Broken Elements (11 page)

Agent Carmichael didn’t say a word. He was mirroring my pose, sitting back in his chair and simply watching me. I knew it was an interrogation technique. I knew he was deliberately hoping that the more silence he provided, the more I’d want to fill it. Sera had always used the same strategy when she wanted me to talk. I resisted it about as well with him as I did with her.

“Are you following me now?” I asked.

“Now why would I do that?” he replied.

“So, you were just coincidentally visiting one of Sera’s exes?”

“Does that seem likely?”

“No Johnson tonight? Or is he following Sera?”

This time I only received an enigmatic shrug. Great. He was taking the therapist’s approach to interrogation. “Look, I know how this must look. You think Sera and I are black widows, vengeful killers intent on ridding the world of heartless men. But, and I mean no offense, that’s stupid.”

I got an eyebrow lift. I wasn’t sure that was progress.

“Think about it. Why would I wait ten years to get my revenge? Even if I was a shrill bitter harpy, that’s a long time to hold a grudge. Plus, someone shoved earth into these guys’ lungs. The killer would have needed to hold the guys down, and we’re not that strong. I mean, Sera’s got muscles, but she’s barely 5’5”. Me, I don’t even work out.” I flexed my non-
existent
bicep as evidence. “So, yeah. Stupid.” I forced myself to stop there. He was not going to silently stare me into the “I’m water and she’s fire!” defense. Underneath the table, my toes continued their silent audition for the next touring company of Stomp.

“You know, the manner of death isn’t widely known,” said Carmichael. “In fact, it’s the sort of information one might only learn from reading a missing confidential file. For example.”

Oops. Look innocent. Look really freaking innocent. “One of my friends has a relative on the force. We don’t get a lot of murders up here. People talk.” I really hoped I hadn’t just sold out Brian’s uncle, especially since I knew Stephen Grant was probably the cleanest cop on the force.

“There could always be a co-conspirator. A man who shares your outrage at the poor treatment you received at the hands of these men. From what I see, you two have never lacked for loyal male companionship.” The words were snide, but the tone was not. In fact, Agent Impassive was smiling. “Relax, Ms. Brook. I actually don’t think you’re the killer.”

“Really?” I asked, likely sounding as surprised as I felt. I definitely had to work on this whole “appearing innocent” thing. It shouldn’t be as difficult as it was, considering I wasn’t guilty.

“Really. Though I’d still love to know what you were doing there and why you felt the need to wear gloves indoors, it helps that you showed up at the condo after Richard Hill disappeared. And honestly, it never seemed the most likely scenario. You don’t fit any serial killer profile I’ve ever seen, and you really don’t have the required strength, do you?”

I shook my head happily. “Total wimp. And I was at the condo because you scared the hell out of me earlier. Since I knew I wasn’t doing the killings, it seemed someone else was targeting guys Sera and I knew. I wanted to find them and, I don’t know, tell them they’d won a fabulous deluxe vacation and had to leave town immediately. And I wore gloves because I’m not an idiot. If one of those men had disappeared and my prints had been all over his house, I’d find myself in front of a grand jury pretty damn fast, regardless of how innocent I might actually be.”

“So, you’re telling me you were helping us.”

“Yes. I’m a very helpful person. Please remember that if more evidence turns up against me.” I smiled winningly. He appeared more amused than won-over, but it still beat accusatory. “But if you don’t think I did it, why didn’t you tell me at the diner? Why let me think I was a suspect? And why were you following me?”

“I said I didn’t think you did it. I didn’t say anything about Agent Johnson. And I wasn’t following you. I was doing the same thing you were, tracking down yours and Sera’s exes, making sure they were all still alive. I arrived twenty minutes before you did. I saw you arrive from the window and just headed out the back door. I was curious to see what you would do.”

“How’d you find him so fast? It took us hours to compile a list of our breakups.”

“Facebook is a magic and generous land for those with hackers on staff. It is amazing the photos people will post—particularly ones from their days as young guitar gods who dated beautiful women.”

I nodded. I was still getting caught up on the whole social media revolution and kept forgetting that privacy was nearly as obsolete as dial-up or cassette tapes. At least one advantage of my recent disappearing act was how little I existed online. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready for my life to be an open book to anyone with the right URL.

Echoing my thoughts, Carmichael said, “You were a bit harder to find. Any information we acquired on you came through third party sources and other people’s accounts. We didn’t find a single record of your existence during the last decade.” He obviously expected a response.

“I went off the grid for a while there. I decided to try the whole Walden Pond thing for a time.” That sounded likely enough. I had been an English major, after all.

