Page 26 of Ezra
“Please don’t tell anyone,” Miller whispers, worried. “If the hospital finds out, I’ll lose my job.” I measure her vitals. She’s frightened. A fool, perhaps, but not a killer. Not yet, anyway. TerraPura’s claws haven’t dug too deep.
“After your shift, go down to the precinct,” I tell her. “Ask for Jayne Rose. Tell her everything you know about TerraPura and go home. I’ll know if you don’t.”
“I will,” Miller says eagerly. She’s young, new, perhaps fresh out of college and in her first healthcare position. “I promise I will.”
“Stay away from TerraPura,” I warn her. “If I find out you’ve so much as spoken to another member after today?—”
“I won’t,” she insists.
“Get out.”
She leaves in a flurry, leaving me alone with Katrina and Mrs. Carson.
“I can’t believe it. You really can’t trust anyone anymore,” Katrina says, relaxing somewhat after she’s gone.
“Was it really safe to just let her go like that?” Mrs. Carson demands, incredulous. “What if she bombs this building too?”
“She has no criminal record, and she was cooperative. I can’t arrest someone without probable cause,” I reply. “And until the federal government declares I can arrest TerraPura members on sight, I have no other course of action.” I turn to Katrina. She’s not as flustered or as emotional as her mother. I appreciate herrestraint. “All the same, I’m going to post guards outside your father’s door, Miss Carson. Once he’s strong enough to leave the hospital, he’ll likely be moved into protective custody. My partner is working on making that happen as we speak.”
“Is that like witness protection?” her mother breathes. “We have to go into hiding?”
“It’s similar, but it’s not the same. For now,” I reply. “Your daughter was present at all three attacks thus far. It’s safe to assume you could also be a target.” A call streams in from Deion, and I answer. “What did the chief say?”
“You’ll need to take Miss Carson and stay with her. Chief wants her and her parents in separate locations.”
“Me?” I blink, looking up at Katrina. “I’m sure another officer could?—”
“I know you want to help me with the case, Ezra, but Jacobs has the commissioner breathing down his neck to bench you for this one. You’ll stay with Katrina Carson and keep her safe at all costs. Rose and I will keep you in the loop in the meantime.”
I don’t like this, but I won’t get anywhere arguing with Deion. “Fine. Location?”
“I’m sending it to you now. I’m telling you—you won’t believe it.”
Deion’s message flashes across my inner screen.
It’s Algrove Schroeder’s penthouse in BioNex Tower.
It took a long phone call from Chief Jacobs personally to finally convince Katrina she’s in just as much danger as her father. Now, it’s getting dark. She sits in the passenger seat of my cruiser while the car drives on autopilot through pouring rain. Ever since that call, she’s been quiet. Not sullen or pouting like adisciplined child, but overwhelmed, at a loss. A silent frustration eating away at her. She’s someone who seems like she wants to be in control at all times.
Oddly enough, I can relate.
It’s a strange thing, being concerned about her stress. I shouldn’t be, not when she would never be concerned about my well-being. I’m not sure she thinks I even have a being to be well with. But watching her gather her things in her house while doing all she can to avoid the crime scene in the kitchen where her father’s blood still stains the floor and exchange an emotional goodbye with her teary-eyed mother speaks to a depth I’m not sure I ever wanted to know about.
Mulling over how I got saddled with babysitting duty, I glance at Katrina. She’s gazing out the window at the rain and the reflection of my cruiser in the windows of the buildings we pass. Deion says I can take the assignment as a backward compliment. The precinct can’t argue that everyone is a little safer with me, but he and I both know it’s just an excuse to keep me out of the way. Jacobs and Winters hate all the positive attention we’ve buzzed for the Artificial Crime Unit. Winters, specifically, calls it “playing hero.”
If anyone’s the hero, it’s Deion. He goes above and beyond for those people suffering from android-related crime. Whether it’s owners, or the androids themselves. I’m just the assistant. The bot. Pro-bionic folks say that’s a kind of slur now. It doesn’t particularly bother me. Deion, however, treats it seriously and refuses to leave it alone if anyone refers to me like that. He stands up for me.
I won’t be able to accompany him home, one of the few places I’m truly safe and wanted. His house is loud and filled with life, with Rashelle and their three children. The kids are all young and used to try my patience with the way they crawl all overme whenever we arrive home. It’ll be strange to be without that evening routine I’ve come to expect every night.
I’m accustomed to Deion’s friendly and chatty nature, whether about serious or trivial matters. The silence now bothers me too. I’m not usually the one required to strike up conversation.
“How’s your friend doing?”
Katrina turns away from the window to look at me. “What?”
“Your friend. The one injured in the bombing on Friday.” Aside from the occasional car lazily gliding on by, the streets are dead quiet. People are taking the city-wide curfew seriously.
We roll to a stop in front of a red light. Katrina still stares at me, seeming puzzled. I stare back. “What?”
