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He cleared his throat as if sweeping out the remnants of laughter. "You were always a direct girl. I'll come to it then. The mayor of the biggest quadrant in the Southeast Territories came to see you. Why?"

  I smiled as I shook my head. Unbelievable. Asking him how he knew would have been a waste of time. Malcolm's snitches numbered in the hundreds in D.C. alone, which is why he made such an excellent reporter.

  His attention to detail was also brilliant.

  And that made him an excellent lover.

  "How is that newsworthy for the Mirror?" I asked as I stalled for time.

  Should I tell him the nature of Christensen's visit? Why does he want to know anyway? Normally Malcolm wanted to know so he could have the information. It had nothing to do with news, necessarily. On occasion, he liked knowing things that other people didn’t know.

  A trait we both shared.

  He grinned, flashing his white, strong teeth. "We know her daughter's missing. I covered it in last month’s violators section. If Christensen is doing anything, it’s automatically newsworthy. Besides, if you toss in your name and hers…the news-factor goes up from somewhat interested to damn, there’s a story here."

  The case was still young. To be true, I haven't even started. I could honestly (a rare event) tell Malcolm I didn't have anything for him. On the other hand, Malcolm probably knew stuff about Christensen that wouldn’t be in an official regulator report.

  We’ve traded favors before…

  "So tell me what's going on," he said smoothly with a wink. "I need an exclusive. Readers are bored with the vigilante justice blood sport. But politics, abduction and sex, let's say. That sells as you well know."

  I shook my head. "No, I can't tell you. I got nothing."

  "After all we've been through together," he said softly, his eyes roaming over my body, passing his heat from downtown across to my living room. "You look tired. You know I can fix that…"

  When Malcolm pulled out his bedroom eyes there was more to his call than he let on. He didn’t only want information from me. He wanted an exclusive, which meant he thought I had more than I was giving. As I said before we have bartered and exchanged, uh, favors in the past.

  "Play it straight, what are you really after?" I said, ignoring his tugs at my lust strings with amazing difficulty. My body seemed to rise up in attention to his lustful looks. Already parts of me were tingling and hardening in response.

  His eyes clicked with mine and he held my gaze. The lust spilled out of them, like water released from a dam. He stroked his chin where his beard used to be. The hard edge reporter was back.

  "Hang on a sec," he said thickly. He got up from his office leather chair.

  I watched his perfectly tight rear-end as he got up. Then he disappeared from the telemonitor screen.

  He must have shut his soundproof doors because the office din instantaneously sliced off.

  Within moments, he sat back down and leaned in to his monitor, his face suddenly serious. He ran his fingers through his hair and smirked at me, fleshing out a lone dimple.

  "You know the deal, Cybil. This goes no further than you and me. The cost is the same as always. Do you agree?”

  “Shit, Malcolm, you called me!”

  Malcolm's smile reached ear to ear. His eyebrows relaxed and he said, "You know my price. Do you want the information or not? I dunno why you’re acting like you don’t want to pay me."

  Oh, I wanted to pay him, but my horniness was beside the point.

  "Yeah," I said, swallowing his bait. His price meant an exclusive and some hanky panky. What he knew was worth his price. Besides, I was single and free again to exchange my time with whomever. "Deal."

  “Word from Memphis is that the mayor is looking to be the next governor. Elections are in November."

  I shrugged a little disappointed that it wasn't juicer information "She's good for it. Ten years as mayor. Memphis is one of the safest quads in the divided states."

  Malcolm sighed, his eyebrows raised. "True, but the daughter's extracurricular activities kind of put a damper on those plans, according to some in the know down there…"

  "What extracurricular activities?"

  I read the regulator files on Amanda's vanishing and recited them all the way home, but there wasn't any mention of Amanda's hobbies or a criminal violation record of any kind. Even still, Memphis regs worked for Mayor Christensen. A few things may have been neglected or outright omitted to prevent scandal for the mayor, her office, or her future campaign for governor.

  He continued to stare at me as if sizing me up to see if he could believe me. After a few minutes, he continued.

