Secrets and Lies

The rest of our night went pretty much as planned. Phoebe and I reached Inverness on schedule, located the hotel, and were in our suite only a few minutes past midnight. Which was every bit as luxurious as the others we'd shared since becoming partners.

A massive king-sized bed dominated the room, while some comfortable chairs were positioned to either side of a table beneath a large window overlooking the street and the River Ness. There was a fully-stocked mini fridge in one corner of the room, along with a coffee maker and an assortment of coffee and tea pods. And finally the attached bathroom was almost as fancy as the rest of the accommodations, although in this case it was lacking a tub.

By the time we'd gotten unpacked and ready for bed it was close to one in the morning, and with my alarm set for six-thirty in the morning we both agreed to try and get some sleep. Rather than enjoy ourselves and the big comfy bed, as we'd been doing the last few nights in her parents' guest room.

As usual Feebs was rather grumpy about the early wake-up, but I set the coffee machine going and gave her the first cup then headed into the washroom for a quick shower. When I was done in there the cute redhead shuffled past to take my place, while I enjoyed some coffee and sorted out my clothes for the day. Neither of us expected to work on this trip, but we both brought one nice outfit just in case. So I made sure the both of us were appropriately dressed for our meeting. Which meant slacks and blouses for the day, rather than jeans and t-shirts.

We were ready to go early enough there was time for a proper breakfast at the hotel restaurant, then at half past eight we climbed into the SUV and set off for the hospital. The weather was about what I'd expect for the end of December in the Highlands, the morning air was chilly and there was frost on the ground, while a low grey overcast sky threatened.

We had to cross the river again to get to our meeting, but the satnav directions were clear and the hospital wasn't that far away. Although once we got there it took us another few minutes to figure out where the morgue was located and where we were supposed to park. It turned out our destination was at the back of the large facility, and we ended up leaving the SUV in a small staff-only carpark near the back entrance. It was about five minutes to nine when I pulled into a spot next to a pair of military vehicles.

Phoebe and I had only just exited the big black SUV when a third military vehicle pulled up and came to a stop directly behind us, as if to block us in. The passenger door opened and for a moment I was afraid we were about to get yelled at for parking somewhere we weren't supposed to be.

"Emma?" I blinked in surprise as the goth teen emerged. "What are you doing here?"

Her ride pulled away again after she closed the door behind her, which led me to add "I take it Alys didn't come with you? Or Owen, or Grace?"

"Just me," she grumbled.

She looked and sounded both tired and grumpy, although I certainly couldn't blame her if she'd come all the way here direct from Cardiff. She was bundled up in a long black coat, with black boots on her feet. And she had a black backpack slung over one shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" Feebs asked. "I thought you didn't do field work."

Emma sighed, "They rang me up around midnight, Owen Grace and some army bloke. Seems they decided it was too inefficient sending me random samples to look at. They figured I'd have better luck coming here in person, so I could see everything in place, untouched and unadulterated."

"Great idea in theory," she scowled, "But it means I've been up all night getting here. So I'm not in the best of moods at the moment."

I grimaced, "They drove you here from Cardiff? That's a heck of a long trip to do in one go."

The teen shook her head, which tossed her long silky black hair around in the cold breeze. "They drove me to the airport, then put me on a little military business jet, like some kind of government VIP. Flew me from there to an RAF base about seventy kilometres east of Inverness. Then they stuffed me into another car and brought me here from the airbase. It took all night because you know what the army's like. Hurry up and wait. Every step of the way."

"Anyways we should get inside," she added with a sigh. "It's cold out here, and that general guy's probably waiting for us."

"Right," I nodded as the three of us made our way across the small parking lot then in through the closest entrance.

We all came to a halt just inside the doors though. What was originally a fairly typical medical reception area now seemed like a cross between a crime scene and a war zone.

There were two soldiers standing on guard off to one side, decked out in combat fatigues and holding automatic rifles, with holstered pistols on their belts. The only thing missing was the helmets, instead the two men wore charcoal-grey berets on their heads. Meanwhile there were large blue sheets draped over the receptionist desk and some of the seating in the waiting area, while a dozen little numbered evidence markers were carefully positioned in clusters around the room.

"Ah there you are," a familiar voice said from off to our right. The three of us all turned to see General Walcott standing in the doorway of an adjoining room.

I was amused to note the man looked exactly as I'd imagined, based on his voice. He was average height and build, and appeared to be in his mid-fifties. There was some evidence of grey in his brown hair, which of course was in a short regulation trim. He also wore a small neatly-trimmed moustache, while the rest of his face was shaved. He appeared to be in good shape, but there were some worry-lines evident on his face, especially around the eyes and forehead.

