Ten minutes later, I spotted the parking garage that led to Base Six.
About the time I cleared the first landing, I got a text from Midas.
>>Sorry about your apartment.
Me too.
>>I’m overseeing the cleaners personally.
The fact he was there in an official capacity, not as the heir, but as building security, meant he could rifle through my things without anyone batting an eye since he had a vested interest in bringing the culprit to justice.
You don’t have to do that.
>> Where are you staying tonight?
At one of our shelters.
>>Do you need anything?
We keep them stocked. I’ll be fine for a day.
>>Tell me where to meet you at dusk. We’ll talk to Bonnie and get your answers.
My apartment. I’ll kill two birds with one stone. You’ll talk to her, I’ll start cleaning.
What a truly depressing thought. I wasn’t out much money for the trashed décor, but it had taken me hours and hours and hours to do that much sewing and crafting, enough to style a cohesive look.
Bishop waited for me on the landing. “Midas?”
Throttling a flush before it surfaced, I did my best to sound casual. “How could you tell?”
“He called me when he heard the news about your apartment. I expected he would reach out to you eventually.”
After glaring at it, I pocketed the phone. “Why call you and not me in the first place?”
“I got the impression he wanted to know if you were okay, and he wanted an answer other than I’m fine.” He entered the code to access the base. “He must have figured I would rat you out.”
The door opened, and I followed him inside. “Did you?”
“I told him, and I quote, ‘She’s fine.’” His chuckles did, now that I thought about it, sound a bit evil. “He’s an ally, but that doesn’t make him one of us. He’s not entitled to stick his nose in your business. If he’s got a question for you or about you, he’s got your number.”
A warm, fuzzy sensation spread through my limbs as he locked us in. “I didn’t think you cared.”
“You’re too busy pretending you don’t care about anyone to think anyone else might care about you.”
“I care about plenty of people,” I protested. “A whole city’s worth of them.”
“They’re numbers, Hadley. They’re not friends. That sounds harsh, but there you go. You can’t know or protect every one of them. All you can do is try. But me? Our team? We’re rooting for you, not waiting on you to screw up and get sent home.”
The room wavered behind a sheen of tears. “Why is everyone hitting me over the head with a friendship stick lately?”
“This job will chew you up and spit you out if you go it alone, that’s true for all of us. That’s why the POA created a team. He knew it, and he planned ahead to avoid burnout. You think we’re loyal to him, and we are, but the office comes first. You’re on track to become the next POA, and that means our loyalty—and friendship—belongs to you too.”
“Thanks,” I said thickly, then cleared my throat before facing the monitors. “Reece, what have you got for me?”
“A blur,” he mumbled, distracted. “I can’t get the stills I took any clearer than this.”
A series of photos lined up on the lower screens, but they didn’t illuminate the killer’s identity.
“Tall, male, and a para of some kind is all I can promise you.” Reece highlighted a portion of footage. “Magic and technology don’t always play nice, but this is one of two things. A charm that’s covering his tracks, or a power that’s covering his tracks. Either way, his tracks are covered. I’ve dug through footage taken at the Faraday as well. Same problem. Our MARTA murderer, or someone like him, was in your apartment.”
“Any idea how he got in?”
“He didn’t walk in through the front door or use the fire escape.” Intrigue mingled with frustration in his voice. “He stepped out from a blind spot.”
“Meaning he knew the location of the cameras.” Bishop worked his jaw. “The last breach at the Faraday was an inside job. Stands to reason this one was too. The previous leak has since been plugged. This is an all-new drip.”
“Great.” I blew out a tired breath. “I’m living in a sinking ship.”
Reece grumbled about rats, and his screen went dark.
“We’ll keep digging,” Bishop promised me. “Get some rest.”
“A girl can dream.”
I let myself into a large room stacked with enough bunk beds to sleep a dozen people. One en suite bathroom opened off to the right, but it was meant for sharing, with two enclosed toilet stalls. A kitchen meant no one staying here ever went hungry. The dining area had fold-down tables, and it doubled as a living room. The only TV in the space was mounted on the back wall so anyone eating could watch.
Each of our bases contained the exact same housing facilities, and sadly, most were kept full.
This job wasn’t all hunting serial killers and visiting nudist colonies. Most nights I saw no action. Others I busted up drunken/drugged brawls or domestic disputes. The latter often required additional resources to prevent recurrence. That’s when we stepped in and provided for the victims. It was safer for them, and humans, for supernaturals to be kept separate while they healed.
Cornered predators lashed out, and a warning that another supernatural could shrug off might kill a human.
When a base had guests, we partitioned off its adjacent command center, containing them in the residence area. That gave them access to the bunkroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, and the dining room while keeping them out of HQ itself. There was a lockbox Bishop could activate for remote entry as well. That way, we didn’t see them, and they didn’t see us.
“Do you need anything?” Bishop lingered in the doorway. “I’ll leave the seal unlocked for you in case you need computer access.”
“I’m good.” I chose a cot at random and climbed in. “I’m too tired for a shower. I’ll grab one tomorrow and do laundry on my way out.”
“These sheets have seen worse. Trust me.”
“Believe it or not, that’s not the most comforting thing you can tell a person who’s too tired to worry about fleas, ticks, or bedbugs.”
“Sweet dreams.” He flipped off the light. “There was one weird thing. Midas asked me the brand name of your sewing machine. Yours had rubbed off.”
“That is weird. What does my sewing machine have to do with anything?” May it rest in peace. “It was a thrift store find. Ten bucks. It paid for itself ten times over.”
“That’s more or less what I told him.”
While I turned the odd question over in my mind, Bishop left, his footsteps tapering into silence.
I wasn’t sure what he was, or how he traveled the city so quickly without transportation, or why he managed the bases, or much of anything else, honestly. I hadn’t noticed the creeping burnout until he mentioned it, but I was tired, and I had been for a long time before coming to Atlanta.
Maybe I had gotten it wrong, and a social life was just what the doctor ordered.