Hey, it's a new chapter! Philips isn't in this one, but Jack is.
Un-betaed, so quibble away!
- o – o -
Chapter five: Fight 'til you're No Longer Sane
By the end of the week, Dana had run out of work- or family-related excuses and tissues. Kia hadn't run out of tears. Her boyfriend had, for some reason, just up and walked out. Kia was seriously considering boxing his things up and giving them to the local Good Will, until she remembered that she was a lawyer. The plan was shelved, and she went back to her box of tissues.
Dana, meanwhile, was doing an amazing balancing act between Kia's depression, her family life, and her new love life. Her son was going nuts over the situation with Jack Kirchner, and not in a good way. Sawyer was, thankfully, saying nothing. The public defender was grateful that at least one person in her life was still sane. Even if he did work for ARK…
She sighed and began thumbing through a stack of paperwork on her desk. There were the usual cases she had to deal with, along with having to deal with pre-trial motions and trials… Philips' vanishing act had made some of her work easier, at any rate. He'd been the arresting officer in some of the cases she was working on, but he'd vanished into thin air. No arresting officer or witnesses to his side of the story meant no case. No case meant that all she had to do was close out the file.
If only the rest of her life could be this simple.
Trip was getting into trouble at school again. This time, at least, she couldn't blame him. Luckily for him (and for her bank account), the parents of the boy whose nose he'd broken hadn't pressed charges. The school hadn't suspended him due to the number of witnesses who'd said Trip had been defending himself.
That good will hadn't lasted long, and her son was back to being the outcast. At least Mrs. Debolt was allowing him to spend more time in the classroom, working on assignments or other projects. Sawyer wasn't any help, because he'd been banished to the school's property line, despite numerous protests.
"Hey…Dana?"
Dana looked up at the question. Kia was standing there, holding a tray of coffee cups. There was an apologetic smile on her face.
"Kia," Dana replied pleasantly, clearing a space on her desk. "Come in. Have a seat, sweetie." Kia gratefully took the seat and put the cardboard tray on the empty patch of desk.
"Sorry for all the crap I've been dumping on you, Dana," Kia said without preamble as she played with the lid on her cup. "It's just…" She sighed. "Jacob never misses something without calling to apologize first, and then there's this… I reported him missing this morning, but I don't think his coworkers will care."
She sighed again and took a slug of her coffee. The Hispanic public defender grimaced and added several packets of sugar, before continuing. "So, to apologize for dumping my problems on you, what with everything you've had to deal with…" Kia smiled half-heartedly. "Pizza and beers? Or soda," she added, seeing Dana's look. "Just…I don't feel like heading back to my apartment until absolutely necessary."
That was something Dana understood. In the first few weeks after Vince's death, she'd avoided going to the house they'd lived in for years, trying to avoid the memories. She'd told Trip they were staying in the hotel to avoid phone calls, but the truth was she just didn't want to face memories of her husband…or the night he'd vanished.
"Pizza is good," Dana smiled. "Try around seven tonight. I've got to deal with paperwork first, and help Trip with his homework."
Kia smiled and stood up. "Thanks Dana." She gave her coworker another blinding smile and left the office. Dana reflected on the situation, and realized that it was the first time in four days that Kia had done something that didn't involve work or crying over her boyfriend's abandonment.
Maybe today was going to be okay.
- o – o -
Orwell chewed on the end of her stylus as she studied the data in front of her. The soft glow from her many computer screens illuminated her pale face, giving her a sickly blue complexion. Considering her mood, the effect worked—she felt like a corpse. Anarchy wasn't helping much, even though he'd been running algorithms for her nonstop.
She couldn't really see any way to get around this problem. According to every projection she'd gotten, there was no way she and Vince would be able to catch the serial killer on their own. ARK wouldn't either, which was small comfort. There was a seventy-five percent chance he or she had already abducted the next victim. Chances of survival for the poor sap were less than zero.
The blogger sighed and beat her forehead against one of the keyboards. This was not working out. And the least palatable solution was quickly beginning to look like the only one. Anarchy was, unfortunately, right.
She was going to have to talk to Peter Fleming. Her father…
- o – o -
Peter Fleming was not a man who rattled easily. Sharing his head with Chess for over a decade had helped with that. Still, every time he looked at the photographs or even thought about the case, he felt a trickle of ice-cold fear running down his spine. There was the prevailing fear, of course, that he would be next.
It wasn't unwarranted, he reminded himself. After all, every single victim had been an employee of his company. What he wanted to know, however, was why no one had realized they were missing. All of them had friends, family, in the city. Surely one of them would have realized a loved one was missing.