He didn’t seem fully convinced, but neither did he press the issue. I wasn’t surprised when he asked for a list of my ex-boyfriends. I handed him the half sheet with the names and my notes on it and told him what I’d learned on my visits earlier that day. I even volunteered Sera to come in the next day with her list. Now that I knew he didn’t consider me a cold-blooded killer, I was far more willing to help him.

“Even if I don’t suspect you, you’re hardly out of this investigation, Ms. Brook. There’s no way the victims’ connections to you is purely coincidental. We’re looking at two possible scenarios. Either the killer is outraged at the way these men treated you both and is performing an extreme form of chivalry, or he is attempting to implicate one or both of you in these murders, suggesting that he really dislikes you. In either case, you are dealing with a dangerous man who happens to be obsessed with you and Ms. Blais.”

When he put it like that, it really didn’t sound very good. He gathered our empty mugs and stood, indicating that our second meeting of the day was completed. In that moment, I saw the slight stoop in his strong shoulders, the dark shadows beneath eyes lined with lack of sleep. I knew he was working hard, and a case as bizarre as this one had to take its toll. This man had the same goals we did. He wanted to catch the bad guy and make the world a safer place. He just had no idea how to do it in this particular case.

“I wish I could help more,” I said. I meant it. He was floundering in a world he didn’t understand. If I told him what was really going on, he’d surely lock me up, though it would be in a psych ward rather than a prison. “But hey, I’m just glad you think I’m innocent.”

He looked directly at me, his expression once again wholly unreadable. “Ms. Brook, a quick investigation into your past reveals that very little about you holds up to close scrutiny. I said I didn’t think you were a killer. I never said I thought you were innocent.”

Chapter 10

A ball of fire approximately the size of a basketball flew into the air. It was immediately doused with water, extinguishing it. The sound of sizzling filled the air as we repeated the action over and over, the elemental version of skeet shooting.

“Again!” commanded Sera, sending two balls rocketing in opposite directions. I easily put them out.

“This isn’t a challenge. I’m calm. Also, we’re standing next to a river.” We’d been working all morning, testing my ability and endurance in an attempt to understand what had gone wrong at the warehouse. Every time, I easily controlled the water. “I’ve been practicing with the pond by my house for years. Controlled circumstances aren’t the problem.”

“Right, then. Let’s lose control.” A moment later, a hundred-year-old tree burst into flame. I instantly put it out.

“Without causing irreparable harm to the local environment?” I said.

“Tree hugger,” she muttered. “Hey, Vivian, get over here.”

Vivian had been watching us from the porch for the last hour, where she was attempting to manipulate the packed earth, trying to turn it into as effective a defense as the loose soil had been. Despite Carmichael’s reassurances, we still feared a search of the house and had moved all the soil into Sera’s trunk and emptied the bins of water. Now, no matter how low the temperature dipped at night, we always left a window open so I could easily draw the river into the house in the event of a repeat attack. Almost a week had passed since the firebomb, but no one wanted to take any chances.

When Vivian joined us, Sera said, “I want you to piss off Aidan.”

“What?” We jointly replied. The idea was ridiculous. Vivian was quiet and polite, the sort of woman who might apologize to inanimate objects if she bumped into them.

“I’d do it, but she’s used to me pissing her off. She won’t even notice.”

Vivian considered Sera’s request, then nodded. Beneath her relaxed exterior, I saw a flash of steel in her hazel eyes, a glimpse of the high-achieving honors student she had once been. If this was an exam, she was going to ace it. “What makes you angry, Aidan?”

“Groups of people that walk two miles per hour while taking up the entire sidewalk. Tailgaters. The drivers, I mean, not people who barbecue before a football game. They’re cool. Endangered species poachers. Bottled water. The way we’re all supposed to tip twenty percent now, even when the service is crap.”

Vivian simply looked at me, her face calm and impassive. “Sera, keep throwing the fireballs. Aidan, will you answer my questions while you put them out?”

I nodded, feeling confident. If Vivian wanted to challenge me, she was welcome to do so, and she was welcome to lose.

“How old are you?”

That was unexpected. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“Does it upset you that I asked?”

“Of course not.” It totally did. Sure, we might currently be flinging fire and water through the air, but that didn’t mean I liked admitting to things that took away from my humanity. I decisively doused more fire as evidence of my emotional stability. “I’m sixty-five.”

“Grandma!” cackled Sera.

“You’re fifty-four, you wrinkled hag,” I retorted. I had no idea where Vivian was going with this.

“You didn’t leave for college until you were fifty years old?”

