Booker held a clipboard, flipping through the pages. I couldn’t help but notice the way his brow furrowed, the lines between deepening. He wasn’t investigating right now; he was having… fun? It radiated from him, this perpetual ‘a-ha’ moment waiting to happen. I bet in his free time he read mystery novels and researched the best panic rooms. He didn’t do this job out of obligation; he enjoyed the problem solving.
His eyes darted up. “What?”
I shrugged. “Watching you do your thing.”
He grinned. I couldn’t tell how or why, but I suspected that grin was about to get me into trouble. “Found it.” He tore the page out and handed it to me. “All vials need to be logged and accounted for. It was right in front of their eyes.”
Holding up the sheet, I spotted the issue. The vials had been shipped from the office. The order had been approved by Dr. Cypher. Well, if that wasn’t a supervillain name, I didn’t know what was. “Mr. Marks isn’t the culprit. He’s just a horrible department head.”
“That’s a Ms. Keyes problem.”
“Do we call Ricardo?”
The grin only got bigger. “This is proof of poor management, not espionage. We’d need a little more evidence before we?—”
“Are you suggesting…”
The grin answered for him. “Thisis my favorite part of the job.”
I could call Ricardo and let him know about a potential mole in his company. That option meant not hanging out with Booker. He almost vibrated with glee, and it was hard to ignore his pull. I needed a night off from patrolling to let my chest heal. If we found evidence, it’d be a victory for Booker, and I’d be able to proudly tell Ricardo we did our job. A little mischief for so many wins?
“I’m in.”
My nose scrunched up. Did the rancid smell come from the stained carpet or the peeling wallpaper lining the hallway?I covered my mouth, afraid I might be breathing in nasty. It didn’t help. I could almost taste the nasty in the air.
“I’m going to gag,” I grumbled.
Booker didn’t seem to care. The entire car ride, he had this perpetual glee about him. I grinned like an idiot, caught up in his excitement to be out in the field. Who could blame him? I enjoyed my job and the protection it provided. The people I worked with were like a second family. However, given the option, I’d rather be on the streets doing myjob. It seemed we weren’t so different.
Standing in front of Cypher’s door, Booker jiggled the handle. “Was worth a shot.”
I could casually snap the apartment door off its hinges. It’d be impressive and might get a look of awe from him. Arthur would have my head for showing off my superhuman abilities to a “normie.”
“Oh, well,” I said. “I guess we should?—”
He reached into his jacket pocket and, a second later, pulled a lock pick from a small box of tools. Crouching down, he got to work. I was about to ask him if he did this often, but the door clicked and, with a turn, he opened it.
“They should really lock their doors.” The smile. He was enjoying this. It was like he transformed into another person when he got out of that interview room. It left me wondering which version was therealhim? “Guess we should see if everybody’s okay.”
I followed him inside, closing and locking the door behind me. “Break the law often?”
The apartment was empty except for a card table and a couple of folding chairs. Booker was already scanning and analyzing. While he tried to make sense of the empty apartment, I thanked every god for the break from that horrible smell.
“Seems pretty sparse,” he said, heading into the kitchen. “Even for a scientist.”
An overflowing ashtray sat on the table, but no signs that anybody had been there today. I went in the other direction toward the bedrooms. My fingers instinctively reached for the absent batons. This wasn’t adding up. Unless Ricardo didn’t pay his employees, we’d see signs of somebody living here. Even the bedrooms were empty.
I stopped at the bathroom. The seat was up, and no toilet paper. “Are you sure you got the right address?”
“I’m sure of it,” he shouted.
As I walked back to the living room, he stood at the fridge with the door open. On the middle shelf, a cheap cooler with duct tape holding it together. Booker opened the lid as I entered the kitchen. Before I could tell what it contained, the rush of victory hit like a hammer. He tipped it so I could see the vials inside.
“Woohoo!” I shouted.
“That’s one bad guy down,” he said. “Call Ricardo, and we’ll meet him at the office when we return the samples.”
The energy tingled along my skin, making the hair on my arms stand on end. I only felt this invigorated after a beat-down with a bad guy. I wanted to high-five— no, I wanted to give this man a hug. Ricardo would shake my hand and give an approving nod. This would put meonthe radar, not under it. Everybody would know I helped stop a future supervillain.
