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  “Right away sir.”

  A few days later, Bridgette called, all apologies and wanting to meet for dinner to discuss the divorce agreement. His lawyers recommended he agree to meet because it would be better to settle out of court, if only to keep his name out of the headlines. As a doctor, he had no desire to tarnish his reputation.

  On that final horrible night, he arrived first and got them a table. Bridgette arrived breathless.

  “I’m so sorry for being late.”

  As a gentleman, he couldn't help but stand up and pull her chair for her. His mother’s insistence on good manners had been thoroughly ingrained in him.

  “I am so sorry for everything that happened. I still love you and I really think we can make this work,” she began as she reached out to caress his hand

  He pulled his hand away from her touch. “I don’t love you Bridgette. I never have. A divorce is the best thing for both of us. We can move on with our lives separately wherever they may take us.”

  She crossed her arms under her chest, pressing her breasts tight against the deep v of her dress. It was such an obvious move, and he was ashamed to think it had ever worked on him. Men at other tables were going out of their way to angle their chairs so that they could get a better look at her. At one time, he had thought it was fun to be married to such a woman who could garner such blatant attention, but now he felt nothing, not even jealousy.

  “You’re going to regret this,” she warned.

  “I regret marrying you, but not this.”

  She threw her glass of wine in his face. “Bastard!” She stood up and stormed out of the restaurant.

  He had the waiter clear out her place setting and ate his meal in peace, ignoring the looks he got from those around him. He should have felt upset or sad, he thought, but really all he felt was relief. Felix paid for his meal leaving a very generous tip for the waiter, and then headed home. If he’d known, then what he knew now, he would have never pulled into the driveway where all the authority cars were lined up waiting for him, he would have ran earlier. That was just one of many mistakes he would make.

  He had gotten out of his car and approached. One of his neighbors pointed his way and suddenly he was swarmed by the authority.

  “What’s going on?” he had demanded.

  Fortunately, he knew enough to keep quiet until he could contact his lawyers. Despite all the times the authority tried to manipulate or scare him into saying something incriminating without telling him what they were holding him for, he waited until his lawyers showed up.

  “What is our client being held for?”

  “Mr. Roberts is not being held, simply detained for questioning over the murder.”

  “Who supposedly did Mr. Roberts murder?

  “His wife.”

  He had been shocked speechless. Bridgette was dead? “That can’t be. I had dinner with her, and then she left abruptly to go home. I remained at the restaurant. You can check the video feed and see for yourself.”

  The detective cleared his throat. “We were unable to find a recording from the restaurant.”

  His lawyer stepped forward. “If that’s all that you have to go by…”

  “We have statements from Mrs. Robert’s friends. She claimed that her husband beat her and that she feared for her life.”

  Felix was outraged. “That’s a lie! I would never hurt anyone, much less my own wife!”

  “There are pictures of bruises that she sent to her friends.”

  He was about to say something else, but his lawyer put his hand on Felix’s shoulder. “Do I understand correctly that my client is not being charged with an actual crime?”

  “Not at this time. We would like to question him but he will not be held…yet.”

  He spent two hours being questioned until his lawyers finally demanded an end to it. Felix felt like they repeated the same questions over and over trying to catch him in lie. He was eventually released but warned to make himself available for further questioning. As it turned out, being falsely accused of killing his wife was nothing compared to what happened next.

  Mr. Banks, the main lawyer and his father’s oldest friend told him to go to a hotel because his home was currently a crime scene. He was grateful he had his wallet and credit cards. At this point, he didn’t know if he ever wanted to go back to that house. If his wife had been killed there he couldn’t imagine living there.

  Walking out of the authority station, he found his car had been parked out front. He got inside and started it up planning to head to the hotel closest to the hospital where he worked. As he went to put on the brakes at the first intersection, though, he felt…nothing.

  “What the hell?” His heartbeat raced as he pumped the brakes over and over, but still nothing happened.

  Other cars blared their horns as he went straight through the red light. The only thing he could think to do was to use the curb to help slow him down, but even that didn’t do much. He spotted an empty park and took the chance. He jumped the curb and drove onto the grass, which finally managed to slow him some. He drove the entire length of the park before he bled enough speed that he could safely use a tree to come to a complete stop.

  He pushed the door release and he slid out onto the ground. Thank God he was still alive. Felix fumbled for his cell and hesitated, not knowing who to call. He settled for his roadside service, who towed the car away and took him to his hotel.

  That turned out to only be the beginning of a whole series of disastrous events. There was a fire that started in his hotel room while he was in the shower. The fire department investigated, but they couldn’t find the source of the fire. Next was a gas leak in the diner he was eating at. If he hadn’t been a doctor, he might not have diagnosed the waitress who passed out first. He tried to evacuate everyone, only to find the doors had been locked. Someone broke the window with a chair and with the cook’s help he managed to get the unconscious waitress out. He realized that these “accidents” were not accidents at all. As the incidents increased with frequency and severity, he began to worry that his presence would endanger others.

