Hexapoda

Chapter One, Part One

It's about one in the morning when Minerva starts to suspect something is up. At first, she barely notices that her phone still isn't working, despite the fact that the bus should have left the dead zone nearly half an hour ago. She's not really one for focusing on her devices, and she's still sneaking glances at Amy Fisher and her boyfriend across the row, trying to crack through that facade and figure out who they really are. She's beginning to have an inkling.

Still, even she can't be so oblivious that she doesn't notice the tension in the crowd. The middle-aged woman sitting near the front of the bus, the one whose young daughter is passed out on the seat next to her, keeps trying to turn her phone on, then letting out long, exasperated sighs every time it doesn't boot up. And she's not the only one having trouble.

The man sitting next to Fisher growls when he can't get his phone to work and shoves it into his pocket. That's the first display of emotion she's seen him express this whole ride, and it's not a good first impression. Minerva pulls out her own phone and tries to power it on, but it remains stubbornly blank. Unusual, since the last she checked, it was nearly fully charged, and she's barely used it.

"Does anybody have signal?" demands a voice from the middle of the bus. Minerva glances up, raising an eyebrow. It's one of the teenagers, a blonde girl with heat-straightened hair, wearing a brand-name sweatshirt. Minerva thinks she hears a dull groan from somewhere behind her.

There is a general motion throughout the bus, people frowning and shaking their heads as if to say, "No, none of our phones work either." The blonde girl inhales deeply, and then exhales, as if warding off a fit of rage. Wow, thinks Minerva. Calm the fuck down.

"If anyone gets signal, do you mind letting me know?" asks a man near the front who, until moments ago, has looked like he was trying not to fall asleep. Now he's wringing his hands as if something terrible has just occurred to him.

"Get in line," says the woman with her daughter, who looks about five seconds away from demanding to see her phone's manager. "I have important business emails I was about to take care of, before we hit that dead zone."

Minerva takes a moment to marvel at the woman's ability to make even things that are completely outside the realm of anyone's control sound like they're somebody else's fault. It has to be a talent, or else she's spent countless hours honing the skill. Minerva is beginning to feel a little sorry for the woman's poor daughter.

"My five-year-old son is at home unattended," the first man shoots back, seemingly struggling to hold onto his patience. "I need a working phone so I can make sure he's alright. I would have expected you to understand that, as a mother."

"Oh, so it's my fault you left your child unattended?" The woman gives him a look that could probably melt the steel frame of the bus they're all riding in. "Maybe instead of relying on others, you should show a little more responsibility-"

Minerva tunes the arguing parents out. Nothing they're saying is remotely interesting, and she thinks she may develop a migraine if she tries to listen in any longer. Elsewhere in the bus, the two teenage girls seem to be locked in a similar yelling match with another adolescent, who's made their way over to the pair from the back of the bus. The younger boy with them, meanwhile, seems to have discovered the virtues of noise-cancelling headphones. Minerva feels a pang of jealousy before moving on.

Unfortunately, aside from the bus driver and the man rubbing his temples at the rear of the bus, the only available people who aren't bickering are Fisher and her partner. And they no longer seem to be content to awkwardly pretend that they don't see her watching them. When Minerva glances back at the pair, they're no longer leaning on each other. Fisher has her arms crossed, and shoots her a glare.

"What," demands the petite woman. "Are we breaking a law, officer? Why are youfollowing us?"

Minerva grimaces. She's known for a while that Fisher recognizes her from the traffic stop, but somehow the confirmation is still jarring. She shifts in her seat, not breaking eye contact with the other woman.

"Detective," she corrects. "Minerva Espinoza. What's your real name, Miss Fisher?"

Fisher leans forward, resting her chin on the back of her hand. For a moment, Minerva swears she sees the ghost of a smile form on the woman's face.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Detective Espinoza," she says. "And unless you have some sort of evidence that Hunter and I are doing anything wrong, this is harassment." Something about the smg tone in her voice really makes Minerva want to punch her in the face.

"Hunter" frowns at her, and Minerva takes a moment to examine him. She assumes that "Hunter" is meant to be a first name, but even then it's a terrible alias. The man is not so tall by male standards, but he practically towers over Fisher, who can't be taller than five feet. More than anything, the man looks like he could use a shave. And a bath.

"Amy, dear," says the man, and Minerva doesn't miss Fisher rolling her eyes. "Let the detective follow us all she wants. We have nothing to hide." Fisher definitely looks less sure of herself than her partner, Minerva realizes. She can use that.

"Desirée Wilson," Minerva says carefully. Fisher looks like she's been shot. "I thought so. Not guilty, self-defense. Siobhan Wintergreen, second-degree murder. Lillian Sawyer, second-degree murder. Mackenzie Rodriguez, attempted murder."

Fisher groans and looks a little ill. The man next to her places a hand on her shoulder and glares at Minerva. This must mean that she's on the right track, though.

"You're not Amy Fisher," Minerva continues, quietly enough that her words are drowned out by the rest of the noise for everyone but the two intended recipients. "You're Amelia Ito. You were severely bullied at your high school in Chicago. One day, the bullying escalated too far, and you finally snapped, killing three of your classmates and seriously injuring another. You left a very convenient witness."

"Stop," Ito whispers, but Minerva is already on a roll.

"You were tried and convicted in a court of law. But imagine the country's surprise when you disappeared from jail, and reappeared a year later as a paid mercenary. Then you graduated to occasional contract killing. Your partner in crime? One Elliot Keyes, whose description your 'boyfriend' over there just happens to match." There's a long, empty pause.

"What do you want me to say?" asks Ito flatly.

"Nothing," Minerva replies. Now it's her turn to look smug. "You have the right to remain silent."

She's about to launch into the rest of the Miranda rights, when she realizes that whatever bickering and shouting was going on in the background of the bus has stopped. In fact, it's dead silent, and everyone seems focused on something outside. Minerva shuts her mouth and, still not sure she wants to know what she'll find, glances out the window.