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Learning Curve

November 23 (Two days later) 10:30 am San Francisco...

** "NEVADA!"** The shout of Captain Sanders could shake the nerves of even the most resolved officer. Young, cocky and confident, Reno Nevada looked up from his desk at the vocal calling. He ran his fingers back through dark strands of thick full hair with a smirk. Nevada stood up and ran his thumb over the seven-sided star-shaped inspector's badge on his belt, then proceeded towards the office at the head of the department's main room. He walked with a confident stride.

"Nevada, get the hell in here," Captain Sanders said, just as Reno reached the door. That was the Inspector's cue to shut the door behind himself. Once he was in the office, facing his boss' boss, the tone changed.

"You think you're hot shit strutting around the office, huh kid?"

"Just keepin' it Bogart, sir."

"...Yeah. Just as long as you stay away from that missing persons case involving your brother. We're still clear on that, right?"

"Clear, sir. As a bell. No body; family thinks he's gone but the official case is still in Missing Persons, not homicide. I know the rules."

Sanders nodded firmly. "Right. So anyway, I got one for ya," Sanders said, pushing an envelope towards the Inspector. "Your Lieutenant is on vacation so you're dealing solely with me again. Let's not have a repeat of last time." The packet slid across the desk, stopping directly in front of Nevada. Reno took the file and opened it. Missing girl, approximately ten years old... Only contact was the estranged mother. The Inspector's eyes flitted back and forth between the file and Sanders.

"You know I'm still working on that gypsy murder case, right?" Reno tilted his head as he spoke, closing the folder and tucking it under his arm. He wasn't one to turn down an assignment, regardless.

"Not anymore, you're not." Sanders seemed to make himself clear on that, too. It was all in the tone of his voice.

"The Lieutenant feels I'm making enough headway that we can keep the case open, after all."

"I said no. Don't start your shit with me, kid. I mean it." Sanders leaned back in his chair, shifted his weight, then pointed at the file under the inspector's arm. "That's your job."

Reno's eyes widened at his boss's words. It was the look of incomprehension. What could have happened to make Sanders pull the case? There was only one thing that would make Sanders close a case... and that was when he thought the case couldn't be solved.

"But Captain, I'm _this close_to..." Reno found himself interrupted.

"I don't want to hear it because I don't give a damn," Sanders said with a sigh. "Lay off the gypsy murder case. The lead witness you're trying to protect? Abby Chase? She has two warrants out for her arrest. We're sending someone to go and pick her ass up... if they can find her."

"Aw, what the hell, Captain?" Reno groused, throwing one hand up in the air, the new assignment still under his other arm. "I can't get a lead witness to trust me enough to tell me what the hell's going on if I'm arresting her, man."

"I don't wanna hear it." Sanders narrowed his gaze, a sign of trouble looming in the horizon. His voice was stern now, "I said lay off the damn gypsy murder case. Don't LET me find out otherwise. Now get lost; you have work to do," Sanders added.

"Oh come on, Captain. This is TOTAL bullshit!" Reno balled his hands into fists. He paced, passing back and forth in front of his boss's desk.

Captain Frank Sanders sat behind his desk with a rather unpleasant look on his face. What was he going do with this kid? Finally, he pointed an angry finger up at Reno.

"Keep it up, Nevada," Sanders said with a grunt, "You're only this close from being put on suspension. I mean it, son. That crap between you and the Lieutenant really pissed me off and that's why he's on leave right now. You got lucky because you solved the case that Liu Dixon wanted to burry, so I let it slide. I even let you get away with that stupid childish fistfight in the gym. Now, you keep this crap up and I'm going to end your career, son." He only called someone _son_when he was overly asserting his authoritative status on someone. Nevada knew it; anyone who knew Sanders knew that much.

"Captain Sanders, we were in a boxing ring."

"With_out_ gloves and sparring gear. That shit was personal and you sent him to the dentist. Now. I want to hear you acknowledge that you are done with the gypsy case. Turn in your case file and I'll send it down to Cold Cases for archival." Sanders waited for a moment and the two made eye contact. "Go on; tell me you're done with that case."

Reno turned, arms held outwards, palms facing out, shoulders rolling upwards. He just gawked for a moment at his superior then, finally, he asked, "What the hell for? Is it because I want_to do my JOB? No one cares about those gypsies and that's fine. But someone has to do the job because they deserve the same justice everyone else receives. I care. I give a shit. I like my job. I bet I like _my job more than you_like _your job." Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. The Captain stood up from his seat, slamming his hands down atop the desk.

"Because you CARE too much. You've gotten yourself obsessed with this shit. You're gonna end up going crazy if you don't figure out that not every case can be solved." The Captain's speech made little or no impact based on the gaze Sanders reflected back at Nevada's smirk.

