by G.M. Shephard

Karen makes a mistake and Detective Reid discovers something unique about her. Later while returning the Owen's house, Karen makes a discovery of her own that leads the police to closer solving the mystery.

Angel S:1.5 E:10 “Home Sweet Home”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

---Note---

Happy New Year Everyone. I have decided to push the episode “Rodina" forward to Episode 11 and release this as it’s own episode.

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Episode 10 “Home Sweet Home”

"Detective Reid please," I said over the phone. I was put on hold for a couple minutes, before someone finally picked up.

"This is Harris; can I help you?"

"Um, I was on hold for Reid. Is he in?"

"Sorry, you just missed him. Is this an emergency?"

"Oh, no, just returning his call. He called me a few times while I was out of town."

"Can I ask who this is?"

"Sorry, my name is Karen, Karen Santucci. He's working on a case of mine."

"Oh, Karen, I didn't recognize your voice. This is Harris; Reid took your case from me. Tell you what, let me put you on hold and get him on the radio." I sat listening to a stupid recordings loop informing the public to dial 911 during an emergency instead of the main line. "Duh, who would instinctively call any other number?" I said aloud as Harris got back on the phone.

"Sorry about that. Takes a few to route a call through our radios. What I would give if we can all have those fancy phones in our cars one day. Nope, scratch that — then the Captain would never leave us alone. Anyway, Reid apologizes; he was busy today and forgot he already called you. He said it can wait until tomorrow if you would be able to come by in the morning. He has a couple of things to go over with you." My heart started slowing down at the news. Thank god — I was scared and was fearing the worst, or somehow that Clint squealed.

"Great. Any particular time I should come by?"

"Can you come by around 9 a.m.?" He asked

"Sure, that will be fine; I will see you then. Thank you."

"Of course. You have a good night." I hung up, relieved, yet still a little anxious. What if they are on to me and luring me to the station?

"Stop it, Michael; they don't know anything, and if Clint talked, you have your alibi. Then again, your alibi fails, because they know you can fly. Oh, this is crap, there isn't a soul that would believe him if he did tell the truth," I thought to myself. I grabbed a bottle of Jack out of the cabinet, poured myself a glass, dropped a couple ice cubes on top and took a long sip as if it were water while I unpacked the bags of pastries. The cops eat stale donuts every day; still, I wanted to make sure these stayed fresh, so I bagged them up in plastic bags until tomorrow, setting some aside for Megan and me.

---Police Station---

"Hi, Karen," Detective Reid said, coming to greet me in the waiting area.

"Hello," I said, picking up a couple of large bags of pastries from DC's finest French cafe, "Little belated Christmas present for all of you." He took one of the bags and read the front noticing the address.

"Looks great. Washington, huh? Hope you didn't go there just on our account." He said laughing.

"No, I went back there a few days to visit some friends, and see my brother's memorial. They erected that in record time."

"Well, we are very grateful to him. Hopefully we can do something to pay him back."

As we walked to his desk, I could see the other cops completely ignoring me, setting their senses on the two bags, which their expert detective skills told them that they contained food fit for law enforcement. They converged like a pack of ravenous carnivores ready to make a group kill. Reid led me over to a coffee station where I could leave the goodies for everyone to attack. Before anyone could tear into them, Reid took first dibs and made an announcement.

“Hey everyone, these are compliments of Karen here, so if you are going to help yourself, do the courtesy of saying thank you.” They all sounded a dull monotone “Thanks” that sounded as if they were all being rudely awakened from a deep sleep as they viciously attacked the bag.

"Here, have a seat," Reid said pointing to the chair at his cubicle, "Let me start by apologizing for calling so many times yesterday. Turns out I have another case with someone named Karen. Yesterday was pretty stressful and I got my numbers mixed up. I ended up calling you more than once."

"You had me worried — you sounded pretty serious."

"Oh, I always sound like that. Trust me, it were serious, I wouldn't call. I would just show up with bad news or a pair of handcuffs. Again, I am really sorry."

"No worries," I said.

"Okay, I found something. I performed another sweep of the house and came across a footprint that didn’t belong. It didn't match Michael's shoe size, and it was clearly from men's boots. I am still waiting to get word as to the brand and model."

"So, what does that tell you?"

“Well, someone other than Michael was in the garage, and all the neighbors checked out. It could be anyone, but it is certainly some evidence that another male was at the house.” Reid started shifting through some paperwork while sinking his teeth into a chocolate croissant. He wiped his mouth with a napkin while nodding his head up and down and holding an upturned thumb out to show his approval.

"Well, I have something,” I said as I withdrew some handwritten pages from a file folder I carried in with me. “I found a pattern in the calls made to Liz.” Reid took the croissant out of his mouth and put it down, taking interest in what I had to say.

“Mind if I see that?” he asked, pointing to the yellow pages from a legal pad. I handed them over and he started looking through them.

“When you saw that the duration of calls were shortening, did you notice something else that was becoming less and less frequent almost proportional to the call duration?” His eyes lit up as he frantically searched for the file with his copy of the phone records. Both of his index fingers traced down the two sources verifying the data.

“The calls from 555-1211. I can’t believe I missed that. You're right, it’s almost proportional.” He set the pages down and looked at me in the eyes. I commend you for seeing that, but I have to ask, Karen, where did you get this? Did you go into my files and copy this the other day?”

“No, I...um...I memorized everything when you showed the documents to me.” He laughed.

“Right. Look I appreciate you trying to help, but don’t let me find you going through my files again, these are not public records. If you need something, you ask me and I will see what I can do. You understand me?”

“Detective, I’m serious; I didn’t go through your drawers. Remember, you locked them after you put on your coat?”

“She didn’t touch your files, Reid,” a uniformed female officer said as she approached. “I was keeping an eye on her for you. She was just sitting there for about 15 minutes before leaving.”

“Thanks for your input, Mendoza. Don’t you have any paperwork to do?” he said with a little aggravation at her meddling into his affairs.

“Nope, I finished already. Just about to turn them in and head home,” she said as she put her pen back into her shirt pocket below her badge. She was a little stalky and sported a neatly shaved crew cut. At first glance, she looked like a man until I studied her body and mannerisms. She had a relatively soft voice and a pretty face, clearly female.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here — go home.” She turned to leave when Reid stopped her. “Wait, do you have something like an accident report or something that isn’t too sensitive?” She began thumbing through her reports and withdrew a collision report and handed it to Reid.

