapped in an enigma…you do get what I'm saying, right? I can’t find anything on Darkling. Whoever it is, they are a master at covering their trail. Their programming erases their moves directly after they’re made.”
“Nothing?” I find it hard to believe. “Male? Female?”
Adam shakes his head. “None of it. I mean, judging from what you’ve said about your chat last night, I’m hoping for your sake you were flirting with a human woman, but it’s impossible to say. Even the chat records are gone.”
Frustration eats at my insides. I rub my hand down the sides of my head, my temples, and across my cheeks, digging my nails into my skin and hoping a little discomfort will sharpen me up. Get me back into the mindset I need to take down these assholes.
I forgot to shave in all the confusion.
There is something very wrong with me, mentally.
I struggle to focus, with Adam standing there, waiting for me to reply. To make some kind of comment to let him know I’m okay with what he’s been doing and the lack of information, even when I’m definitely not.