"THIS one can, Sir," Reno said, shoving his hand into the front pocket of his slacks. He pulled out a micro-cassette recorder, "I know I can solve this one. I've got everything I need inside the head of a girl who is running around this city somewhere. The same one who said... this..." 'Play' was pressed and the small speaker fed back a woman's voice...

"Tut gaje shangle tshi, chovexanu armaya. Bater, gaje, armaya duk tut!" Reno pressed the stop button and the recorder was pushed back into his pocket.

"Know what that means?" Reno inquired with a sly smirk. The Inspector dropped his hands to his sides, taking a relaxed stance.

"Hell no; maybe it's a recipe for cream of mushroom soup for all we know," Frank Sanders replied.

Reno's cocky smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his arms returned to cross over his chest. "Well, Sir. I actually do know what it means, Captain. I paid an agent in the FBI to crack it for me. She's saying 'you stupid cops/people don't know. It's going to happen. War is coming. You people are going to die like the rest of us. And you're stopping your only chances of surviving.' Well?"

The captain sunk back into his seat and scooted himself back up to the desk. He placed his chin into his palms, elbows on the desktop. His eyes lifted, running his thumbs over his chin, pensively. "That's what that gibberish means? Hell, I knew that. It's all this "monkey-pox" shit and everything just because some asshole in San Francisco or Oakland or something, decides to import a giant rat from Africa? Isn't that's what causing the flu epidemic they're saying now?"

"A hyena, sir," Reno noted politely.

Sanders continued his casually-spoken rant almost overtop of Reno's correction, telling the Inspector, "Now we've got people claiming the hospital was burned down on purpose, after someone found out that it had been quietly quarantined due to some girl whose sickness killed Jon Parker? Best damn footballer to play on the Raiders. That might have been a little before your time, thought. Jesus, Nevada. And you think you have problems, huh?" Sanders looked back to his computer screen, fingers at the keyboard and he began typing once more.

"All right Frank," Reno said, "So I guess I better get back to work on this," Nevada said, trailing off. The inspector turned, reaching for the doorknob. The moment his fingertips curled about the metallic knob, the Captain's voice erupted from behind him like the Archangel of doom.

"NEVADA! I SAID it was CLOSED. That's it. Finished! Your only link has escaped from our custody, not once... Not twice... but three times already. One of those times, she was actually handcuffed to you, no less. It's DONE. No more questions. There are other actual solvable cases out there, waiting for you to get off this dead horse. NOW, if I find out you're wasting the department time and resources on this case, I'll have your badge and gun! In case you haven't noticed, your badge number is not '2211' nor will it ever be! Now get the hell out there," his voice began to crescendo with every spoken word, "...and find that ten year old girl!"

Nevada could barely squeak his words out. "Yes, sir." That was that, God had spoken. The Inspector was forced to swallow his pride, something he rarely did. He headed back out into the office, surrounded by the ambient noise of telephones, heavy conversations and the clacking of keyboards. He pulled the door shut behind himself and paused to savor the temporary repose, just relishing the fresh air after having his head nearly bitten off.

That's when Nevada decided to look for the gypsy girl anyway. "This isn't goddamn Fajitagate, here, dammit. Is it me or does every 'Sanders' have to obstruct justice all of a sudden?" Reno took a deep breath then added, "I can't believe I'm talking to myself. Christ, I can't believe he used the Dirty Harry psychology on me. ...Douchebag."

Reno shook his head with a sigh and walked away from the office with the file under his arm. He crossed the large room and took a hallway on the back left wall, thumping into a man in his mid-fifties with wiry hair and a white coat. The man checked to make sure he still had a pencil behind his left ear then reached for Reno's elbow. "You okay, Inspector Detective?"

"God, don't call me that. You're such a geek, man."

"Ah. You may have read my name badge incorrect, Detective Inspector. It says 'G R E G,' not 'geek'. I mean, you got some of the letters right but dyslexia must be so difficult when solving crime."

"You're usually funny, old man. Who names their kid, 'Wilford Greg,' anyhow?"

The older man smiled. "Who names their kid 'Reno Nevada,' huh? Just sayin'."

"Touché. My parents were hippies, man. Anything exciting in the world of forensics? Any good autopsies lately?"

"Not today, Inspective Detector," said Wilford, changing up the title a little each time. "Still seeing ghosts?"

Reno lowered his voice, glancing around the empty hallway furtively, "Shh, man. I only told you that because I know you're into that sort of thing. Only goddamn scientist I've ever met that believes in the occult. I don't need Sanders sending me to Psych for Eval."

"I could just imagine your evaluation: illusions of grandeur, too many comics as a child, angry at life because Lucy Liu isn't his Watson, thinks superheroes have an 8-pack, while everyone else has only six abs. Oh, the humanity."

Reno tilted his head and simply gawked at the older man for a moment. "Are you for real? Are we even from the same planet? Look, did you look at my blood sample?"