Unlike the other soldiers General Walcott wasn't wearing battle dress or camouflage, instead he was in the military equivalent of a business suit. His trousers were neatly pressed, as was his jacket. Both were a light beige colour, along with his tie. His shirt was an off-white, and he wore a proper officers cap. There were countless little ribbons and awards on his jacket, plus his rank markers and other insignia on his shoulders, his collar, and the front of his cap. Finally I noted he was armed, with a pistol holstered on his belt.

"You must be General Walcott," I responded. "I'm Detective Trillium Sharpe. This is my partner, Phoebe Campbell. And our colleague, Emma Rhys."

The officer nodded, "General Stuart Walcott. I'm in charge here. We've set up a briefing room, if you young ladies would join me we can review the latest information from -"

"No," Emma interrupted. "I've been up all night getting here because you thought it would be a good idea for me to see the shooter and other evidence while it was all still fresh and untouched. So let's do that now, before everything's had even more time to get disturbed or contaminated. Like this area here? Obviously this is part of the crime scene, but there's been too much activity since then for me to get any kind of a clear read."

She dumped her backpack on one of the chairs in the waiting area then started unbuttoning her long winter coat as she added, "I want to see Dr. Shaw's body first. When we talked last night you said the autopsy would be this morning, I told you not to touch it until I've seen it. So let's go."

I could tell at a glance Walcott was bristling a little at being bossed around by the young goth, but it looked like he was trying not to let it show. On the other hand I also couldn't help staring at our seer, since this was a side of her I'd never seen before. And from the look of it Feebs was just as surprised as me.

Emma always seemed rather happy and bubbly in our staff meetings and on conference calls. She'd acted a little more serious when she was doing her seer work on that Lich case, but this was something else entirely. Then again she'd been up all night travelling, dealing with cars and planes and army bureaucracy from the sound of it. I figured she was probably just tired.

"Very well," Walcott finally nodded. He started moving towards a different door as he gestured, "This way."

Under her coat Emma wore a long black Victorian-style mourning dress. That attracted some curious looks from the soldiers, but nobody commented on her choice of attire. Meanwhile Phoebe and I also shed our warm winter jackets before hurrying after the general and our seer.

We went down a short hallway, side-stepping more evidence flags and another blue sheet on the floor, then through a wide automatic door and into a space that reminded me of a large operating theatre. There were three metal examination tables set up, but only the middle one was occupied with a large white sheet covering the body.

Just after the four of us entered the room a fifth person came in through a doorway on the opposite side. He was another middle-aged man with short dark curly hair, but this guy was dressed in pale green scrubs. He looked to be in his late forties perhaps, with a bit of extra weight around his middle. He was clean-shaved and wore a pair of thick dark-rimmed glasses. He came to a halt just inside the door, as soon as he noticed us already there across from him.

"Ah general," the other man greeted Walcott. "You're early, I was just about to begin the post-mortem."

Walcott frowned, "That's not supposed to happen until after I give the go-ahead."

That seemed to confuse the doctor, "When we spoke last night you said you wanted the autopsy done first thing this morning."

"The plans changed around midnight," the general stated impatiently. "I thought I sent word to hold off until after Miss Rhys had a chance to do her thing here."

"These are the people from LIES," Walcott added as he introduced the three of us. Then he nodded towards the guy in scrubs and added, "That is Dr. Hugh Reeves. He and Grace Bishop were colleagues, before she left to join your organization."

Once again our seer sounded grumpy as she responded, "That's great now why don't you all just take a few steps back and let me do my job?"

The teen didn't bother waiting for a response, instead she marched up to the examination table and yanked the sheet back to reveal the body beneath. At a glance the man looked to have died in his sleep, based on the peaceful look on his face. I couldn't see anything amis about him, not even a grey hair out of place. I certainly couldn't see any marks on his body, no sign of bruising or injury, nothing obvious to indicate cause of death.

Emma stared for exactly one second, then spun on her heel and glared at the general. "What the hell is this? What part of 'do not tamper with the body' did you not understand?! What happened to his clothes, where's the rest of his belongings?! He was supposed to be untouched!"

Walcott bristled again then redirected the teen's ire at the other man in the room, "Dr. Reeves? Can you explain this?"

"He's been prepped for autopsy," Reeves replied. "That's all. It's standard procedure."

Emma continued glaring for another couple seconds before finally turning to look at the body again. She stated, "I'll do what I can here, then I want to see everything this man had with him yesterday when he came to work. And I mean everything."

The general nodded, "I'll see to it. Excuse me ladies. Reeves, you're with me!"

The two of them headed back out together while our seer remained focused on the deceased in front of her. Phoebes and I slowly approached as well, and I noticed my partner mumbling some sort of spell as she focused on the corpse.

"That's not helping," Emma commented without looking.

In fact I realized her eyes were closed, as she held her hands out above the body. Her fingers were spread while she slowly moved her arms from side to side, as if she she was trying to feel something in the air over the examination table.

Feebs cringed, "Sorry lass. I was just checking for any lingering magic on the guy."

