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Pursuit In Death - Chapter 2
Posted by
miche405
,
03 September 2012
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Eve had accomplished more in the few hours she’d been home than she had that entire day. She attributed her improved mood to the shower she’d had and the time spent updating her case files. Stevens’ latest victim had been added to the Lieutenant’s murder board. It was a necessary part of the investigative process and it always helped her to see all the details laid out.
If Eve was honest with herself, she would admit she was simply happier because she had received a call from Roarke.
Even after two years together, much of it as husband and wife, it was still hard for Eve to reconcile how much of a presence Roarke had in her life. She’d been New York’s top cop before Roarke but, somehow, after him she was even better.
Roarke was off-planet on business. If she was better at the “wife thing,” she’d know where he was or which planet he was trying to add to his business empire. Roarke would tell her these details if she remembered to ask but he was always focused on caring for Eve. A woman who managed only the basic of human needs when involved with a case. He knew that, without him, she would likely work until she literally collapsed.
As was his way, when he called, Roarke got Eve to tell him about her latest case. She laid it all out for him.
The NYSPD needed to locate one Riel Stevens, a young entrepreneur who had only recently caught the attention of New York’s finest. Stevens ran an after-hours party network that he’d created solely to distribute illegal narcotics. He was a low-life who thought like a businessman which was why he dealt exclusively with the urban professional market. White collar customers with regular income were his bread and butter and to ensure that they kept coming back, he developed a party drug with the street name “Kick.”
One hit of Kick and the user was instantly high, higher than he or she had ever been. The additional appeal of the drug was that, after several hours, it was completely out of the user’s system. Almost as quickly as it had hit it. As a result, Stevens’ clientele could leave the club and go straight to work without the need for sleep or legal products like Sober-Up. Kick made sure they kept their jobs and the high made sure they came back for more.
As the success of his events increased, Stevens hosted more parties and his customers demanded he produce greater volumes of Kick. Because he needed to increase his supply quickly, he opted to cut a few corners. The end result was a batch of Kick that was essentially poison and when ingested caused a quick and painful demise. Unfortunately it was impossible to distinguish one batch of the drug from another. The only tell-tale difference being whether the user left the party of their own free will or in a body bag.
It was either due to the addictive nature of the drug or to a curious trait of human nature, but Stevens’ clients were convinced that they could cheat death. Consequently, the drug was still popular regardless of the lives lost due to the tainted product ─ which, oddly enough, acquired its own street name: the “Death Kick.”
Several weeks earlier, the Drug Squad had received their first reliable tip on Stevens. They’d managed to contact him to set up a drug buy. The deal between Stevens and the undercover officer had been almost complete when disaster struck: Jenkins, a rookie cop, wandered on to the scene and decided to call out to the cop who he recognized from his house.
And Stevens bolted.
While on the run from the Drug Squad, Stevens happened upon the William H. Gates Academy for the Gifted, a learning institution for primary-aged children destined to be future captains of industry and leaders of state.
Stevens broke into a janitor’s locker and helped himself to a change of clothing. He knew he wasn’t safe as long as he had a bag of Kick on his person. So he looked for a safe place to stash it. The academy pantry appealed to him since the little packages of Kick with which his bag was filled looked an awful lot like ketchup packets. Stevens took a moment to applaud his cunning. Then he tucked the bag onto the shelf and strolled out of the building with the rest of the employees.
Unfortunately, Kick resembled ketchup so much that it was set out the following morning in the main Dining Hall. The children who avoided ketchup were spared. Also lucky were those who selected actual ketchup from the sea of nearly identical white packets. But some children were unlucky and added a packet or two of Kick to their scrambled eggs or poured the drug over their breakfast potatoes. Their little bodies were ill-prepared for the adult dose of the drug and they fell quite ill and lapsed into comas.
And then there were the even less lucky children who innocently covered their morning fare with Death Kick. These unfortunates were the ones who fell where they sat. Their deaths were both instant and extremely violent.
Eve described for Roarke the events from earlier that day in the alley and told him about her failure to apprehend Stevens. When she mentioned the lone mixed-race female present in the apartment she realized that she still needed to have a face-to-face with the woman.
Stevens routinely shacked up with some “piece” or the other. They were usually only arm-candy and rarely knew any details of his whereabouts, but this was the only lead Eve had. And she intended to give it a tug.
At the end of their call, Roarke convinced Eve that she had done all she could for the day and made her promise to shut it down for the night.
Hanging up, Eve had to shake her head. Roarke was the only person who could ever get her to stop and rest. She admitted ̶̶ but only to herself ̶̶ that his instincts were usually right. However, you’d have to rip off one of her arms and beat her with it to ever get her to admit this out loud.
True to her word, Eve curled up in her sleep-chair. She had just drifted off when she was tagged on her comm-link:
“Dispatch to Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Report to 2287 ˗˗ 1st Avenue. Officers and Emergency Personnel on scene. Female body found at same location of earlier NYSPD activity. Primary on aforementioned operation listed as Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.”
