Powers (33 page)

Deena sighed with frustration. She took a breath and held on to her seat belt as Enki steered toward their destination. They'd had no report regarding Aaron's arrest, and Deena wondered if he'd gotten to the building before anyone could pick him up. They had to try and stop him before he killed again. Before Liberty took revenge one last time.

I still can't believe it. How many times did he bitch and moan about putting Liberty away? How many times did I lie in his arms, sit on the porch, and listen as he went on about doing it
by the book
? Due process, a trial of one's peers, all that happy horseshit. And all that time, this douche bag was lying straight to my face. I wonder what the hell
else
he was lying about.

The events of the last three days caught up to her like a freight train. A whirlwind of victories and betrayals flashed before her eyes. Aaron had known about the Rampage Brothers; he'd known about the guitar strings that Kirk found in Ellis Station. Not because he was a musical enthusiast, but because they were the strings he'd purchased and used to snick the Rammlers' heads from their beefy German shoulders.

And he'd known about Monroe's ties to Liberty and maybe even the Human Front. He had to have known,
right
? He probably knows why Crane refused Monroe's deal. Why else come here other than to get closure, to finish the job? Crane had stayed in prison; he didn't mar the judge's track record. No, it had to do with Monroe … with his tattoos and hatred of powered individuals. That made sense, right? And Dad …

 …
Deena's father—what had
that
been about? Shutting Waldo up or getting revenge? Did Aaron try to kill him because he was gonna squeal? That was ridiculous. Waldo had stayed inside his little hole for the last decade, barely coming out to even call his daughter. What did he care about Aaron or Kenneth Boucher after all these years? He didn't, nor did Aaron care about him … but Aaron had been afraid of what Waldo might say when faced with a daughter seeking the truth.
Maybe the mutated hep B was meant for someone else—Crane, Walker, or another target we don't yet know about?
Was Aaron that desperate and clever, and was his plan unraveling so badly that he'd take a shot at her father and seamlessly fold it into his insane, horrible plan?

For that matter,
Deena wondered as Enki rocketed up the street,
what about the fact that he fucking strangled me the other night? Liberty said that I'd been betrayed. I thought he meant Walker—because, well, Aaron had been there for me and Walker was disengaging. But now I know, don't I? Sure, he probably hoped I'd immediately focus on Walker, too. Aaron hates Walker—afraid, no doubt, that he knows something and might expose his string of murders. Walker had been local during the gang war—we'd never met, but I think he knew Waldo. I
know
he knew Monroe. Maybe Aaron had opened his investigation as a way of getting Walker out of the way without having to kill the guy? Or maybe … once Walker wasn't a cop anymore, Aaron felt he could ice him without being a cop-killer? I don't know. He's been three steps ahead, betraying us all.

God, I want to kill him. No … I just want this to be over. And then … and then I'm out.

“Let's go.”

Deena looked up, jarred from her reverie. They'd arrived at 500 Fialkov. Enki had pulled her SUV around the edge of the crowd, skirting the sea of fanatics and rabid reporters, aiming for the parking garage in the back of the building. There was a gatehouse, and Enki flashed her badge at the guard. He waved them forward and then reached for his phone. Deena pulled her gun and aimed it at his face.

“Open up,” she barked, gesturing toward the gate. “Seen a guy come this way, thin and dark? Maybe looks like a cop?”

The guard frowned. “Seen a lot of guys today maybe look like a cop.”

Deena motioned forward. “Open the fucking gate, will ya? No one likes a gut shot wiseass.” The guard nodded and raised the barrier. Deena waved him out of the gatehouse with her gun. “Around the building, toward the front. Don't call anyone; don't warn security. Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone,” she said, gesturing with her hand. “Let's go. And your cell.”

Curious, the guard slowly handed over the wireless handset to the gatehouse phone and a tablet. Deena snatched them from his grasp. She smashed the handset and snapped the cell in two, tossing the pieces out the window.

“Hey!” the guard objected. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

Deena stopped him with a finger and a scowl. “You know who I am? I'll find you. You know who I fucking am?”