Greg nodded. "Reno, my boy, your cholesterol is fine, your salt level is fine, your iron levels are fine, and your counts are good. Sorry magic man. Whatever happened is in your head, not your blood."

"Hah. Funny. Fine. I'm headed out to drive around town and get paid for it." Again, Reno lowered his voice, adding, "If I see any more freaky-deaky ghost stuff, I'll be sure to tell you all about the experience. Stay out of trouble, Wilf."

"Yup. Conversely, good luck finding trouble."

Nevada continued down the hall, through a door and stopped near the precinct gym. He paused to look over the empty room, loaded with equipment. At the far end, he spied the empty boxing ring and grinned at the memory of last week then focused on his ghostly reflection in the window. "Them fighting skills, Reno... you've slacked off since getting yourself a desk job. But I sure appreciate the Lieutenant putting up a good fight. Nothing says respect like knowing you could whip at least two-thirds of the department's ass in a sparring match."

"Yo! Nevada, who're you talking to?"

Reno turned about and grinned inwardly. "Speaking of the devil. Lieutenant! I was just thinking about you! I thought you're on vacation?"

The man, in his early forties, approached Reno and offered his hand. Reno looked at the hand then back at his superior officer then back at the hand. Finally, he took the offered shake. "You're not mad about our fight?"

"Hell no. I started it, I was the dickhead. I shouldn't have brought up your brother missing like that, especially after your girl went missing. I used to be the school bully and every now and then I say really stupid stuff to people so I feel tough."

"How's the teeth?"

The Lieutenant brought his hand up to his jaw. "They replaced four."

"Well, you did turn around and eat that turnbuckle."

"No, Reno. That was from you. I fell into the turnbuckle, yeah, but it never hit my mouth. The teeth were from your fists. So. Anyway, you're right. I'm here on my day off. Uh... I actually came in to fill out my resignation."

"You're seriously quitting?"

The Lieutenant ran his hands up through his hair then nodded with a sullen frown. "Uh, yeah. You're not the only one I bullied that day. Sanders found out. He wants me to come in and give my angle then submit myself for 'therapy.' He said I have 'anger management issues.' That's not my bag. Sanders and I fight a lot, you know that. I hate him. As of late, he's been down my throat for stupid stuff. He called me when I got to the parking lot, a few minutes ago, and told me he was going to write me up for letting you stay on that gypsy case. I mean he was a total prick about it. As of late, that dude has been closing cases that shouldn't be closed."

"Like what? And tell Sanders to go eat a fat one."

The Lieutenant chuckled and shook his head. "Reno, it's not that easy. Anyway, to give you a quick example, we had another sighting of those black-gear mercenary groups. They caused one hell of a ruckus and Sanders transferred the case out of my system, wrote up the incident report and locked the file. No one will tell me what's going on. Anyhow, I've been under a lot of pressure and I started a couple of fights the day you beat my ass. Guess my bullying days are over. I'm putting in my resignation today because I'm tired of Sanders and his crap."

"You're gunna quit with no notice? That's kinda badass."

"Yeah, no." He shook his head and released Reno's hand. "Inspector Nevada... fast left, hard right. Good combo punches."

"Yeah, thanks."

"I mean it. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"I dunno. I just did it a lot as a kid. You know how kids are. They'd tease me about my name, I'd roll my eyes, then they'd wanna fight because I didn't cry about their teasing. So I had to learn how to beat a few bullies up back in school. So why are you resigning with no notice? I mean, I get that you don't like Sanders but... what happened?"

"Sanders, The Almighty, is giving me a choice. I can bow out gracefully as one of the options. I'm taking it. With this crazy sickness starting to show up in the papers, people getting sick and going comatose..." He trailed off then changed speed. "You ever talk to Wilford about that? He's got ideas that will make you cringe. He says the victims are super-random and no one can tell what they have in common. It's not blood type or age or anything normal. Just random people fall into a coma, right where they're standing. Sounds like something out of an old TV show, like The Fringe. I watched that stuff as a kid. Now I find myself thinking about it. Anyways, I'm headed back to Brooklyn."

Reno blinked. "You're from Brooklyn? How come you don't have an accent?"

The Lieutenant shrugged. "I don't know. Mom always said I talked funny growing up. Maybe that's why I bullied people... so they wouldn't talk to me. Then I became a cop and locked up bullies. Sad, ain't I? A walking irony whose lack of dialect pissed off the locals."

"Jesus, Ron. The humility act is killing me. It's like you're a whole different person suddenly."

"Don't go thinking this has anything to do with you, Nevada. You don't hit that hard." The Lieutenant offered a wan, albeit crooked smile from the cuts still healing on the inside of his lips and cheeks. "My wife is having a baby. Just found out this morning. I want to get the hell out of San Francisco. It's an eye opener for me. Just remember, if there are any other bullies out there just hit them the way you hit me. I thought you were a pussy who always got lucky in his cases because he got easy pickings. I was wrong - you hit like a man. I can respect that. Now, I've gotta go quit. And remember what I said about this ridiculous crap in the paper. Ask Wilford."

