Cade

Cade woke up in the driver’s seat of his car, a thin trail of drool seeping out of the right side of his mouth down over his stubbly chin. Blinking a couple of times, he suddenly realized he was in his car and gripped the steering wheel hard before slamming his right foot down on the brake, nearly spraining his ankle on the unyielding pedal.

It took him another split second to realize his car was actually turned off and was parked in the lot behind the Santa Monica police station, of which, he did not belong. Bringing his hands to his face, he rubbed it before pausing. Lowering his hands, he looked around and shook his head, ire rising. “Are you fucking kidding me!” he yelled, slamming his fists down against the top of the steering wheel of the Ford, noticing the small bright pink square sticky note in his lap he had dislodged from the steering wheel when he awoke.

Penned in a flowing cursive script, the little piece of paper read:

‘Apologies Cade, as I said, now is inopportune. I promise all will be revealed soon. Trust I am as eager to share as you are to learn, I’ll be in touch, H.’

He leaned back against his seat, head on the rest, eyes looking to the ceiling of the car, “FUCK!” he cursed loudly. Shaking his head, he was mad. Climbing out of the car, he slammed the door shut and stomped across lot toward the police station, muttering to himself, “All she did was touch me on my bloody head and poof I wake up here? I should just shoot her, nothing lethal, maybe in the leg, maybe that would solve all my trouble for crying out loud.”

Entering the police station, he walked up to the front desk, face a mask of unhappy.

“Can I help you?” asked the male desk sergeant, a man in his older years.

“You got the lot out back under surveillance?” he snarled, pointing a hand back in the direction he had just come.

The desk sergeant shook his head, puzzled expression on his aged face. “No,” he said.

“Goddamn it!” growled Cade, turning, teeth clenched.

“Sir?” asked the cop behind the desk.

Reaching into his suit jacket, Cade pulled out his badge and flashed it at the man before walking out of the building the way he had entered. Checking his watch, “Two fucking hours?” he nattered. “I been out two bloody hours?”

What the hell had she meant the lawyer had been hunted down and eaten, consumed, same difference? Every time he saw, her, it was just more questions, more mysterious bullshit. Hunted down and eaten? By what? Did the mouthpiece run afoul of one of his clients and get fed to a crime boss with a gator or lion something? How the hell would she know? Aargh, more goddamn questions!

Getting back in the car, he fastened the safety belt, the phone in his jacket vibrated. Pulling out his cell phone, two missed calls, both Rebecca. Touching the phone icons, he brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey Cade,” she said.

“Sorry, I missed your calls,” he paused, “I was indisposed, meeting with my snitch took a lot longer than I thought,” he finished curtly.

“No problem. Just a follow up on my call to DOC, they’ve got nothing on Bender,” she provided, “Same from County and central escort, nada. As far as anyone can tell me, he’s not in the system.”

“It was a bit of a longshot,” he replied, disappointed.

“You ok?” she asked.

He chuckled, “That obvious? Been one of those days Beck, one step forward five steps back.”

She laughed sympathetically, “Copy that, I mean, here I sit, no donut, no coffee, pining away,” she said.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he replied, though in his agitated state he actually had. “You get a number off that Kane broad?”

“I think she left her contact info with the Captain,” she answered. “I’ll go check, give you a call right back.”

“Thanks,” he replied disconnecting the call.

Setting the phone on the passenger seat, he fished a roll of antacid tablets out of his pocket and popped two in his mouth, chewing, mint flavors muted and chalky.

His phone buzzed, picking it up he answered. Rebecca gave him the number for the new specially appointed ADA. Searching frantically for a pen and finding one on floor between his seat and the console, he got her to repeat the number and wrote it on his hand. With a ‘got it’, he let Rebecca go.

He sat there mulling for a moment, should he just call the bitch up and give her a piece of his mind, or should he actually go down to the DA’s office and let her have it both barrels. It was shaping up to be one of those shitty kind of days when rubbing someone else’s nose it felt kind of good. Starting the car, he put it in gear, a half smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth.

Morrigan

Seated at her desk, there was a rapping at the door. Looking up, not masking the annoyance she felt, Morrigan said, “Yes?”

“There is a Detective McKissik to see you,” said the young male assistant, hovering near the door.

A smile appearing on her face, “Bring him in directly,” instructed Morrigan, rising from her seat and smoothing the fabric of her skirt.

Escorted by the assistant, the policeman appeared disheveled, hair messy, unshaven, a surly expression on his face. Closing the door behind him, the assistant vanished.

“Detective McKissik,” she said, stepping around her desk and extending her hand to him.

“Call me Cade,” he said, nodding and extending his own hand, “Miss Kane,” he introduced, tone sharp.

“I appreciate you taking the time out of what I am sure is your busy day to come down here and talk to me,” she said taking his hand, tone polite. The moment they touched hands, a quizzical look seemed to cross her face. She looked down at his hand, then back to his face. Releasing his hand, she took a couple of steps backward, her strange purple eyes narrowed, as if trying to peer into his soul.