Eve acknowledged the transmission. She made sure that a similar message was sent to Peabody and then got ready to head back into the city.
Fourteen minutes of sleep was going to have to do.
If Eve was honest with herself, she would admit she was simply happier because she had received a call from Roarke.
Even after two years together, much of it as husband and wife, it was still hard for Eve to reconcile how much of a presence Roarke had in her life. She’d been New York’s top cop before Roarke but, somehow, after him she was even better.
Roarke was off-planet on business. If she was better at the “wife thing,” she’d know where he was or which planet he was trying to add to his business empire. Roarke would tell her these details if she remembered to ask but he was always focused on caring for Eve. A woman who managed only the basic of human needs when involved with a case. He knew that, without him, she would likely work until she literally collapsed.
As was his way, when he called, Roarke got Eve to tell him about her latest case. She laid it all out for him.
The NYSPD needed to locate one Riel Stevens, a young entrepreneur who had only recently caught the attention of New York’s finest. Stevens ran an after-hours party network that he’d created solely to distribute illegal narcotics. He was a low-life who thought like a businessman which was why he dealt exclusively with the urban professional market. White collar customers with regular income were his bread and butter and to ensure that they kept coming back, he developed a party drug with the street name “Kick.”
One hit of Kick and the user was instantly high, higher than he or she had ever been. The additional appeal of the drug was that, after several hours, it was completely out of the user’s system. Almost as quickly as it had hit it. As a result, Stevens’ clientele could leave the club and go straight to work without the need for sleep or legal products like Sober-Up. Kick made sure they kept their jobs and the high made sure they came back for more.
As the success of his events increased, Stevens hosted more parties and his customers demanded he produce greater volumes of Kick. Because he needed to increase his supply quickly, he opted to cut a few corners. The end result was a batch of Kick that was essentially poison and when ingested caused a quick and painful demise. Unfortunately it was impossible to distinguish one batch of the drug from another. The only tell-tale difference being whether the user left the party of their own free will or in a body bag.
It was either due to the addictive nature of the drug or to a curious trait of human nature, but Stevens’ clients were convinced that they could cheat death. Consequently, the drug was still popular regardless of the lives lost due to the tainted product ─ which, oddly enough, acquired its own street name: the “Death Kick.”
Several weeks earlier, the Drug Squad had received their first reliable tip on Stevens. They’d managed to contact him to set up a drug buy. The deal between Stevens and the undercover officer had been almost complete when disaster struck: Jenkins, a rookie cop, wandered on to the scene and decided to call out to the cop who he recognized from his house.
And Stevens bolted.
While on the run from the Drug Squad, Stevens happened upon the William H. Gates Academy for the Gifted, a learning institution for primary-aged children destined to be future captains of industry and leaders of state.
Stevens broke into a janitor’s locker and helped himself to a change of clothing. He knew he wasn’t safe as long as he had a bag of Kick on his person. So he looked for a safe place to stash it. The academy pantry appealed to him since the little packages of Kick with which his bag was filled looked an awful lot like ketchup packets. Stevens took a moment to applaud his cunning. Then he tucked the bag onto the shelf and strolled out of the building with the rest of the employees.
Unfortunately, Kick resembled ketchup so much that it was set out the following morning in the main Dining Hall. The children who avoided ketchup were spared. Also lucky were those who selected actual ketchup from the sea of nearly identical white packets. But some children were unlucky and added a packet or two of Kick to their scrambled eggs or poured the drug over their breakfast potatoes. Their little bodies were ill-prepared for the adult dose of the drug and they fell quite ill and lapsed into comas.
And then there were the even less lucky children who innocently covered their morning fare with Death Kick. These unfortunates were the ones who fell where they sat. Their deaths were both instant and extremely violent.
Eve described for Roarke the events from earlier that day in the alley and told him about her failure to apprehend Stevens. When she mentioned the lone mixed-race female present in the apartment she realized that she still needed to have a face-to-face with the woman.
Stevens routinely shacked up with some “piece” or the other. They were usually only arm-candy and rarely knew any details of his whereabouts, but this was the only lead Eve had. And she intended to give it a tug.
At the end of their call, Roarke convinced Eve that she had done all she could for the day and made her promise to shut it down for the night.
Hanging up, Eve had to shake her head. Roarke was the only person who could ever get her to stop and rest. She admitted ̶̶ but only to herself ̶̶ that his instincts were usually right. However, you’d have to rip off one of her arms and beat her with it to ever get her to admit this out loud.
True to her word, Eve curled up in her sleep-chair. She had just drifted off when she was tagged on her comm-link:
“Dispatch to Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Report to 2287 ˗˗ 1st Avenue. Officers and Emergency Personnel on scene. Female body found at same location of earlier NYSPD activity. Primary on aforementioned operation listed as Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.”
Eve acknowledged the transmission. She made sure that a similar message was sent to Peabody and then got ready to head back into the city.
Fourteen minutes of sleep was going to have to do.