“What do you need that for?” He looked it over and handed it to me holding up his hand to silence Mendoza’s protest.

“You got thirty seconds,” he said checking his watch. I wasted five before I figured out he was putting my memory claims to the test. The report was about 12 pages long and I began skimming through them. I was reviewing them a second time when he said, “Stop.” He took the report out of my hand and started skimming through it. “Driver number two - what’s his driver’s license number?” he asked as he withdrew his handcuffs. I looked at Reid, then at Mendoza.

“Reid, what the hell are you doing? Give me my report back.” He put his hand up again.

“Well, I’m waiting,” he said as he started pushing the ratchet of the cuff through making a distinct clicking sound.

“His? Driver two was a woman, Elaine Goodman, CA driver’s license A7555639. Date of birth July, 5 1954 —” He stopped me, and stood up. He grabbed my arm and escorted me away from the desk, motioning for Mendoza to follow. He led me into an interview room and shut the blinds as Mendoza closed the door.

“Driver three, make and model of car.”

“Rudy Espinosa, 1973 Toyota pickup, TX license plate 4JKL727.”

“What’s the VIN?”

“JT4RN56S2F0139246,” I spouted off without thinking. He stared at the report and started laughing.

“Holy shit, Karen, that’s unbelievable,” he said quietly. “You seriously can read that fast and commit that to memory?” Mendoza looked at him and then me, clearly impressed.

“Yes,” I answered, not sure where this was heading. I was feeling stupid for giving up that fact about myself. The excitement of finding something they missed caused me to not stop and think about the consequences.

“What about the patterns — how long did it take you to catch that?”

“Once I got home, I wrote it all out on paper, and saw it almost immediately. Why?”

“You know what this means, Karen?” I shook my head. “There are people that can do what you do, but are usually autistic or have other types of mental impairments that prevent them from functioning normally. You, you are completely normal as far as I can tell, and probably the only one that can do what you just did. You ever think about being a policewoman?” Mendoza turned her head and groaned.

“Police officer, Jesus, a police officer.”

“Sorry,” Reid corrected, “You ever consider a career as a police officer?”

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t thought about it. I planned to study astrophysics, but with Liz and Ashley missing, I haven’t been thinking about my future much.”

“Well, if I were you, I recommend you take that into consideration. We can use people who can think analytically and have a good memory for detail.” That’s not all I have — I could actually be a great cop, but it’s not really something I had in mind, I thought to myself.

“I appreciate it; I don’t think law enforcement is for me. I am really just trying to help solve my own case.”

“Fair enough. Just promise me you will give it some thought.” I agreed, even though I knew I was not interested. The last thing I needed was to join the very people who couldn’t do their job because of bureaucratic nonsense, or lack of motivation. I could do far greater good on my own, and without a code to limit me. “The reason I brought you and Mendoza in here is I don’t want anyone else to know what you can do. I want to keep that between us for now. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure — I don’t really go around touting it to begin with.”

“OK, Karen, can you go back to my desk? I need to speak to Officer Mendoza privately for a minute and then I will be right there.” I got up and left, closing the door behind me. I was about to listen in, but my abilities nearly got be in enough trouble today and I figured I had better learn to restrain myself. After about ten minutes, they emerged and met me at Reid’s desk.

“Karen, I have a busy schedule today, so I am going to cut things short with you. Mendoza here is done with her shift and has agreed to take you over to your brother’s place. I cleared everything, so if you want to go over there, you are free to do so. Just let me know if you find anything out of place.” My eyes lit up at the news I could go back to my house.

“Thank you, Detective; I really appreciate it.”

“Just call me Reid. You’re welcome.”

---Dwayne’s House---

Dwayne turned on the faucet in the kitchen and unpacked the bag of groceries he bought earlier. First he withdrew a pack of tomatoes and began washing them off, taking great care to check each one for any tags, removing any he found. He repeated the process with some peppers, onions and some fresh herbs. He then dried them off and packed them in a plain cardboard box and set them aside. The greenhouse was no lie, and was in working order, but it would be another week before he could harvest anything from it. Things were slipping a little with Liz and the ‘brownie points’ he got at Christmas were running out already. A nice dinner made from scratch with fresh vegetables would be sure to get him back on top of her world, and keep that kid of hers quiet.

The greenhouse was unique, and completely self-sufficient. It was a fully-operational biosphere producing not only its own food, but oxygen as well. Dwayne desperately wanted to go back into space, but with the new funding NASA received in the aftermath of the Near Earth Object that almost impacted, it had projected to put a man on Mars by 2013 followed by an outpost on the red planet. His new job with BioWorks would ensure a steady comfortable income working in a field he loved. The best part was that his research was done mostly on his 15-acre property outside Houston. The weather was subtropical and had a decent year-long climate. Much of the grants he received he poured into conducting test experiments studying long-term survivability in one of several enclosures constructed on his property.

The ability to work from home kept him very close to Liz and Ashley. So far they hadn’t suspected anything being amiss. The house was off the beaten path, so there was little vehicle traffic going by, and certainly nothing they could hear. The shelter was about 30 yards from the house, built about 20 feet underground. The entrance to the shelter was just inside a small utility shed that housed backup electrical generators as well as water and air purifiers. Since the disaster was averted, resorting to such systems was unnecessary. Instead, normal power and plumbing were provided by the same system as the house.

---Home Sweet Home---

It was strange riding around in a police car, but I felt relieved that I wasn’t in the back. Then again, there was very little that was intimidating about the vehicle and the authority Mendoza’s badge gave her. There was little any of them could do to restrain me; as far as I knew, I was above any human being on the planet, yet I still felt humble. Kaaren certainly knew my heart as she said she did. I imagine she wouldn’t turn her power over to just anyone, and she knew I wouldn’t use her body for evil.

