Lily stood there and breathed and couldn’t make her phone ring no matter how hard she tried, so she did what she was supposed to do and called Ruben. She had the authority to put out the alert herself, but Ruben needed to know about it.
“I should have done that when I alerted the local police,” Ruben said as soon as she told him. “Any additional cases will probably be seen by the hospitals, not the PD. I’m relying too much on hunches, not enough on logic. I’ll take care of it from here.”
“You have any other logic or hunches to share?”
“I do. This is both. Karonski will be there at noon tomorrow to assume the lead, as I said. I’ve decided to place you in charge of the Shadow Unit’s operations regarding this situation.”
For a moment she had no idea what to say. Finally she managed, “You must be very confident that this line isn’t being monitored.” Normally Ruben didn’t refer even indirectly to the Shadow Unit over the phone. Normally the dragons handled most of the Shadow Unit’s communications. They weren’t part of the Shadow Unit—dragons weren’t exactly joiners—but they were allies, and mindspeech was perfect for a clandestine organization, being as untraceable and undetectable as it was uncanny.
Things were not normal, were they?
“Mika contacted me about what Sam plans to do to help your mother. While that is in process, Sam won’t be able to handle communications for us, so I took certain measures. These measures are temporary and cannot be used often. This is our only chance to talk freely until Sam is able to handle Shadow communications again.”
What measures? She didn’t ask, much as she wanted to. Ruben would have told her if it was okay for her to know. “All right, but why me? If Karonski’s in charge of the Bureau’s investigation, shouldn’t he be in charge of both? Or Rule could handle the Shadow end.” He was second-in– command and knew a lot more about Shadow stuff than she did.
“You and he will function as a team, no doubt, but I want you in charge. That’s both hunch and logic. I think the Shadow Unit will be needed, but in parallel to the official investigation rather than in support of it. Both investigations will share the goal of finding the person or persons responsible, but the official investigation will of necessity focus on acquiring evidence to prosecute and convict. Your goal will be to stop the perpetrator, period. If that can be done through official means, good. My hunch—a strong hunch—is that it cannot.”
“I’m not an executioner or assassin.” Unlike Rule. He considered assassination a valid and moral tactic in war. Lily understood his reasoning intellectually, but the idea made her insides roil. “I know this is a war, but I . . .” Could kill whoever had done this to her mother. Wanted to kill them. The realization jolted her, then, oddly, steadied her. “There’s a conflict of interest for me. Even more so than with the official investigation.”
“There are others who can kill should it prove necessary, and I can make that call if you can’t. But killing isn’t the only solution the Shadow Unit can provide that our legal system cannot, just the most obvious. That’s why I want you in charge of that end, Lily. Not in spite of what you call a conflict of interest, but because of it. Your awareness of that conflict, and your visceral distrust for such unilateral action, will make you work hard to find the less obvious solutions, if they exist.”
Again she didn’t know what to say. “Thank you” didn’t fit. “Damn you” did, but was a little too revealing.
When Lily had first learned of the existence of the Shadow Unit the previous September, she’d been appalled. For law enforcement officers to be part of an organization whose very purpose was to operate outside the law violated everything she stood for. Grudgingly, she’d come to accept the need. The law simply didn’t cover the sort of attacks the Great Enemy could wield and the wider world didn’t even know there was a war going on, so the law was not going to be changed to apply to wartime conditions. She’d still wanted no part of it, personally. The Shadow Unit had to operate in secret. Secrecy eliminated accountability, and without that, abuse was all but guaranteed.
But Ruben had been right. She should have known he would be. Lily’s boss was a precog, with the most uncannily accurate precognitive Gift on record. That Gift usually manifested as hunches, but for a time he’d had actual visions of the various ways the country was going to be destroyed if the Shadow Unit didn’t exist . . . and if Lily didn’t take her place within that Unit. In the end, she had.
If Ruben had a strong hunch the law would be unable to deal with this threat, he was right. She hated it, but he was right. “All right. I’m still lead on the Bureau’s end of things for now, though, so I need to go deal with that.”
“Of course. Abel is aware of your role in the Shadow investigation. He won’t mention it unless you do, but he’s aware. I haven’t spoken to Rule about it yet. I leave that to you.”
“Okay.” Her stomach hurt.
“I’ll see that hospitals in your area are alerted.” He disconnected.
Lily lifted the cup still in her hand and sipped. And grimaced. She could drink coffee burned and bitter, but cold . . . no. She went to the small sink and poured it out, still holding her phone in the other hand. She had calls to make.
Then she just stood there, her head down and her eyes burning.
“You all right, honey?”
Lily jumped and turned. A woman in blue scrubs stood just behind her, watching her with a gentle smile. Her name tag read ELOISHA MORROWS, RN. “I’m good,” she said automatically. The nurse must think she was an anxious and overwhelmed family member . . . which she was. Not of any of the patients here, however.
“Well, you just let me know if I can do anything.” The nurse put a hand on Lily’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’re not too busy right now. If you want to talk, you come get me, okay?”
Lily wasn’t up to explaining, so she thanked the woman, who nodded and left. Thank God. Lily poured more hot sludge into her cup and hunted up Aunt Mequi’s mobile number in her contacts list. Mequi and her mother were close, so she was an obvious choice to ask about Ronnie Winsome. If she’d never heard of him, Lily would have her ask the rest of the family, except for Lily’s father. Lily would talk to him herself.
First she checked her texts. No word from Rule.
She wanted to be at the other hospital, where her mother was. She wanted Rule’s touch. She wanted to be with her mother, who wasn’t really her mother right now, but a girl named Julia. She wanted . . .
She called her aunt.
Mequi didn’t know anyone named Winsome. While Lily was talking to her, she got a text. She got Mequi to agree to ask the others, disconnected, and read what Rule had sent: Edward delays to consult other doctors. Sam says no time. Implementing Grandmother’s plan, but I can’t talk to Julia yet. Your father is with her.
Lily heard a rushing in her ears. It was happening. They were circumventing her father. Rule would persuade Julia—he had to—and Julia would go to Sam’s lair.
Would her father forgive them? He’d feel so betrayed . . . but they had to do this. And now she had to call her father and ask him about Ronnie Winsome. Knowing she was acting behind his back, knowing . . . Do it, she told herself.
Edward Yu didn’t answer. Maybe he’d turned his phone off. He was with her mother, so that was possible. He wouldn’t want to be interrupted. He might worry that the sound of the phone would wake Julia.
Did she keep trying? Send someone from the family to get him? She could have another agent conduct that interview . . . and that was pure cowardice. If this had been a normal case, she’d send someone to him to ask him to either call her or turn on his phone so she could call him.