Blood Lines

for the official explanation. I can't wait.
    Cops who take advantage of their position to molest little kids don't go down very well with my people, or the inmates either for that matter. The officers seemed to think it would be better if no one else knew what you'd done."
    I haven't done anything!
    'Now they had no idea what drug you'd taken and I can't wait for it to wear off-if it's going to wear off-so we'll just enter your information off the warrant."
    Okay. Don't panic. My name goes into the system, someone'll recognize it.
    'Terri Hanover…"
    Oh, God.
    '… age, thirty-two… five-foot ten… one hundred and forty-seven pounds…" He clicked his tongue. "Shaved a few pounds off there, did we?"
    It's me, but it's not my name . Detectives were issued fake ID all the time and her specs were probably still on file.
    What the hell is going on ?
    The sound of his fingers against the keyboard began to sound like nails pounding into a cage being built around her.
    She couldn't just sit there and let it happen.
    "I am not who they say I am!"
    Except her mouth refused to form the words. Nothing came out except guttural noises and a trickle of saliva that ran off her chin to drip slowly into the hollow of her collarbone.
    'Now then," he set the keyboard to one side and reached for the phone, "let's see what headquarters has to say."
    'The Solicitor General's office. One moment please, he's expecting your call."
    The phone on Zottie's desk buzzed but the Solicitor General just stared at it, a puzzled smile on his face.

    'Pick it up," Tawfik commanded softly. The man would not last much longer. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to.
    'Zottie here. Ah, yes, Sergeant Baldwin. Well, actually, it's not me you should be talking to. Hold on…" He passed the receiver to Tawfik, then lapsed back into semi-awareness as Tawfik began to speak.
    The Solicitor General? Oh, God, then that means…
    After his initial enthusiastic greeting, the Duty Sergeant said little. Finally, even the monosyllables faded into a blank stare.
    This time the panic came with words.
    The mummy put me here. Not Mallard and Gowan. The mummy. Christ. I should have remembered Cantree is under its control. But why? How? It doesn't know about me. Henry. Henry talked to it. Did Henry betray me? Without meaning to? Meaning to? Henry? Or Mike. It found out about Celluci. He was there. At the museum. It got Celluci.
    Took what it needed to know. I'm just another loose end. Mike? Are you dead? Are you dead? Are you dead?
    She couldn't breathe. It hurt to breathe. She couldn't remember how to breathe.
    The… mummy… has… to… be… stopped . And if Mike Celluci was dead? His death must be avenged. A… venged . She breathed in the first syllable and breathed out the second. A… venged. A… venged. Avenged .
    'I understand."
    Understand what?
    'It will be done."
    Eyes wide, unable to look away, Vicki watched him hang up the phone, pick up the warrant, her warrant, and walk over to the shredder.
    NO!
    She'd been entered into the system and as far as the system was concerned she now belonged here until they pulled her for a court appearance. Court appearances were booked by warrant. Without a warrant, she would rot here forever.
    I could jump the sergeant. Hold him hostage. Call the newspapers! Call… call someone. I can't just disappear ! But her body still refused to obey. She felt muscles tense, and then go slack, and then she began to tremble, unable to stop it or control it.
    Sergeant Baldwin looked down at the shredder, frowned, and brushed one hand over the gray fringe of his hair.
    "Dickson!"
    'Sarge?" The guard who had lifted Vicki to her feet back in the holding cell, opened the door and stuck her head into the office.
    'I want you to search Ms. Hanover and then take her down to Special Needs."
    'To the nut bars?" Dickson's brows rose. "You sure she shouldn't go to the hospital? She doesn't look so good."
    The Sergeant snorted. "Neither did the kid when she got through seeing to him."
    'Right."
    Vicki heard the guard's voice pick up an edge; skinbeefs against children were universally despised. Strong fingers closed around her upper arm and heaved her up and out of the chair. Shoved toward the door, she struggled to remember how to walk.
    'Oh, and Dickson? I want it to be a thorough search."

'Aw, come on, Sarge!" The guard's grip loosened a little as she turned to protest the order. "I had to do the last one."
    'And you get to do this one, too.