Chapter 25

Detective Stanfield’s car looked like an unmarked cruiser, which meant it had the spotlights next to the side view mirrors and the reinforced bumper that came up to cover the grill. Otherwise, it was painted a neutral color. In this case, an ugly dark brown. Inside, it had a cage separating the front seat from the back, no handles or controls on the insides of the back doors, and what I was sure was bulletproof glass to keep me from kicking the windows out. Though it wasn’t a standard cruiser, it had all the comforts of one.

Detective Stanfield made me sit in the back. I didn’t argue. His aura suggested he was more comfortable that way. Probably years of taking in less-than-scrupulous witnesses and suspects. Either that or it was protocol. I didn’t know.

Stanfield had parked at the outer edge of the maze the ambulance had to move through, so all we had to worry about was the news crews. Uniformed officers helped clear a path for us. Cameras and video recorders pointed into the car. I tried to keep my face turned away, but they were everywhere. It felt like we were trapped for a moment and I knew someone among all those film experts would catch a really good shot of me. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. Since I wasn’t handcuffed, I slumped down into the seat and acted like I was bored.

After we got on the highway, the Detective glanced at me in the rearview mirror. He watched me for a moment. I wasn’t sure if he was looking for something to say or if he was simply watching me. I decided to start with an apology. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in sooner to fill out the statement.”

He was silent for a moment and then said, “I tried to find you, but the school said you had moved. Why?”

I should have known he had been looking for me. I was his only witness. “It’s complicated.”

“Where are you living now?” he asked.

I frowned at that question. I gave him the address and then said, “I left a forwarding address at the school when I checked out of the dorm.”

“Maybe they’re behind on updating their systems,” he said. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me?”

I looked out the window, not sure how to answer that. “I’ve been busy.”

He made a non-committal sound. “Why did you move?”

I glanced at the mirror but he was watching the road. “I couldn’t stay near that alley, not after what I saw.” It wasn’t the absolute truth, but I wasn’t sure he was any more willing to hear me talk about things that should have been impossible than Detective Fannin had been.

He was silent for a few heartbeats. I looked out the window again, watching cars pass us. No one else knew this was an unmarked police cruiser or they didn’t care, hurrying to wherever they were off to. I could only wish I didn’t have to worry about it.

I thought about the timing of Stanfield’s arrival at Dan’s house. He had a lot of resources with which to find me but he hadn’t. Was there more to the reasons for my move than what Mr. Shepherd had told me? The complex office closed after I signed my rental agreement. It probably wouldn’t be available for public information until Monday, which was tomorrow. Had I been hidden away? Had Mr. Shepherd feared what the police might do if they found out my secret? Rachel had made me agree to put off filling out that statement for two days. Well, it had been two days. It had to be a coincidence. Right?

I looked at Stanfield’s aura again. He was angry, but he was under control. His voice had been very calm and almost conversational, for a cop. If he hadn’t been able to find me over the last two days, how had he known where I was today? Had someone called in to check up on me? Had Stanfield caught wind of it? I listened to the radio in the car squawk with chatter. Most of it I couldn’t understand. There were codes and numbers. It was intentional to keep civilians like myself from knowing what they were talking about.

There was something else that bothered me. Detective Fannin had offered to have one of his officers drive me in to fill out my formal statement. He agreed to let me go in on my own. Stanfield had done the same thing on Thursday night. What I didn’t get was why he had come to find me personally. Either he was angry about more than he was admitting to — very possible — or something else was going on that went above his head. “Who told you to find me?”

He glanced at me in the mirror but didn’t say anything.

I shook my head. “I mean, you’re a Lieutenant. You could have just sent any regular cruiser to pick me up. You didn’t have to come to get me personally, which makes me think you were sent. I doubt many people have the clout or rank to order such a thing.”

His eyes left the mirror. “There is a task force investigating the murder you witnessed. They have evidence that there’s more going on than just odd deaths.”

“More than just odd deaths?” I asked. “Isn’t that enough?”

He glanced into the mirror but didn’t say anything.

I decided to reason out loud. “So, either they didn’t tell you or you’re not supposed to say anything. The latter makes sense because you wouldn’t want to influence anything I said in my statement.” I could only hope for some kind of info before talking to more investigators about something that I still wasn’t sure I could help with. It was one thing to convince one cop about my abilities, but something else to convince a team, and I would have to convince the Detective that I was correct about what I knew.

He glanced at me in the mirror again and continued to say nothing. Great.

“I’m sure they’ve already read the reports you and the techs from the scene I witnessed filled out, what more could they possibly want to know from me?”

He shook his head. “You didn’t fill out the statement. That’s what they want more than anything else.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m being taken in for something else?” I asked. It was true too. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on. “And what agency is the team from, FBI?”

He shook his head. “Homeland Security.”

That didn’t seem right. “Since when do they get involved in serial cases?”

He looked at me in the mirror. “What makes you think it’s a serial case?”

“Ellen told me,” I said. “You talked to her the next morning, then she got on the net, checking news sites. She called me and said there had been several similar deaths with no witnesses. I was the first, and that scared her.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything the news reports,” he said.

It didn’t make any sense though. Homeland Security chased terrorists, not serial killers. Then a new thought hit me. An idea that I didn’t like at all. What if they knew? What if they were aware of Powerborne? Worse, what if they saw all Powerborne as a threat? That would make me a threat. Suddenly, keeping my secret was a hell of a lot more important, and I messed that up by telling a police Detective about what I could do. Would he add that to his case notes? Would I freely admit to it in my statement? If Homeland Security thought all Powerborne were threats to national security, then I was in some deep doo-doo. Some laws allowed Homeland Security to indefinitely detain someone suspected of terrorism, even American citizens. In other words, they could throw me in a deep, deep hole somewhere and leave me to rot without due process.