Dead Ringers; Chapter 17

Miles's eyes make a careful sweep of the room, stopping on the nurse that currently hovers over Elliot, checking on him. I glance towards the door. The door is shut, but I know that two Night Division officers stand at attention outside the door. When I look back at Miles, he's studying Elliot's chart. It's my turn to watch the nurse as she walks towards the door. The two officers look at her, before looking back to the hall.

Sighing, I look back to Miles. "Was two necessary?"

Miles carefully hooks the chart back on the end of Elliot's cot. "I hate hospitals."

He had left the gala early, yet he was still wearing the dress shirt. The coat and tie were gone, but it seemed like he had just gotten home when he had gotten my call. Or maybe he had just gone straight to bed. "That's not an answer."

"Yes," he answers my question, looking to the door. "My chief insisted. I've learned not to argue with her." His eyes come to rest on me. "About your other friend, the M.E.-"

"He wouldn't have betrayed us," I snap.

Miles just stares at me for a second, blinking a couple of times. "I was going to ask if you wanted me to get him transferred into Night Division's custody tonight."

"Oh. . . Sorry. No, thank you, but no. Everyone at the station likes Jeb. He'll be fine for the night."

Miles nods. "Right. I will meet you at Day Division in the morning then." He stops with one hand on the door handle, peering over his shoulder at me. "You do have a ride home, right?"

I nod. "Laci. The woman you shooed out so we could talk," I clarify at his puzzled expression.

He nods, opening the door. I take one last glance at Elliot before I follow him out.

xXxXx

I pause on the stairs as the black mustang finally pulls into the parking lot and wait until Miles is on the step below me before I begin walking again. "I thought you would get here before me," I say.

Miles easily steps around me, opening the door for me. "To think I gave up getting here before you because I was considering stopping to get us coffee."

"Aw, how sweet!" I wave to the officer at the desk as I head towards the work stations. "Shame it wouldn't have changed my greeting; I don't drink coffee."

"Really?" He nudges the coffee cup sitting on my desk.

I roll my eyes. "Elliot likes to use me as a way to get extra coffee without judgment." I pause, eyes drifting to Elliot's empty chair.

I look over when I feel the hand on my arm. Miles gives me a gentle, reassuring smile. "He'll be fine."

I nod. "Let's get Jeb back to work."

xXxXx

Jeb looks up as we walk into the interrogation room. He looks disheveled. "You've looked better," I say, sliding into one of the chairs across from him, dropping the file on the table.

Jeb smiles, closing his eyes for a second. "Can't say I have much practice sleeping in holding cells."

I grimace. "Sorry."

He nods. "How's Elliot?"

"Stable."

He nods again, "Good. Good." I can see the regret in his eyes. He blames himself.

I reach out, resting a hand on his. "It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have trusted the officer to grab the papers. I should have grabbed them myself."

"You would have wound up in the hospital as well," Miles says from behind me.

Jeb pulls his hand out from under mine, running it through his hair. "Still. The bodies were my responsibility until the driver from Night Division could sign off on the papers. I should have sent the officer back in for them."

Miles finally sits down next to me. "What officer was supposed to grab the papers?"

"Uh," Jeb blinks, eye flicking about the room. He mouths names, shaking his head. The longer it goes on the more concerned he gets.

"Jeb?" His eyes flick to me at the sound of his name.

He shakes his head. "I can't remember."

"Someone's watching." It's little more than a whisper.

I look at Miles, blinking in surprise. "What?"

He looks at me equally surprised. "What?"

"You just said-"

"I didn't say anything."

I shake my head, looking back to Jeb.

"Don't speak or move," Miles whispers. "Are you sure?" He asks at normal volume. As Jeb nods Miles whispers, "We're being watched through the glass."

I force myself not to look at the one-way mirror. By whom was the main question. Causally, I lean back in my chair, fanning myself with my hand as if the temperature in the room was becoming unagreeable. The fan was near the door. If I can get to it, maybe I could get the drop on whoever was watching. "We have a list of all the officers that were working on the transfer. If you looked at it, do you think you could remember?"

Jeb shrugs. "Maybe."

Miles moves, opening the file to remove the list. He spins the list so it faces Jeb. "Are all the rooms this warm?" He asks me, following my lead.

I shake my head. "The AC must be out. It's scheduled for repairs. I'm going to turn the fan on. Is that okay with you, Jeb?"

Jeb nods. "Of course."

I stand causally, my self-fanning slowing as I near the fan, conveniently hooked to the wall next to the door. A terrible design that was about to work to my advantage. The only problem was the power switch was on the side that would put me in view of the one-way mirror. Thankfully, another design flaw had the plug under the fan, out of the view of the mirror.

