Aftermath

Part Seven: Pieces of the Puzzle

Tuesday Night

"You have got to be kidding," Emily Piggot stated flatly. "What are the odds of that sort of thing happening?"

"Don't ask me, ma'am," Kelly replied. "But it fits all the available facts."

And he was right; it did. More than that, she had heard of stranger things happening. Had seen a few of them with her own eyes.

"Very well," she decided. "Get back here as soon as you can. If Taylor Hebert has really moved her mind into a swarm of bugs, we need to figure out how to get in contact with her before things start going south." Or neutralise her, if necessary, she didn't say out loud.

"What about the photos?" asked Rogers over the phone. "Those bugs thought the notes were pretty damn important."

"Unless they were written after she died and ended up inhabiting a swarm of bugs, I don't think they're relevant to the case at hand," she replied. "Keep them, but they're secondary right now. Report to me once you get back; I want to hear every detail."

"On the way, ma'am," he replied. The line went dead; she put the phone down.

Then she picked it up again, and tapped in a number.

"Ready room, Captain Wills speaking."

"This is Director Piggot. I need half a dozen men, ready to move out in ten minutes or less."

"Can do, ma'am. What's the situation?"

"I need them to go to a house in the suburbs and cordon it off. No-one enters. And Wills?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"All men are to be fully covered at all times. They will breathe filtered air only. Refreshment and rest breaks are to be taken off site. Do you understand?"

"Message received and understood, ma'am."

"Good. I'm texting you the address now. Piggot out."

She hung up the desk phone, picked up her mobile, and typed in the address of the Hebert house. A few button-taps later, and she had sent it on to Wills' phone. Dropping the mobile back on her desk, she leaned back and sighed. Okay, what now?

With another sigh, she pushed herself to her feet. Time to go tell Daniel Hebert that his daughter's alive. Sort of.

"Mr Hebert."

Danny looked up from his contemplation of the floor tiles. "Hello?"

"It's the Director, Mr Hebert. Sorry about taking so long to get back to you."

"To be honest, I thought you'd forgotten me for the night."

"Not yet, Mr Hebert." There was a pause. "We may have some news about your daughter."

Danny frowned. "You mean, whoever killed her?"

"No, sir. About Taylor herself. I don't want to raise your hopes too far, but you may not have been imagining things after all. Taylor may still be around, after a fashion."

He sat up straight, eyes opening wide behind his glasses. "What – she got powers and turned into a ghost?"

"Not … precisely." The Director's voice seemed to hint at compassion. "Powers, yes. Ghost, no. We suspect she may have moved her mind into a swarm of insects as a form of escape, and then her body died, leaving her stranded there."

Danny frowned, trying to get his head around the concept. "That … is that even possible?"

"I honestly don't know, sir. But my men encountered something at your house that may or may not bear that theory out. I'm waiting for them to get back, so I can debrief them properly."

"I … thank you for telling me this."

"Normally I would not do so," she informed him. "But in this particular circumstance, I believe you deserve the courtesy. However, you do need to keep in mind that they may be in error, or that the situation may not be stable."

"What do you mean, not stable?"

"I mean that she may not be able to maintain the link to the insects. She may die anyway."

"But she may not."

"As you say, sir, she may not. I will keep you posted."

"Thank you, Director."

"It's the least I can do. Good night, Mr Hebert."

"Good night," he replied, aware that she probably wasn't listening any more.

A meal had been delivered earlier, but he hadn't felt like eating. Now, he did. It was bland fare, but he didn't notice. All he could think of was, Taylor might be alive.

My daughter might still be alive.

It was only a faint thread of hope, but it was all he had.

Wednesday Morning

Dana McAllister eyed the manila envelope on her desk. On it was scrawled the name HEBERT. Her brow furrowing slightly, she picked it up, opened the flap, and slid the contents out on to her desk. This turned out to be a stack of A4 paper, held together with a paperclip, with a cover sheet on top.

The cover sheet was written in a hand that she recognised; Jameson, one of the night crew. She'd shared coffee with him a few times.

Dana,

This stuff got emailed to us by the PRT after you went home. They said it's from the house of the kid who died at Winslow, Taylor Hebert. You're handling that investigation, right?

Anyway, this stuff looks interesting. Have fun kicking ass.

Rick

She eyed the cover sheet while sipping her coffee. When Rick said 'interesting', he meant that life was going to get interesting for some lowlife or other. But if this was mailed in by the PRT … what the hell were they doing at the Hebert house? She'd been meaning to send someone over to look the place over for anything related to the death, but it was something that kept on getting put on the back burner. Well, now it's on the front burner.