“Hey, not all of us were raised in the outside world with our human dads, Vivian.” I only imagined I hit that last fireball more forcefully, I was sure. Vivian gave no indication that she had noticed any difference, and I calmed myself again. She waited until I hit several more fireballs before continuing.

“Why weren’t you?”

“My mother said she didn’t think he would make a very good parent. I don’t even know who he was. She didn’t want to raise me in the human world. She gave birth to me on the family’s island, and they all raised me there. I was forty the first time I left, on a day trip to Bellingham.”

“It sounds like your human half is a mystery to you.”

“Physics and people who don’t eat carbs are also a mystery to me, but I’m not upset about it.” One fireball flew dangerously close to a tree before I managed to extinguish it.

This time, Vivian did not wait before asking the next question. “Why didn’t you return to the northwest when you left Tahoe?” The unpredictability of her questions was starting to rattle me. Like a lot of people, the version of the past I told myself was familiar and comforting, but she refused to let me get comfortable. I studied her, wondering where kind-hearted Vivian had gone. She offered me a bland, inoffensive smile in return.

“I liked being independent. I wasn’t ready to go back.”

“Liked being on your own, or liked being in the human world?”

Okay. She was starting to piss me off. “My place was ten miles from the nearest town. I shopped for groceries every two weeks and only saw my mail carrier when he had to deliver a package I ordered from a catalogue. If that’s the human world, concerns about overpopulation have been greatly exaggerated.”

“But you were isolated from other elementals. You effectively functioned as a human.”

“She’s right, Ade. You didn’t have a single waterfall in your house or a moat surrounding it.” Sera was not helping.

“Because a freaking moat in the middle of the countryside might have aroused a bit of curiosity! I had a pond. That was enough. I only needed a quiet place to think and practice controlling the magic.” Frustrated, I reached for a bit of water. It eluded me. Deep breath. Try again. This time I found it, and quenched the fireball lobbed directly toward my face. I glared at Sera, who only grinned. Vivian ignored us.

“The same magic that betrayed you when you needed it?” She delivered this bomb with the same serene face with which she had asked every other question.

“The magic was fine.” I didn’t even attempt to extinguish the fire that flew toward me. I simply ducked out of the way and stepped closer to Vivian. “It was my emotions—my humanity—that caused my loss of control.”

“You never resent being an elemental, even when it has caused so much pain?”

“Of course I resent it! I was raised to be a powerful elemental, but I have too much humanity to control the magic and too much magic to exist in the human world. The only place I belong is out in the country, hidden away from anyone I might hurt. Of course that pisses me off!” Even as the words erupted from my mouth, I knew them to be true. I had spent the last decade trying to convince myself that I wanted to be alone, but I was a damned dirty liar. I’d just been lying to myself. I’d told myself I was scared and guilty, and that was part of the truth, but it wasn’t everything. I was also angry, so angry, because I knew there was no place for me in this world. Sera and Vivian stared at me with more compassion than I deserved or could handle. I turned away, feeling something deep within come unmoored, as if part of my soul had floated loose, and I found nothing within me to anchor it.

Sera threw no more fireballs, but it was too late. The wood pile burned, flames slowly eating through the stack of firewood. I half-heartedly reached for some water, but I might have been standing in a desert for all the success I had. I heard my own voice as if from a distance, the words both pained and resigned. “There are a fair number of half-blooded elementals in this world. I have no idea why I turned out so broken, but I did. My humanity fucks me up. I can create all sorts of pretty fountains, and no one’s ever thirsty when I’m around, but when you really needed me to do the one thing I was born to do, I failed. Yeah, I put out the fire in the cabin. So what? My power is erratic and relies too much on my emotions. I’m a liability, and we all know it. Well done, Vivian.” I knew that was cruel and unfair, and I regretted the words immediately. Without another glance at either of them, I walked away.

The knock came several hours later. I’d been sitting on my bed, emptying my tumultuous thoughts into the pages of my journal, but the sense of peace I usually found in writing eluded me. I kept hearing Vivian’s voice saying that magic had betrayed me. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. Maybe sixty-five was a bit old to be sulking in the bedroom, but I was doing it anyway.

“Come in,” I said, in a voice that was probably still too petulant for my own good.

The door creaked open just enough to let in Simon’s slim form. He quietly sat on the corner of my bed and watched me for several long moments. “Do you know what Vivian’s mother does for a living?”

I blinked at him. I had absolutely no idea.

“Her mother is an incredibly successful clinical psychologist. The type who gives seminars and writes best-selling books. Vivian grew up being analyzed on a daily basis. Plus, she is smarter than the rest of us put together. You never had a chance.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. A normal person might have known that. A person who remembered to ask people about their families and last names and occupations. “And Sera knew, of course. Remind me to give her a dunking later.” We sat in silence, and it occurred to me that I could start being a more functional member of society that very moment. “What do you do, Simon?”