It was so easy hurting Clint and bringing him to submission through pain. He was reduced to complete helplessness in a matter of minutes, a helplessness that surpassed what he subjected his wife to. He would be unable to do anything to stop me, and the feeling of power I had over someone was incredible, yet frightening. I was afraid this power might overwhelm me and grab control of my character. The way I talked to Clint, the way I treated him was not me. Afterward I felt great, knowing I did something to help a woman no one gave a crap about, but in the end, I didn’t feel good about myself. Over and over, I tried to convince myself it was for the greater good, but deep down I knew a monster was emerging if I didn’t find a way to control it. Most of it came from frustration and stress, but that is no excuse. Sure, he is the one who hit me first, but I clearly egged him on, luring him into attacking me, knowing full well what the consequences were.

“So, you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?” Mendoza said, breaking the silence.

“Just spending it with a friend of mine; I don’t know what we are going to do yet. Likely end up staying in. I am not really in the celebration mood. To be honest, I can’t wait for 1986 to fade forever into history. Looking forward to what the new year will bring, hopefully something good.”

“I know how you feel. It’s not easy losing the people you love, especially when you don’t know what happened to them. You know, Reid understands you more than you give him credit for.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Reid’s sister vanished about two years ago. She and her mother weren’t getting along, and she ran off. She had done it hundreds of times, but always came back. One day she ran out and never came back. She was last seen at a club downtown. She left with some guy and completely disappeared. She and Reid weren’t very close, but he has become obsessed with trying to find her. It might sound a little strange, but he hopes by finding Liz and her daughter, he can make up for his failures.” No, that’s not strange at all, I thought to myself.

“Thank you for telling me that; I had no idea.” Certainly explains his continued interest. “Does he think it’s foul play?”

“Well, like your case, there is not much to go on, but he knows his sister well enough to know she wouldn’t disappear forever. Two, maybe three weeks tops, but she always came back. It’s been two years without a word from her.”

Mendoza pulled up to my house. Liz’s Volvo was in the driveway and completely filthy. The yard looked more like a jungle, complete with overgrown grass, and the fall leaves were still on the ground from November. She parked the cruiser in the driveway and I took a moment to think about what I would find inside.

The house was a storage facility of memories. I hadn’t seen a picture of Liz and Ashley in over four months. I thought back to my last video call I had with them. We were en route back home, sometime before we detonated the devices, when we all took turns calling home. For several weeks, we were busy on the surface of the asteroid and didn’t have the time for personal communications other than through Davis and Turner. Ashley had grown so much in the time since I last saw her, two days before taking off.

Slowly, I opened the car door and stepped out onto my driveway. Mendoza got out of the car and looked around the front yard. A neighbor I had never seen before, who saw the black and white approach, stood out on their front yard and watched. I Remembered Liz telling me during one of our calls that the O’Reiley’s put their house up for sale. They must have moved in at a great time. It was probably nothing new to see the police come by, but he seemed to be interested in who I was. I ignored him and went to the garage door. I paused a second in front of the key pad before entering the code. The door began to open, revealing my covered Porsche. I entered cautiously and began looking for the footprints. I found them near the storage cabinets. They were made by some brand of work boot and looked to be about a size 12 shoe. The orientation of one of the prints was facing the cabinets. I opened them up and scanned the contents. Mendoza helped out by illuminating the inside with her Maglite.

“You see anything?” she asked. The top shelf was empty. My knees went weak and I collapsed onto the ground.

“No, No!” I started crying out as tears started to run down my face again. She came over to me and crouched down next to me.

“What’s the matter? What did you find?” After a couple minutes, I settled down and got back to my feet.

“The suitcases are gone — they left. Liz, hell, even Michael was too short to reach them. Whoever these prints belong to was tall enough to get them. She had someone get them down for her.” Mendoza looked around the footprint with her light.

“Maybe not, look!” I scanned the ground while she looked around the garage. About the time she found what I was looking for, I noticed the four round circles where the dust had been disturbed, “Karen, come here.” She was crouching next to the folding stepladder I kept around so Liz and I could reach areas of the house that were out of reach for our shorter bodies. I reached out to move the ladder.

“Stop! Don’t touch it.” She was fixated on the black plastic folded step. She withdrew a pair of gloves from her belt and put them on. “You’re right Karen, someone did help her get the luggage down, but he needed a step stool as well, look, his boot print is on the step. She reached for her radio.

“151 to Dispatch.” After a second or two a voice came back.
“Dispatch, go ahead, 151.”

“Request, forensic team to lift a set of prints at 3329 Purple Cone Flower.”

“Is that the Owen Residence?” Came a voice after a short hesitation.

“Affirmative,” she was told to stand by.

“Units are in the field, ETA two hours.”

“Damn it,” she said making sure she wasn’t transmitting, “Dispatch, give me a 20 on Reid.”

“Stand by,” the voice replied. “He’s responding to a 261A.”

“Roger, request his assistance as soon as he is available,” great, now we had two hours to kill.

“Mendoza, can we look around inside while we are waiting? We might be able to find something else.” I was getting excited. They were right about me being useful; in one minute I was able to find something they overlooked. Of course, they had no way to know the suitcases were stored there.

“You can call my Patricia, or Trish,” she said, “Just don’t call me Pat, especially downtown. I would never hear the end of it.” I immediately figured she was tormented by the male officers for her butch appearance.

“Thanks, sounds familiar. Call my brother Mike and he would be all over you. He wouldn’t even let Liz call him that. He insisted on Michael. What do you prefer?”

“My friends call me Trish, thanks for asking,” she said as she tried to open the door to the garage. It was locked. “You have a key?” I walked over to the work bench to retrieve the space key I kept in an empty coffee can full of miscellaneous screws and other metal parts. She stopped me again and tossed me a pair of latex gloves. I put them on wondering what my fingerprints looked like. My obsession up until now had been with my fingers had been my longer nails that could sever steel wire. I was a nail biter all my life, and these invincible fingernails were driving me insane. Fortunately they were practically long at most and didn’t grow beyond that. Painted, they would look rather sexy, still they were a nuisance and took a while to get used to. I dumped the can out onto the bench and took the key, unlocking the door leading into the laundry room.

“So were you and your brother close?” Trish asked as we stepped inside, closing the garage door to keep anyone from disturbing the scene.

“Yes and no. I grew up constantly on the go. My mother left him and his father when he was 15. She never told me why and eventually took off on me too, leaving me alone to grow up with whoever would take me in.” I gave her a story I had been working out in my head in case anyone questioned who I was. Most of it was half-truth, but in reality, since my mother left, I don’t have any idea what became of her. I loved her dearly, but spent many years hating her. Eventually I found my peace and let her go, but still, resentment persisted, one that repulsed me to even use her maiden name. I would prefer to go back to Shifley, but Santucci was needed for my cover.