Reno shrugged. "Wilf is a smart old dude. But he's a hot mess when it comes to conversation. Hella' crazy, man. I just talked to him a few minutes ago. Corny and odd as ever. I thought you hated him?"

"Yeah, well, I used to pick on him. But he was right al along, wasn't he?"

"How so?"

Ron shrugged again. "He said this weirdo virus plague thing was attacking people at random because it was hunting for people genetically susceptible. Something about picking out certain people who have some sort of numbered chromosome or something. So I told him he's nucking-futs. Then guess what happened?"

"What?"

"I saw a magazine on a sidewalk stand that suggested this virus was searching for genetically compatible hosts and ignoring everyone else. Starting with that guy who played for the Raiders a while back - the rich dude. Patient Zero. Wilford isn't as crazy as people think, Reno."

"Yeah, he's okay. Look, I gotta roll. I'll catch up with you. Good luck out there."

"Yeah, you two, Nevada. Any guy who hits like you do can't be all that bad. I still say you're too young to be in your position, though." The Lieutenant offered a lame grin.

"Yeah, yeah. And stop smiling before you split your lip again, man." Reno lifted his hands defensively. "Joking!"

"So where you headed?"

"To break the rules. I've got two gigs - missing girl is presumed dead because a plumber called in and alerted us that he found three teeth in the trap under the bathroom sink. Forensics found blood residue in the grout, but it wasn't much. Bathroom was cleaned. I'm going over to talk to the mom. Then... if I'm feeling lucky, I'll see if I can't find Abigail Chase because there's no way I'm going to let Frank Sanders screw the pooch on my investigation."

"Good. Damn right. Don't you dare drop that case until YOU are ready. Just be warned, if Frank doesn't want you doing it, he'll drop a handful of other cases in your lap to distract you. But yeah, I saw the file; I heard your tape. Go tear into it, get yourself a tailored long-coat and a magnifying glass and do your thing."

"Yeah... yeah, man. That's me. Reno Noir. I should change my name to that. It has a ring to it. Well, I'm not going to say it was nice working with you, Ron. As bosses go... I hated your guts, man. But congratulations on the baby. That's awesome news. And good luck back east."

"Thanks. Now go find trouble and do your job, Nevada. Eff Frank Sanders. Later, kid." They nodded to one another then Reno headed back down the hall towards the parking garage.

X

---

X

November 23rd, 11:30pm Pacific Heights, San Francisco, California ...

** Fox glanced back at the bed behind him.** His sister continued her rhythmic breathing. He approached the IV machine and touched a button on the console to silence its incessant beeping. A monitor, to his left, showed the front yard of the Parker mansion.

"Okay, it's been two hours since that van pulled up," he murmured. "It's not funny anymore." He checked the IV bag then the line to her hand. "Okay, Topaz, I'll be back - not that you can hear me." He took off his plastic gloves, threw them into a nearby trashcan then walked out of the palliative care-converted study.

Parker headed to the front door, calmly, and unlocked the two deadbolts then opened it. He stood in the doorframe and glared at the van across the street. He rolled his sleeves up above his elbows and power-walked across the front yard towards the street.

All at once Fox felt hands on his chest and he wasn't facing the van or the street anymore. A sensation of disorientation came and passed rapidly and he fell towards the hands. "Whoa now," said someone whose voice he didn't recognize. "I got you, bud. Careful, now."

Fox looked around, confused, only to realize he stood on the roof of the Parker mansion. A man he didn't recognize was holding him steady. Fox turned and saw the blond woman who rescued him from Aris Falcon back on the twenty-seventh of October. He stepped away from her friend and rubbed his face. "I was walking out to the van because they've been parked out front for two hours."

"Yeah," said Karla with a soft smile. "We've been staking out your stakeout. Do you know how hard it's been to find you and your sister?"

Eric Loupe walked back to the hip-height brick wall that lined the edge of the roof.

"I..." He walked to the edge of the roof and peered over the top at the van. He glanced back at Karla and her friend. "I thought it best to hide in plain sight - a thief's best bet sometimes - so I moved her home and hired a palliative care nurse who visits once a day every other day. She's not woken up since before my father died. The funeral, the media circus. All of it, I had to do it alone."

"Fox, I'm sorry," she said with a frown. Karla teleported across the rooftop to stand adjacent to him. "Listen, kiddo, your daddy was a great guy. Most honest thief I've ever met. How've you been holding up outside of all that stuff going on?"

"I'm developing an ability."

"I've heard," she said with a firm nod. "People watch you, Fox. You're important. Not much is left of my community... not that they liked me to begin with... but you're important. And the people out there in that van are working for Aris Falcon. He's out of town or they'd have moved in by now. They're waiting for instruction."

