Page 21 of Ezra
“Yes, of course you could be,” Deion replies. “You’re almostalwaysright.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You want to know something crazy?”
“Dealing with these crazy cyber-worshipping freaks isn’t enough?” I answer dryly.
“She asked for you,” Deion says.
“Who did?”
“The Carson girl. Katrina. It’s on the recording. She called the non-emergency line just before it happened. You can hear a shot fired in the background, plain as day.”
I access it within moments from the precinct’s audio archives and play the entire call through my system as I rest my hands on the steering wheel of my cruiser.
“I-I need ACU. I need Ezra. Please send Ezra. I think the shooter was an android.”
I pause. I didn’t imagine that. I play it again.
Sheneedsme?
That’s an odd thing to say for a woman whose entire platform is focused on doing away with me and my kind. Still, I must acknowledge her bravery. Her fear was palpable throughout the call, but she didn’t panic.
“Not even twenty-four hours after the bombing at the museum,” I say quietly.
Deion agrees. “Murder attempts are rarely random. This is the third time an act of terrorism or violence has occurred near one or more of the Carsons. What do they all have in common?”
“Robert and Katrina Carson,” I reply. “Any hunches?”
“The one I have is too farfetched.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“She could be TerraPura herself,” Deion muses. “We can’t dismiss any possibility.”
“I don’t think so. I’d be able to sense something strange with her vitals. There was nothing out of the ordinary. No cagey behavior or indication of deception. She was shaken, obviously, but that was all I scanned.”
“Still, we can’t discount anything. She was just out of reach of that blast last year. Being she’s Humanity First’s favorite sweetheart, her little anti-android tirades might mean she’s a good actress. Can you pull up anything about her background?” Deion asks.
I search the internet and public records for her. “She’s employed by the Natural History Museum, listed on their website as Assistant Curator. She has a degree from Carnegie South University with a major in Archaeology and a master’s degree in Paleoanthropology. Honor student. Almost perfect GPA.”
“Doesn’t really scream TerraPura, does it? Does she have a record?”
“A few parking tickets downtown and a traffic stop for speeding. Nothing unusual.”
Deion’s voice hums through my audio feed. “Well, now we really have zero leads. You’ll need to be careful.”
“Understood.” I signal my car to switch destinations without even needing to lift a finger. The holo-GPS shimmersand continues guiding my drive to Mellon Fields Emergency Hospital. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Ezra.”
“What?”
“Be nice.”
I snort, ending the call and focusing on the passing New Carnegie skyline, the Vanderbilt Bridge, and the shimmering river beneath it.
Be nice, he said. It’s literally a behavior etched in my programming. I am alwaysnice.
But nice is subjective. I’ll be nice on my terms. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better.
Part of being an investigator is knowingwhento ask the questions, not just how and where.