  His father’s lawyer, Mr. Banks, who had known him from childhood, came in the middle of the night and suggested that he run and hide until they could find out what had really happened with Bridgette. No body had even been found, but neighbors had reported yelling, gunshots, and seeing a body with blond hair being dragged into a car. He didn’t want to run, but the next time he tried to go in to work, a maniac attacked him, hurting two of the nurses he worked with and one of his patients. He was a danger to everyone around him.

  A streetwalker approached him bringing him back to the present.

  “Hey, baby, want a good time?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She smiled at him and rubbed her hands over his chest. “My, my, my, a handsome man with manners. I never see those anymore. I could give you half off.”

  “I don’t have much.” he told her, gently removing her hands from his body. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a few credits. “This is all I have to spare. Go get out of the cold and get something to eat.”

  The flirty siren look faded and an honest tired and distrustful woman stood before him. “Why would you do something like that for someone you don’t know without getting something out of it?”

  “I know what it’s like to be someplace I don’t belong, with no one to turn to. Take it.” He walked away. If only there was someone who could help him out of this situation.

  He headed further down the street until he found an empty alley. He would sleep there for the night. Tomorrow, he would sneak on board a transport ship and get as far away as possible.

  Chapter 3

  “Isaac, did you get the information I sent on the new perp?” Elsa asked as she sat at the desk in the hotel room. Kalen was taking a shower. They usually posed as a married couple when they worked missions, which required them to share a hotel room, but it was easier to guard one room than two. She had called I
saac, their tech and information guy, to find out more about their new case.

  “I got a copy of the official police report. A body was seen being dragged out of the house owned by Mr. Roberts and placed in the back of a car with a similar description to the one owned by Roberts.”

  “Was Roberts identified by the witnesses?”

  When Kalen came out of the bathroom in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, she couldn’t help but admire how different he looked in casual clothing. He turned toward her and pointed at the phone. She put it on speaker.

  “Say that again, Isaac.”

  “There was just a vague description of a man in a ski mask dragging a body with blond hair and stuffing her in the trunk of his car. The car had the same description as the perp’s.”

  Kalen rubbed his chin. “Did they find any traces of the body in Robert’s car?”

  “Mrs. Roberts’ fingerprints were found on her husband’s car, as you might expect, but nothing on the inside of the trunk. There was no sign of blood or a struggle. No body was found.”

  “Have they determined Mr. Roberts did it?”

  “They claim they just want him back for further questioning. There were statements from friends of Mrs. Roberts that her husband beat her and that she was afraid for her life,” Isaac told them.

  “Did Roberts give a statement to the authority?” Elsa asked.

  “Yes. I got the transcript. He claims that he was supposed to have dinner with his wife to discuss their divorce. They had an argument and she left the restaurant. He remained, ate his meal, then went home.”

  “Are there witness statements from the restaurant?” Kalen sat down on the edge of his bed.

  “That’s where it gets interesting. No one who had been working at the restaurant that night was called in for questioning and the authority didn’t request the names of the other diners for interviews.”

  “That’s…unusual,” Elsa commented.

  “It made me curious, so I hacked into the restaurant’s surveillance feed.”

  “And…” she prompted.

  “The restaurant feed for that date and time is missing.”

  “What?”

  “So I hacked into the video feed from the shop across from the restaurant instead. Mr. Roberts was telling the truth about meeting his wife. You can clearly see them both arrive, and about twenty minutes later she leaves again, alone. Mr. Roberts remained another hour before leaving.”

  She glanced over at Kalen. His face was as impassive as always, making it hard to know what he was thinking. “Isaac, could you get a time frame of when they met all the way to when he arrived at his home?”

  “I can do that. Anything else you need?”

  “Not yet. How long will it take you to get back to us?”

  “A few hours.”

  “Let me know when you’ve got the information.”

  “Will do.”

  She ended the call and placed the phone on the nightstand.

  “What are you thinking?” Kalen asked.

  “I’m pissed off. That lawyer wasn’t telling us the truth and there is something seriously corrupt going on with the authority investigation. They didn’t pull witnesses in for questioning and are going off of hearsay from the wife’s friends. The video feed from the restaurant is conveniently missing. It stinks of a major set up.”

  “Remember that we’re not here to save the perp. As far as we know, he did it, but that’s not for us to prove or disprove. Our job is just to get him to the authority safely.”

  She glared at Kalen. “I know what my job is.”

  She reached for her pajamas and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Kalen was right, but there was something about the profile that didn’t match what the perp was being accused of. Hell, she had met plenty of people who committed crimes no one ever thought them capable of. Once she had to hunt down a bail-jumping grandmother who had robbed a bank. She knew she would have to keep her emotions in check and do the job. If the guy was innocent, it would all come out—probably.

  Elsa stepped into the shower, and as soon as the water hit her skin, her coloring started to change. Her skin went from icy pale to a lightly tinted blue. The colder the water, the darker the blue would become. That came from her Bazinoid side. All Bazinoids had a blue tint to their skin, thought to be due to their preference for being in water. She was so used to it now, she hardly noticed, though she had found it endlessly fascinating as a child.

