Three Cursed Gods

08 : A CRIPPLING ATTACK

The next day dawned bright and sunny, which was the complete opposite of how McKayla was feeling.

She woke up with a pounding headache and groaned before padding into her kitchen to make a much-needed cup of coffee. She sat down at the kitchen counter with her steaming cup in her hands and took a sip before setting it down next to—

"Shit."

The events of the previous night rushed back to her—Cameron talking about Linda, her returning home, picking up the mail, and finding a curious note. She remembered standing on the stairs, waiting for the rush of terror to reach her, but it never came—her mind had seemed weirdly dulled since she'd talked to Cameron. She'd come upstairs and collapsed into her bed, tossing all her mail on the kitchen table before she did so.

McKayla stared at the note now, her mouth set in a tight line. She must have a serious lead then, at least close enough to make these people nervous. So perhaps Sam Archer...She got up and grabbed her coat, pulling out the address the receptionist had written for her from the pocket. She'd have to go there soon. This Saturday, if possible.

And the note...she wouldn't tell Captain Abrams, she decided. Normally, that was the protocol, but again—she was close, and she couldn't risk Abrams taking her off the case.

Happy with her decisions, McKayla picked up the note. Perhaps she could get it tested for fingerprints? No, sending something to the labs would alert Abrams, and besides, she assumed that a smuggling ring this big would be smart enough to not leave any traces.

She took another sip of her coffee and groaned again. Her headache wasn't getting any better, and the thought of going into the office like this and staring at a computer screen...it exhausted her already. She looked at her bed longingly. Just a few more hours of sleep...Yes, she'd take the day off. She deserved it.

"You want to take a day off?" Captain Abrams sounded incredulous. "And I'm definitely talking to Detective Robinson here?"

McKayla rubbed at her temples. "Yes," she said tiredly. "What so surprising about that?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, except that in the past year and a half, you've taken three days off, and two of those were sick days that I forced you to take!"

"I was fine!"

"You were vomiting every twenty minutes!"

McKayla sighed. Captain Abrams was right—it was unlike her to take days off. Usually, a headache wouldn't stop her from marching right into the office. But if she was being really honest with herself, she didn't want to risk having Cameron bring up Linda again around her. It was just too much for her to think about, which was why, normally, whenever her mind started drifting toward the topic, she found something to distract herself, whether that was work, Netflix, or a good book.

"Alright, Robinson," her captain said, sounding amused. "You can have the day off. I'll see you on Monday. Have a good long weekend." The call ended.