Robert Walker - Cutting edge

“Then say it straight out, Captain.”

He gritted his teeth. “They've denied your promotion request to detective status.”

Lucas dropped his gaze. “No big surprise, sir.”

“It's just a little soon, having just Finished basic. They all know how heroically you performed in the Aguilar affair, but this isn't exactly a business here, you know. We are a paramilitary operation, and that, Lucas, that means-”

“Rank comes only with time; I know. I've heard it before, sir. So what will be my duties, Captain?”

“Well, son, you sorta painted yourself into a… a hole here.” Lawrence looked around the dungeon, self-consciously cleaning his hands on his pants legs.

Lucas stirred the dust on the floor as he shot to his feet, swearing, “Damn, damn it to hell. You mean I'm stuck with the Cold Room duty, don't you?”

“I'm sorry, Lucas. I want you to know I went to bat for you, for all the good it did.”

Lucas thought of saying nothing, unsure of Lawrence's sincerity, but seeing the older man squirm where he sat, he replied, 'Thanks for your support, Captain.”

“Don't give up on us, Stonecoat, and we… we won't give up on you. I promise you that.”

Phil Lawrence stood, extended his hand, taking Lucas's firmly and shaking it for some moments before leaving the room.

The meeting added to the insufferable gloom of the place he found himself in. He hadn't seen or spoken to Meredyth since the early days of the mass arrests, which were now turning into mass releases. It did appear that Father Aguilar's clique was small and insulated from his larger flock of followers, by all accounts.

And yet there continued the nagging feeling that Father Aguilar and the four killed with him and the one who'd died in South Dakota had not acted alone. But now the investigation was effectively dismantled, all questions put aside.

Lucas kicked about the confining room, about to run out screaming when his phone rang. He lifted the receiver to the melodic voice of Meredyth Sanger. “How's my favorite Native American detective?”

“Cop,” he corrected her. “Just another cop, Doctor. There was no promotion in this for me. I'm still Officer Stonecoat, still here in the Cold Room.”

He only heard the mutterings, imagining that she'd cupped her hand over the mouthpiece as she swore. Then she said, “Well, it can only be a matter of time. I gave you an excellent report. Lawrence has to. Your jacket will be stuffed to brimming in no time, and-”

“I think they like me just where I am, Mere, the cold file wrangler. But enough about me. How've you been?” He wanted to say that he'd missed her, but he suppressed the words, instead asking her, “Have you missed me?”

“We made a good team, Lucas, and we'll work together again. I just know it,” she countered, sidestepping the issue. “And how's Conrad?”

“He's gotten a bit more used to things, accepting of them.”

“Yeah, he looked pretty shaken the other night.”

She laughed lightly at this. “I was holding him up.”

“He seems a good man.”

“Yeah… yeah, he is…”

“Meredyth,” he began.

“Yes?”

“Are you satisfied that Aguilar and his little clique acted alone?”

There was a long silence before she said, “No…”

He breathed in deeply, feeling some relief that he was not alone in his belief. “Why?”

“I can't quite say why.”

“Has Randy Oglesby any qualms about how things turned out?”

“Randy's been… well, quiet on the subject.”

“Quiet?”

“If I broach the subject, he turns it away. Makes light of my… doubts.”

Lucas considered this. “It does seem odd that Pardee and Amelford were so closely tailing us. Have you heard anything from Bullock and Price at the FBI?”

“Only a congratulations call. You?”

“I'm sure they likely assumed you'd forward their regards down here to me.”

“How are you getting on with Lawrence?”

“Okay, a bit shaky ground between us, but okay.”

“Do you still harbor suspicions about him?”

He considered this. “I'm unable not to.”

“Me, too.”

“Do you want to get together? Talk about it?”

“Strangely enough, I feel like… well, that I'm being watched lately, she confessed.”

“Join the crowd. Remember me? Mr. Paranoia?”

“And I think someone's got to Randy, someone's frightened him,” she added.

“Threatened his life?”

“I can't be sure, but, yes, I think so.”

“Who do we trust? Who do we take this to?”

“FBI,” she suggested.

“Ring Bullock and Price. See if they'll meet with us. But do it from a secure phone.”

“Will do.”

They set up a time and a place to secretly meet the following day. Lucas, on hanging up, began to feel some of the old creeping fear coming over him. They could easily let it be; the killers-any remaining-must be smart enough to end their kill spree at this juncture. But if Meredyth and he continued investigating, they ran the risk of being eliminated like Father Aguilar and his henchmen.

There was no waiting until tomorrow to make a move. He must do something tonight.

Lucas found Randy Oglesby extremely wary of him. He didn't much relish the idea of allowing Lucas into his apartment, and for good reason. He had a girl with him, Darlene Muentes, who looked up at Lucas from the sofa, smiling, her teeth shiny, her body slim.

“I'm sorry to burst in on you, Randy.”

“Good, then you can go, Detective.”

“Oh, Jim, he is your partner?” asked Darlene.

Lucas only stared at the young woman, while Randy gritted his teeth and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Darlene, I… I can't go on with the… this lie… any longer.”

“Lie?” she asked.

“I'm not really a detective with the police department, and my name is not Pardee. My name is Randy… Randy Oglesby…”

“Oh, shit. Randy, not now!” Lucas fairly groaned his discomfort.

Darlene stared at Randy as if she'd been told the world was square. She was unable to get any words out. He used this to his advantage.

“I was doing a little undercover work for Detective Stonecoat, here.”

“Leave me out of this,” Stonecoat said, going for the kitchenette in search of a drink.

Darlene's eyes grew wider. “Stonecoat? Lucas Stonecoat? I… I can't believe it. I just don't believe it. I've read all the stories in all the papers. You… you were wonderful, how you caught those bizarre killers.”

Lucas thanked her, and knowing a bit about her from Randy, that he'd met her at the lab, he said, “And it all started with those goblets we asked you to work on, dear, so you're a hero, too.”

She beamed. “Oh, Randy,” she tested the new name, “why didn't you tell me the truth?”

Randy's face did a waltz through his conflicting emotions before he selected his words.

“It was all undercover. I'm just sorry you had to learn it this way.”

She waved it off as if it were nothing. “But if you're not a detective?”

“He's our expert computer man,” Lucas quickly filled in. “Without him, we could have gotten nowhere. That's why I'm here tonight, Randy.”

Randy looked at Lucas. “Oh?”

“Some missing parts, and we need your help.”

“Oh, how exciting,” declared Darlene, beaming.

Randy looked from Darlene to Lucas and back to Darlene again.

Lucas asked, “Well?”

Darlene threw her hands up. “Don't let me stand in your way. I'm fascinated.”

“Darlene, all this is like classified stuff,” Randy began. “You… you'll have to go.”

“Damn it, no!” she moaned.

“Oh, let her stay,” complained Lucas. “He's such a stickler for regulations. It gets in the way sometimes.”