The guard, taken aback by her tone, stopped and shook his head, sweat flying from the brim of his cap. “No. No, I don't.”

Deena smiled. “Great. Have a nice day.”

Enki drove into the garage and turned the corner. Before them, parked on an angle, were two police cruisers. Their lights were flashing, red and blue painted against the garage's peeling walls. Enki stopped short, put it in park and then leaped from her seat and drew her sidearm. Deena followed suit, edging out the passenger door and quietly creeping up on the leftmost cruiser. Just beyond, splayed out on the floor, she could see unconscious cops. Looming over them was Aaron Boucher, dressed in shirtsleeves, jacket and coat draped across his parked sedan. His hair was atrocious—corkscrews spiraling out from both temples, mussed by what had to have been a brief but invigorating round of fisticuffs. He was breathing hard, glancing at the detectives as they approached from opposite ends of the cars, guns and faces drawn.

“Hey, Deen.” He waved, somewhat cavalier, as if Deena were meeting him for lunch instead of coming to arrest him. She squinted, lining her sight along the center of his chest. “Don't ‘Deen' me. You know you're fucking under arrest, right?”

Aaron stared and then laughed. He wiped a hand against his shirt, knocking his tie askew, and then ran it through his unkempt hair. “See, I told you that you were one hell of a detective. Figured it out, huh? Sure took you long enough.”

“Well, my partner's been out of commission, and my father nearly died, so as you can imagine, I've been a bit distracted.”

Aaron held out his hands in supplication. “I'll admit to the latter, but as far as Walker, Deena, you know I—”

Her sidearm vibrated as she spat in his direction. “No, I don't fucking
know anything
. I
used
to know I loved you. I
used
to know I respected you, despite the fact that you dumped me without an explanation. But at least I know why now. At least now I know that you broke it off because you were afraid I'd find out you were worse than my father.”

Deena advanced, and Enki followed. Human Front security, alerted no doubt by the untrustworthy guard, would be on them at any minute. But Deena had to get this out while she had the chance, to distract him until they could get him into cuffs. Her heart was brimming with hate and pain; this had to come out now before he took another step. “You inspired me to be a cop. Did you know that, Aaron? You and Waldo, the two assholes in my life. Because of you, I
made
something of myself. And you know what? I fucking hate you for making me realize that it was for
bullshit
. There are no good cops—not anymore. Maybe there never were.”

She gestured toward Enki. “Well, maybe one or two.”

Enki nodded, faced forward, arms extended and aiming at Aaron's face. “Thanks for that.”

Deena heard footsteps in the distance, slapping against pavement and snow. She didn't know how close they were, so she rushed to finish. “You … you were
never
a good cop, Aaron. All this time, you were in on it. With Monroe, my dad. And you just … you wore a
mask,
like all the other Powers. You wore a mask and pretended to be somebody else. Someone I never should have trusted.”

Aaron stuck his hands in his pockets. “I'm sorry you see it that way. But there's more to it, Deena. There's more you aren't aware of.”

She laughed. “There
always
is. That's what we do—you, me, Walker. We hoard secrets. We can never trust anybody but ourselves, and so we hide the truth from those closest to us. You know the funny thing about Walker and the Powers? At least they're honest. They wear … wore masks in the open, so we
knew
they were hiding something. You and I? We don't even have the balls to be as honest as
that
.”

She stopped talking, listening again for approaching footsteps. But the garage was silent as a tomb now; Deena stood there, pointing a gun at Aaron's chest, glancing down at the comatose policemen and fervently hoping they were still alive. Aaron fidgeted, shifting on the pavement, and she snapped back into position, aiming at his heart.

“Now what?” he asked. He held up his palms, waiting for a response.

Enki reached for a pair of handcuffs. “Now you have the right to remain silent.”

He moved back, close to the wall, angling for the door that led out of the garage and into the building. “Come on. She just said there's no such thing as a good cop, and now you're playing one to her bad? Fuck … I mean, come
on
. Don't be absurd.”

“Shut up, Aaron,” Deena warned him, continuing to advance.

