Invasion of Justice (Shadows of Justice) (12 page)

"Assuming anyone could wade through the medical terminology, what bothered you?"

"My mother's sister had a bunch of female problems. My family helped her through the emotional struggles, and I learned all the gory details around the kitchen table. Didn't you have women who talked about anything and everything when you were growing up?"

Petra arched a brow in a precise imitation of her mother and Kelly gave a soft, 'oh yeah' before she continued.

"What concerns me most is the practice your mother went to has been dissolved and the specific doctors who worked with her are unidentifiable."

Now Petra understood. Her concern ramped up to match Kelly's. "That's illegal."

"Except in the cases of alternative medicine."

"That's stupid!" Petra came to her feet once more. "In cases of alternate medical solutions, the doctors should be monitored even more closely."

"I agree. The health department didn't. This was before medical reform, remember?"

Petra felt the prickly trail of evil dance up her spine. Then the ever more frequent sound of bells. "Pack it up. We need to take this meeting elsewhere."

"Pet, it's late and you look tired. We can start the leg work in the morning."

Petra refused to stay with the dark feeling closing in around her. Every fiber of her being told her to run. Now.

"I'm leaving and taking the Mustang. If you stay you'll be hurt, possibly killed. I don't want that, but I won't stick around for a debate." Petra gathered her briefcase and a change of clothes, wishing she hadn't unpacked so thoroughly when she'd arrived.

Kelly was right behind her, thank God. Whatever was out here was hunting–and eager to make the kill. Part of her wanted to stay and meet the man who'd been sharing his gory joy with her, but she knew she wasn't yet equipped to survive it.

She swore. Gideon was right. She needed more defensive skills. More than the tidbits Jaden already shared. For now, her brain would have to do. She had no desire to watch the next evisceration as his victim and she wouldn't let Kelly suffer that bleak end.

She paused in the hallway, halfway between the stairs and the elevator.

"The car's on sublevel three," Kelly said.

May as well be purgatory for the images that information brought to mind. "Don't talk," she ordered. Petra wrapped a mental cloak around Kelly and herself, then rushed them away from the stairwell, past the guest elevator to the one reserved for staff.

She pushed Kelly inside with the luggage. "Meet me around back." Then she ran back to draw the killer out.

Petra's head spun from the odd angle. He was in her head, and she saw herself from his eyes. The conflicting views almost overwhelmed her. Only the memory of his demonic glee when he took a life kept her from caving to the sensation.

He was hiding in the room across from hers. Her breath stalled in her throat. He'd gotten so close. Too close. Now she needed him just a little closer. It took every ounce of control to follow the mental connection back to the monster and put what she wanted into his head.

She forced the natural recoil aside and found one of his early murders, putting herself into the scene as his partner. Together, they were in a tiny food prep area, watching the cook. The flash of the blade made him smile. She smiled, too. The slip of knife into flesh, though accidental, made his pulse skip and hers race.

They moved toward the cook, who thought they came to offer first aid. Instead she subdued the bigger man with a hypo punch of paralytic agent
Paracuron while the killer experimented with various cuts and the subsequent effects on the body.

Petra kept him in this memory, kept
herself projected there with him as she slipped away. Using her hands to anchor and guide her, she followed the rail down the stairs and into the alley where she could hear the purr of the Mustang. Blindly she stumbled for the car and squeezing her eyes shut to prevent sending the killer any knowledge, she yanked herself out of the memory and told Kelly to gun it.

At the very edges of her awareness, before the connection severed completely, she thought
she heard someone say 'bravo'.

Chapter Eight

An odd request came into the office today. A woman just discovered her mother's secret heartache of putting her baby brother up for adoption. Apparently the husband and father was abusive and this was the mother's only way to secure enough money to escape with the daughter and guarantee a better life for both children.

Now the mother's dying and wants to see her son and daughter reunited and to apologize to them both. After recording an interview at the hospital, I'll return to the office to skim the records and see what a flight can reveal. –From the case files of Petra Neiman

Gideon looked down at the mess of a body at his feet. "Who the hell did this guy piss off?" he asked Kincaid.

The head of the CRIA just shrugged and kept examining the evidence as the crew collected it. "The killer didn't leave us much to work with."

"No witnesses?" Gideon asked.

The cook was on his back, his empty eyes staring,
face frozen in a painful contortion. Blood snaked from several lacerations, wound together, and disappeared into the kitchen floor drain.