Flipping the cover sheet over, she looked at the next page, and the pages after. There were nine of them, looking like photocopies of someone's handwritten notes. No, not photocopies, she corrected herself after seeing the bugs scattered in the image of the last sheet, photographs.

The handwriting was consistent from one page to the next, and the notes were dated. The first date was September eight, two thousand ten. Beginning of school, last year. The following dates were consecutive, skipping only the weekends.

Having made her initial observations, she began to read the actual notes.

Six vicious emails, Sophia pushed me down the stairs when I was near the bottom, making me drop my books, tripped and shoved me no less than three times during gym, and threw my clothes at me while I was in the shower after gym class had ended, getting them wet.

She stopped reading, and stared at the photos. Is this Taylor Hebert? Did she write this?

Making sure to keep them in order, she turned them over one at a time. Spot-reading here and there told a grim story; whoever had written this was laying out a tale of sustained and horrific bullying, far and away worse than anything Dana had ever had to endure.

Pushing back on her roller chair, she got up and wandered over to where Farrel was standing by his desk with a coffee cup in hand. "This stuff landed on my desk this morning," she began. "Know anything about it?"

He stretched and yawned, and took a drink of coffee before replying. "Yeah, night crew told me about it. Said it might be helpful with your case. Why?"

"Have a look," she told him grimly, and handed the sheets over.

He put his coffee down and started reading. After a moment, he hooked his chair out with one foot, sat down, and put the sheets under his desk lamp. "Holy fuck," he muttered. "Holy crap on a stick." As she looked over his shoulder, he continued to skim through the sheets, whistling almost soundlessly through his teeth.

"Yeah, all of that," she agreed. "I want you to send a unit over to the Hebert house right the hell now, and see if the original is still on site. Get in touch with Danny Hebert, too, see if he knows anything about it. Have someone call the PRT and find out how they gained entry, and why they entered in the first place, and see if they removed these notes from the premises. If they did, I want them back, right the fuck now, with a solid chain of custody, so it'll hold up in court. And don't let those bastards stonewall you; don't stop asking questions till you get answers you like."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with alacrity, and reached for his phone.

"In the meantime," she went on, picking up the sheaf, "I'm going to be looking through these to see who I should be pulling back in for interviews."

"Might want to get that Veder kid back in to start with," he suggested, rummaging through the orderly disorder on his desk in search of (she presumed) the number for the PRT police liaison officer.

About to head back to her own desk, she paused. "Why?" she asked. "I haven't seen his name on here. Did I miss something?"

He glanced up at her and shook his head. "No, but he's the one who pointed out Madison Clements and Julia Morrow, and they're both in there. It might be an idea to get his read on this stuff."

She nodded once, noting the wisdom of his suggestion. "Yeah, I'll do just that," she agreed. "Good call there, Joe."

"Hey, it's why they pay me the big bucks," he responded, straight-faced. She snorted, and headed back to her desk.

Khalia Veder was just putting the baby back into her crib when the phone rang; she hurried to answer it. "Veder household, Khalia speaking."

"This is Detective McAllister. You may recall that we spoke at the station yesterday, when you brought your son in to be interviewed?"

Khalia nodded, although the policewoman couldn't see her. "Yes, Detective, I remember you. What can I do for you?" She paused. "Did you want to speak with Gregory again?"

"Actually, yes, I would like that, Mrs Veder," the detective told her.

"Is – is he in trouble?" asked Khalia. "He's a good boy. He wouldn't hurt anyone."

"No, no trouble," Detective McAllister assured her. "Some new evidence has come to light, which bears out a statement he made. We would like his opinion on it."

Khalia blinked. "Oh, uh, of course," she replied. "I'll go and get him at once." She frowned. "Actually, that's a little odd."

"What is?"

"He hasn't come down for breakfast yet." She shrugged. "I'll go and move him along, the lazy slug."

"If you could call me back when you're ready to bring him in, that would be good," the policewoman told her.

Khalia smiled. "I can certainly do that, Detective. Talk to you soon."

She put the phone down and trotted up the stairs. Pausing outside her son's door, she listened. There was no snoring, which meant that he wasn't asleep. She rolled her eyes. Probably playing one of those silly computer games all night. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done that.

"Gregory!" she called out, rapping loudly on the door. "Come on, turn that computer off! I need to take you down to the police station! They need to ask you some more questions!"

She paused, waiting. There was no response. He probably has his headphones in. Also not a first, for her son.

She rapped again, trying to get his attention through sheer volume, although she had to give up with sore knuckles after a few moments.

"Gregory!" she called out once more.

No answer.

She tried the handle. The door was locked.