Fox glanced back at the van across the street. "I can handle this."

"I'm not saying you can't. I came here to make sure they didn't get the drop on you," she explained then reached for his hand. "Listen, kiddo, you're important to me, too. I wasn't sure if they were going to call for backup or what their intent was. So I'm here to watch them."

"I got my stepmother into a safe house with my baby brother because of Falcon's goons. They have a lot of nerve coming here. I'm going to go down there and put a stop to this, then... I'm going to lock the mansion and move Topaz into the panic room."

"Fox." Karla glanced over at Eric across the way, as if searching for support, then back at Parker. "Listen, babe, this mansion isn't safe right now. Just come with me. I've seen people who would scoff at a concrete panic room. Remember when your father lent me money? I bought a houseboat this morning. I could even use some help moving in, so to speak. It's pretty big."

"I like the idea of not being in the same place very long." Fox glanced back at the van again. "I'll send an email to the nurse, doctor and social worker. You wanna go tonight?"

"Now you're talking sense."

"But that van isn't just going to let us move her. They're probably watching the house with thermal."

Karla nodded and brought her hand to her chin. Her lips parted and she touched her index fingernail to her teeth, tapping gently. "Yeah..."

"Thirty-eight million dollar house and they bi-passed the security gate and the neighborhood security like it's a joke. The Home Owners Association fees are the punchline. Look, I want you to get my sister out of here. She's not going to be easy to move - there are tubes involved. IV, catheter, various sensors and such. If we had access to an ambo that would be clutch."

Eric approached the two and folded his arms across his chest. "Everything okay?"

Karla nodded in reply and said, "We've got to move his sister to the houseboat. She's been unconscious for... Christ, since the beginning of November I think. It's been a while." The demoness turned back to Fox. "You get her moved. I'll handle the guys in the van."

"No." Fox shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not. You can keep Topaz safe and that's a priority. I can handle myself. I've been through a lot. I need this." He turned to the brick wall that went around the edge of the mostly-flat roof and nudged a storm drain with his foot. "That van over there has a few guys in it. I can handle it." He took a deep breath, sighed through his nose then turned back to Karla and her friend. He thrust his hand towards Eric and said, "Fox Parker."

"Eric Loupe." The two shook then he leaned to Fox's left and gazed over the top of the roof at the van. "I have an idea. I can get you over there without being seen."

"You too, huh?" Karla muttered. "Fine. Help Fox stay shrouded then get your ass down to the first level and black out everything between the house and the van. Fox will keep them distracted and I'll move Topaz and gather their belongings."

Fox rubbed his chin then snapped the fingers of his left hand. "Y'know, that's a good idea. We'll need gear. Sneaking suits, bone conduction headsets, transceivers and the receivers. All that stuff. There's a footlocker at the foot of my bed and there are two lockers in the big room in the basement. Can you move it all?"

Karla glared at him for a moment then nodded. "Yeah. White glove treatment, whatever. Just tell me I'm the greatest."

Parker furrowed his brows then cut his eyes over at Eric who shrugged. Fox tilted his head forward then said, "Okay, you're the greatest, most awesome, most kickass chick who has ever lived. And you're attractive. Can you put me back on the first level?"

Karla reached into the v-neck of her blouse, withdrew white-tinted sunshades and put them on. "Yup."

Eric eyed her. "Are you serious? Sunglasses at night?"

"Corey Hart style, now back off." She tucked her hair back so they wouldn't interfere with the shades then walked to the edge of the roof. Her left hand brightened with a hint of pink incandescence. Fox disappeared. He reappeared behind the van.

Eric moved adjacent to Karla and tensed himself. A mass of shadow moved into place, blocking out the nearest street lamps until the entire block was cast into exceptional darkness. "Hey, not bad huh?"

She offered a wan smile. "Donovan would'a been proud." Silence, neither spoke out of awkward feelings and respect.

Down on the street, Fox picked the lock for the back of the van, took a deep breath then swung open both doors hard. He leapt into the van, took the nearest guy sitting in front of a radio panel and shoved him back into two other guys.

He reached his hands outwards, placing one on the equipment dash and the other on the panel siding of the van's interior. Fox brought his feet up and kicked one of the men down hard. A wisp of smoke emanated from the equipment console. Parker tensed his body from the flood of emotions he felt about the men; he shouted, "You have the audacity to come to my home after all I've been through with my family!" Up front, the van started, backfired then stalled.

All the screens on the computerized panels in the back of the van brightened significantly, causing the windows of the van to glow despite the pitch darkness that hovered over the street lamps.