He turned toward her, ignoring the other detective. “Where was law and order back when Monroe killed random criminals because he hated what they stood for? Where was justice when Waldo gathered bribes and colluded with the enemy? No, don't make me laugh, Detective Sunrise.” He held a finger out to Enki, pointing at her chest. Aaron's voice was loud and abrasive now, echoing throughout the garage. “You're arresting
me
? Your partner, Walker,
he
was the real bad guy. Him and Monroe. Walker was Blue Streak—did you know? He killed thousands of mafiosi … never brought them in by the book, he and his crew. And Diamond? That guy palled around with a traitor to his own people—don't tell me he
didn't fucking know
! They were longtime pals.

“No.…” He ran fingers through his hair again. “Walker's the criminal. Crane, Deena's father. The Soldier. Me? I just did what I've always done. I protected my family and the ones I loved. And I brought criminals to justice my
own
way. The
right
way. The way Monroe did poorly and for selfish reasons all those years ago.”

Deena bit her lip. The gun wavered in her hand, waggling at Aaron.
Fuck him,
she thought.
Nothing but excuses and crazy manifestos. But there are no excuses for what he's done. He's no different from any other whack-job banger or half-pint kingpin we take down on a daily basis. He believes in rhetoric; he believes in his truth. But the only truth here is that there is
right
and there is
wrong
. And as a wise man once wrote, that distinction isn't difficult to make.

But still, I can't just shoot. I mean, there's history. And just like Walker had to step away from the Monroe case to get perspective … maybe I'm too close to all this. I don't love the guy anymore—like I did; I'm not that much of an idiot. But I'll admit I felt
something
for him these last three days. Yeah, there's heartbreak and betrayal, but also longing … and there were good times, too, no? I mean
,
he's a killer, don't get me wrong. But so am I. And Walker. We've killed in the line of duty, seeking justice. We killed men and mobsters, gods and glamazons. And who did Aaron kill? Intolerant hate-speeching, militant bigots? Superpowered thugs and hooligans? He tried to kill Waldo, but let's be honest, Deena … your father is as guilty of betraying the law as Blitzkrieg or the Rammlers or half a dozen criminals on Liberty's hit list. So who's to say that Aaron is wrong?

Deena swallowed, desperate for a drink. And the answer came. Walker
. He tried to kill Walker. Even me, even Dad—those weren't as bad as trying to kill my partner, you righteous asshole. I loved you once, long ago. I was
inspired
by you. But you tried to kill my goddamn partner, and that cannot stand.

She motioned for Enki to cuff him, covering from her side. But she'd waited too long, and before either detective could make a move, Aaron sprang and swept the gun from Enki's hand.

So fast
, Deena gibbered inside her rapidly processing mind.
How'd he get so fast?
She steadied her pistol, preparing to fire … but she hesitated again, and he was on her like a cat, slashing at her wrist with iron fingers. She dropped the gun and kicked out, but Aaron spun Deena off her feet, sending her ass over teakettle onto the ground.

Enki scrambled for either gun, but Aaron danced her way and stepped on her leg, breaking an ankle. Enki muffled a scream and tried to grab his foot, but Aaron swiftly lifted up and kicked her in the head. Enki fell to the floor, skull colliding with one of the unconscious cops. She lay silent in a discarded heap.

Deena struggled to get up, but Aaron was already halfway toward the door. She shouted, and he turned back, staring over his shoulder.

“Give up, Deena. You can't stop me. You must know that by now.”

She tumbled into a somersault, expertly snatching her gun as she came back onto her feet. But Aaron merely smirked.

“Don't take another step,” she warned him. “So much as move toward the door and you're my personal Christmas turkey shoot.”

Aaron glanced back at the gatehouse. Footsteps and commotion had returned, getting closer, angry and concerned strangers scurrying into the garage. Deena remained vigilant, keeping her gun trained on her former flame, edging closer to Enki to make sure her partner wasn't dead. She carefully bent down and checked for a pulse and confirmed that her battered friend was merely knocked out.