A Fugitive Truth: An Emma Fielding Mystery - By Dana Cameron Page 0,33

of even being heard, when, after a plain car pulled up and the door opened, a sharp female voice cut through the mayhem.

“Okay, folks, a little order, if you please! Tim, Steffie—” here the authoritative voice addressed the EMTs—“If you would sit tight for just a minute. Mr. Constantino, what have we got here?”

“Excuse me, sir!” The authoritative voice called out again, and a woman dressed in plain clothes stepped forward as Gary began to climb back down the slope.

A look of disgust crossed the woman’s face as she recognized Gary. “Oh, it’s you, Conner. You get back here and keep yourself planted ’til anyone tells you to move.”

Reluctantly Gary climbed back up to the road and stood sullenly behind Constantino, who had emerged from the second security car.

The woman spoke briefly with the patrol officers and then addressed us. “Now. Let’s start from the beginning. Who found the deceased?” As the EMTs stood aside, I saw the plainclothes officer clearly for the first time. She was a hair shorter than me, with dark, mannishly cut hair. I could tell that she was slender, even under her thick gray jacket, but her heavy belt and jeans looked as though they were molded to her.

I stepped forward, shivering. “Me, I did. She’s Faith Morgan.”

“And who are you, ma’am?” The detective’s gaze flicked over me like a lash, taking everything in. I knew what she saw; I sure as hell didn’t look reputable.

I hate being called ma’am; I know what it means, but it sounds like it’s short for mammary or mammal. “Em…Emma Fielding,” I said, trying not to chatter too much with the cold and exertion.

“Detective Sergeant Kobrinski, Dr. Fielding is one of our researchers here,” Constantino offered in that patronizing tone of his, as if that explained my eccentric appearance. I noticed that he appropriated my title to bolster his authority, but she rejected it just as easily.

“Is that so?” the detective said, eyebrows raised. She looked me over again, apparently not impressed with what she saw. “In that case, I bet Ms. Fielding can answer for herself, can’t she, Mr. Constantino?”

Constantino backed off, which surprised me; one of the patrol officers took him aside and began to ask him questions. The detective turned back to me. “Can you tell me precisely what happened?”

I gave her the story, including my observation of Gary moving Faith’s body around. I was pleased to see how much that seemed to bother her.

“Now, even you should know enough not to screw around with a situation like this, Gary Conner. Did you take something from the deceased?” Detective Kobrinski asked, though I got the impression that she already knew what the answer would be.

“I was just checking to see if she was really dead,” Gary insisted, as if hurt.

“I told you she was dead when I called!” I protested disbelievingly. “I think I can tell when someone is dead!”

“Ms. Fielding, if you don’t mind,” Detective Kobrinski cut me off, then spoke to Gary with deceptive lightness. “Now, of course you know I can’t search you, not unless I arrest you for something, right? Is there any reason you know of why I should do such a thing, Conner? Any outstanding parking tickets or anything?”

Conner didn’t move at all, but he looked like he could easily strangle the life out of her without thinking twice about it. He murmured, “Fuck you,” barely moving his lips, just loud enough to be audible.

“I didn’t catch that, Gary,” Kobrinski said threateningly. “Did I?”

Constantino stepped in. “Detective, I think it’s safe to say that Dr. Fielding here was seeing things.” He gestured to me with what was supposed to be sympathy, but it came off as an indictment. “She’s clearly upset by this experience.”

It wasn’t fair: I didn’t look the part of a detached witness. I was soaked with congealing sweat and shivering with cold, overexertion, and low blood sugar. My chattering teeth and the “Red Dwarf” sweatshirt I had stolen from Brian were not the best witnesses to my sober observational skills.

“I’m not hysterical!” I said defiantly. “I was alert enough to notice her in the first place and not make a mess of the scene—” here I shot a look at the younger guard that I fancied would have dropped an angry cobra in its tracks—“then make the calls, and get back here to meet you all. Where I saw him take something from Faith!”

Detective Kobrinski eyed me, weighing my words. “Why don’t you go over and have