This was getting beyond a joke. Bustling back downstairs, she located the spare house keys. Gregory, you will be feeling the rough edge of my tongue when I get that door open, she promised silently.

The correct key fitted the lock, and she turned it; the lock clicked open. This time, the handle turned easily. The door opened.

Khalia stepped into the room, observing the still-made bed – of course, he hasn't slept all night – before she fully took in the figure slumped backward in the computer chair, head hanging back, fingers tangled in the plastic bag -

Her screams reverberated throughout the house, and woke the baby.

Dana showed her badge to the cop at the door, and entered the house. Mrs Veder was sitting on the sofa with her baby daughter's crib beside her; she was a wreck, continually sniffling and wiping at her eyes, even while she was trying to calm the infant down.

Her husband sat beside her, looking even more shattered than his wife, if that was possible. He was blank-faced, stunned. Police officers were already trying to get statements from them, but she guessed it was hard going at the moment.

Mounting the stairs, she pulled on a pair of disposable booties and entered the kid's bedroom. It was a teenage boy's room, all right; posters covered the walls, an indiscriminate mix of capes, rock bands and female movie stars. A camera flash went off as she entered, and she blinked, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes.

"Oh, sorry." The forensics tech lowered his camera, frowning. "Did they tell you about it already, Dana?"

"Tell me about what?" she asked, hanging back so as not to get in his way. "I just got clued in by the nine-one-one operator. She said the mother mentioned my name."

"Oh, so you were talking to this kid already?"

"Yeah. He's a potential witness, Bill. Was a potential witness."

"Well, fuck," muttered the tech. "That's a kick in the teeth. Reason we were going to give you a call was this." He beckoned, and she made her way to his side.

She watched as he moved the mouse, and the computer woke up. The screen cleared, and she blinked at the pictures thus portrayed. "Wow, where'd the kid get that stuff?"

Bill looked at her. "The porn, or the pictures of Taylor Hebert?"

Dana rolled her eyes. "I know that any teenage kid can get porn off the net these days. It's the other stuff that I'm concerned about. Was he stalking her?"

"Not that I can see," Bill ventured. "Far as I can tell, these are cropped from photos taken around the school. He might have had a crush, but he wasn't following her with a camera."

Dana stared at the pictures on the screen. "So he was, uh, admiring Taylor, and had other pictures downloaded of girls who resembled her, and went too far with the auto-asphyxia?"

Bill shrugged. "Seems that way."

Dana rubbed her chin. "Something's off about this."

"Such as?"

She pointed at the images on the screen. "Skinny brunettes, right?"

Bill nodded. "Same as the Hebert girl."

Dana turned and pointed at the posters on the wall. "New Wave. Glory Girl. January Jones. Scarlett Johanssen. Christina Aguilera. Britney Spears. What do they have in common?"

The tech turned and looked, then looked back at the screen. Slowly, his eyes travelled back to the posters. "Blondes. All of them."

"Damn right. And not a one of them skinny. Now, do you think it's likely he developed that much of a fetish for Taylor that he starts doing this after she died?"

Bill's voice was thoughtful. "So this just went from possible accidental suicide to probable homicide."

Dana nodded, then frowned. "Where'd he get the bag from?"

"Huh?"

"That's a large zip-lock bag," she noted. "It's pretty thick. Could he even see the screen through it? You might want to ask the parents if there's any other bags like it in the house."

Bill nodded. "Okay, will do."

Dana turned to leave the room, only to find her way blocked. A large man, taller and wider than she was, and looking at her with not a little disfavour. "McAllister. What are you doing tramping all over my crime scene?"

"Camden." She gestured to the corpse in the chair. "That's one of my witnesses in the Hebert case. Got himself dead, and I don't think it was an accident. Bill can bring you up to speed."

"Murder?" Camden frowned. "But the door was locked from the inside."

"Or someone had a key," she pointed out. "Or, you know, powers."

He grimaced. "Powers. I hate powers. They're a bitch to prove. And then the PRT grabs the case and takes the credit."

"Shit happens," she pointed out. "Now, I gotta get going. But can I get any updates, if they apply to my case?"

Camden frowned, but she knew he wouldn't be that much of an asshole. He just liked to pretend to be one.

"Sure," he grunted. "Now get out of here before you totally wreck my crime scene."

"Going," she responded, and headed out of the room.

Greg Veder is dead, she mused, but before he died, he mentioned organised crime, as well as two names. Madison Clements and Julia Morrow.

Don Garbutt, she knew, would still be looking into the Vice angle. So that left her clear to check out some other things.