  Elsa was half Bazinoid and half humanoid, so her skin coloring changed only when she was exposed to water. She usually wore long sleeves and pants to cover as much of her skin as possible while working. She was a private person and didn’t like to share even that much about herself with possible enemies.

  Her brother, though, had been the exact opposite. He wore clothing that exposed his chest and liked to purposely dampen his skin to show the streaks of color. She missed her little brother every day. She’d taken this job because of him and she only hoped that he was proud of her.

  Their parents certainly weren’t happy with her career choices. They still lived on their home world of Bazin, while Elsa had moved to Fin-Dieskau to work for the VJ Bail Enforcement Agency. It had been the best decision she had ever made, though they still thought she should come home and settle down, do something “normal.” Fortunately, she’d always been independent and confident in her choices. Now if only her social life were as put together as her career.

  She quickly finished showering and when she turned off the water, the drying feature turned on immediately. The warm air dried her hair and her body at the same time, no need for a towel. She loved it when they took jobs that allowed them to stay in quality hotels. She stepped out of the stall and changed into her pajama shorts and top, then applied a little leave-in conditioner before leaving the bathroom. She didn’t have a major beauty regimen like her fellow bounty hunter Shy, but she took time for what she considered the most important stuff. Elsa liked to keep things simple and classy.

  The lights were out when she went to the bedroom. Kalen was already in bed with his back to her. She climbed into her bed and checked her phone on the nightstand. No messages or missed calls. That summed up her life: there was nothing going on at all.

  *****

  Felix went to an all-hours transit station. He found a corner bench and laid down on it. He was running out of credits on the prepaid card he had purchased the day before. The prepaid card would make his movements harder to trace, but he’d had to use his own credit card to purchase it, and he knew that card was being watched. It had taken only thirty minutes for the authority cars to show up at the store where he’d bought it. He knew they were after him. Then a black SUV showed up as well and shots rang out. He ducked just in time, narrowly missing a bullet that had been aimed directly at him. The authority had fortunately been distracted by chasing the SUV, allowing him time to get away. That was when it had finally registered that he was being hunted.

  Who would do such a thing? The authority hadn’t been the ones to shoot at him, it had been whoever was in the black SUV. But how did the SUV people find him? Their arrival had been too close to his paying for the prepaid card to be a coincidence. Someone with access to the either the transaction history or surveillance cameras was searching for him and reporting it to not only the authority, but to whoever was in the black SUV. As he lay there, trying desperately to think, he kept his face hidden from any surveillance cameras in the area, just in case.

  Perhaps the person that really killed Bridgette was behind all of this. He didn’t think he had done anything personally to anyone to make them want to hurt him like this. His wife was dead, his career was gone, his friends had all disappeared or were unreachable, and now his very life was in danger. He had always aimed to help others. Against his parents wishes, he had taken a lower-paying job at a hospital in the poverty-stricken area of town. Before his marriage to Bridgette, he had often taken summers off to travel with galactic healers to treat pe
ople in disaster zones and other places in need. Even when his parents had died, serving others had been a way to help him fill the void in his life and give him meaning. Everything had changed after he met Bridgette—changed for the worse.

  He shifted, feeling guilty for blaming everything bad in his life on his dead wife. He should be in mourning. Of course he regretted what had happened to her; he would never have wished such a thing on her. He was determined that the person responsible pay for it. First, though, he had to get his own name cleared.

  “Do you have any money?” an elderly woman asked as she stopped by his bench.

  He looked up and felt immediately sympathy for the woman. She had on several layers of dirty clothes and was pulling a beat-up luggage bag on wheels. Probably all she had was in that bag. Sitting up, he pulled out the few credits he could spare—which wasn’t much.

  “Here you go. I also have a bagel, if you would like that?” He handed her the bag with the bagel in it, and she took it and the credits gratefully.

  “Thank you, child. May the Lord bless you.”

  He gave her a small smile. “I need all the blessings I can get.” After the woman left, he lay back down and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, but he hadn’t slept much since Bridgette’s death.

  Tomorrow, he would make his way to a transport station. His father’s oldest friend and lawyer had told him there would be a locker with money and a ticket off world for him. It wasn’t that his lawyer didn’t believe in his innocence, only that they wanted time to talk to the witnesses to help build his defense case. He hadn’t been charged with anything yet, so he should be able to leave, to hide away where it was safe until his lawyer called him back.

  It felt dishonorable to run. But if he turned himself in, the search for Bridgette’s killer might stop, the authority might be tempted to close the murder case and blame him for it, whether he was guilty or not. What if he didn’t run, didn’t turn himself in, but stayed and tried to figure out what happened on his own? He wasn’t a cop, but his father’s friend had connections with the authority. Either way, though, first he needed the funds from that locker. He couldn’t risk trying to get another prepaid card. He repeated what he needed to do in his head.