JT met Gil and Capable Bright as they exited the elevator.
"You're definitely hitting the ground running with this one," he said to the woman filling in for Bright. "Guy is a mess."
"My husband would tell you that hitting the ground running is how I prefer to hit it." A spark of humor mixed with a bit of mischief in her eyes. "Especially since the other way tends to break bones and leave ugly looking bruises."
"Should remind Bright's skinny ass about that."
Not that he believed it'd do a damn bit of good. Bright's crazy ass didn't stop to think about things like safety and well-being. The white board JT hung in Gil's office after the guy got bit by a venomous snake was proof of that. The number of on-the-job accidents Bright had since joining the team hit triple digits the day he yeeted out a window onto Gil's prized LeMan's to avoid being blown into Bright chunks. That number, however, didn't include the handful of off-duty incidents or those he dubbed as shit-that-can-only-happen-to-Bright that happened, as well.
Like the bucket of paint dumped on the guy as he headed to his favorite coffee shop.
Or getting clobbered by a kid on a skateboard while sitting on a bench in the park.
Or gluing his own hand to his forehead.
The last one he continued to rib the guy over. Not out of malicious spite since that wasn't his style but more because of how Bright the incident was. JT freely admitted he hadn't liked the guy in the beginning. He had fully believed the guy didn't have any respect for the badge or police officers. He also thought Bright had a death wish. Nobody sane offered themselves up to a serial killer.
Not that Bright ever claimed he was anywhere near sane.
In fact, he stated freely he was anything but.
To Mini-Bright's frustration and annoyance.
JT's suspicions were seemingly confirmed when the guy chased John Watkins into a service tunnel without calling any of them for backup. His skinny ass didn't chase Watkins once but twice, he realized as voices came from the office at the end of the hall. First time earned Bright a couple of cracked ribs. Second time he got a concussion, busted thumb, and a stab wound to his abdomen.
Dangerous, JT came to realize after that was just how Bright operated. Guy did whatever it took to catch a killer. Even if it lands his ass in the emergency room.
"Malcolm doesn't hit the ground running," Capable Bright said. "He tends to sort-of…" She made a diving motion with her hands, "nose-dive at it."
"Something he learned from you," came from Gil.
"Moi?" Those eyes blinked wide."Why, Gil, you know I'd never do such a thing."
Bright, JT decided, could pull off the innocent act. The guy was about as intimidating as a raw egg. This woman? Danger rippled from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her designer boots.
"You dive into groups of armed assailants in the same way Bright dives into…" Gil paused, grimaced. "Well, everything."
"You must be talking about someone else because that doesn't sound like me, at all."
"I'm definitely talking about you." Gil leveled a look at her. "Recall that I was there the night you decided to take on the LoBoys by yourself."
"They were threatening an elderly couple."
"Five armed gangbangers is a call for backup situation."
"Five armed gangbangers is just a warmup." There was no arrogance or conceit in Capable Bright's voice. Just a quiet confidence in her abilities. "Now if it had been twenty armed gangbangers I would have called for backup."
"You should have called for backup anyway."
"I must have been absent the day they taught let the bad guys terrorize elderly couples at the police academy."
"No, you were absent the day they taught call for backup and actually wait for it."
"Sounds like she got that play outta Bright's playbook," JT said.
"Who do you think Bright learned that particular play from?"
Capable Bright harrumphed.
"Malcolm learned that particular play long before he met me." One eyebrow arched. "Or have you forgotten that night at the dock when Robin rescued him from the men my sperm donor hired?"
"I haven't forgotten that night, kiddo." JT didn't wonder at the shadow that passed through Gil's eyes. Bright was involved. That was the only info he needed to explain it. "You could have taught him to do otherwise."
"Tall, dark, and broody didn't teach me that particular lesson." The ghost of a smile flittered across her face. "He taught me that if something is in my way to move it."
"What if whatever's in your way won't get out of your way?"
"Then I'm to skip step one and call him so he can move it for me." Her dimples winked. "In fact, that's what he'd like me to do all the time but I don't."
The simple affection between them was unmistakable. As was the trust and respect. It wasn't a surprise, though. Not when one factored in the nearly two decades, dozens of situations, and Bright. Who was the piece that ultimately linked them all together.
Almost like playing Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon but with Bright's skinny ass, instead, JT mused as he led them down the hall to the corner office where what had been a human being until something — and he was positive Capable-Bright would fill in who or what the something was — decided to turn them into a pincushion.
"Cleaning lady found the body a little after eight." JT stepped to the side to let Gil and Capable Bright enter the office ahead of him. "Edrisa estimates time of death was between 6:30 and 7. Won't know for sure until she gets the guy on the table and opens him up."
"Can we confirm the deceased is Jonathan Hartley?" Gil asked.
JT glanced at the body slumped in an office chair behind the desk. There wasn't any possible way for them to make an identification. Not with the guy's face resembling fresh ground hamburger.
"'Fraid not."