“She told me a lot about Michael so I feel like I know him better than he knows me. Some years ago, watching shuttle launches, I connected who he was and tracked him down. He didn’t know I existed until I reached out to him. He was busy and we had little time together, but the short time was meaningful. I wish we had more time for him to get to know me before he departed this world.” I put my head down tearing up again at my story. It was a fabrication, but in a different perspective was the truth and allowed me to speak with conviction. Trish came over and put her hand on me. Outwardly, she seemed very many, but inside, very in touch with her sensitive female side and was able to comfort me.

“It’s okay. Sometimes our best memories come from single events rather than lifelong connections. You must be very proud of him — I tell you, I am. Heck, it must feel great knowing the whole world knows his name. Bet that is driving your mother crazy.” It was a very bold statement, one that not many would make to someone they hardly knew, but it made me feel good and brought a smile to my face. If my mother were still alive, it really must be killing her to know the son she abandoned for her own selfish reasons is now a household name.

We turned the lights on and, surprisingly, the power was still on. I had imagined all the utilities had been shut off after a few months of non-payment. The house was clean as if she’d tidied up before leaving. Nothing looked out of place.

“What about clothes — would you know if a substantial amount were missing?” Damn, she had so many, who knows what she could have purchased and thrown away while I was gone. No doubt her therapy dealing with my absence was spending my very hard earned money in the mall while I was wearing the same three outfits and eating freeze-dried food for 12 months.

“I will have to see — you know fashions can come and go like yesterday’s news, so what might seem missing, could in fact have been thrown out.” I scanned the closet in the bedroom looking for anything missing while Trish agreed with my statement about fashion. I thumbed through her hanging clothes, mostly coats, dresses and fancy blouses.

“She has some pretty nice taste in clothing, very fashionable,” she said taking a dress out and examining it, “don’t you just love this?” I was a little taken aback at her interest in my wife’s clothing. She was holding it up to herself as if she were trying to envision how she would look in it.

“Are we working, or playing dress up?” I asked. She put it back with a little huff. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right, we should keep focused. I shouldn’t have taken that dress out.”

“Trish, can I ask you a personal question?” She chuckled.

“Okay…?” She said with a little reluctance.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the type that gets thrilled about this kind of clothing.”

“So, you think I’m a typical butch lesbian, without a trace of femininity?” she asked, calling me out for generalizing her.

“Well, to tell you the truth — and I don’t mean this to be judgmental or anything — I am just inquisitive, but yes. I guess it’s a stereotype. So you mean you are not?”

“Honey, it’s all image. I love being a woman, but I also love being a cop. At times I don’t know what’s worse, dealing with the scum on the streets, or the scum I work with. When I first started I was about as hot as you are. Almost got myself killed when a perp grabbed ahold of my hair and went for my gun.” She pointed to her buzz cut, “solved that problem and the gawking at the same time. After I transferred and put on a little weight, I just get harassed for being a dyke, but the guys don’t hit on me, so it’s a plus. Don’t get me wrong — I love men, but I have a job to do. Catch me on my days off, I am a different woman. You keep that between us okay?”

“Makes sense, I can kinda relate.” Trish was scanning my body.

“Let’s talk about that. You are very beautiful, yet you look like you belong on a farm. Sporting jeans and a red flannel shirt. Very unkempt, no make-up; just a very plain, attractive homegrown kind of woman.” She knew I wasn’t right either.

“I grew up on the go; I wore what was practical. I am really not into girl clothes at all. My closet doesn’t have any skirts or dresses, just pants. I wish I could pull off what you do. I hate being howled at. Some of those cops you work with are disgusting. Reid seems like he torments the hell out of you, but he is one of the nicest ones there.” She didn’t say anything, instead turned her head and looked around a little. I did the same, having told too much about myself. It was comforting to find another woman who had to hide herself and was forced by society to conform or become someone opposite to the norm. It sucked she couldn’t just be who they were and instead forced to put on a mask to fight crime.

My gloved hands opened the drawers and fiddled through Liz’s wardrobe. Her underwear drawers seemed a little on the empty side with many of her bras and panties missing, yet everything was folded neatly. Same thing for socks. Most if not all her socks and loungewear was gone as well as her sweaters and several of her jeans. I relayed my findings to Trish, careful to generalize what groups were missing, rather than specifics.

“Sounds like someone else was trying to be practical, but practical for what?” She asked, “It’s almost as if she left knowing what the conditions were like where she was going.

“I don’t get it. Liz was very feminine and loved the girl clothes, yet it seems like she left most of that behind. Why would she do that?” I went into Ashley’s room and discovered the same thing — all her practical clothes were gone, but most of her girly attire was left behind. One thing stood out: her books were gone except for a few that had fallen on the ground.

“OK. Did you say at one point they were supposed to be going to a government shelter, that they were pre-selected?”

“Yes, but they never checked in, they never made it. Why?”

“Well, think about it. If you were going to go live in a cave with thousands of other refugees for two years, I don’t think you would be taking formal attire, but something warm and practical. Ashley looked as if she knew she was going to be bored. What if that's where they were heading, and something happened to them on the way?”

Things were starting to make a little sense, but who did the boot belong to, and why was her car still here? There was one thing I had to check that could shed light on Liz’s actions. I went back to my office and found our family portrait. I paused staring at them, we were so happy. Liz’s red hair was bright like a firebrand, while Ashley, six at the time, was so cute. The two girls were on opposite sides of me, each posing with their heads leaning against mine. I stared at my image for the first time in ages. I had grown my hair out a little for the picture and managed to shave my mustache which was showing a few early grey specks.

“They looked very happy,” Trish said.

“They were; a rare example of a family in today’s day and age,” I said as I reached up and pulled the picture down revealing another safe. I dialed the same combination as the one in the cabin and popped it open. I stepped back pondering what I was seeing. The $5,000, jewelry and my watches were all still there. She didn’t take them.

“Even in a shelter, these would be worth something. In a survival situation amongst a community, these could have been used to barter with. Why did she leave them?” She was about to speak when I stopped her.

“Shhh,” I whispered, listening, “someone’s at the door.” Just then the doorbell rang.