“Cut the shit, why were you down at my office earlier today?” he asked, face dark.

She nodded slowly. “Direct? Alright,” she replied leaning forward, “Tell me about Wells Fargo,” she said, pointing to a chair in front of her desk.

He snorted, “It’s all in my files,” he said gruffly, flopping into the chair.

“Now, why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what really happened?” she snapped back, eyes still locked on him and boring into him.

“What?” he asked spreading apart his hands and shrugging.

“Don’t give me what,” she barked, “Just answer the question.”

“Why are you looking at this now, hey? That bungled job happened years ago,” Cade retorted, peeved by her haughty demeanor.

She nodded, “That much I was able to ascertain from your files,” she chided, “What’s not in them is the results of a two day interrogation of one Jack Dalton other than he was uncooperative.”

Jack? “That’s right, sonofabitch kept his mouth shut,” he answered.

“You worked him over for two straight days and he didn’t give you anything? That’s pretty hard to believe,” she said.

“You don’t know the Hammer,” he replied, grudgingly respect in his tone.

Mouth pursed, she nodded, “But you do, your reputation says you interrogation methods are heavy handed,” she accused.

“What the hell are you implying?” he challenged, leaning forward in his chair.

“I don’t know. What does it sound like I’m implying?” she countered, eyes fierce.

He made a rude noise and waved a dismissive hand. “I followed procedure,” he defended.

“The how the hell did Bender get away with the bearer bonds? Who was the fence? Your report doesn’t answer these questions,” she asserted.

He shook his head, “You want to know what fucking happened, here it is,” he stated.

The Wells Fargo Job

“Originally there was a six man crew, one of the best, made up of Bender, Dalton, Darrow, Haynes, Logan and Watson,” Cade started.

“Give some context, who’s who,” she stated, leaning her butt against the desk and folding her arms under her ample bosom.

Cade sighed, “Fuck. Okay consensus said this crew was a three headed monster with John Bender, Jack Dalton and Sam Haynes jointly calling the shots.”

“Haynes the ex-military guy?” she asked, seeking clarification.

Cade nodded. “Right, dishonorably discharged after significantly fucking up the CO who wiped out his squad in a friendly fire incident in Kabul, anyway, let me get back on track.”

“Go on,” she encouraged, extending a hand prompting him to continue.

“Armored car was transporting forty million in bearer bounds, how this crew got their hands on the manifest suggested inside collusion. Last minute Logan backs out

“That’s James Logan, called Jimmy the Pin?”

“Do you want me to tell, or you going to keep interrupting me? Fuck, where was I? Oh yeah, Logan backs out and they bring a new guy in, Redland, guy has bounced in and out of jail, standup guy, or so the crew thought, till he gets busted with kiddie porn, anyway, guy sings like a bird, gives up the score in the hopes of cutting a deal and keeping his sick habit hush hush.

“So you basically knew the whole plan, and still Dalton and Bender got away?”

“And Redland turns up with a bullet hole in his forehead, don’t know which of them got to him, but we got a tip and took Dalton down. Yeah I questioned him and yeah it maybe wasn’t quite by the regs, but Jack is as tough as they come. I put a gun in his mouth and all he did was laugh in my face

“Why didn’t you question the other survivor, Haynes?”

“He took two bullets and was in an induced coma for almost three weeks, besides being ex-special forces I knew he would definitely be trained in anti-interrogation techniques and time was of the essence,” he justified.

The crew went in, minus Redland, five guys, we blew it up. Darrow and Watson were killed, Haynes was shot, got Dalton eighteen hours later but with an unusable statement tying him to the crime. We questioned Logan who pleaded ignorance and had an airtight alibi,” he explained.

“And Bender got away with the bonds?” she asked.

He nodded slowly, “Like I said, it’s all in the report,” he said pointing to the folder on the desk.

She put her hands down by her side, resting them on the edge of the desk.

“Why the interest in Bender, he’s a ghost?”

She smiled, “Who has resurfaced,” she supplied.

He frowned, “Why are you handling it then, shouldn’t law enforcement be trying to bring him in?” he asked.

“My motivations are my own,” she replied.

Standing up, Cade spread his hands, “We done?”

“Not quite, do you know the current whereabouts of Dalton or Haynes?” she asked.

He shrugged, “Can’t say, I think Haynes has been out for a year or so now,” he answered.

“By authority of this office, find one of them for me,” she instructed.

He shook his head, “Up to my captain how I spend my day,” he retorted as he moved toward the door.

She smiled, a condescending expression on her too pretty face, “Then you find you are currently assigned to do my bidding, now be a good little boy and run along,” she instructed.

Cade glowered at her, “Next time you want something, don’t waste my goddamn time and use the bloody phone,” he cracked before slipping out the door.

She watched him go, smile never leaving her face. Hildegarde’s magic was all over him, subtle, yet distinct. The question was what value did this broken down excuse of a policeman have to the Dark Goddess’s henchwoman? She aimed to find out.