Hyde, an Urban Fantasy (45 page)

Detective Landon came in a short while later and whispered something in the shrink’s ear. He shot Eden a quick, tight grin and walked out, the shrink following him.

Eden craned her neck to look at the gauze and tape the EMTs had wrapped around her shoulder. The sling they’d given her helped keep the muscles relaxed, but there wasn’t much else they could do. She’d refused the pain killers they’d offered. She could deal with her shoulder. It could be a lot worse. All she had to do was think about Carter and she knew it could be a lot worse.

Landon had told her they hadn’t heard any news from the hospital. Since the other police officers mostly ignored her, she hoped that meant Carter was still alive. If he wasn’t, surely it would have shown on the cops’ faces or in their demeanor. As it was now, they were tense, waiting for something. To find out if they were dealing with a murder instead of just an attempted one?

A long while later, Landon stepped into the room and motioned for her to follow him with a flick of his head. She did. No questions, no hesitation.
Maybe this is when they read me my rights.
She walked a few strides behind the big cop through the station, passing meth addicts, prostitutes and drunks. A well-put-together looking woman, with eyes as big as the tires on the SUV she probably drove, was scared out of her mind, keeping her body as tightly wrapped as possible so as not to touch the undesirables.

Eden wasn’t sure which one she most resembled—a terrified suburbanite or someone the suburbanite was terrified of.

The detective led her to a desk, stacked high with paper and files, a few coffee cups, and a computer that might have been held together by all the post-its surrounding the monitor.

Landon pulled out a dirty-looking fabric chair and sat down, and then held out his hand, indicating the seat she should take. He picked up his phone—not a cell phone, the old-fashioned, bulky landline ones.

“You wanna call someone?” he asked.

This isn’t his first day. Why is he doing this out of order?
She didn’t ask, not wanting to remind him if he’d simply forgotten.
Yeah, right. He forgot. Just make the call
. Her one phone call before they officially arrested her and put her in the slammer. There was only one person to call. But she needed to stop crying before she dialed.

“Tell whoever it is to pick you up in about twenty minutes. We just need to get your signature on the statement but Processing is still getting the other paperwork together.”

“I get to go home?” It wasn’t a whine, but sounded like one.

He shook his head. “No, not home. Your apartment is a crime scene for now. You’ll need to stay elsewhere.”

“Why are you letting me go?”

 “I was told to,” he said with a humorless smile. “I was
told
to look into the drug dealing angle. I was
told
that the murder of the junkie and then last night’s murder of the dealer in the alley, plus the attempted murder of your friend the rookie, were so similar, it was
probably
a fight over territory.”

Landon put down the phone and leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “I’m not sure how much you are wrapped up with Mitch Turner, but his friends must be watching out for you, too. I’ve checked you out, Eden. You’re not like him or whoever is protecting him. You need to stay away from them. Because whatever is going on with him and his friends is not something you should be around. When I take them down—and I will, regardless of my orders—I don’t want to have to take you with them.”

She shook her head. “Mitch didn’t know who called you. Neither of us know anyone in the police department who’d want to help us, other than Carter, and he’s only a tech trainee.”

“Carter? The kid who . . .” He shook his head. “No, Carter’s not a tech. He’s a new-hire. Just took the rescue diver course, I think.”

“You must be thinking of the wrong person. Carter,
my
Carter, just finished a forensics course at the Tech Academy in the Keys.”

He grabbed a pen and scribbled something on a small pad of paper. “There is no Tech Academy in the Keys. It’d be way too expensive to have one there. The only thing that’s down there is the dive school we send officers to once they pass the exam.”

“No, that’s impossible,” she said, her voice gaining strength while her heart lost some. “He couldn’t get into the Police Academy.”

“I don’t know what he told you, but there is no Tech Academy in the Keys. I could be wrong about
him
though. I’ll need to recheck his file.”

She rubbed her forehead, thinking back on what exactly Carter had told her about the course. No, he’d— No. The detective must have gotten Carter mixed up with someone else.

He yanked on the telephone’s cord and pulled the phone closer to her, ruffling the chaos on his desk. “Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

“I think so. Have you heard anything from the hospital? Any news about Carter?”

“No, not recently. But you can check up on him when you leave here.”

“I will.” If she could walk to North Broward Hospital, she would. Right now. She needed to know Carter was going to be alright. And then if—
when
he was better, he could tell the police what she’d done to him. Then they’d bring her back here and lock her up for good.

She picked up the receiver slowly and held it to her ear.
Wait, what’s Mitch’s phone number?
In the time of cell phones and speed-dialing, did anyone even know anybody’s phone number anymore? She closed her eyes to think. Landon must have taken that as a hint, because she heard him get up from the desk. When she looked, she saw him speaking to another officer across the room.

Mitch answered on the fourth ring, just before she gave up. “What?” His voice was just as she remembered it—gruff, mean, and amazing.

“Mitch?”
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry. I’m crying, aren’t I?

“What’s wrong, Eden.” His words flew through the phone lines in short succession—he was in panic-mode.

“It’s Carter. Carter. Oh God, Mitch, there was so much blood.” She ignored a few stares of other civilians around her and focused on keeping her breath steady so Mitch would be able to understand what she was saying.