“That’s pretty good,” she said as I maneuvered toward my front door. I opened the door to find Reid standing there.

“Hi Karen. I got the call you two found something.” I let him in, while Trish and I filled him in.

“That’s amazing work there. I can’t believe we missed all that.”

“Well, you couldn’t have known what was on the top shelf.”

“Still, we should have noticed that there were suitcases missing,” Reid said in disbelief that I had closed the gap more in two hours than he had in two months, “there isn’t anything missing from the safe?”

“No, it’s all there. Everything he said would be there was still in its place.”

“Well that complicates things, now, doesn’t it? We can eliminate a kidnapping, because people don’t pack for a kidnapping.”

Trish spoke up. “What if they packed some bags to throw us off?” She had a good point.

“Observant, Mendoza, but if they did, they wouldn’t take specific articles of clothing — they would have just thrown any old thing into the suitcases. As you said, they were picking certain types of clothes as if they knew where they were going.” We were at another wall.

“Okay, so no kidnapping unless it was done on their way to the shelter.”

“For now, let’s keep it on the table and I will see what I can find out about the shelter. Let’s go to the garage.” We got to the garage when we heard the sound of a car pulling up. I opened the door to the crime scene team arriving.

“Again, really? Haven’t we been through this place a dozen times, Reid?”

I heard one of the Forensic techs mutter to the other, “More like Reidtard.”

“Real quick, then you two can go back to getting your jollies on."

“Oh, that’s so funny, did you make that up yourself?” they said, bickering at each other before they locked eyes onto me. “Well, well, well, when did you get an actual woman on your team?" he said, turning his attention to me. “Wow, I didn’t know they hired skirts like this as cops. Hey babe, wanna go out with someone with an actual brain?”

“Leave her alone, she’s not a police officer. Now get your asses over here, and see if you can get me some prints off this ladder. RIGHT NOW,” Reid said angrily.

“Oops, he looks mad. Here’s my card; call me if you ever need anyone to experiment on you.”

What a complete douche. I reached up to grab it, but instead flicked it out of his hand. Reid and Mendoza chuckled as they left to attend to the ladder. One of them pulled out a flashlight and shined it on the bar. Instead of a harsh yellow light, it was a soft purple color.

“Hey Reid, what print do you want, there are a hundred on here. You wanna narrow it down a little?”

“Get all of them for me and find the one that doesn’t belong to Mr. or Mrs. Owen.”

“You know, I have real detectives with real cases that need our intellects. Your missing tramp and her kid don’t qualify.” That sent me over the edge and I walked right up to Mouth and hovered over him.

“Listen up, short stuff, that tramp happens to be,” I paused a split second to make sure my rage didn’t cause me to slip up, “my brother’s wife. You think you're hot shit? Well, NASA must have thought you were an idiot, because I didn’t see your sorry ass getting shot into space to save everyone on the planet. You will give him and his family a little fucking respect, you got me, Doyle?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Man, what are you, a moron? You just handed me your business card a few seconds ago. Reid, don’t tell me this is the best you guys have. I bet with a little bit of training we can get a monkey to brush a little powder over a print and lift it with some scotch tape.” Whether it was my height, or the tone of my voice, he and his quieter partner turned and got to work. Reid watched closely to make sure they didn’t screw it up. After about 20 minutes, they were done, and took off without saying anything more.

---Bunker---

Liz and Ashley sat on the ground next to the couch playing Monopoly. They loved the game, because it sucked so much time away to play. At present their longest game lasted four hours and Ashley had the record for the most wins, plunging her mother into complete bankruptcy. Tonight was a little payback as Ashley narrowly escaped a third set of doubles and instead of landing herself in jail found herself on Liz’s Park Place with a hotel on it. Ashley’s salvation came as Dwayne announced they could sit down for dinner. He had purposely kicked them out of the kitchen for the last couple of hours while he cooked for the first time.

“Dwayne, everything smells wonderful,” Liz said, savoring the aroma of Italian Cuisine filling the bunker. They sat down and found a candlelit table with dishes of covered foods. He tried hard to copy Liz and Ashley’s routine, but failed miserably. Ashley giggled a bit, while Liz pretended to approve his attempt. Fact was, from the smell of everything, tonight’s dinner didn’t need to be hyped.

“Ladies, tonight, we celebrate, a fully functioning greenhouse with our first meal made mostly from the fruits of my labor. Bon Appétit,” he said as he withdrew the coverings.

“I used the hard pasta from the supply, but made my own sauce from the tomatoes, onions and garlic I grew. I also made some eggplant and zucchini as well as freshly made bread from the flour reserves. Sorry, the cows weren’t producing yet, so no cheese.” He added a little joke in the end.

“Oh my, Dwayne, this looks amazing. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I used to cook all the time. Haven’t had much time the past several years, but I know my way around a kitchen.” Liz thought how impressive that was, a man cooking for her. Once, when she left Michael alone with Ashley for a ladies’ night out, he opened the cabinets and asked her what looked good. They ended up going out that night. Dwayne’s culinary claims were indeed accurate as she took her first few bites. With what they had available, it was heavenly, like a first class restaurant came to them as a compromise.

“Oh, this is so good, Dwayne,” Ashley said, beating her mom to the punch. Liz immediately agreed. He poured Liz a glass of wine, then one for himself. After about twenty minutes, they were stuffed and couldn’t fit anymore in their stomachs.

“Thank you very much — that was very sweet of you to not only grow the produce, but to take the time to cook it as well.”

---Megan’s Place---
I returned home to Megan's at the same time she pulled into the driveway.

"Perfect timing," Reid said, seeing a car pull into the driveway. He stopped his sedan along the curb taking care to pull up along the driveway and not along the curb. He quickly put the car in park and got out and ran to my door as I opened it up.

"Here, let me," he said trying to be a gentleman. He finished pulling the door open before I could resist.

I mustered a quick, “Thanks,” as he shut the door.

"Karen, I am really impressed at your talents. You have quite a gift that you can use to get some really bad people off the streets. I really hope you will consider what we talked about today, because I think if anyone solves your case, it's going to end up being you. You will put me to shame, but think about others out there that could benefit from what you have to offer."

"Reid, I will think about it, but I really don't want to be a police officer. I don't care for guns much and think my skills can best serve humanity in other areas."