The door to the cell opened, startling Danny. He looked up from the breakfast he was eating – just as bland as the evening meal – to see two guards standing there.

"Mr Hebert," one of them greeted him. "You're being released, by order of the Director. Come with us, please."

"Oh, uh, sure," he mumbled. Setting the tray aside, he stood up and followed them.

With one in front and one behind, he was escorted through the PRT building until he reached the Director's office. She observed him keenly. "Mr Hebert."

"Uh, Director Piggot," he responded weakly. "You're just letting me go?"

She nodded. "If you so wish."

"I … if I wish? Why would I not wish to?" His voice was puzzled.

"Because if we simply release you, you will be barred from entering your home," she replied, almost gently. Turning her computer monitor, she showed him the scene; PRT trucks parked next to the house, with barricades set up around it. There were several cameras, and the screen was split several ways to accommodate them all. One was showing a close-up of one of the windows; there were bugs crawling all over the inside of it.

"I … I don't get it," he mumbled, shaking his head.

She took a deep breath. "Sir, whether or not it is your daughter inhabiting that swarm, it has set itself up in your house, and is growing larger by the hour. We're having to block part of the street off for the safety of the public. If it gets much larger, we will have to take measures."

"And what can I do?" he asked. "I'm no expert in this sort of thing. And I'd be surprised if my power worked on bugs."

"No," she told him, "but you know your daughter. If this swarm is sapient, if it really is your daughter, then you should be able to communicate with it … with her."

He pointed at the screen. "So you're saying … that … that's Taylor?"

"I hope it's Taylor," Piggot stated flatly. "Because if it isn't, we may have a very serious problem on our hands." She looked at Danny. "Sir, you're our best hope for talking to Taylor. Talking her down. Will you help us?"

"It's likely to be dangerous, isn't it?" His voice was quiet.

She nodded. "Quite possibly, yes. We'll have capes on scene, to minimise the danger, but there will be a certain level of unavoidable risk. It hasn't actually attacked anyone -" yet " - so we think you'll be reasonably safe, even if it isn't actually Taylor." Or if it's not her any more.

Despite his internal doubts, Danny knew that there was only one answer he could give. Straightening his shoulders, and squaring what jaw he had, he nodded curtly. "I'll do it." For Taylor, I'll do it.

From the glint in Piggot's eye, he was fairly sure she'd picked up on what he hadn't said. "Thank you, Mr Hebert."

Dana was halfway back to the precinct when her phone rang. She tapped it to hands-free. "McAllister."

"It's Farrel. The uniforms I sent over to the Hebert place hit a snag."

"What sort of a snag?"

"The PRT's there, in force. They've got the house barricaded off. No-one's getting in."

"Did they say why?"

"They stated, and I quote, 'parahuman-related biological hazard'."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

She could imagine him rolling his eyes. "Search me. But they say the order came straight from the Director. And get this. The place is crawling with bugs."

"Bugs? What the hell do bugs have to do with this?"

"No idea. Unless that's the biohazard they mentioned."

"Is it just me, or is this a giant coincidence?"

"You ask me, nothing that happens with capes in this town's a coincidence. It's all a giant conspiracy."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, tell your guys to hang around. If they get the chance, they're to get in there and get that document. But only if the place is declared clear first. I don't want them risking their lives for some papers."

"Got it. And I'll keep pushing for details. Right now, they're trying to give me the runaround, but I figure I can weasel something out of them sooner or later."

"How about Hebert himself?"

"He's not answering the house phone, and there's not a mobile listed to his name."

"Dammit!" She bounced the heel of her hand off of the steering wheel. "Okay, keep at them. The PRT's involved in this somehow, but I'm not going to let them queer my case."

"Will do." The line went dead.

Dana McAllister drove on. There were still the notes she had been given; until something broke, they were her best lead. And she intended to follow them as hard as she could.

"So what's going on?"

"Oh, hi." Clockblocker looked up as he fitted his body armour into place. "You got called in too?"

"Yeah. No information though. Just told to get here ASAP."

"Yeah, that happens," the white-clad hero agreed. "Word is, there's a big swarm of bugs around the house belonging to this guy called Danny Hebert. We're going there, along with Aegis and Armsmaster, to escort him into the house and see if he can't calm the swarm down."

"Calm the swarm down." The words were flat.

Clockblocker shrugged. "'S'what I heard. And once that's done, we're going to be escorting some cops in so they can search for some evidence. Hebert's daughter got killed the other day, and apparently she left some notes behind about bullying. The cops want that, because apparently it names everyone who was bullying her."

"Isn't that interesting." Shadow Stalker fitted her mask into place. "Well, let's not keep them waiting."

End of Part Seven