"None.
I'm not sure how he managed to do all this without alerting someone. The poor guy had to be alive through most of it."

Gideon eyed the strong hands and forearms of the victim. "This guy wasn't a pushover. Am I missing the defensive wounds?"

"No," Kincaid confirmed.

"Then how–"

"Go wake up Petra. We'll need her to read something on this."

"Sure." Gideon didn't bother to voice his opinion. Kincaid believed she could help and he'd be hard pressed to argue after seeing her recent stunts. Whatever she had, he had to admit it proved useful.

He took the stairs, needing the workout. At her suite, he knocked, waited, and knocked again. When she still didn't answer, he pulled out his cell card and rang the phone in her room.

Nothing.

Gideon applied his thumb to the door lock, hoping the hotel hadn't upgraded their master codes since he'd added his print to the access list. The electronic lock whirred for a moment, then the light tripped green and he pushed the door open.

With his stunner in hand, he reminded himself to start strapping on his real gun at the next earliest opportunity. He swept the suite, surprised to find it empty.
More surprised to find it a mess.

He surveyed the room again,
then buzzed Kincaid on his way back downstairs. "She's gone."

"Where?"

"Don't know. Just vacated the premises. In a hurry too, if the mess is any indicator."

"Mess?
Petra doesn't leave messes."

Kincaid's personal knowledge bothered Gideon, but he shoved the useless feeling aside. He came through the double doors marked for employees, disconnecting the cell card and tucking it into his pocket along with the earpiece. "The suite's not trashed, but it's not pretty. She left clothes and some girl stuff behind."

Kincaid frowned at Gideon, then at the body between them as if the dead man would explain Petra's disappearance.

"You agent Kincaid?" a gruff cop asked, storming onto the crime scene.

Gideon jerked a thumb at Kincaid in answer.

"That's me," Kincaid clarified.

"Officer Loomis," he introduced himself and flashed his badge. "Chief Thomas asked me to deliver this to you."

Kincaid accepted the
holodisc and turned it over in his hands several times. "It bears on this investigation?"

Loomis shrugged and left the way he'd come.

Gideon waved his hands in surrender when Kincaid shot him an accusing glance. "Who could I blab to? I've been here and Petra's not around." The man's face pinched with that reminder. Kincaid clearly valued his empath. "Open it up."

Kincaid set it on the nearest steel prep table and triggered the holographic report. Three-dimensional images of a scene too much like this one played out in sequence to the monotone narration of the evidence investigator on the scene.

Gideon absorbed the details, especially the two elements that differed. When the report ended he looked at Kincaid.

"No paralyzing
hypopunch here," they said in unison.

"No evidence of a partner there," Gideon added.

"Petra would know if it's the same killer." Kincaid pulled out his cell card, scrolling to a particular number.

Gideon stood by, trying to fit the pieces together. A serial killer with a signature as distinct as ritual evisceration shouldn't be too hard to find even without an
empath. He heard Kincaid leave a message, make another call, then swear in a streak so blue the cops around them were blushing.

Gideon shoved his hands into his pockets and waited.

"I can't find Petra or her assistant, Kelly. They must be together."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"I don't think so. Not in this town, with this lunatic on the loose. Go find her. Preferably them."

"You know I don't work for you."

"Yet you're in my region, tailing a valued member of my team. I've got resources too, Callahan."

Gideon didn't react. It was just one more piece to fill in the big picture. He needed that picture filled in ASAP. Especially the piece that showed who was behind the massacre in the Sears tower office.

"Find them and let me know. Whatever's going on, you can trust me."

Gideon didn't bother to explain he trusted no one. In their line of work, Kincaid would know that.

He left the kitchen gore behind for the controlled chaos of his room. He sent another message to the Commandant's address as he packed his clothing, surveillance gear, and computers. He left long enough to borrow a cart from housekeeping and then he bagged his trash, changed the linens, and scrubbed the bathroom. Leaving Petra to her own devices wasn't ideal, but the last thing he needed was to feed extra clues to Kristoff's henchmen or Kincaid's snoops.

There was no doubt the Health Chairman was manipulating facts and people to his own benefit. Gideon's department had been trying to unravel the how and why for several years
already. It was that unraveling that dropped Nathan into the lion's den of prison since a peripheral op had knocked Gideon out of play.