I pretend to flick the switch, keeping my hand in the way of its view. I sigh. "Who unplugged you?" I ask seemingly no one, ducking down, out of view. Whoever was watching would think I was just kneeling to plug in the fan. Their focus would be on Miles and Jeb, not the door handle my hand was quickly turning.

I'm pushing up onto my feet as I push myself forward, out of the opening door. Thankfully, the terrible excuse I have on the tip of my tongue isn't needed. An officer I don't recognize blinks at me in shock and surprise.

Rock, paper, scissors, rank. I stand to my full height, stepping closer to them, glancing at their name tag. "Officer Kelly, what are you doing back here?"

I hear a scream echo from down the hall. A scream of shock and alarm. The officer looks over my shoulder towards the scream- towards the records room. I look over my shoulder to see the keeper of the records room following it. She stumbles when she sees me. "Officer Peter Kelly is dead!"

My attention snaps back to the officer. I can read the curse in their eyes as mine dart to their name tag for verification then back to theirs. "You're not Peter Kelly."

I don't even get the chance to reach for my gun. The impersonator moves, slamming me back against the one-way mirror then taking me with them as they spin. I'm shoved down the hall, towards the keeper of the records room, stumbling and disoriented, head now spinning for two reasons.

I can feel hands on my arms, stabilizing me. Miles waves a hand in front of my face. I smack his hand away. He glares at me. "You hit your head hard enough to crack the glass. I'm making sure you don't have a concussion." I can feel his fingers skimming along the back of my skull.

I pull away from him, returning his glare. "I'm fine. My head is harder than the glass."

"But not stronger," he holds up his hand. A deep red tints his fingertips.

I reach up, touching the back of my head. The dull pain is setting in as my fingers land on the tender area. I glance at the blood on my fingertips as I look up at the glass. There's a small area of spiderwebbing from my impact.

I look down the hall. "He's gone."

"Who?"

"Well, he wasn't Peter Kelly." I push away from Miles, walking to the now hysteric records room keeper who's crying on the floor. "Get Jeb. I think it's safe to say he had nothing to do with what happened and I want him to look at Peter Kelly's body."

xXxXx

I sit at my desk, holding the ice pack to my head. I look towards the hallway. If Miles didn't make an appearance soon, I was going back there myself.

"I was hoping for ibuprofen, but all I could find was Tylenol," Laci says, setting a glass of water on my desk so she can open the container.

I glare at her. "I don't need either."

Laci fixes me with a look. I can tell she's debating how to start her lecture.

"You'll take them and that's an order," Chief O'Brien says, stopping at my desk. I look at him in shock as Laci smiles. "I already have one injured detective in the hospital. Don't think I won't make that two for the duration of a check-up."

Huffing, I set down the ice pack so I can take the pills from Laci and pick up the glass. I was going to murder Miles when he got back. "How many times do I have to tell you all that I'm fine?"

I wince as someone pokes the still sensitive wound on the back of my head. "Say it all you want," Miles says, stopping next to me, "That doesn't mean I believe you." He nods to chief O'Brien, "Chief."

"Well?" He prods.

"Masters says that by his estimation, Kelly hasn't been dead for a day. Record room keeper left before the transfer. Kelly was on the list for helping with the transfer. I think it's safe to say that somehow our imposter got into the station, killed Kelly, and took his place."

"Why come back though?" Laci asks.

Miles just shrugs in response as the chief O'Brien nods, "Continue your investigation. I'm going to look into how the imposter got in here in the first place. I'll let you know what I find out." He turns to leave, "Laci, you're with me."

"Yes sir," she calls before pinning me with a dark look. "Get hurt again and I'll put you in the hospital." Her look shifts to Miles, "Keep her out of trouble or you'll wind up in a casket." Flashing a smile, she turns and follows chief O'Brien.

"Is she always so charming?" Miles asks, sliding into Elliot's chair.

I shrug, "You stop noticing after a while. Well?"

Miles glances about. "I spoke with Jeb while we were waiting; the only thing he remembers about the officer he told to grab the papers was telling them to grab the papers."

"Was it Kelly's imposter?"

"Most likely, but I think I know who our friend is- or rather, what he is."

"Really? What?"

"Outside of what the imposter did, do you remember anything about him? Height, build, hair, eyes?"

I think back to my encounter with the imposter. I remember him there. I remember him throwing me into the glass and down the hall. I can't remember any specifics about him though. I shake my head.

Miles nods. "Just as I thought. Our imposter is a shadow."

"Come again?"

"Shadows are basically the best spy you could ask for. People who encounter them can't remember anything about them. They essentially have no face, no name. You can't pin them to anything or anyone."

"So, we can't find him. Ever."

"Unless he made the mistake of being caught on camera," Miles spreads his hands wide, shrugging, "Not likely."