He missed Chess. While he despised the maniac's presence in the back of his mind, his alter-ego was startlingly intelligent. There was also the niggling fact that Chess would have solved this case as soon as he'd caught wind of the details.
The billionaire rubbed his temples and wished he'd never thought of Chess. It had been over a month since the maniac had vanished into the recesses of his mind for good, so there was no point in worrying about anything. Acetaminophen, on the other hand, was a good idea…
His private communications line beeped, drawing the billionaire out of his private musings. Without bothering to check who it was, he accepted the call. To say that Fleming hadn't been prepared for a personal message from Orwell would have been an understatement.
-Hello Mr. Fleming - the synthetic voice said. It reverberated around Peter's empty office, making his headache grow just a little worse. –We have a mutual problem; I believe your people are calling him the Appraiser. Do you want to talk more?-
Fleming raised an eyebrow at that. He'd only been informed of the killer's designation an hour ago. Obviously his security was worse than he'd thought, if Orwell already knew. Not knowing what else to do, Fleming licked his lips and replied.
"Yes."
There was a metallic laugh that sent a chill down his spine. –Good. We have information, but not manpower. You have manpower, but not information. Would you like to trade?-
The billionaire found the exchange extremely odd. He murmured an acquiescence under his breath, wondering just how the blogger had created the uplink. Maybe if he got some members of the R&D department on it, they'd be able to replicate it. This could… But the blogger was talking again.
-You may want to check employee records. Some of your people are missing. At least one of them will die if you don't make use of this information.-
That was worrisome. Fleming was about to reply when the connection terminated. The all-seeing eye logo had been replaced with a data packet. As he opened it, he had to wonder why, just for a second, he'd heard his daughter's voice under that synthetic tone.
Five minutes later, his computer crimes division was dissecting every piece of information he'd received from Orwell. There was no way they would miss anything now. For the first time in nearly a week, Fleming felt the barest hints of relief.
- o – o -
"You did what?" Vince yelled, waving his arms for emphasis. His partner was seated on her off-white couch, staring at him. For some reason, he felt like a cat was studying him. His partner really could be spooky some days…
"I sent copies of our information to Fleming," Orwell replied calmly, and took a sip of tea. She smiled serenely at Vince as he sputtered something. The vigilante stalked off and began pacing in circles, muttering under his breath and shooting dark looks at her every so often. The blogger couldn't blame him, however. She had gone to their arch nemesis.
"Why?" Vince asked, a look of frank incomprehension on his face. Orwell shrugged.
"We needed his manpower," she replied. "Let's face it, Vince," the blogger continued. "You aren't going to cover the entire city by yourself, and even if the carnival helped you, you still wouldn't find this nutcase until the body count started adding up again."
Vince sighed. Why did his partner have to pick now to get her logic back?
- o – o -
While Jack was far from being Trip's favorite person, Kia was well on her way to becoming one. Pizza had definitely helped, although she wasn't so sure about the scrabble game. Dana had to hide a smile in her mug of coffee every few minutes as she watched her son and coworker arguing over whether legal terms could be used in a game of Scrabble. Sawyer seemed to be taking Trip's side, much to Kia's displeasure.
"Oh come on!" Kia finally said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Help me out here, Dana!" The Hispanic lawyer looked imploringly over at her friend, eyes wide.
Dana shook her head. "Sorry hon, you're on your own." She frowned as she heard someone knocking on the door. She hadn't been expecting anyone, had she? The public defender, still frowning, headed for the front door. When she looked through the peephole to ascertain who it was, her face broke into a wide grin.
Jack Kirchner had shown up on her front step, and he was bearing another pizza. Dana opened the door, and saw a sheepish smile form on Jack's face.
"I thought about surprising you with dinner," Jack said, "but I think someone might have beaten me to it…" He shrugged, sheepish smile still in place. Dana smiled back and drew him into the apartment, despite his protests.
"No, don't worry. There's never enough pizza." She grinned as Trip looked up at Jack and, for once, didn't scowl at her former professor.
"Hey," Trip began. "Mr. Kirchner. Is it fair if Kia gets to use legal terms in Scrabble?" Jack made one of the smartest decisions of his life and held out the pizza instead.
"I think," Dana said quietly as Trip took a slice of pizza from the box, "that you've just made a friend."
Jack grinned, taking years off his face. "Never take sides in an argument over Scrabble," he replied.
Dana sighed. At least nothing too bad had happened, and Trip was having fun. All in all, it was a good end to a fairly decent day.
She smiled and joined the game of Scrabble, with Jack as her partner.
- o – o -
Well, what did you think? Good? Bad? Is there such a thing as too much pizza? Drop a line and let me know!