Los Angeles
I made two calls sitting in my car while trying to locate either of my two guns.
The first was directly to Jack. As my supervisor, he needed to know that I was in a hot state, not to mention an accurate report of my whereabouts. But as my mentor and one of my oldest friends, practically a second father, he'd probably want to know what the hell was going on. And maybe talking to him could make me stop feeling like I was about to walk into a Law & Order rerun.
It's probably nothing, I said to myself, listening to the ring as I climbed over the seat to find the lockbox.
"Bauer."
"Hey, it's me." I tried to sound like everything was okay. "Did Lex tell you what's going on?"
"Yeah, he said you had a meeting with the LAPD."
"Did he tell you why?" I was now half in the back seat, punching buttons to unlock the small steel box I kept in a compartment in my trunk with an unsteady hand and therefore not being very accurate. I swore as I missed and punched the wrong button on accident.
"No. Is everything okay?"
"Um … I have no idea, Jack." I finally dragged the box back with me to the driver's seat, flounced in my seat and started getting the combination right this time. "He told me that what they told him was that someone was killed uptown this morning with my business card in his pocket, so naturally they want to speak to me. I mean … I'm sure it's nothing."
"You didn't kill them."
"No, I didn't, so it can't be anything big, right?" I had now gotten the box open and elected to carry the SigArm with me. It was the standard CTU service weapon, and if the cops noticed me carrying, which I hoped they would or they obviously lacked training, it was way more normal for me to be packing that than the highly technical, hard-to-find Ehrlich. I put the Sig into my holster and put the box on the floor. "Go ahead and tell me I'm not going to be arrested."
"You're not going to be arrested. I can even send over a lawyer if you want."
I rubbed my temple with my free hand. "No, that's not necessary. Lex is coming with."
"Okay, but call me as soon as you finish up. I want to make sure you're okay."
This brought a smile to my face; typical Jack. "I promise I will."
"Take care of yourself."
The second call was to the Los Angeles Hilton, where Michael was staying. He was originally from London, where he worked for CIB, an elite government force that fought Code Fives. However, when a small cell of them was discovered in L.A. (that we'd hopefully obliterated in a battle that had cost me a lot), he was reassigned to do some reconnaissance. I didn't complain, because by then we'd made up about his cold-shouldering me after England and had become a couple. I figured he'd want to know that I might miss dinner.
"Hey, it's me."
"Brittany, what's going on?" he said, sounding definitely pleased to see me, which made me smile. "The paperwork getting too much for you already?"
"Not quite." I exhaled. "I've got to go meet with the police."
"The police? Why?"
"Apparently there was a homicide and the victim had my business card. That's all I know. Lex and I are driving up to meet the investigating officers at their precinct shortly. I don't know how long it might take…"
"Do you want me to come up?"
"No, you've got work to do, it's okay. I just wanted you to know what's happening." Behind me I heard and recognized the distinct sound of Lex's car pulling into the lot. "Anyway, he's here. I'll see you tonight, hopefully. And I love you."
He told me he loved me and we hung up on each other. I relocked the car and slid into the passenger seat of Lex's vehicle cleanly. He backed out and we were on our way. Once we hit the street, he looked over at me. "Who'd you call?"
"Jack and Michael."
"Should have seen that coming." We shared a chuckle. "Anyway, let's do this."
"Yeah, so I can get it over with." I paused. "And you know what the thing of it is?"
"Do I want to know?"
I smiled, but then it faded. "I almost became a homicide detective."
"Are you serious?" He was quite amused, and it made me laugh.
"I'm serious," I said. "I was debating between assistant district attorney, homicide detective and filmmaker when I got recruited. I could just as easily be on the other side. What?"
Lex was looking at me with an amused smirk on his face. I rolled my eyes.
"You're imagining me in the uniform, aren't you?"
"No, actually I was imagining you throwing chairs in an interrogation room." The two of us laughed together. We could laugh about it now, but the one time I had actually thrown a chair in an interrogation room had been in my London interrogation of Nina Myers, when I had gone completely off the deep end. "But you can pretend I said whatever you wanted to hear."
I punched him in the arm. "Okay, why don't we get back to reality now?"
The truth was, reality was slightly disconcerting, and of course, real. We made it to the precinct a good fifteen minutes early thanks to light traffic, and as I walked in I endeavored to act professional and not choke on my own darkest fears, which were running through the back of my brain on a tape loop. Lex and I decided to take this meeting as if it were a meeting with Ryan Chappelle, Mason's former boss except for that he was dead, without the many "damn the man" thoughts that ran through our heads every time we met Chappelle.
As such, when we were escorted by the officer over to the desks of Sergeant Joe Friday and Detective Frank Smith, the first thing I did in introductions was to produce my CTU warrant card. "I'm Agent Brittany Frederick, Counter Terrorist Unit," I explained, "and this is my partner, Agent Lex Richards. You wanted to speak to me?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact we did." Sergeant Friday, the senior of the two, spoke first and got right to business, extending his hand. I took it and we shared a firm handshake. Obviously he was a by-the-book veteran, which was fine with me. I could tell in his eyes he was solid and there wouldn't be any illusions on his playing field. "I'm Sergeant Friday, this is my partner, Detective Smith."
Smith and I also shook hands. He was much younger than his partner and he had an honesty about him, but I knew from experience that was a two-way street: charismatic honesty that told the truth, and a harder-around-the-edges component that spoke of volumes of no-nonsense intensity. He smiled at me, and I took that as a sign that he wasn't the type to throw chairs in an interrogation room.
"I haven't been told that much about the situation," I explained to the detectives, "so perhaps you could summarize it for me."
Sergeant Friday nodded. "Our victim is a male, mid-thirties, killed apparently by two gunshot wounds in the vicinity of his heart. We're still waiting on identification, but if you have a moment, maybe you'd recognize him."
I looked uneasily at Lex, creeped out by the idea of being in a morgue (that was why I hadn't become a homicide detective). He didn't look too thrilled either, but then again he wouldn't be the one doing it. Breaking the uneasily silence was Detective Smith, who stood up from his chair and said, "It's not that bad. Come on, I'll show you to it."
Carefully trying to conserve my self-image, I just nodded. As I followed Detective Smith, I suppressed a shudder. Taking a look around, it was fairly obvious that Lex was right: our lives were going to hell in a handbasket, and we were just along for the ride.