  "The daughter, it's rumored, frequented a dance club on the moon colonies. She and her mother despised each other…something to do with the father though I can’t seem to nail down the father or any stuff about him. Perhaps the girl has run off with say, an older man. Looking for daddy or a father figure?"

  The moon colonies? The war-ravaged moon was no place for a young girl, especially some dance club. Come to think of it, strip bars masqueraded as dance clubs on the moon. They peddled prostitutes, pot, and pills of every kind and shade. Definitely not a place for a teenage girl of privilege like Amanda.

  "I'll be in touch. Thanks," I said sweetly.

  "Come over to the house," Malcolm said, his voice low and once again full of heat. "I'll fix you up. You know I can."

  I laughed. "Malcolm."

  "I'm serious." Once glance at his face and I could tell he was very serious. "You’re not still dating that hatchling are you? For goodness sake, drop him. I know you miss my magic fingers…”

  He raised goose bumps across my arms and I had to fight not to fall in to his web. The look he gave me now wasn't one of coy flirting; it was pure, unrestrained, fiery, I-want-to-fuck you passion.

  "I'll have to take a rain check," I croaked, my throat dry. My heart slammed in my chest and I desperately wanted to feel his magic fingers dance across my back, relieving stress and stirring up desire as only Malcolm could.

  "Suit yourself," he said with a deep sigh. “You still owe me.”

  He blew me a kiss with his thin, pink lips and the telemonitor faded to black.

  Important decisions shouldn't be made at night. The menacing gloom made thoughts monstrous and more sinister. This case rose up, full of teeth and fire, spiraling flames from its nose, threatening to devour me. As I thrashed about in tortured slumber, I dreamt of a hand closing forcefully against my neck, squeezing the air from my lungs—the nails digging deeply into my flesh.

  Wednesday morning's sun invaded my bedroom like a seasoned thief, silently and effortlessly, spraying me right in the face, forcing my eyes to flap open. Under the ray's illumination, the case retreated to a tiny, harmless thing, and nowhere near as frightening.

  Relaxed, I fell back into a light doze. The sun's rays warmed my face. I slept until my alarm blared.

  I jumped and regretted the sudden movements. I buried my head under the pillows and again swore at whoever invented alarm clocks. I’d forgotten to turn off the blasted bleating beast, but now that it had gone off, I was fully awake.

  The buzzing of the telemonitor infiltrated my pillows' defenses and groaning I clambered out of bed, dragged myself into the living room to answer the call.

  "Hello," I said, seeing Jane's face on the caller identifier.

  Her face failed to hide her surprise, and her eyes roamed over my scanty clad pj’s, before meeting my eyes. "Aunt Belle will be here in twenty minutes. You’re goin’ to be freakin’ late again!"

  My recently cut braids were tied back in a ponytail. They used to be waist length, but I found it distracting, heavy, and time consuming. It was like walking around with a small child hanging on your neck. Now they reached just past my shoulders. My black pj’s fit like a glove, exposing a lot of leg, arm and belly. Barefoot, sleepy, and annoyed, I sat down Indian fashion on the sofa. "So…"

  "So you said you wanted to meet with her today at one," Jane said
back. Already awake and dressed in a black sweater with muddy brown corduroys, her sullen expression matched perfectly. Her dreadlocks, free and unrestrained, spilled over her slender, athletic shoulders. "It's already noon!"

  A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I didn't do mornings. That didn't stop Jane from trying to rotate my internal clock to an earlier hour. I’d forgotten about the meeting with Christensen, which I made for the afternoon. 12:01 was technically no longer morning.

  "I'll be there," I sighed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "Give me a few minutes. I did say one o’clock. If she shows up at 12:20, I’m not late. She’s early."

  I opened my eyes soon enough to see Jane’s eyebrows rise in question.

  "A few minutes?" she scoffed. “You’re practically naked.”

  I laughed. "Okay, about twenty minutes. I’ll be there before one. How about that?"

  Half an hour later, I walked into the office. Mayor Christensen stood in front of Marsha's desk, her arms folded over her blinding winter white suit. Her deep, blood red nail polish glistened under the room's lights. Her media perfect smile greeted me and I tried to force the grimace from my own face.

