ANGEL BLUE [1]

LEAD 2: hit-list

      I sit in one of the plush chairs in Dad’s office while Dad serves Sam his arse. Ever since we got back from the crime scene and to the precinct, Dad hasn’t stopped yelling. At least with his shouts of anger, it’s enough to block out the whispers that still circulate through my thoughts.

      Baines are werewolves, men that can control their turning into beasts. I pull the almanac from Dad’s desk regarding mythical creatures and flip to the article on B. I frowned at the page to see that the article regarding Baines had been cut out in a neat rectangle above Behemoth and below Basilisk. I slap the almanac shut and toss it back on the pile of Dad’s case files.

      “You pulled a firearm on my daughter,” Dad growls, his nails digging into the varnish of his oak desk.

      “Technically, she pulled her weapon on me,” Sam remains calm and simply folds his arms over his chest.

     “That’s my daughter you’re regarding,” Dad hisses as if he treats me like a princess, which he most certainly doesn’t. The intrusion of FBI Prat the Tight Arse is enough to send Dad into overprotective parent-mode and it’s starting to get on my nerves.

      “Stevens armed herself with no reason and prepared to shoot me, I had no choice but to retaliate,” Sam replied. “I tried to talk her down but it was Doctor Snaginsky that eventually disarmed her―I really do think you should take Stevens off the job, she’s on Ritalin. I’m looking out for your daughter’s health, not acting out of spite.”

      “Bullshit,” Dad continues to yell. “The FBI simply can’t walk in here and take over the Angel Blue proposition without a slip of documentation regarding it. You believe that my daughter isn’t physically and mentally capable of being a detective!”

      “I know she isn’t mentally capable,” Sam glances down at me picking at my black painted nails, “I mean honestly Robert; she’s eighteen, is on numbing medication and doesn’t know how to handle the job.”

      “Yet while you puked your guts up at the crime scene my daughter helped process Jane Doe and retrieved the eyes, hand and photograph from the victim,” Dad seethes. “Don’t you dare tell me what my daughter is capable of when she certainly trumps you, Samuel. Maybe it is you that isn’t physically or mentally capable of being an agent―your superior won’t take your gutlessness lightly to hear that you possibly contaminated the crime scene.”

      Sam remains silent, but his nostrils flare.

      “You’ve been working in the field for five years now; you cheated the system as well so cut with the shit about my daughter being too young,” Dad reprimands. “Get out of my sight, and if you dare challenge my Chief Medical Examiner again, consider yourself back on the desk, Pingelly.”

      My eyebrow twitches slightly as I struggle to raise it. Sam was a desk cop and cheated the system like me, Banks and Blake? I can’t help but snicker softly as Sam stuffs his hands in his slacks pockets and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind him. I watch as the shutters bat against the glass and I burst out laughing.

      “You’re not off the hook either,” Dad rubs his temples, “I’ll deal with you later, no go, you don’t want to keep Snag waiting.”

      • • •

      Once we’re at the lab to speak with Snag, Sam waits at the elevator doors as he taps his fingers against the brown leather of his watch band. The first floor is closed since it’s for administration purposes. I watch as Sam glides his ID card through the slot and types in his pin, just to be rejected by the elevator.