Chapter 4
“Did you hear that?” asked Henry. Alert, he listened closely for the noise.
Sandra sat down on the sofa next to him. “Hear what?” she asked, snuggling up close to her mate. “It’s probably the house settling again. You know how it is.”
Shaking his head, Henry rose, Sandra following him. “No, that’s not it. I’ve heard it before, but I—” He stopped. A quiet roar, more akin to a hiss, sounded. “There! Hear that?” He threw open the door, much to his wife’s shock. He never acted this impulsively!
A police car waited outside; thus, obviously there was a police officer with it. “Ah, so that’s what it was!” Henry exclaimed excitedly. “It’s been years since I’ve been this close to one!” But his voice suddenly grew darker. “But why is he here?” Both knew the reason couldn’t be good. Since when did an officer of the law ever bring anything but bad news?
“Why don’t you ask?” suggested Sandra.
As it turned out, that was unnecessary. The officer removed his black helmet, letting thick, red hair cascade down to his shoulders. Or, rather, her shoulders, as Henry soon discovered. But in her loose black suit, none of her...well...defining features were all that noticeable. He coughed when Sandra poked him in the ribs, giving him the death glare. Henry could feel himself blushing. “Well...”
He straightened himself. “Good evening, officer,” he said. “May we help you?” He felt a mysterious force pulling his eyes downward, a force he had to try hard to fight. Or he would have to face Sandra’s wrath as soon as they were in private.
The officer walked over to them and held out her hand. “Heather Vance,” she stated. When Henry didn’t take her hand, she rolled her eyes and withdrew it. “Fine. Mr. Chapman, Mrs. Chapman, let me go ahead and get right to the point.”
The pair exchanged glances. Uh oh. “Okay...”
“There was an accident at the factory today,” Heather announced. She kept an expressionless face as she continued. “As of last count, only four survivors—and three of these aren’t expected to last the next forty-eight hours.”
“Why are you telling us this?” asked Sandra. She put an arm around her husband’s waist. “What could have happened?”
“It will be public news tomorrow, but since it concerns you directly, my superiors requested that I inform you immediately.”
Henry wagged his head in time with Heather’s words. “That’s great and all, but why tell us?”
Heather made eye contact with each of them. “We have reason to believe the one you call your son was responsible for the event.”
Sandra gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. “No!” She refused to accept it. “It’s not possible.”
Henry, however... “Damn,” he said quietly. “There’s-there’s
no way! Sandra’s right; he wouldn’t!” the
Heather held up a hand to stop him. “Exactly why I didn’t want to say anything, but I’m not exactly the one in charge around here.”
Sandra reached for the officer’s hand, but Heather apparently wasn’t interested. “When can we see him?”
“You can’t.”
“Hell yes, we can! He’s our son!” objected Henry. “What’re you going to do, arrest us for making sure our pride and joy is in good hands—which is perfectly in our rights to do?”
Heather sneered and crossed her arms. “If I have to, yes. Please don’t forget that the giant is in City Council custody as well as yours. And Council supersedes you.”
Henry felt his hands ball into fists. “Listen, Heather. You apparently don’t have any respect for our son, but let me tell you: he would never, let me repeat; never do a thing like this. I demand that my wife and I be given permission to see him.” He saw Heather reach for something out of sight. “And don’t even bother getting handcuffs. Restrain me for acting within my rights and I will personally sue the crap out of you!”
Sandra put a hand to her head. Her mate was not exactly helping the situation. “Look, Henry—”
“No! You look, too. We are going to see Michael, and she is
going to take us there,” demanded the male
“Big words for someone who can’t back them up,” the officer quipped. “But if you’re so insistent on fighting, let me tell you. Michael Chapman is the prime suspect in the murder of innocents and destruction of government-funded property. He is under highest security, which means no one is to be given access to him.”
“That’s bull,” retorted Henry. “Absolute bull. When have suspects ever been denied the right to notify first of kin?”
“He can’t do what he doesn’t know,” she said simply.
“Okay, that’s it. This whole thing is so illegal it’s not funny. So you are going to let us go to him. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!” He came within six milimeters of Heather’s face, spittle flying everywhere.
She calmly shoved his beak out of the way and put a hand on her gun. “Fine. If you’re going to be so difficult, I’ll take you two to headquarters.”
Henry flashed a childish grin at his wife, who didn’t return it.
“But: just because you’re going there doesn’t mean anything magical’s going to happen with the bosses. Is that understood?” She fastened her helmet back on.
“Okay, but how are we going to get there? There’s not enough room for us,” pointed out Sandra.
A wry grin formed on Heather’s face. “I said I’d take you there. I didn’t say you could ride with me.”
“So we’re...”
“Walking, yes. Or flying, if you like.” Henry scowled.
____
The mayor banged a fist on the table in frustration. “That’s not working, people! Give me something we can use!” He jumped from his seat, chair flying backward behind him. “Well?” The council members gathered around the circular table exchanged glances, then a water dragon, the unofficial spokesman for the group, also rose.
