Deadeye by William C. Dietz Page B

office.
    *   *   *
    Omo watched her go. Maybe she was okay. Or maybe she was a mutant-hating bigot. That’s how it looked. One thing was for sure however . . . Cassandra Lee was interesting. And she had a nice butt. Omo smiled, but no one could see it.

FIVE
    LEE HAD BEEN too tired
not
to sleep well. So she felt rested as she entered the conference room for morning roll call. That didn’t mean she was in a good mood, however. Far from it. She was still pissed off about McGinty’s decision to assign her a partner, and a mutant partner at that.
    And there, sitting at the long table, was the man in question. Except there was something different about Deputy Omo now. Lee couldn’t put her finger on the change at first, but then it came to her. The countenance on the spit-mask face he’d been wearing the day before had been smiling. But the latest version was neutral. Was she looking at his “professional” face then? Yes, she thought so. Nonverbal communication was an important part of any conversation. And, since Omo was limited to a single expression, he was forced to choose one in keeping with the occasion. It would be different in the red zone however . . . A mask wouldn’t be necessary there.
    Unless there was something wrong with Omo’s face. Something he didn’t want other people to see . . . That’s what was going through her mind as she said, “Good morning,” and sat down next to him. The other detectives were doing their best not to look at Omo, trying to conceal the fear they felt, but it was difficult. Some mutants were carriers. And
B. nosilla
could kill you.
    After running through all of the usual nonsense, McGinty went around the room. It seemed that 1-Charles-5 was working on a big drug case, 1-Zebra-7 was searching for the so-called Red Light Bandit, and 1-Tom-12 was on a stakeout. Each team delivered a short report.
    Then McGinty turned to Lee. “I have some news for you . . . Edward Tavez committed suicide last night.”
    Lee remembered the bodyguard named Tavez and the sadness in his brown eyes. “How did we get the news?”
    â€œYanty and Prospo had the Tavez residence under surveillance. They heard a noise. Mrs. Tavez emerged from the house screaming moments later.”
    â€œDamn,” Lee said. “That’s too bad. So we’re sure it was a suicide—not a hit?”
    McGinty frowned. “Why would someone want to kill Tavez?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Lee admitted. “It was a passing thought, that’s all.”
    â€œDid Tavez leave a suicide note?” All of the detectives turned to look at Omo. But there was nothing to see other than the expressionless mask.
    â€œYes,” McGinty answered grimly. “He did. It was four words long. ‘The mutants have her.’ That’s what it said.”
    â€œSo Tavez knew more than he admitted,” Lee mused. “Sims and he were on the take.”
    â€œAnd Tavez felt guilty about allowing the kidnappers to take her,” Jenkins agreed. “Which is why he killed himself.”
    â€œWhere’s Sims?” Lee inquired.
    â€œThe bastard is missing,” McGinty said darkly.
    â€œHow can that be?” Lee demanded. “He was under surveillance.”
    Jenkins shrugged. “Our team was out front. He slipped out through the back door, climbed a fence, and ran.”
    â€œSomeone told him about Tavez,” Omo suggested. “And he knew we would come looking for him.”
    â€œThat’s the way it looks,” McGinty agreed. “We issued a BOLO (be on the lookout) for him. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
    â€œIt looks like Bishop Screed was right,” Lee said. “A gang put the grab on Amanda, and they’re going to take her east.”
    â€œOr already have,” Jenkins said glumly.
    â€œAnd that’s why we asked for assistance