"Whoever attacked him?" Capable Bright's eyes narrowed into thin, speculative slits as she looked at the body. "They wanted to make sure we couldn't run facial recognition software."
"Why?" JT nodded to the bronze plaque situated on the front of the desk. "Pretty obvious it's Jonathan Hartley."
"Has anyone tried to contact Jonathan Hartley?" Capable Bright tucked her hair behind her ears. "He has a condo in the upper west side."
"Calls to his cell and home went unanswered," he told her. "Dani is trying to reach his secretary now."
"Has a unit been dispatched to do a home check?" Gil moved out of the way so one of the techs could collect samples of blood dotting the floor by the entrance. "We need to establish that whoever attacked Hartley didn't go after the rest of his family."
"His wife left him last year."
Capable Bright watched the tech as they moved about the office gathering what evidence there was. Not that JT imagined there'd be much to find. Especially if their killer was either one of the Talons she had told them about or one of the assassins on Endicott's payroll.
Either one bad news in his opinion.
"Any children?"
"No."
"What about parents? Sisters? Brothers?"
"Hartley Sr. died ten years ago from cancer. His mother moved to Florida to live with Hartley's older sister and her husband not long after his death." Her eyes shifted to watch as a tech placed markers near a bloody footprint. "Eileen Hartley's alive and well according to posts on her daughter's social media pages dated yesterday."
"Safe to say neither Endicott or the Court will be sending anyone after her then."
Capable Bright hummed a noncommittal reply as she took a step towards the desk. Gil detained her by setting a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him from over her shoulder, one brow arched in silent question.
"I know you'd prefer to have access to the room so you can investigate it." Gil dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "With the scrutiny my team is currently under…"
"It's fine, Gil." She moved to the shelves situated along a short wall. "I will recreate the scene from the images I'm taking later when I'm back at Jessica's. They'll provide me with all I need to put together what happened."
"You're taking images of the room?"
"I am." A nod. "Yes."
How was she taking them was what JT wanted to know. She wasn't holding any sort of camera or digital recorder in her hands. Her cellphone was in the right pocket of her jacket. A look around the room didn't reveal anything that could function as a secret camera.
Not in his mind, anyway.
"You're wondering how, aren't you, Detective?"
"Gotta admit I'm curious, yeah."
Those dimples winked again.
"The benefits of having a parent who owns a company with its own R&D department is access to the most innovative of gadgets and the software to go with it."
"You're telling me you have an invisible camera?" One brow arched. "Seriously?"
"Digital recorder in my contacts, actually." Capable Bright continued along the wall. Scanning it, JT assumed. "They allow me to scan a crime scene in full detail, marking points of interest, highlighting areas where additional analysis is needed, perform facial recognition, detect heat signatures if there are any, as well as run fingerprints through the system." She paused in front of a set of photographs. "All the while leaving my hands free."
"You're telling me a pair of contacts is capable of doing all that?"
"Think of it as an advanced detective mode."
"And here I thought rich people spent all their money on cars, houses, jewelry, and clothes."
Capable Bright hummed a soft laugh as she moved to the open window.
"Oh, we like buying houses, cars, jewelry, and clothes." A hand indicated the bat-shaped drone that floated down to hover just above the windowsill. "But we also love buying toys like these."
"Is that thing shaped like a bat?"
"Uh-huh."
Not for the first time, and he doubted it'd be the last, JT realized they were no longer dealing with the average run-of-the-mill bad guys they normally did. Endicott and the Court of Owls were part of an elite criminal class that went way beyond mob, triads, cartels, and even plain old serial killers like Martin Whitly.
Their temporary profiler was also not an FBI trained one. No, Capable Bright had been privately trained by a man JT thought only existed in comics. And she earned her badge in a city that makes New York look like Candyland.
"Was this window open when you arrived, Detective Tarmel?"
"Yeah, it was." He had found it strange given how cold a night it was. "You think that's how the killer got in?"
"I think that's what we're supposed to think, yes."
"Supposed to think?" Gil frowned. "You don't think he was killed by a Talon?"
"Oh, he was definitely killed by a Talon." Capable Bright's tone was as grim as her expression. "He's just not Jonathan Hartley."
"This isn't Jonathan Hartley?" Surprise shot through JT. "You're positive?"
Why he asked that, JT didn't know. If anyone was going to know what Hartley looked like, it was Capable Bright.
"One hundred percent." Capable Bright waved to a picture on the wall of an older man with snow-white hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. "That's Jonathan Hartley there with Nicholas Endicott." Her mouth thinned into a cold, hard line. "And my sperm donor, Matthew Berkeley."
"If this isn't Jonathan Hartley…" JT said slowly. "Than who the hell is he? And where's Hartley?"
"Those are excellent questions, Detective Tarmel." Capable Bright's eyes became different. Sharper. Predatory. Like a hunter stalking its prey. Her voice, too, had changed. Became darker. Raspier. "I can't answer either one, unfortunately. Not yet, anyway."
She would, though.
Of that, JT had no doubt.
A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!
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