Death Weeps Part 25

I nodded. "I understand."

I looked away from Prosecutor and caught Clyde's eyes and he nodded.

Bring it, I thought, looking at Chomper of the horse teeth.

He didn't miss the look I gave Clyde, deftly asking the next question in an effort to rattle me.

It didn't work.

"Did you murder those men inside the judo dojo, Mr. Hart?" he asked in the softest voice, but from his gut. It cut through the still and quiet courtroom air like a b.u.t.ter knife used on margarine. Pliable, soft... strong.

"No," I said with equal intensity.

He straightened, turning to the jury. A group of my peers.

Right. All kinds of paranormals in that crowd. I looked at their somber and accusing faces and knew I had to work the charm.

Not that I had an a.s.sload of that on hand.

"Mr. Hart here, a five-point Cadaver-Manipulator, very well knew what he was doing when he intended death for the as yet unidentified men." His piercing gaze latched on to me and I held his stare. I didn't even squirm. Those Graysheets had been an expendable group.

And now I knew where they came from too. There'd never be any identifiers, with them being fragment and all. Of course, that's what I knew now, because I'd been in Clara's world. Back then, when he'd been grilling me, I hadn't known why Skinny-smoker and the rest were blanks on the pulse coding that was now a prevalent identifier to the ma.s.ses. Now I did. The Graysheets were the octopus body and the tentacles were these expendables. Get a tentacle metaphorically chopped off and another would take its place. It was a good system till me and the posse took out their Pathway at the knees. Yeah, it felt good. Now, as that memory invaded my mind like a Trojan horse, I wondered if I was in for a repeat of the bulls.h.i.+t that had transpired months ago.

I hoped not.

"Caleb, this is Mr. Riley. He is special council for the Kent Police Department," I met eyes like a hawk's, sharp and inquisitive and knew I was in trouble. I saw those eyes flick to a point behind my shoulder and felt Clyde's smooth deathness, a balm at my back.

"Mr. Hart," those beady eyes met mine and he asked, "would you tell it to move away?"

Gramps said, "I don't think the police department and you in particular, as their representative, can dictate who stands where."

Mom made a noise in the back of her throat and Dad s.h.i.+fted his weight. The Parents shouldn't have called Gramps, but there was no choice, really. He was my legal guardian for the duration of the probation. It was the terms that were a.s.signed in court from almost a year ago. It would have been until my eighteenth birthday if I'd lived with my parents. They had custody rights and I'd gone back home every weekend. And had six weeks in the summer. They felt I got off lucky.

It hadn't felt that way every Sunday night when Mom cried when I left. I think she needed me more than I needed her.

Riley leaned forward, closer to Gramps, his stance confrontational.

Clearly, he had a death wish. I glanced behind my shoulder and Clyde gave a small smile. Nice.

"And by what authority to you declare said terms, sir?" Gramps took the two strides to get right up in Riley's grill and responded, "You a champ for our const.i.tution, son?"

"Pop!" Mom half-yelled.

"Not now, Peanut," Gramps said carefully, not moving his eyes from the attorney.

"Of course I understand it," Riley replied, indignant.

"Then I ask that you brush up on minor law. My grandson is under my watch care at the moment and you're going to have to bring more than a tailored suit and arrogance to make me see things your way. You got me, champ?"

Riley ignored the threat of Gramps (bad move... very bad. I was waiting for the fistful of monkey s.h.i.+t to fly but there was time for that later if Jonesy showed).

"There is nothing that says I have to stand toe to toe with a walking corpse to address your grandson, Mr. O'Brien." His smug smile returned like an open wound.

"No, but he's part of Caleb. He lives because of him. I don't think you've really digested that simple precept, counselor."

Digested that.

Like a boil on my a.s.s, I got the d.a.m.n crooked mouth and couldn't get rid of it.

Then Jonesy opened the door so hard it thwacked the pot that was behind the door and shattered the terracotta, the anemic green plastic of the plant sliding out onto the floor in a dirty mix of recycled material, fake dirt and recycled quartz pebbles.

They scattered all over the floor, running amok and making a racket.

"Oops!" Jonesy muttered loudly. "Didn't mean to annihilate the decor!"

I started to laugh. It was too rich. Here I was, in the s.h.i.+tty police station again, my knee felt dislocated, my girlfriend was with my arch enemy, Gramps was holding back a supreme a.s.s-kicking on the attorney and the gang had shown up with timing so perfect I couldn't have ordered it.

"Hey Hart!" Jonesy said with a wink, "need a distraction?"

Oh yeah, did I ever.

CHAPTER 15.

The enraged cow (nah, not Griswold this time... she had an honored, one-of-a-kind position), rounded the receptionist's desk as Dad gave me The Look and Gramps stared at the gang as they poured in through the swinging gla.s.s doors. One of the double doors got caught on some of the c.r.a.p from the pot and Alex tried to unstick it by tearing it back toward him, over the top of the stuff and ripped it off the hinges.

He stood there, holding a door that weighed seventy kilos and grinned. His face took on a dull red color.

Randi said, "Oh s.h.i.+t."

Yeah, that. I bent over at the waist, laughing harder.

Three cops rounded the corner, having heard the commotion and I watched as they took in the mess on the floor as the biggest guy they'd seen in a long time ripped their door off the frame.

They must have thought they were being attacked or something, because their guns cleared their holsters and they pointed them at Alex.