Fox kicked down one of the fallen men to keep them from getting back up. He stomped on another, moving forward then reached for the driver from behind. Parker brought his foot down on a lever on the back corner of the seat and yanked on the driver by their throat, causing the backrest to drop. The driver slid out from beneath their seatbelt and squirmed as he was jerked from the chair. With a grunt, Fox put his foot on the center console, braced himself, then flipped the driver over his shoulder, denting the van's ceiling in the process. The driver slammed into the ground, knocking over a stool meant for the computer operator. "Suplex in a cargo van," Fox panted, with a wan smile. "Damn, didn't expect to do that."

The stool bounced about and flipped over, toppling out of the back of the van. Parker put his hands outwards, one on the ceiling, and one on the wall then kicked his left foot forward and his right foot back, striking two men as they got up. He put his foot on the computer console, twisted over and wrapped his left arm around the first man he'd thrown down, a moment prior, and slammed the mercenary's face back against the floor.

Fox rolled over, his back on the fallen first guy's back, and got to his feet with fluid grace. He kicked up the last remaining stool, grasped it in midair then struck the driver with it. He turned about but... no one moved. All four van operators lay sprawled out within the van, unconscious. He put the stool back down then turned to the computer controls on the side panel. They were hot to the touch with smoke billowing out of a vent.

With furrowed brows, he looked at his palm then back at the computer panel. "Did I...?" Fox made his way out of the back of the van, put the first stool back inside then shut the double doors. He looked up at Karla and made a circular gesture with his thumb and index finger. She replied from up on the rooftop with a thumbs up signal.

The evening lighting of the neighborhood resumed along the street.

Up on the rooftop Karla and Eric disappeared. They appeared by the backdoor and moved into the mansion. Eric glanced about himself. "Wow. Impressive place to live. I'd much rather be based out of this place."

"Seriously?" Karla balked. "Perspective - we've got stuff going on - bad guys 'n shit. Remember? They know where this place is. Duh."

"Yeah." He chuckled, approaching one of two enormous seahorse statues in the primary foyer. "Still..." he murmured, dabbing his finger into a stream of water coming from its mouth to a seashell at its base. "Wow, y'know?" Eric shook his head and walked away from the fountain statue. "I don't want to fight again."

"The boat is a good idea," she snapped, moving across the kitchen and into a large room filled with art. "I don't want to hear about operating costs or yes, we'll fight again."

"Look, I wasn't even talking about the boat this time. I said this place was nice. Stop starting arguments with me."

"You just made me mad earlier, and when you said you didn't want to fight again, it brought it back up. So hush."

Eric threw his hands up in the air. "Can we just get his sister out of here without waking up the neighborhood?"

"God damn you like to argue," she said with a smirk. "I hope you fuck as passionately as you fight."

"Whatever, you're too busy to make time for me, Karla."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there with my sunglasses on, since I know that pisses you off." She smiled, walked past him and stepped into another room. "Found her. ...Jesus." Karla frowned and looked at the medical equipment around the bed. "That's gunna' take up a lot of space."

Eric ran his hands through his hair. "Go on and say it."

Karla smirked. "I will: Glad I got the bigger boat. We'll have plenty of room. Douche."

"God, why are we arguing about this again? We did it all morning. A boat that big out in the bay can be moved - great, but it's huge. Everyone will see it. So the reason why you bought it... to lay low... has backfired and you've got a huge target on you. Not to mention it will cost about ten grand a month to fuel it. From what little I know about fueling boats, it might actually cost more than ten G's, Karla."

Karla turned away from Topaz and glared at Eric. "Do you see this girl lying here? And her brother outside? They're rich, dickhead. Stop worrying about it."

"Karla, you can't expect other people to pay for your operating costs. That's not fair to them."

The demoness turned around, grabbed him by the shirt collar and shoved her tongue into his mouth, French kissing him aggressively. He reached up, not one to be outdone, and took her by her hair and kissed her back forcefully. They both drew back at the same time and glared at one another. Karla sniffed disdainfully. "You're still an ass. We may be a target but we can move. You can cloak us; we can move the boat and lose any pursuers. You can't do that with a house."

"Okay, okay, I'm not arguing about this again. You just wanted to have a yacht so you'd feel important and rich."

"I am important," she said with a smile. "Now go get the rental so we can get this girl out of here."

"Karla..." Without another word, he suddenly disappeared.

She smiled again. "Much better." She turned back to the unconscious Topaz and said, "We women love a man that does what he's supposed to without a bunch of backtalk, don't we?"

"Are you two done fighting, Blanche Bickerson?" Fox crossed the room and approached his sister's bedside. "I'm going to get you a fuel card, Karla. Don't worry about a limit. There won't be one. You can use it like a credit card and it won't be an issue. Just get Paz out of here safely."

A moment later Eric returned to the room. "The van is backed up to the front door. The rental car won't fit everything, so I used their van and left them out in the bushes."