  I gave her my best, professional smile, devoid of meaning as a wauto’s headlight, but sparkling.

  "Miss Lewis, we meet again," she said coolly, her breath smelling strongly of mint. "Thank you for accepting my daughter's case. I trust Captain Hanson forwarded you the necessary files?"

  "Yes, he did. They arrived safely." Detesting her again as if yesterday wasn't enough, I fought to keep myself in line. "He was quite prompt in getting them to me. Thank you."

  I walked around to Marsha's desk and pulled out a contract. Contracts helped with clients because they outlined what I would and would not do and what to expect. The handheld weighed less than three pounds and provided a video explanation of what to expect. Contrary to some legends, I am not a miracle worker. There are limits on my abilities and time.

  She took the handheld and watched the video clip. When it ended, she typed her name briskly and signed the contract, her nails clicking on the metal device. Her signature was comprised of several illegible loops and spirals.

  "You do understand that I may not be able to find her, especially if she doesn't want to be found?"

  The last point I said firmly and clearly courtesy of Malcolm Moore. The idea that Amanda may have simple run away from home should be a possibility and one that Christensen should entertain. I was.

  But I wasn’t the girl’s mother, either.

  "What is that supposed to mean?" she balked, her eyebrow arched in surprise. "Mandy never would have left on her own! She loved Memphis!"

  It struck me as odd that her mother said Amanda loved Memphis, not "me". I wanted her reaction and I got it although I couldn't tell is she was acting or truly disgusted by the implication that Amanda didn't like being at home. Mayor Christensen was used to playing a role.

  And I was good at spotting cracks in those performances.

  "All I'm saying is that when I call it quits, it's quits," I said, making sure to look her in the face so she knew I was serious. "No questions, no threats. It's done when I say so."

  "I watched the video, Miss Lewis," she said, her hazel eyes narrowed. "I am not a simpleton."

  With that said, she opened her purse and tossed the hard plastic currency card onto my desk.

  I opened flipped the card over .4,000 non-district currency. The silver pressed across the back was the Southeast Governor's seal. His broad nose and fuzzy eyebrows had been streamlined and artfully corrected so that he looked less like a brute and more like a politician. I’d be able to convert it to district money, though I might get burned on the exchange rate.

  "You'll be in Memphis tonight."

  It wasn't a question.

  It sounded more like a command.

  You know me and authority.

  "Remember, mayor," I said icily, my voice unkind, my gaze penetrating hers. "I am the inspector. I'll be in Memphis, but it won't be tonight."

  She actually had the grace to blush. Her light, cream-with-coffee, complexion became rosy and she straightened her jacket. "Yes, of course. So… contact me and let me know when you arrive so that I can coordinate your efforts with Captain Hanson."

  With a wave goodbye, she disappeared through the lobby's doors.

  Jane's throaty voice met hers in the hall and echoed into the tight space. It was full of southern twang. Amazing how Jane could make that accent reappear and disappear like some sideshow magic trick. It usually cropped up when her family was around, which wasn’t too often.

  The door shut on their conversation, no doubt discussing why I wasn't going to Memphis tonight.

  The throbbing, at the base of my neck, inched upward toward my head. I walked around to the area behind the alcove where Mr. Schmuckler hid, to the medicine box and took out the pain patches. The nanos in the patches had one duty—deliver the pain relievers to the central nervous system and the nerves closest to the area of injury

  I smiled down at the strips. Hurry, hurry little nanos.The doors opened and I heard Jane come into the office. She reeked of beef and beer. Another lunch at the bar across the street. The thin kick of cigarette smoke also draped her person. Smoking wasn’t allowed for those under the age of something like forty. Jane wasn’t even close to that number, but it didn’t stop her from participating in sucking down tobacco.

  "It’s about time you dragged your carcass in here," she said roughly, with a hint of humor. “I didn’t want to be here when you came in so you couldn’t accuse me of plotting with her.”