“My degree is in theatre arts. Naturally, that means I am unemployed.”

I waited for him to elaborate. Instead, he carefully picked up my journal. Without looking at my words, he slid a piece of paper between the pages and carefully closed it, then set it on the bedside table. His movements were, as always, deliberate and efficient. He wasn’t stalling. He was giving me time to prepare for what he was about to say. Finally, he looked me directly in the eye and said, “You need to get over it.”

He was so matter of fact that I couldn’t even be offended. “That easy, huh?”

“It can be, if you let it.”

“What am I getting over, exactly?”

He waved a hand lightly through the air, brushing off all the possibilities. “All of it. It’s a waste of your time and energy. You cannot change who you are. You should really stop trying, particularly since your attempts to do so alienate people who would care for you.”

“Maybe not change, but I can control it.”

“Is that what I saw outside? Control?” He tilted his head and stared at me with those unblinking green eyes. “Did Sera tell you I was adopted?”

I shook my head. “That’s common with elementals, I know. When moms fear their children will be too human, they often find a less magical family to raise them. That’s what happened to Brian.”

“Maybe my biological mother knew what I would become. Maybe not. I choose to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume I got my shifter DNA from my father. Regardless, she gave me up and, like you, I grew up in an environment where part of me was misunderstood or rejected. In my case, it was even feared.” He spoke without rancor or self-pity. I did not know why he was telling me, but I listened without interrupting.

“My first adoptive family rejected me outright, only three months after bringing me home from the hospital. I was too young to remember, of course, but the records are extremely thorough. I can only assume I changed in front of them. I imagine it would be disconcerting to find a kitten playing in their son’s crib. It is a bit annoying, though. Humans are supposed to love kittens, and I’m certain I was quite adorable. Regardless, they sent me back to the adoption agency with no explanation. This happened again, and again—one family after another brought me home, only to send me back a few months later. The agency had no idea what was happening. I imagine the humans feared sounding mad if they accused the agency of giving them a cat. Humans do spend far too much time worrying about what others think. Eventually, the agency stopped trying to find me a loving, proper home. When I was five years old, I went into the system, and soon thereafter I was placed in foster care.”

He pulled his legs onto the bed, curling them beneath him. He was wholly relaxed. “You hear horror stories about foster families, and I’m sure some are terrible, but that was not the case for me. The first two foster families did not work out, for the same reasons the adoptions failed, but they were not deliberately cruel. They did not need to be. With each rejection, I became more and more certain that I was unlovable. Do not try to argue,” he said, waving me off when I started to open my mouth. “It’s a fact. When I was five years old, not a single person in the world could claim to love me, and I was old enough to guess the reason. I couldn’t yet control my shifts, and no family wanted me as a son. None, that is, until the Campbells.” He smiled, a tiny upturn of his lips that conveyed more affection and pleasure than the widest grin would on most faces.

“I managed to live with them for an entire year, due to a combination of luck and a slowly emerging control over my whiskered half. Tom and Beth were kind and gave me more love than I’d ever known in the entirety of my short life. One day, I returned from playing outside. I was famished, and I looked for a snack. In the refrigerator, I found a butcher’s bag of raw hamburger meat. Before I even had time to consider it, the bag was on the floor and I was tearing into it with sharp claws. When I was done eating, I sat back on my haunches and began to lick my whiskers. Only then did I look up and see Beth standing in the pantry. She was staring at me, her face utterly frozen. I suspect she hadn’t moved a muscle since I first transformed. I’d been in this situation before, and I knew what happened next. Leaving the remaining hamburger on the floor, I ran back into my room. Still in cat form, I hid under the bed. I remember thinking that, if she couldn’t find me, she couldn’t send me back.

“A while later, I heard her enter the room. I could only see her feet. ‘Simon, can you change back, please?’ she asked. Her voice was calm, no different than if she was asking me to pass the salt at dinner. I peeked out. ‘I can’t talk to you like this. I need you to be my human son now.’ That was the first time I was able to deliberately change, when she asked it of me. I would have done anything for this woman who still called me her son. There I sat, naked before her. All she did was throw me some pants and say, ‘I always did like cats, but Tom said he didn’t want one scratching up the furniture. Guess he’s going to have to change his mind, now. Still, I suppose we ought to home school you until we’re sure you can control yourself a bit better. And do try not to scratch the sofa.’ That was it. She was my mom from that moment on. A year later, they formally adopted me.”