"What if I were to tell you, we often bring in people with certain skill sets as a consultant. We have worked with mathematicians, scientists, psychologists, and hell even psychics if you can believe that. Would you be interested in spending a little time every week reviewing cases? If you can help us clear our plate, we can devote more time to your case and hopefully find them." It was appealing. I wouldn't be a bother anymore, and I could get first-hand knowledge of case files I could then use to really protect the innocent.

"Tell you what, it's New Year’s Eve. This has been a shitty year for me, and I want it over with. Let's see what the new year brings and talk about it next week. Deal?"

"Sounds like a plan," he said as Megan came over to greet us.

"Hi Karen." I returned the greeting as she turned to introduce herself, "Hi, I'm Dr. McCormack. I'm a good friend of Karen."

"Dr. McCormack, Detective Reid. I've been assigned to the Owen Case. Your friend here is quite an extraordinary young woman."

"Yes, I am aware of that. When did you take over the case? Wasn't there another detective handling it a couple months ago?"

"Yes, that was Harris; I took over around late November. They keep dumping these impossible missing persons cases on me, but I have a passion for them, so I don't complain. We made some progress today, but I will let Karen tell you about it.”

"I can't wait to hear about it. I want those two found just as bad as anyone," Megan told Reid.

"I understand you were on Operation THOR and served under Commander Owen?"

"That's right; Michael and I were very close. He was a great friend."

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss — both of you. I know it's rough losing the people we love. Listen Doctor, I know people have interviewed you already, but if you can spare some time in the next few days, would you mind if I sit down with you? In light of some recent findings I would like to revisit this investigation."

"Of course, anything I can do. But I will warn you, I have a great alibi," Megan's humor didn't come out often, but when it did, no one was expecting it and made it even more funny. Reid and I got a great laugh.

"Okay, here is my card; call me after the new year and we can set up a time. In the meantime, you two have a safe and wonderful New Year." He got in his car and drove off, leaving Megan and I alone. We walked to her car where I helped her with her luggage.

"Where did you go?" I asked her wondering why she was packed to stay someplace that was 45 minutes away.

"Let's go inside and I will tell you about it. First, I could use a drink." Megan changed out of her business suit and into something more comfortable, while I opened a bottle of Chianti for her. After twenty minutes, she came out wearing a blue sweatsuit.

"Oh, I thought we would go out," I said a little disappointed.

"I would, but I am a little tired right now and I am not feeling all that hot. I would rather get some take-out, stay home and get crazy drunk with my best friend. How does that sound?” Great, only I can’t get drunk. I was going to say something, but chose not to. She seemed a little down.

“Is everything all right? It’s not like you to turn to drinking.”

“Later. I’m hungry; what do you want to eat?” I thought about it, for a moment, and put it back on her.

“I am open to almost anything. Tell you what — pick any place you want, and I will go pick it up.”

“You know, Chinese sounds great. There is a pretty good little place down the street —”

“Seriously? You want Chinese from a little place in Texas?”

“Michael, I know you can fly to China, but I don’t need the best Chinese food, nor do I need you to impress me. I just want to have a nice relaxing night with your company. I have lots to tell you, so hurry back.”

---Bunker---

“Dwayne, thank you for dinner, but I really am not in the mood for anything tonight. I’m not feeling well. This was a really bad year and a lot of pain is welling up. I just want to sleep early tonight,” Liz said gently pushing him back.

“Liz, it’s okay, I get it. You don’t have to get into a lengthy explanation and you don’t owe me anything. I risk my life for you because I can about you.”

“What about Ashley? Or is it only me you care about?”

“Of course I care about her too.” Dwayne was getting a little uncomfortable, as Liz was starting to put a little pressure on him, and his culinary skills weren’t getting him anywhere on New Year’s Eve. He thought he should have ditched the two for his company party, all expenses paid using the funds they received from Uncle Sam.

“Well, Dwayne, if you care about her, you mind showing her a little? She is missing her dad and could use a man that takes interest in her. You can’t just keep showering her with shit you find in that wasteland. She needs a father figure more than she needs a board game from some deceased person’s house.”

“Hey, I am really busy and put myself out there for you two, isn’t that enough? What do you want from me?”

“Quiet down — you are going to wake her up.”

“Then stop talking to me like that! Where the hell did all this come from all of a sudden?”

“She told me herself: you ignore her.” Liz thought she shouldn’t have told Dwayne that, but now he knew and she couldn’t take it back.

“Well, excuse me for trying. I’m not Mike, I’ve never been married and I don’t have kids, so I don’t know how to raise them.”

“It’s not complicated, Dwayne; it’s like dating, you listen to them and take an interest in what they say. Interact with them, and they love you for it.”

“Hey, your her mother, that’s your job. I’m not her father; I am just keeping you two alive. Consider yourself a little fucking blessed to have me, otherwise you wouldn’t be alive. You know what, fuck this,” he said as he walked towards the door and grabbed the suit off the hook. Liz began to panic.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Where does it look like? I am leaving. Spend the night on your own — I will sleep in the greenhouse with some plants that appreciate me.” He had the suit halfway on when he went into the storage and grabbed a bottle of wine. “Almost forgot, something to keep my celebration going.”

“Stop, Dwayne; you’re already drunk. Don’t go outside, it’s too dangerous while intoxicated, you can tear your suit, or damage the green house.”

“Oh, what do you care if it did? Truth is, I don’t care anymore if something happens to me. I’m tired of putting this shit on every day.”

“Please don’t go outside; I need you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Liz said as she started to cry, “I’m afraid and I’m hurting inside. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He continued to zip up the suit, ignoring her.

“Guess you should have thought about that before you started ranting. Goodbye, Liz.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around him crying and begging for him to stay.

“Dwayne, please, I am so afraid you will get hurt out there. Please stay with me tonight. I’m getting a little PMS. It’s not you; it’s me. I’m so sorry, please stay.” She hugged him tight while he let his arms hang low, not willing to give in and hug her back. Finally, he reached up and embraced her.

“You’re right. It’s dangerous and foolish of me to go out tonight, especially after already drinking,” he said to her, really taking into account the increased number of drunks and cops on the roads above. She kissed him on the cheek and then pulled the suit off him and hung it on the wall. “I’m sorry too. I know you are taking care of Ashley alone. I will try harder to interact with her more. I may need some help, but I will do my best.”