“Ted, calm down, okay? Don’t you think we’re jumping ahead a little too far, here?” The mayor glared at him, and the water dragon raised his hands in mock surrender. “So shoot me. We don’t even have the police report, yet.”
“And you’re going to let him get away with it? This...giant?!” Theodore had a death-grip on the table’s edge. “I don’t give a damn if we have a report or not!”
Ruth Carr stopped him right there. “Speaking of the report,” she shot an apologetic look at her colleague, who mouthed a negative. Ignoring the water dragon, she continued. “I have a preliminary report right here,” she explained, setting a briefcase before the group. She fiddled with the latch. “Never can get this to open the first time,” she mumbled. “Ah! Here we go.” Ruth produced a small stack of papers and handed it across the table to her superior. “You wanted it?”
Ted snatched the report and leafed through it. “Where’s the good stuff?” he asked her. “I want incriminating evidence, not this crap.”
“That’s...sort of the point,” the water dragon deadpanned.
“Enough of that, Andy!” The mayor swore. “I don’t know what his problem was, actually letting those two have custody of that thing.” He looked through the file again. “Okay...yeah, we already know that.” He beamed, causing more than one council member to wince. “That factory...it was government owned, wasn’t it?”
“Yes...” a griffin affirmed. “It was.”
“So we’ve got something!” Ted waved his arms comically, the file accepting the physical torture. Seeing the puzzled looks on his comrades’ faces, he launched into it. “Michael Chapman destroyed government property and murdered innocents in the process! It’s a clear case of sabotage.”
Andy groaned. “Ted, you can’t be serious.”
“Don’t argue!” the mayor roared. Which didn’t help his image, considering he was the youngest mayor in recent history; everyone would like to see the true, behind-the-scenes life of their leader. “Maybe you don’t like it. You should’ve left when the old man died!”
Andy strode around the table and didn’t stop until he was milimeters from the mayor, towering above the leader’s smallish figure. “Ted, you are an idiot,” he stated simply. He jammed a thick finger at the younger one’s chest. “If you go through with this, you will not have my support.” Ted didn’t speak, too intimidated to say anything. “I know more about the background than you do, and if you won’t listen to me, that’s your problem.” He straightened. “Now. If I haven’t been unprofessional enough, I’m not through.” Andy stomped toward the door. “If any of you have a single shred of intelligence, you will leave this fool.”
And with that said, he left. No one
followed. He didn’t think they would. “Oh,
_____
Michael didn’t fight when the anthros bound him, although he did have to resist the urge. He realized that his position was bad enough without him trying to cause any more damage. Melissa was off somewhere else—close by, unless he was sorely mistaken. He shifted in his spot on the ground because, after sitting on the ground in the same position for a couple hours, he already wanted to move. Someone poked him in the leg.
“What?” he asked.
“Don’t move,” was the reply. “You’re not getting any special treatment from us.”
No, but I’m getting worse treatment, almost for sure. He let his back pop.
“Hey! What’d I just tell you!” demanded the officer. “I oughta...” He stopped. “Sir!”
“Leave ‘im alone,” slurred a voice. Michael recognized it as McGan’s. “I don’t like ‘im anymore than you, but we can’t mess with the guy until the trial.”
Michael gulped. “T-trial?”
McGan snorted. “Well, yeah. What, did you think you’d get away with it?” He let out two short, derisive laughs. “Ha! Ha! You really are messed up in the head, aren’t ya?” The officer propped his body against the giant, his frame (just shy of eight centimeters) absolutely puny compared to the younger one. Speaking of which, Michael did not know his height—just that he was taller than everyone else. “Yeah, you’re gonna get it.” Michael sniffed the air. Was that alcohol?
“Sir...”
“What is it?” he sucked on a cigarette as he asked this, then took the stick out and chased the toxins down with a swig of...something.
Michael blushed. “Actually, I...I forgot,” he admitted. “I can’t remember what I wanted to say.”
“Fair enough.” McGan chomped down, sending the cigarette to an almost vertical angle. “But I got some advice for ya.” Michael wondered how serious he was. “Yeah, some advice, all right.”
“Yes, sir?”
“See that ocean over there?” It was dark, and Michael couldn’t see beyond the space offered by the meager lighting.
“No, but I know where you’re talking about.”
“Yeah? Good. ‘Cause on the other side is...” McGan prompted. He really was out of it, Michael decided.
“Dragon Isle,” the Risso completed.
“Mm-hmm. So here’s where my advice comes in: learn to swim.”
“Sir!” objected the other policeman, who hadn’t left. “Why are you telling him that?”
McGan looked at him with glassy eyes. “Why not tell ‘im?” he slurred again. “He won’t get anywhere, not with that giant body of his!” He found this incredibly funny and pounded the giant’s leg with his fist.
The other two did not.