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Policemen didn’t like the Zone because we were peculiar and our troubles seldom fell under normal laws. So I prettified the situation in terms they understood.

“What have you got inside that they’d go to this much trouble for?” one uniform sensibly asked, handcuffing my black-and-blue-balled victim.

I pulled the fake evacuation orders out of Scaredy-Cat’s pocket and handed them over as evidence. “Green gas,” I said with a straight face. “Evidence of chemical warfare and valuable only to Acme.”

“Neighborhood dispute?” the cop translated wryly.

“You can call it that. We may not have evidence on the warehouse break-in, but we have witnesses who saw them attempt to enter our houses under false pretenses. Waspman pulled a gun. You’ll find it in the yews. Just let me know what you need and I’ll comply,” I said with good cheer, hiding my fury. If I didn’t have to work regular hours anymore, I could spend as much time as I liked testifying against bad guys.

This realization was a totally major development and walloped me upside the head.

By offering to take me on as partner, Julius was doing me a favor so large I couldn’t comprehend the immensity. Without Judge Snootypants breathing down my collar, I had time to pursue justice legally, without interference from anyone, a hitherto unknown freedom. I wanted to pop champagne and dance, but I’d have to save it until I had Acme where I wanted them.

I wasn’t pretending my new job would be easy. The walls I had to climb next were perpendicular and towered way out of my sight. But I stupidly preferred challenges to pouring coffee for twerps.

Andre stalked up the stairs to shut me up, apparently not liking the determination in my eyes. He wasn’t fond of the law interfering in his territory, but that gun had been in my back, and I wasn’t his territory. I glared back at him.

“Let’s have those pancakes, Clancy,” he said menacingly. “The men in blue can handle your prisoners, if you’ll call off your wasps.”

I appreciated that he understood who was in control here. “Anyone have a hose?” I called helpfully. “Just squirt them down.”

I was still furious, but I hoped I had it under wraps. No one came after me with a gun or threatened my friends without consequence.

21

“If I open an office in your building, will I be placing Pearl and the others in jeopardy?” I demanded as soon as Andre and I hit my apartment. “I don’t want them waking up to any more mornings like this.”

“They woke up to green gas from Acme the other day,” he said grumpily. “The ground is threatening to crack open and swallow us. They know this isn’t a safe neighborhood. At least they’re not dealing with gang shoot-outs and druggies on the corner.”

I wasn’t mollified. If I was to be a free agent, I didn’t have to toe anyone’s lines but my own. I had Acme in my sights. I had no idea if the gas cloud had been intentional, but I hated that they were experimenting with dangerous chemical weapons that had reached families up the hill as well as the trolls who hung around the Zone. Bill and Sarah had made their own choices, but kids didn’t have that opportunity.

I didn’t tell Andre that. He had a murder charge hanging over his head. That had to be his priority. He was peculiarly pale after his encounter with prison bars, but at least he was alive and not a zombie. I tried not to give him ideas by showing my relief.

“I have to go in and tender my resignation,” I told him, distracting him from the morning’s exercise. “I need to stay on the judge’s good side if I’m to ask for any cooperation over at the courthouse. How soon can we have an office up and running here?”

He shrugged. “No difficulty. The warehouse needs to be torn down, but if we’re careful removing them, the contents are still mostly available. I can salvage tables and bookshelves. I’ll call Boris to set up computers. You just have to order whatever online services you need. Do you have a credit card?”

“You’re kidding, right?” I mixed pancake batter and nuked frozen blueberries. “You know how much you didn’t pay me. Hard to get a credit card without a W-2.”

“Well, apply for one now while you still have a real job,” he said snidely. “You won’t qualify once you’re self-employed. In the meantime, I’ll give you mine. We’ll have space cleaned out by the time you return.”

Andre filled my tiny kitchen with his presence and his restlessness. I was still running on adrenaline. Pancakes were the last thing on my mind, but they gave my hands something more useful to do than running themselves through Andre’s blue-black hair and seeking release for overstimulation.

I poured half a dozen pancakes on the old griddle on the stove and handed Andre a spatula. “Flip them when they bubble. I have to dress for work.”

Rather than deal with the hyper sex drive between us, I left him to make his own blasted pancakes. By the time I returned to the kitchen, Schwartz had joined him, and Andre just about had pancake flipping under control. Leo was Norwegian big, and blond. Andre was Mediterranean dark, and sleek. Choices, so many lovely choices. I couldn’t afford to take either of them.

“You two look good together,” I said, grabbing a pancake off the top of a stack. “Have a nice life. I’m heading into town.”

They were probably glaring daggers at my back as I dashed out, but Milo purred a happy farewell.

Instead of pouring coffee when I reached the judge’s office, I prepared probate papers to file at the courthouse on Paddy’s behalf. Reggie stayed out of my way. Once the judge finally put in an appearance, I cornered him in his lair and pleaded my case. I was determined not to be a loose-cannon superhero. I wanted the law solidly on my side.

When he learned Julius was taking me on as a junior, Snodgrass actually managed a smile. “I didn’t know Montoya was still alive! What’s he been doing? Have him give me a call, will you? We can catch up on old times. How is that lovely wife of his?”

Now I could see why Julius hated making phone calls and talking to his old friends. It had to be painful to keep saying his wife was in a coma—and, ultimately, impossible to explain. The Zone had completely claimed him, even if he hadn’t been otherwise affected by the chemicals.

“She’s stable,” I said noncommittally. “Opening an office near his home is the only reason he’s agreeing to this. I’ll have a commute to the courthouse, but I can do that more easily than he can. Padraig Vanderventer wants me to file the probate papers while I’m over here. I’m doing it on your time, so you can invoice him. If there’s any problem, can you follow up?”

I knew how to play nice. I puffed his ego, said all the right things, and took care of business. I was no longer a twenty-year-old hothead egging the provost’s office. Admittedly, I’d sent my boyfriend to hell in a fit of fury, but I’d learned from the experience and brought him back—sort of. I hoped I was mature enough to take on this next step.

After we wrangled an emergency approval, probate was mostly paperwork, collecting a million copies of Gloria’s death certificate and filing them hither and yon. I was already hoping I could earn enough money to pay for a clerk. I’d developed a taste for action, and paperwork and errand-running no longer rang my chimes.

I writhed with my need to bring Acme down and rescue poor Bill and hunt for the missing cloud can. Maybe once Paddy was set free at the plant, he could stop whatever was shaking the ground and discover what was wrong with the pink particles. That was pushing my luck, I knew. But if he could just find the bad guys . . . maybe I could wish for the victims to be cured while I sent the bastards to hell. I still had a lot to learn about this Saturn business.