He promptly put up the door like a s.h.i.+eld. For a smart guy, that was one of the dumbest moves I'd ever seen.

It was Clyde, looking at the horrible receptionist (who loved the h.e.l.l out of me and Tiff, I knew) that came barreling forward toward the offense of the plant in a wreck on the floor and said, "He is a young man that does not know his own strength."

The cops' eyes flicked to his. He gave them an unblinking stare back.

"You the dead guy?" one of the three asked. Probably a rookie, he looked about twelve and a half.

"Amongst other things," Clyde replied coolly.

"Officers," John said, putting his hands up. They swung their guns to him and I saw his Adam's apple bob nervously.

h.e.l.l, it wasn't every day that a person had a loaded weapon trained on them.

"Meyers! Henry! Daniels!" Porky said from behind them, given her girth she was mighty fast. They looked at her.

"They're just a bunch of kids! Put those guns down."

Gale came through the door and gasped. Their eyes s.h.i.+fted to her.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on here?" she asked, stumbling over some of the debris.

"The officers have mistaken the children for criminals," Clyde said. Their eyes were ping-ponging now from Porky, to Gale then finally, with profound skittishness, to Clyde.

"These are the paranormal kids from KPH. They're not here to cause trouble."

Jonesy actually laughed at this and Gramps frowned at him.

"I'm sorry, Mac... it's just so... lame!"

One of the officers, Henry, the nametag said, dropped his weapon to let it hang at his side. "Okay, enlighten us as to why we've come into the lobby of our police station and there's a busted plant and half a door?"

He holstered his weapon and the other two did as well. I got my laughter under control and made an effort to not look at Jones. That'd start it up again for sure.

Gale looked at the group. Tiff snapped a bubble, Bry s.h.i.+fted his weight and John stood quietly beside Archer. Sophie had an orange and purple cheetah s.h.i.+rt on, with glittering hoops and Randi stood beside Alex... who clutched a door that weighed almost double what Jade did. Speaking of, she was still next to Brett. I held out my hand and she took it, Brett staying put. For the moment.

"Well, it's a hard thing to explain but where Caleb Hart shows up, most of these guys follow."

Mia walked in through the shattered doorframe of the police door and held her pulse up. "I'm here... what happened?" she asked, looking at the mess, taking in the three tense cops, the ginormous and p.i.s.sed receptionist then her eyes settled on mine. "Is this another deal?"

I thought about it. "Yeah."

"Uh-huh, that's what I thought. I had to ditch cla.s.s to be here, Jonesy pulsed and said it was an emergency."

I shot him a dark look. Should've known not to pulse the Jonester. h.e.l.l, he always alerts the d.a.m.n media.

"What, man? It is an emergency! Didn't Garcia go psycho on everyone's a.s.s?" He nodded his head as Mom began to rant about his language. "Uh-huh, looks like Caleb's gonna go free. Hey man!" Jonesy said with a fist-pump, "this is your get out of jail free card."

"Like that old Monopoly game?" Alex asked, turning bodily with the door still clamped in his hands.

Porky came forward. "Put that door down this instant, young man!" Alex was mainly a follower and looked for a place for it to go.

"Argh!" she said and waddled over to where he stood. "Just... ugh! Lean it up against the wall there," she said, pointing a stubby finger to the right of the bench that had been beside the plant.

"Okay, m'am," Alex said in a contrite voice as he walked the thing over there and leaned it up against the wall.

"Now I'm going to have to call a repair place and they're not going to want to come here and fix this on a Friday!" She swiveled pretty quickly for a hippo and waddled back to the three pulse screens to rant a pulse to the elusive Repair Team.

Riley put his hands on his hips, dismissing my group.

So much for distraction factor.

"Mr. Hart, you have heard your rights as your attorney presented them to you..."

"He's not been charged with a crime, nor is he in custody," Gramps clarified.

Riley looked at him. "Be that as it may, he needs to be verbally apprised of his rights, Mr. O'Brien."

Was there another way? What... braille?

"As long as it's a point of clarity and not issuance," Gramps said.

Riley swung his brows up like a clown (I was waiting for the big red nose to grow). "You needn't worry, Mr. O'Brien." He made serious eye contact with Gramps. "It is the position of the Kent Police Department to understand Caleb's stance with this incident."

John came forward with a smile. "Hey Caleb."

I turned, wondering about his interruption, John was a deliberate dude. I lifted my chin in acknowledgment.

"They're wanting you not to sue."

"I didn't imply that, young man," he said eying John, "not that you're part of this discussion." His eyes gave him away though. Full of worry.

"What if I do?" I asked, my eyes narrowing on him like lasers.

"Detective Garcia will lose his position in the department and there may be longer-term consequences as well."

Lewis, who had moved to stand behind him added, "They're covering their collective b.u.t.ts."

Alex grinned and Archer gave him a frown.

Riley scowled at them and said, "This does not involve anyone but the people that were placed at the incident."

"I was," Jade said, raising the hand that I wasn't holding.

"Me too," Brett said, stepping forward.

Howie got the troll face going but had to be part of the noose that had potential to hang me so he piped in with, "And me."

Riley returned his gaze to me.

"I want to see Garcia, it's between him and me," I said.

"You'll have a police escort. Then I want an answer," he demanded and I felt my blood begin to boil. Not so hard as it had been on simmer since the fun of the morning.