“Really? Thank you, Dwayne. I’m very sorry, you don’t deserve to be treated the way I just did. You are a great guy and we are glad you came to get us that night. I think about what would have happened if you left us like everyone else did. I don’t know why Michael asked you to look after us, but he knew what he was doing when he chose you. I love him — understand that — I always will.

“Of course Liz; I wouldn’t expect you not to,” he said as she closed the door to the bedroom and took off her shirt. He watched her undress before him and thought, ‘Putty in my hands,’ while he took his own shirt off.

----

“I hope to never eat freeze dried foods ever again. A week long shuttle mission was one thing, but a year of that was just too much,” I said as I loaded up another helping of broccoli beef and fried rice. Megan raised her glass in salute to my statement.

“Amen to that,” she said as we clanged out glasses together and sipped our wine. “That and those cramped conditions we had to eat in.” I scooted my chair right next to hers and leaned up against her while taking a bite.

“You mean you didn’t like bumping shoulders with me as we ate?” she laughed as I moved my chair back ending the routine.

“No, I didn’t mind it that much; it was Eugene who I didn’t want to be that close to.”

“Yeah, he was a pain at times. A few times, I thought about blowing him out the airlock, but all in all he wasn’t that bad. He just wasn’t a ‘people person,’ and certainly no astronaut.” Megan suddenly started laughing. “What?” I asked.

“I never told you what I did to him, did I?”

“No you did not. When was this?” She paused a moment.

“Man was he not an astronaut. Anyways, right after you messaged us in Morse code, he started freaking out and fighting with Sean. As you can imagine, Eugene couldn’t accept that he had no rational answer for what was happening, and Sean thought it was the Almighty Himself outside. Naturally, Eugene went apeshit.”

“Him and Sean fighting over religion? Nahh.”

“Right? More on that later. Anyways, they were arguing while NASA was trying to make sense of our situation, that’s when I —” She stopped, trying to figure things out in her head. “— No, that was later. Actually, that was the moment I got out of there, and went down to the lower deck. Hold the thought about Eugene; I never told you this either. All of them were on the flight deck, and I ducked below. That’s when I used the camera array to see if you were out there. Of course, you couldn’t hear the arm moving behind you, but imagine my surprise when, instead of you in your suit outside, I found myself staring at an unprotected woman I had never seen before.”

“So, that’s why no one knows about the image. How did you keep mission control from seeing the feed?”

“You know, I have no idea why I did this, but I disabled it. It was monitoring only, and I printed straight to the onboard printer. I hid the images in my files. The files are protected as doctor/patient information and were kept undisturbed.”

“That was very quick thinking; thank you for keeping me safe. I kept forgetting to ask you about that, so thanks for finally telling me. How did you figure out who I was?”

“Well, I only had bits and pieces to go on. My first instinct was the same as Sean’s. You were some kind of angel, perhaps Michael’s ghost himself back from the grave. It explained your distinct humor coded in the message and your flight operation knowledge, but when I saw you, I didn’t know what to believe. But I knew the miracle, whatever the source, was personal. Why did you choose to contact us?”

“Well, that was a risk, but truth was, I needed to know what everyone’s status was. I didn’t think I would be able to control my flight and guide the orbiter in for a landing. I needed Sean’s help. I planned it exactly as you described it. I knew Sean could understand the message, and he would link it to the supernatural. I just didn’t want to be seen.” I started to get emotional as I choked out the last part, “I’m glad you saw me though.”

“I’m glad I did too. So, your appearance at the cemetery and your inquiry about Liz and Ashley, not to mention your false name, all raised big red flags. I couldn’t be sure, though; that’s why I kept you around while I looked into their whereabouts for you. Our breakfast at Chez Marie was the giveaway. You forgot two things, Michael; I read your complete history, wrote a psychological profile recommending you for command, not to mention got to know you very well personally. All my questions at the cafe drew you out as much as you tried to hide.” I reached for my glass and chugged the expensive wine like it was water.

“So, how do you know I was trying to hide — maybe I was intentionally trying to be obvious?” She reached over and grabbed the bottle, refilling my glass. I took the bottle and filled hers for her.

“That was always a possibility, but you know the answer to that; it’s not important. What is, is that the planets aligned and allowed us to reconnect and become best friends. I love you, Michael; you are a great man inside, and even though you are in one hell of a sexy woman’s body, I, first and foremost see the real you inside.”

“Thank you; it makes me feel good to be seen as the real me.” I paused. “I do feel, though, you want me to embrace my female side. Sometimes I feel you are pressuring me a little.” I regretted saying that the moment I let it out. For the most part she was right; she did see me as Michael and in private, always called me by my real name; even used male pronouns. Still, in the park, she was real quick to want to teach me about being a woman.

“Michael, you know I want the very best for you, and I want you to be whoever you want to be. I know it’s difficult being thrust into a new body, one that is a different gender, almost twenty years younger, not to mention alien, and immortal. That’s a lot of dysphoria for anyone to have to deal with. I’m sorry I have ever come across as trying to feminize you; it’s not my intention. Don’t forget, Michael, some of this is new territory for me. I specialized in areas of psychology for the benefit of humans living in space, not different bodies. Some of the principles may be similar, but the gender issues are a little new to me. You understand?”

“Yes; I didn’t really mean to sound upset about it. I think about it a lot, and it is a reality I have to face. I am just very insecure about my masculinity and I am scared sometimes being stuck as a woman. I know you are trying to help and I appreciate it.”

“Let me say something, then: let’s save this for another day, okay?” I gladly agreed and let her continue, “First of all, understand, gender and sex are two different things. Sex is what defines your biological identification, but gender is more of a social distinction. Females can cross between the two with little social ramifications, but males are expected to conform to a distinctly male role. They are not allowed to show their feminine sides. There are men in the world who long to be free to express that. Some to the point where they want to become women themselves; others just want to be more open with their sensitive sides. There is nothing wrong with it; it’s just that current societal norms shun such attempts. Think about it — several hundred years ago, men whore tights, wigs, frilly lacy clothes and went to the theater. No one thought they were gay. Show those pictures to a group of high school football players and they would all make fun of them.” I laughed having made fun of such historical figures myself, but what she said was true. Social norms of the day are very restrictive.

