Debra Webb - Never Happened

“Jackson,” he said, acknowledging her presence but immediately returning his attention to the file in front of him. She was pretty sure his reluctance to maintain eye contact was about keeping his emotions to himself.

“Hey, Patton.” She sat down in the chair next to his desk. “I heard about Henson. Man, I can’t believe it. Do you know what happened?”

He shook his head, spared her another brief glance. “Techs are…ah…checking out his car for mechanical failures, but it looks like he fell asleep at the wheel. Just ran off the road. He’d been putting in way too many hours lately. I tried to tell him.” The sigh that punctuated that final statement as well as his emphatic attempts to refocus his attention on the file gave away just how badly Henson’s death had shaken him.

But his words were what hit Alex the hardest. Henson hadn’t sounded the least bit sleepy or even tired when she’d spoken to him. In fact, he’d sounded hyped. She couldn’t say why, but her intuition was humming like crazy. She’d at first thought that she was merely in denial about Henson’s death, but it was more than that.

Stay calm. Take it slow. Hysterics won’t get you anywhere. “That’s why I came by,” she said, unsure whether what she had to say held any relevance but certain she didn’t want to keep it to herself in case it proved somehow significant. “Henson called me last night at around eight-thirty, maybe nine.”

Patton picked up a small spiral notepad and shuffled through the pages until he’d found what he was looking for. “Yeah, we got that from his cell phone. I know you did a cleanup on an unattended suicide he’d covered. I was going to touch base with you and see if the call he made to you had anything to do with that.” His gaze connected with hers then. “Or if maybe the two of you…”

He let the sentence trail off. Alex didn’t have to say anything; he read the truth in her eyes. She and Henson hadn’t started going out again. Patton looked away as if he’d rather she’d lied to him. Partners talked about their personal lives. She wouldn’t have expected any less.

Turning her attention back to the real problem, she asked, “He didn’t talk to you last night?” Alex found that possibility unreasonably disturbing considering she’d passed along a piece of possible evidence that Henson had obviously been excited about. Wouldn’t he tell his partner that?

Patton scrubbed his hand over his face. “I was at the hospital until I heard about the accident. My wife went into labor a little early.”

A new baby. She’d forgotten his wife was expecting. Well that explained his being left out of the loop last night. “Is everything okay?”

He grinned but the effort was a little dim under the circumstances. “Yeah. A girl. Eight pounds one ounce. She’s a doll.”

Something far too similar to longing pierced a tender place deep inside Alex. She evicted the sentimental ache and gave herself a swift mental kick for even allowing the senseless emotion to rear its pointless head. She’d made her decisions about husbands and kids long ago. Hearing about other people’s kids didn’t usually bother her…the emotional roller coaster this morning was about Henson.

She still couldn’t believe he was dead. She kept expecting to turn around and hear him tossing some silly joke at her or asking her if she had plans this weekend.

His death had rattled her. This wasn’t really about the nonrelationship they’d shared…he was a friend, of course she’d be unsettled by his death. She didn’t allow regrets. She preferred her independence. She liked taking care of herself and not having to rely on anyone else for anything. This was just a normal reaction to losing a friend.

Shaking off the disturbing thoughts, she rejoined the conversation and did what she’d come here to do. “I don’t know if this makes any difference,” she began, unsure exactly how to explain the situation, “but I gave Henson a piece of what may have been evidence from the Crane suicide scene.”

Patton sat up a little straighter, his attention sharpening a bit. “What sort of evidence? Henson’s report says the incident was cut-and-dried. No questions on his end. I haven’t seen the autopsy report yet—they’re a little backed up over at the morgue—but the M.E. didn’t mention expecting anything unusual, according to Henson’s notes.”

She nodded. He was right on all counts. Henson hadn’t said anything different to her. “I gave him a peculiar…” God, how did she say this? “It looked like some sort of contact lens, except different.” Well that surely explained what she meant. Frustration brimmed. “Henson took it to a friend for unofficial analysis,” she offered in lieu of a better explanation. “When he called me last night he was wound up about it. He said he was going over to pick the lens up and that he’d be taking it to the state lab this morning. He sounded pretty excited.”

Patton’s gaze narrowed with keener interest. “Do you know who he was going to see?”

Alex shook her head. “Not a clue. Some computer whiz. Like I said, he sounded excited. I can’t see him falling asleep at the wheel when he’d sounded fully alert when we spoke.”

Patton glanced at his watch and swore. “I have a meeting.” He stood. “Listen, if you think of anything else Henson said that might sound relevant, give me a call.” He passed Alex a business card that included his mobile as well as his home number. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything about the memorial service.”

Alex tucked the card into her bag, thanked him and made her way through the maze of cold metal desks and warm bodies without stopping to chat with anyone. She wanted to get out of here and to some place where she could think. The idea that just yesterday Henson had been hanging out here had her on the verge of hyperventilating.

A detective who looked vaguely familiar almost bowled her over as he bounded past her. Alex felt like slugging him but didn’t want the hassle. She needed out of here. She couldn’t breathe.

“Patton,” she heard the cop who’d been in such a hurry say, “I’ve got the preliminary on that house explosion on Morningside.”

Alex’s feet slowed. Maybe it was oxygen deprivation. Morningside? Wasn’t that where Henson had said the whiz kid lived? She lingered, wanted to hear the rest of what the detective had to say.

“They found a body, but it was burned so badly it’ll take some time to ID it.”

Alex told herself she was probably overreacting. A lot of people lived in Morningside—this explosion could have nothing to do with Henson’s friend who lived there. It could be anything from a meth lab to a gas leak.

“You take a ride over there,” Patton suggested. “I’ll join you after my meeting.”

Alex turned around, waited for Patton and the other detective to catch up to her. There was one more thing she had to know. “By the way, where was the scene of Henson’s crash?” The paper hadn’t given the location.

Patton looked mildly annoyed that she had waylaid him or maybe the exhaustion was making him testy. “Over on I-95 near Hallandale. Why?”

She shrugged. “Just wondered.”

Patton eyed her suspiciously. “If you have other information, Jackson, I need to know. He was my partner.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing like that.” The white lie felt bitter on her tongue. She should just tell him. “I was just curious that’s all.” But she couldn’t. He already didn’t really believe her. What was it he’d said? If you think of anything else Henson said that might sound relevant…? Until she could make sense of this herself, she was wasting her time trying to clarify it to anyone else.

“See ya around,” he muttered.