“Is he—No, never mind. You can tell me later. Where are you?”

“At the police station.”

“Fuck.” He blew out a quick puff of air. “Did you tell them anything?”

“No. But Carter. He told me—”

“Don’t say anything else! You hear me? They could be listening.”

They? Oh, the police. Yeah, that was a possibility. “Okay.” Her brain was on auto-pilot, the plane was going down and there were no parachutes. What does one do at that point? Panic. And, in Eden’s case, apparently adding more dry-weeping into the mix seemed like a good idea, too.

“Breathe, Eden. Breathe.” He waited until the hiccupping of her breath had slowed down. “Do not say anything to them. Do you hear me? I’m going to call a lawyer.”

“Why? Can’t you pick me up?”

“What? Aren’t they holding you?”

“No. They said I can go home. I wanna go home, Mitch,” she whimpered.

“I’m coming.” No pause, no question. He was coming. “No. Shit. I’ll send Jolie.” Or not.

“But I want
you
.”

“You’ll have me, okay? Just as soon as we get you home.” He yelled Jolie’s name at the top of his lungs, and Eden flinched away from the phone.

“Mitch?”

“Yeah, babe.”

She wasn’t sure why he couldn’t come himself, but wasn’t going to argue over the phone. She was too tired. “Tell Jolie to hurry.”

“Okay. I’ll be waiting for you. Be strong, Eden.”

She’d try. Jolie would pick her up, and then Mitch could take her to the hospital to see Carter. Yeah, she’d need Mitch to be there too. So he could keep her standing. And strong.

Eden waited on a long row of plastic chairs set so close together, she had to tuck in her shoulders to avoid touching the people on either side of her. The man on her left looked as uncomfortable as she did, but she leaned closer to him anyway, just to get away from the man on her other side.
He
smelled like he’d had just had a tryst with a box of wine, his body slumping toward her.

She said a quiet prayer of thanks when Jolie walked in. The woman always looked perfect, which made the contrast between her and the rest of the lobby’s occupants even greater. She looked so comfortable, as if she was in Nordstrom’s doing a little shopping rather than in a place that smelled like sweat, nervousness and captivity. Her hair was down, hitting the middle of her back, the front kept off her beautiful face with a clip. Crisply ironed gray pants and a flowing top completed the image of controlled sexiness, bringing every eye in the place to rest on her.

Eden jumped up, entirely aware that, in comparison, she looked more like the drunk staring at Jolie than the object of his ogling. At least the blood was gone. The clothes she’d been wearing when she woke up were in a lab somewhere nearby being analyzed for trace evidence.

§       
§          §

Jolie scowled at the girl who had caused her so much trouble. That trouble would all be washed away soon though, as soon as Hyde appeared. “You look like hell, Eden.”

“Then I guess I look better than I feel.”

Jolie shrugged and ventured a glance around the room, grimacing. “Can we leave now?”

Eden nodded and followed Jolie out the station door to Mitch’s car. She’d parked in front of a hydrant.

Jolie was silent as they drove, wondering how to ask why they’d let Eden go with so much evidence against her. But she had to be subtle, and Jolie didn’t do
subtle
well.

“Why didn’t Mitch come?” Eden asked.

“What?” Jolie was jolted away from her planning. “Oh, he thought it might look suspicious. Even though they’re not investigating Shelly’s case anymore, they don’t trust him. Cops.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, and he’s caged.” Her smile was humorless.

“He’s still in the cage? Did he change last night?”

“No. It was a false alarm, but he’s still fighting Hyde off. He took a sedative to help.”

The girl’s lip curled slightly, and she nodded. “I need a phone. Could I use yours?”

“I left it at the house. You’ll have to wait.”

Jolie had never felt more pissed off, more alone. She’d always felt someone had her back—The Clinic when she was dealing with Mitchell and Mitchell when she was dealing with The Clinic. Of course, Mitchell had no idea that he was actually supporting one of the people who were destroying any chance he had at a normal life. And now that Jolie had killed Carter—and in such a messy manner—The Clinic was going to be beyond angry with her. But she’d had no choice. And framing Eden for his death had been a perk.

Killing the drug-dealing witness didn’t bother her at all. Like the junkie before him, the guy was probably going to die a violent death anyway. Jolie had just hurried up the inevitable. But Carter. Eden’s handler. He’d been different. Had given Jolie pause. But she’d get over it.

She should have known Carter wasn’t cut out for this type of work. “Losing” his medical file and getting him into the Police Academy hadn’t been enough. Her skills with sexual and emotional manipulation hadn’t been enough. Poor deluded Carter couldn’t be trusted, so he’d had to go.

It was a sad realization, but sad realizations were a daily event in her life. She did horrible things to a man who, in another life, might have loved her. Instead, Mitchell was only hers when Hyde took over his body.

Life sucks. Everybody uses everybody. Everyone uses themselves to get what they want. Or to get the results they are told to get.

For Jolie, screwing Carter had been a mildly pleasurable part of that process. Screwing Mitchell—no, Hyde—after giving him a whopping dose of narcotic, had been even more pleasurable. But not nearly as much as what the girl now freaking out in the passenger seat next to her had experienced. No, Eden had the man, while Jolie had to make-do with the beast.

Yeah, doesn’t life just suck.