"Finally, using your head," Karla said with a grin. She turned to Fox and said, "God... The Bickersons? Really? I haven't heard that name since right after World War II." She turned back to Eric then added, "You know I'm just jerking your chain right, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I figured that much," Eric replied. "Don't get bent out of shape or anything but once we get back to the boat, I'm going to disappear for a few days."

Karla blinked. "But..." She paused then lifted her hands. "Okay, sorry. I just thought you were sticking by for a while. I'm sorry about your uncle but... yeah."

"God, this isn't about that Karla. I just need to clear my head. We're stepping on each other's toes. I'm not taking off, I'm just not adapting well and I need to clear my head. I don't even know myself."

"I get it. I'm not upset. Just help us get the cart... bed, rather, into the van. I'll take you over to the rental and you can take it wherever you have to go and I'll get the Parkers' back to the boat, okay?"

"Alright." Eric moved around to the far end and unlocked the wheels on the base of the IV machine. "These are set to switch over to battery power right?"

Fox nodded. "Yeah. Let's just get out of here. Before backup comes for those guys."

"Agreed." Karla paused and leaned closer to look over Topaz. "Hey, Fox, I thought your sister is in a coma?"

"She is. Has been for a while now. Doctors say it's not terminal like with dad, and because it's a high profile case due to dad having been a local celebrity, they let me bring her home to care for her. She's in a coma. It may be permanent."

Karla lifted her head from Topaz, coming melodramatically close to Fox, almost nose to nose. "Then why is she tapping her finger rhythmically on the bedframe?"

X

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X

November 24th, 2pm PST San Fran, California ...

** Reno Nevada held an evidence bag up to the lamp.**"Lady, do you know what this is?"

The woman licked her lips apprehensively. "Please, Inspector, just help me find my daughter so I can prove she wasn't murdered. I'm telling you that she hurt herself in the bathroom before she disappeared. I don't care what those people say about the grout; the in-home security panel here shows that nobody got in except for me. I'm the only one that put in my four-digit PIN. And I didn't kill her so she's _not_dead."

"Just answer the question, Ms. Silversmith. Do you know what's in this baggie?"

"Inspector, please, you're not staying on task. I need someone to help me find my missing daughter. You've been coming here for the last day and a half, putting your ear against my fridge, having some sort of conversation with my bathtub and acting strange... Acting like a weirdo from some stupid sitcom. I've tolerated it! But you're no closer to helping me find my daughter! I don't care what's in your stupid bag; I want to find my little girl!"

"I asked you a question. I'm not questioning you and you're not yet under arrest. See, but now I'm going to, lady, because you're taking an attitude with me. Here, hold on." He withdrew his clipboard and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, signed the bottom then handed it to her. "Initial right there on the short line in the middle."

"What's this?"

"It's your Miranda Rights, lady. You're under arrest."

"What?! Because I didn't answer your stupid question about the stupid bag?"

Reno chuckled in a faux good-natured way, shoving the pen into her hand. "No, Ms. Silversmith. It's because that's a drug you have been taking on occasion and it made you freak out, knowing full well that drugs are not only dangerous but illegal. Then you murdered your own daughter. You cut her up in the bathroom, right in the tub like a sick freak. You chopped her up and put her into Ziploc baggies, labeled as 'steak' and 'pork chops' and put her in the freezer. Oh, what's that? You don't remember doing it? Yeah, that's a side effect of this designer drug that's been hitting the streets. You should really stay away from that stuff, lady. So yes, I'm arresting you... no, not because you won't answer my question, but because you," he suddenly raised his voice, "KILLED_your _own daughter! Then you labeled her like lunchmeat and tossed her in the freezer! That's bullshit! Now, WHERE DID YOU GET THE DRUG?"

The woman backed up against the wall, dropped the pen and the piece of paper with a horrified look. Reno lifted the baggie again and gave it a stern shake. "This drug, you must have just bought it last night because it wasn't in your bedroom yesterday afternoon when I came over. But it's there now. Where did you get it? Where did you buy it?"

Her jaw dropped open. "I... Pages Lost nightclub. I don't remember doing anything to my daughter. How could you possibly accuse me of...?"

"Oh shut up and turn around. Hands behind your back. Seriously. I've heard of people doing some sick stuff on this drug... I've heard of people doing sick stuff on PCP, too. But you're taking things to the next level."

"You're crazy! You were talking to my bathtub yesterday! I saw you!"

Reno rolled his eyes. "I was piecing it all together." He forced the lady to turn around and put handcuffs on her wrists. "You're lucky. They say that crazy psycho drug has no major addictive properties. People just crave it because they like the way they feel while they're on it. But guess what? People are calling them 'goofy roofies' on the street because you don't remember anything afterwards. It's ironic, though, because actual Rohypnol is apparently used in less than one percent of known date rapes. And that's your fun fact for today. Now, one thing roofies do do well is... make you forget what you're doing while it's in effect. Thus the name, 'goofy roofies'. With me?" He guided her to the apartment door, knelt down and picked up the pen and paper, then walked her outside to a uniformed police officer. "Here, Collins, book her for murder, second degree. Plus we've got her on drug possession. Have her sign the paper. And... Just..." Reno trailed off with a frown then said, "Get her someone to talk to. She doesn't remember doing it and she has a clean record; keep her on suicide watch."