The teen responded, "I know. I've already tried that, there's nothing."

"Nothing at all," she sighed, while her arms dropped down to her sides. "He's already been contaminated to hell and back. Too much handling, too much psychic noise. I told those idiots not to tamper with the body until I got here."

I glanced at her as a thought struck me, "Do you think this was intentional? Someone trying to cover their tracks perhaps, while making it look like an accident or miscommunication?"

"You're thinking the general might be up to something?" Phoebe asked softly.

Emma shook her head, "I've already got a read off Walcott, it's not him. He's as straight-laced as the stick he's got jammed up his arse. No subterfuge or mystery there, he's exactly what it says on the tin."

"Reeves then?" I asked just as quietly.

"Can't say," the teen shrugged. "Not yet at least. He wasn't around us long enough to get a proper read on him."

Just then the door behind us swung open as yet another military-type joined us. She was in an officers uniform similar to Walcott's, and like him she also had a side-arm on her belt. She was conventionally attractive, with blue eyes and short dirty-blonde hair, and she looked to be in her mid- to late-thirties.

"Sorry for the interruption," she began, "I'm Lieutenant Nicole Yates. General Walcott's having Shaw's belongings brought to the briefing room. I can take you there after you're finished here."

Emma grumped, "We're already done. There's nothing here, it's too contaminated to get anything."

The lieutenant just nodded and gestured, "If you'll come with me then?"

I introduced the three of us during the short walk back the way we came, then she led us through the door where we first saw Walcott earlier. That proved to be a fairly typical-looking meeting room, with a large rectangular boardroom table in the middle surrounded by about a dozen chairs. A second door on the far side of the room led to a hallway, and just as the four of us came into the room General Walcott came in through the other entrance with another soldier following behind him. The enlisted man was carrying a big plastic bin with a clipboard resting on top, but he set that down on the end of the table.

"This is Dr. Shaw's belongings," the general announced as he gestured towards the bin. "If you're finished with the body then I trust it's ok for Dr. Reeves to go ahead with the post-mortem?"

Emma marched over to the soldiers without responding, then moved the clipboard aside and opened up the top of the bin. I picked that up to have a look at it, and as I suspected the top sheet was an inventory report that described every item removed from the body. It was timestamped from less than an hour earlier, and signed by someone named Don Murray. There was no rank given, so I assumed he was part of the hospital staff rather than the military.

Meanwhile the goth teen had a very quick look through the contents of the bin then scowled at the general, "I said I wanted to see everything. How are you people so bad at following instructions? Shaw came in here with a gun, did he not? Where is it? Where's the ammunition? Spent casings? If you can't even get the obvious shit right, how do I know you haven't missed anything else?!"

"And why are these clothes all cut to shreds?!" the teen demanded. "Do you not understand what 'unaltered' and 'unadulterated' mean?"

Once again the general bristled, "This is everything they removed from the body while preparing it for autopsy. I assume the clothing was cut up in order to get it off him."

"Yates!" he added as he focused on the lieutenant, "Find out where the rest of Shaw's things are, and get them here. Now!"

"Yessir!" she responded, before she and the enlisted soldier both hurried off to locate the missing items.

Finally Walcott's attention returned to Emma. She was already looking through the contents of that bin, and soon extracted a clear plastic evidence bag containing a few smaller items. At a glance I could tell it held a wristwatch and a crucifix on a long silver chain.

The general watched her for a few more seconds then commented, "I'm no expert on the subject of young women, but after raising two daughters I feel like I know a thing or two. And I have to say Miss Rhys, you're nothing like I expected."

"Frankly," he added in a curt tone, "I'm used to younger people like yourself being a lot more respectful around the military, or anyone in uniform."

Emma rolled her eyes, "If you wanted respect after dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night then flying me to the opposite end of the country, the least you could have done was not screw up a few simple instructions. So far this is all looking like nothing more than a monumental waste of my time and taxpayer money."

"And forgive me for not acting like your typical teenaged girl," she added sarcastically. "A few months ago I was a forty-six year old man, with almost three decades under my belt working for the Brotherhood. I've seen and done things that would keep you up at night, general."

All that caught me by surprise. I already knew Emma was ex-Brotherhood, and thanks to comments Phoebe and Grace had made a while back I suspected our seer was trans. I didn't expect her to be so open about it though, especially with a complete stranger like Walcott.

He didn't seem quite as surprised, but one of his eyebrows crept upwards as he responded. "You're one of the 'changed' then? Used that spell everyone was talking about over the summer?"

"No," Emma stated bluntly. "I was an evil idiot who tried to put a stop to all that. Instead I was dragged to the gates of the abyss and given a choice. Eternal suffering and damnation, or accept an attitude adjustment and a chance to make amends."

She fixed her gaze on Walcott and added, "I've seen Hell first-hand with my own eyes. Since then it takes a lot more than a man like you to impress me."