Over the Darkened Landscape - By Derryl Murphy Page 0,41

I’m sorry.”

Simone shrugged. “That’s okay. I think it’s one of the reasons I took to you so easy. He would still have been younger than you were when you were forced to leave Templeton, had to come across, but I could see a lot of the same qualities in you that I remember so well in him.”

“I was still a kid.” He smiled.

“You were,” she said, nodding. “Newly minted adult, still keen about life. Even though just a few months before you’d had to leave your childhood behind.”

“Not anymore.” He frowned, pinching at the skin on his forearm and watching it droop rather than snap back into place. “Nothing new about any of this.”

They were both silent for a moment, and then Simone continued. “Anyway, I took a leave of absence for a while, and when I came back I requested to be put in a patrol car. Just didn’t have the head for thinking seriously about cases right about then.”

That rang a small bell in the back of Mike’s brain. “That’s right. Captain promoted you back to detective. I was going to ask about that, but I guess I forgot.”

Their breakfasts arrived then, and for a few moments the two of them just ate. Finally, halfway through his third pancake, Mike could feel himself starting to fill up. He leaned back again, took one last swig of juice, then cleared his plate to the side and leaned his arms on the table. He was about to speak when the door opened and in walked the captain, heading straight for their table. Mike scooted over to make room for him.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, signalling the waitress for coffee.

Mike shrugged. “A little better now that I’m up and about. Have to go get some clothes and get looking decent again, though.”

Captain Munro eyed him for a few seconds, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, peeled off a bunch of twenties. “You’ll be needing to shave, too,” he said. “Just yesterday your face was like a baby’s butt. When you buy your clothes get yourself a decent electric razor as well.” Mike made to protest, but Munro put up his hand. “It’s not on me, it’s on the department. We got you into this, so we may as well help equip you.” He turned his attention to his coffee then, squeezing in two creamers and a heaping spoonful of sugar.

After a sip and a grimace he rummaged in his other pocket, pulled out a couple of folded-up pieces of paper and handed them over to Mike. “It’s the preliminary results from the lab on that vial you found,” he said. “They faxed this to me at home this morning.”

Mike grabbed a napkin and wiped away the juice and coffee rings, then flattened out the report. He tried reading it over two times, but finally had to lean back and push it across the table to Simone. “I’m not sure I follow, sir,” he said. “I mean, they had us read lab and forensics reports when we were in training, but nothing had detail like this.”

Simone looked up from the papers. “Jesus,” she said. “This is for real?”

Captain Munro nodded and then turned his attention back to Mike. “That was indeed a vial of Slow that you found at the apartment, Mike. But there’s a difference in the chemical makeup, and, while they’re still trying to confirm their initial impressions, they are pretty sure that the stuff retains its ability to counteract the Line but is no longer so lethal. If it’s even lethal at all.”

Mike took a second to let this news travel around inside his head. Then he asked, “How come we don’t already know about this stuff? Why isn’t it on the streets big time?”

Munro shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe it’s just hit, and only the special people have it. I talked to the folks on the drug squad, and they’re just as surprised as we are. They’ve got people out snooping around right now, but we’re going to have to do our own checking as well.”

“Where do we start?”

The captain fixed Mike with a stare. “I know you’re still new at this, detective, but try and remember that you were also a cop on the other side of the Line. Try and think like one.”

Mike scratched his chin, feeling the unfamiliar stubble growing there. “I guess I should go make myself look pretty and then go talk to Mrs. Hayes, for