  I laughed because I deserved that jab. "Yeah, well, she didn't wait long. Plus she was early, and I wasn’t late."

  “Says you.” Jane barked out a laugh.

  She put down a plastic container. Grease stains smeared the inside of it. She came over towards me and leaned against the post. "You busy?"

  I shook my head no. "I planned to go back over Amanda's files. What’s up?"

  "I was wondering why we couldn't leave for Memphis now," she said with a shrug as if she didn't really care when we left.

  "I want to go when no one knows we're coming," I said, my patience waned. "Off balanced is how everyone should be, including your aunt, until we get a handle on who’s involved and who isn’t."

  "Enough time has already passed!” Jane snapped. I could almost see her frustration spewing out her ears. "The trails..."

  "…are cold," I said, finishing her sentence. Didn't I mention that to both her and Mayor Christensen before I took this case? "I know. Remember what I said about regulator ruined cases."

  I took a deep breath and let it out leisurely. Jane has never questioned my decisions before with this vigor and frequency.

  See why I detest personal cases?

  "You need to remember this is a caselike any other," I said through clinched teeth and shoving my irritation into a far away emotional place. "Or else you won't make it through this. Not only that, but you might get us both killed. We have no room for error and that’s because we’re playing catch up."

  No one directed me. I followed my own drummer girl.

  That wasn’t going to change because of Jane.

  She stared at me a moment. As if noticing my struggle not to smack her, she rolled her eyes. "Keep your panties on, I know."

  "Good. We'll leave tomorrow around two," I said, pushing past her and going to my private office to dig once again into Amanda Christensen's life. “Be ready.”

  Memphis, here I come.

  I removed my laser gun 350 from the wall safe hidden in my private office. The safe confidently ejected from the wall when I gave both a retinal scan, DNA via saliva, and a fingerprint confirmation. Not that I felt this kept my prized possessions totally safe. The unsettling thought that my dead body could be used to give all three sometimes kept me awake at night. I placed the sack from Mayor Christensen in the box and that’s where it would stay until I used it all.

  The
gun had more firepower than the pug...almost too much. Crafted by Smith & Wesson, it punched large, gaping holes in people and obliterated small animals. The laser gun 350 was a bit too big for my hands. I almost never use it, but keep it locked up so that no one could break in and pawn it for silver, drugs or other more lethal weapons.

  With the pug in my ankle holster and the 350 in my new shoulder holster, I was feeling all right and protected. Fate smiled on me. I managed to escape the office before the sun fully sank into the horizon. It sprayed the sky with a reddish pink that reminded me of watery blood. With any luck, I would beat the traffic over to Padre's Gym. I glanced once more around the darkened office before locking up. Almost immediately, my thoughts returned to Amanda Christensen as they had done for the last day. I didn't want to think about Montano right now. It could have been a crank call he made from the cradle, or someone who had pieced together his voice clips into a frightening harmonious message to terrorize me.

  I had plenty of enemies.

  The T.A. had people who specialized in doing that very thing. And if Mr. Schmuckler didn't believe that no meant no, he might succumb to strong-arming me via terror tactics.

  It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to bully me into doing what he wanted. Not that it happened often, but it did happen.

  With these cheery thoughts, I entered the elevator and pressed the number one button. No one got on and it did not stop until I reached the first floor. As I exited the building, wind whipped with whistling sounds as I walked across the lot to the only remaining wauto. Mine. A whirlwind of garbage tumbled by like urban tumbleweeds. The odor of urine, grime and trash scented the air. Ah, eau de East Side D.C.

  My coat billowed outward because I had only buttoned the bottom three buttons. I wanted to be able to get to the 350 without difficulty in case Montano was out through some big ass loop hole in the justice system.

  My eyes watered up from the damn cold, but better to be cold now than dead later.

  Nervous? Who me?

  Nah, just prepared.

  As I reached my vehicle, my skin itched as if someone was watching me. It prickled and the sensation blanketed my arms and legs. I searched the area around me in the fading sunlight as I took out my 350. I climbed into the wauto, and checked the backseats for possible, uninvited guests.