Spilling Guts

Part 9 - Dead Ends and Empty Pockets

Megan glared at the empty inbox at Louis' desk, as well as the empty chair.

"Did the files do him in?"

"No, but Cetz probably will if we don't give him an update." Teegan tabbed her fingerprint on the screen and Megan did the same. The digital files for the Grovic case looked so innocuous. They left the tablet on Louis' desk.

"I still think he's punishing himself," said Megan as they climbed the stairs out of Main Tech.

"Let's leave the psychoanalysis to the professionals in sweater vests," said Teegan.

"Cetz, new guy, then Charlotte," listed Megan. "Gotcha."

"We gotta get a lunch in there somehow."

When they reached Cetz's office the greeting was lackluster. Cetz looked like his headset was slowly squeezing the brain out of his skull. When the door closed he took the headset off. Megan and Teegan gave a summary of their findings: a dead photographer and a suspicious death/murder with a possible stolen identity.

"So you have hit a wall," said Cetz.

Megan's hackles rose. "Walls have doors."

"We're still searching", said Teegan. "We'll be talking with the deceased's sister later this afternoon."

Cetz sighed and pulled at his fingers, making the joints pop. "Aside from this one photo, are there any other connections to Parker Lenore, Louis, and Retten?"

"None that we can see at the moment," said Teegan.

"But I got a gut feeling," insisted Megan. "This could be the thing that gets us closer to Retten."

Cetz huffed a laugh. "Yeah, we're all getting those "gut feelings"."

For a moment Megan thought she was being made fun of, but Cetz looked too tired to be funny.

"I know you've been practically razing the city to track down the connection with those photos, but I'd rather you keep your feelers out for Retten then run down one suspected murder." Cetz passed back the folder containing Megan's and Teegan's print outs of their case. "I'll give you two days to find any more connections between Retten, Louis, and Lenore. After that, wrap it up for the police to handle. We can't focus on each body left in Retten's wake."

"I don't like leaving loose ends," said Megan.

"Neither do I," admitted Cetz. "Skip the meeting with Dr. Balcuwitz today. Keep me updated if you find anything."

Megan took the stairs down to Main Tech at a double pace. Teegan texted on her phone right behind her, keeping pace. Megan slapped the file down on her desk and sat sullen in her chair. She didn't want to let this thread connected to Lenore Parker go.

Teegan walked by, smacking Megan on the shoulder. "C'mon, I have two take out lunches waiting at P. Fal's. We'll eat them on our way to Charlotte's."

Megan smiled and followed her partner to the garage. Back on the road again.

***

"Who else knew?" asked Balcuwitz.

"Will. And now you." Louis tossed the wrapper in the trash and tongued the candy to a cheek. Blue raspberry.

"That's who knows now. Who knew before him?"

Louis took a moment to remember. He had kept his claustrophobia under such tight wraps it wasn't hard to remember the few that he allowed to know. "Sergeant Andrew Noble. My best friend when I was deployed. He damn near carried me out of there. Full on "one set of footprints on the sand" style."

He could still remember the smell of rust and sand as he was buried in a collapsed building. No light, no breath to call for help. Fuckall but his gear and a rifle which did nothing against the dark. Sergeant Andrew "Andy" Noble dug Louis out as he lay frozen in a panic. Andy knew his secret and kept an eye on him, doling out cup after cup of coffee when Louis couldn't sleep.

For all his heroism, and a mortar shell, Andy had gone home leaving half a set of footprints.

After Andy it had been...

"And... Terry, my first partner with the Watch," admitted Louis.

Balcuwitz glanced over to the files on his desk. "Agent Terrance Phillips. He died while on mission."

Died on mission. It sounded so stale and distant when said like that. But Balcuwitz hadn't been there. Hadn't seen Terry kick at the glass. Hadn't heard his screams while strapped to a gurney.

"He was killed by Retten. He used a messed up BT machine on him." Louis flashed back to the memory of hitting a window, unable to get through to his partner. He bit down on the blue candy, breaking it into shards quick to dissolve, but still sharp. "How is talking about this supposed to help me?"

"It helps me see person I'm working with."

Louis gestured to the desk. "You couldn't see from those files? Or lurking around Main Tech for a week?"

"No." Balcuwitz got up from the couch and stretched his back. "But it's a good start. Bring your list next time."

Apparently dismissed, Louis fumbled his shades back on and stood.

"Don't forget your tea."

"Ain't mine," Louis mumbled, holding the mug gently so it wouldn't spill.

***

Louis came back to a desk barricaded in silence. Beni, Reese, and Will were gone. Tired of carrying around a cold mug of tea, Louis put it down on Will's desk. He was tired of carrying around a lot of things he wished he could put down. The meeting with Balcuwitz had wrung him like a towel. He didn't know if he wanted to talk it out with someone or go home and work over his frustration in the gym.

Instead he was alone with an empty inbox, no partner, and a tablet from Megan and Teegan. He made a mental note to thank them next time they were around.

Louis sat and tabbed through the files on the tablet. His eagerness to find a solution for Will had waned in the last hour, but he didn't want to waste a favor from Megan and Teegan when they had been so busy lately. What they were busy with he had no idea, but he figured whatever they worked on was above his pay grade.

Strangely, it was hard to focus in silence. Louis worked better alone, but he didn't like being lonely.

He looked up at the clock. Quarter past twelve. The trio were probably out for lunch.

Then he remembered. A lunch he had promised to pay for. Damn it.

Louis sighed and reached for his wallet. He would pay back Beni and Reese when they returned. He kept his damn promises...

His wallet wasn't in his back pocket. Nor in his jacket or desk.

"The fuck..."