The officer out in the hallway put his hands on the woman's forearm and turned her about then nodded at Reno. "Yes sir." He reached for the paper in Reno's hand and walked the woman out of the hallway. Nevada put his pen back into his pocket, walked to the freezer and opened it then grimaced. "You're sure this is you?"

A ghastly little figure standing by the refrigerator nodded firmly. "Yes, Inspector. She may not remember it but she's the reason I've run away from home three times this year. She's crazy. She goes to that gothic nightclub and gets drugged up, drunk, and comes home and acts crazy. I should have run away again. It would be much more pleasant than lying in a bloody bathtub, getting sawed into pieces."

Reno looked back at the pale, grisly image of a mutilated girl then shut the freezer. "Look, don't make me be a liar. I can't tell my boss that I can see you because he'd think I'm insane. I just need proof, that's all."

"Well, I told you where to find her drugs," replied the small girl. "And now I'm telling you where to find what's left of me. Right there in those bags. Take them in and have someone look at it. They do that right? Can't they tell it's me somehow?"

"Yeah," Reno replied in a soft voice. "I'm sorry, Vanessa. This is getting a little too 'Sixth Sense' for me. And it's really disturbing. I threw up twice when I left yesterday. I'm talking to a girl with no arms, no legs and a separated head and it's really, really, really bothering me right now, okay? Can you see other dead people or talk to them?"

"I've met some people, why do you ask, Inspector?"

"Have you seen Nichole Parker or Vincent Nevada?"

"I've not seen them. I'm sorry. But I've not been dead very long. Just a few days. I've only met a few people. Like Mrs. Clark from the apartment across the hall. She died of old age last year. She's been real nice to me."

Reno ran his right hand over his forehead. "Right. Uh... You're probably too young to have seen Beetlejuice but maybe you can change your appearance so you don't freak out other ...ghosts. And let's hope that I'm not just imagining you because then I will need a shrink, not to mention it's really disturbing to consider the possibility that my mind would somehow be warped enough to create a mutilated little girl... no offense."

"None taken, Inspector. I don't have feelings to hurt anymore. I'm honestly not offended."

"You don't talk like a ten year old."

"I was smart," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "Thank you. My mom really needed help with her drug habit. She really doesn't remember doing this to me. But she does_remember other things. She was a bit on the abusive side whenever the drugs wore off, and she _does remember that."

Reno glanced at his watch then rubbed his chin. "Do you know who makes or sells the drugs at that club?"

"A very bad man. He's a doctor. Doctor ...some sort of... Doctor Bird or something."

Reno glanced back at the ghostly body, flinched then looked away quickly, once more. "Doctor Falcon?"

"Oh! Right, that's it! Falcon. Yes, he employs this blue-haired lady at that bar and he makes the drugs for her to sell. I followed my mother there last night, like I told you when you arrived today. Are you going there next?"

Nevada nodded to the little girl. "It just so happens that your mom's drug has led me to the very same nightclub where I'm supposed to meet my friend Abby. And if this club is where your mother, Robin, got the drugs that caused her to kill you... then Frank Sanders will have to let me stumble back over my old case. See, you say Doctor Bird... Yeah. Falcon is supposed to be a doctor and if he's involved then... I hate to make the pun, but, if I'm going clubbing tonight, then between Robin and Falcon, I might just be killing two birds with one stone."

The little girl stared up at him in silence.

Reno frowned. "That was a pretty lame joke, huh? You're a kid, I can't tell you any of the jokes _I_would find funny."

"Yes, lame. But anyway, thank you for finding me."

"Yeah, no problem." Reno reached down and ran his fingers through the matterless glow where her hair should have been. "Thanks for helping me solve the case in record time. I solved a case yesterday, one this morning and one now. Plus I have a new lead that takes me back to Aris Falcon and I am pretty sure he's the bad guy who killed those gypsies. So I'm back on his trail again. I need to follow a hunch... a daydream, really, and find out if he's responsible for the disappearance of my fiancée and brother. I appreciate all you've done. You've been very brave."

"Okay, glad I could help! I've got to go now Inspector Nevada."

"Alright, Vanessa. Take care." He waved until she faded then he rubbed his eyes with his palms. "I just waved at a ghost. What the hell is wrong with me? But goddamn, Abby, you're crazy mental power is insane. I've solved four cases in two days. I'm on fire. Now it's time to meet Abby Chase and see what kind of trouble we can stir up there." He glanced at his watch then nodded decisively.

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Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/557508