“That make sense, I guess. Still, I don’t think I will ever get in touch with my feminine side even if I could. I’m still not really a real woman. I might look it, but I am different. This alien body isn’t the same.”

“What do you mean, it’s not the same?” she asked and I realized I really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Nothing, forget it. Forget I mentioned it.”

“Okay, I won’t push. Just know that no matter what, you can tell me, even the sensitive stuff; just think of me as your doctor. None of that is taboo, okay?”

“Okay, I will. So what did you do to Shephard?” I asked changing the subject back.

“Oh, yes. So, you are outside posing for my camera, and a bit later, instruct us to prepare to orbital insertion. Sean needs to fly, and Eugene starts freaking out to the point that he was going to assault him. Mitri gets between them, and you know how intimidating Mitri can be?”

“Nah, he’s a great guy, but I know what you mean.”

“Well, Eugene isn’t much of a fighter, but he was going to take a swing at him. That’s went I jabbed him in the ass with a needle this long,” she held up her fingers about three inches wide, “and tranquilized him. Oh man, was that great relief.” We were laughing as she described him suddenly pass out and float helplessly in the cabin. “We were just laughing about this the other day in fact.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes, I saw him and Sean, and had a video conference with Mitri. That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Really? How is everyone?”

“All of them are doing very well. Sean is almost healed up and his spirits are back up. Eugene is a completely different man — heck, he and Sean are even good friends now thanks to you.

“Son of a bitch, Eugene softens up, and Brad becomes an asshole. How is Mitri?” I asked before her thoughts of Brad could sink in. It was too late, and it brought her down, but she shook it off and answered the question.

“Mitri… As far as I know, he is doing quite well living up the dream in the Motherland. We are going to see him in March.”

“Great, he’s coming back here — what for?”

“Huge plans, Michael; I wish you could be involved somehow. MIR is going to be phased out, and the USA and Soviet Union as well as several other nations are going to collaborate on an international space station that will maintain a constant crew in space.” I got very excited.

“Oh wow, that is wonderful news; how exciting. I take it US and the Soviets will be principal engineers on the project?”

“Yes; they are already working on standardizing components so that the modules will interlock with each other. Between the Shuttles and Soyuz rockets, we will be launching regular missions over the next couple decades as well as another Deliverance-class vehicle for a possible Mars mission somewhere down the road.”

“Damn, NASA’s going to be busy. Where did they get the funding from?”

“Stocks in companies are through the roof — everyone wants a piece of the companies that saved the world. Space is the hot ticket. They are even developing an orbiting telescope and naming it after Edwin Hubble.” I was bouncing off my seat with excitement.

“So I take it you are staying on board?”

“Well, yes and no. I am going to stay on as an independent consultant. People are going to be living around the clock on the space station, and I will have to develop a training program and guidelines for the international crews that will be living up to six months at a time. They need my experience, and, so far, I am the only one who knows how to tranquilize a crazy astronaut.” She chose the moment I took a sip to say that and I blew the wine out through my nose. After a few minutes of laughing we got back to a serious conversation.

“Okay, I get you and Sean. What’s Eugene’s involvement?”

“Mostly the three of us are going to meet up with Mitri for a PR tour. Eugene is head of research studying all the samples we brought back, so he won’t be involved much after we get back.”

“Back? Where are you meeting up with Mitri?”

“Moscow. We are all going to Russia, then he will follow to us to a few other destinations yet- to-be-determined.”

“Russia, you are all going to Russia? That’s going to be quite a trip. March will finally start warming up too.”

“Why don’t you come with us? You can meet us there.”

“Yes, but I don’t have a passport.”

“You don’t need one — you can land anywhere.”

“True, but Megan, the Soviet Union isn’t the US; there are constant checkpoints and KGB will randomly stop you for your papers. Not really worried about getting caught without them, but if they catch me with you, it can get someone in trouble.” Still I wouldn’t mind going and keeping a distant eye on my friends, I thought.

“I didn’t think of that. Good thinking. You know, we need to find a way to get you an identity. So far, you don’t exist. If we can somehow get you an identity, we can get you into a university, and back into NASA. We can really use your brain.”

“Well you’re not the only one after my brain. Turns out the cops want it, too.” We shifted to the living room and sat down by the fireplace while continuing the conversation.

“What do you mean?” Megan asked as she got back up and went into the kitchen.

“Well I goofed and memorized everything in Reid’s case file.” She came back with a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

“Here. You liked my family’s label?” She said as she poured a tall glass, “So how is memorizing that a goof?”

“Thanks,” I said taking the glass and inhaling the nutty aroma, “I goofed because I wrote it all down to examine the data. I found a pattern and showed it to Reid, who thought I went into his cabinet. I almost got arrested, so I told him that I have a photographic memory and proved it to him. He insists I should be a detective or at least a private consultant helping solve crimes.”

“What do you think about that?”

“Preferably, I would rather do what you suggest, but while I am in that police station, I hear people’s problems, problems that none of them really want to take the time to help them with. Megan, it hurts so much that I can't find my girls, but I can't just sit around feeling sorry for myself.   I need to do something, and I'm hearing that there are others who I can help.   Hell I already have.

“That is very admirable, Michael. You do have many things at your disposal to assist those in need. Heck, you can do both, you know. You don’t sleep, so why not work one at night and the other during the day? Life can’t be all play, you know.” She had a point; my sleeplessness drives me insane sometime and having something to constantly keep me busy might be a good thing.

“You’re right — I need to keep myself busy, and I can serve humanity in two different ways at the same time. Something to look forward to in 1987; ‘86 sucked.”

“Not entirely, I did meet a really good friend this year.” I was getting a little sad thinking what I have gained versus all that I have lost. Still, I thought about what we found in the house, and for the first time since my family went missing, I had a vague shred of hope that they were alive somewhere. Where and why, I have no idea, but they were out there, and, by god, I will find them, and so help the person, if any, who took them from me.

Several hours later, I was on my fifth bottle of whiskey, drunk and screaming a slurred “Happy New Year” into the night sky with Megan just after we watched the delay of the ball dropping in the Big Apple. It felt like an era of my life was ending as 1986 came to a close, and I looked forward to what the new dawn would bring.

To Be Continued....Episode 11: “Rodina”

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