Satisfied with his cleaning effort, he replaced the housekeeping supplies. After stashing the gear he didn't want to carry in another suite, two floors up, he went in search of Petra.

* * *

Petra felt Kelly's eyes on her. "I'm fine."

"You're pale."

"I'm naturally pale," Petra insisted.

"Uh-huh."

Kelly went silent for a minute or two and Petra enjoyed the hum of Nathan's car embracing her. She'd only feel better if he were driving. "I'm glad you brought the car." Kelly didn't answer. "Where are we going?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me. You're sitting on the map."

Petra opened one eye, but the passing scenery only made her stomach churn more. She shifted and recovered the flat square from under her backside. "Most people stick this on the dash or console."

Kelly huffed. "Most people aren't driving a classic Mustang. Nathan won't want to detail this beauty first thing after his release."

"He's scheduled for release?" Petra revived instantly.

"Not yet."

She deflated just as quickly. "I can't see him, Kelly.
Can't reach him. He pushes me away."

"He doesn't want you close to this. He wants to keep you safe."

Petra held her tongue, since all she wanted to do was scream. It wasn't Kelly's fault she couldn't reach her brother. She'd hired Kelly for her clarity of thought and intuitive skills. Yelling at her for the very gifts she appreciated made no sense. At the moment self-control was a precious commodity.

"Where to, Petra?"

"University of Chicago campus."

Kelly drove around the next block and aimed the car in the right direction.
"Past the museums right?"

"Sort of."
Petra programmed the holographic map, pressed display and then closed her eyes and laid her head back on the seat.

The images came softly, sneaking into her mind like a lover's whisper. Nathan's last day at work.
The shell of the scientist's body in the lab. Her mother's eyes first warm, then bitter cold. Her own face on a statue in the ancient city of Petra.

Then she was the statue, looking down into streets bustling with life and trade. She heard the prayers and tears of those seeking her intervention. She smelled the incense and burnt flesh of animal sacrifices.

The power swelled through her body. A rush, an infilling she could taste and savor. There was no emptiness or inadequacy. She was perfect, sought after, in control.

This was her temple, her home on earth, built by those devoted to her fair and just control.

The temple bells began to ring. Round, clear notes that carried through the city. Passersby stopped to kneel at her sculpted visage. She heard their thoughts, knew their hearts, and drenched them with her soothing peace.

At last she'd found her place. The glorious sense of belonging filled her more.

When the earth trembled, and the wrenching sound split the earth, she tried to protect her devotees. They fell, scrambled, hurting each other in their terror. She gathered her power to restore calm, but she couldn't control either man or nature. She wept, her tears becoming a torrent that washed everything away.

"Petra!"

She watched her beautiful statue shiver and crumble.

"Petra! Wake up!"

Petra opened her eyes to Kelly's worried face and panicked touch. "A dream. Thank God."

"A dream?
Try nightmare. You were crying and thrashing so much you almost knocked me out."

Petra's nerves were shot. Her skin prickled and her heart thudded in her chest. They were parked, but not anywhere she recognized. "Where are we?"

"Burnham Park. Like the view?"

"It's dark."

"True." Kelly touched her forehead. "You were sleeping so well. You even looked happy. I was afraid to stop the car and wake you."

Petra couldn't argue. That had been one of Kelly's first instructions. Because often when Petra appeared asleep she was really gathering information.
If she only knew how to interpret this onslaught of feelings and images.

"Enduring physical harm goes above and beyond your job description. Thanks for pulling me out of the nightmare."

"Need to talk about it?"

She rubbed her eyes. "You'd think being a beloved goddess would be a dream."

Kelly shivered theatrically. "Not to me. I'm not into that whole blood sacrifice thing."

Petra laughed, the sound restoring her perspective. "Me neither, but they loved me.
Until I couldn't save them."

"What destroyed them?"

"Earthquake." She rubbed her arms, trying to purge her mind of the images as she told Kelly. "The ground made the most horrendous noise. People were terrified, begging me to intervene. They didn't get that I was useless. Oh, the smell! It was..."

She stopped, realizing it was the same smell from the battle at the steel mill. Having a sense of smell in her dreams was beginning to bug her as much as hearing bells.

"What was the smell?" Kelly prompted.

"Sulfur.
I'm missing something, Kelly. Something big."

"Where should we start looking for it?"

"It's hovering on the edges–just out of my reach."