A Small Degree of Hope. Lyndi Alexander

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      But he hadn’t.

      “Ready for video interrogation?” the tall guard asked.

      Jaco glanced at Kylie, who nodded. Jeff vacated his chair and adjusted the screen in front of him, so she could see and be seen. “Go, ma’am.”

      She thanked him and settled into the chair, noting the thick pad on the seat. Only the best for these cushy jobs. The thought left her smiling as the two-way PIP video came onto the screen. The primary shot was of Griff in his cell. In the upper corner was a small window, reflecting what Griff saw of her. As she prepared to address him, her throat closed and she cleared it.

      “Griff? I’m Kylie Sanderson of the SIRT team. I’m required to inform you this is an official interrogation. It will be recorded and what you say may be used in an eventual trial, if charges are filed. You are entitled to a representative to be with you during questioning, if you choose. If you deny a representative at this time, you are entitled to ask for one at any time in the future process. Do you understand what I’ve said to you?”

      Griff’s expression was harder to read in his reptile form. He didn’t respond right away.

      “Do you understand?” she repeated.

      Finally, he blinked at the monitor. “I just want to talk to you.”

      Not the standard answer. She hesitated, very much aware of Jaco’s critical observation. “Does that mean you want to proceed?”

      “I don’t mean you harm,” he said. “I want to help.”

      Definitely not a match with the legals she was expected to exchange with a suspect. Kylie debated repeating herself, but doubted it’d have much effect. She picked through what he said and settled on the statement he wanted to talk to her.

      “I’m taking that as a ‘yes.’ That’s a good thing, Griff. We want your help. You said you knew where some women are being held in a warehouse. We’d like to get them home to their families. Can you help us with that?”

      He retreated a step then paced the confines of his cell. He went around a second time, one hand trailing along the crete bricks. He stopped with his back to the monitor. “I want to talk to you.”

      She picked up a paper clip from the table, idly worrying it with her fingers as she considered her course. “You are talking to me, Griff. At the Cendiary building, like I told you we would.”

      “You hurt me.”

      “You came to my home unannounced, Griff. You broke in. That’s not all right.” A bit of apprehension and shock passed through her in flashback form. She suppressed it at a noisy fidget from Jaco, who leaned on the wall behind her. Time to get this moving. “You were in human form then, weren’t you? Tell me how that happens. Is this your true form?”

      He paced the perimeter once more.

      How could she cajole him into revealing the truth? She’d had good cop/bad cop training. She’d hardly need to raise a finger to get Jaco in on that bad cop deal. It was one of his favorite roles.

      But it didn’t feel right.

      “Griff?” She waited until he stopped his circuit. “Do you need medical attention? Something to eat or drink? What can we get you?”

      He leaned on the wall on the right of the picture. “They’re going to die.”

      “We don’t want that to happen, Griff. You can help us.”

      “I want to talk to you.”

      “Then talk. I’m right here.”

      “No. Talk to you.” He whirled, almost faster than her eyes could follow. Taking the thin mattress off the narrow bunk, he ripped it in half. Claws flashed out of his fingertips amid the shredded bits of cheap stuffing that showered the room. As the detritus settled, he glared at the monitor. “Talk to you like equal being. Face to face. I tried. You won’t let me! Now one is probably lost, maybe more because you are too inflexible to listen.”

      Everyone held their breath, frozen at the demonstration of Griff’s swiftness and power. She made herself breathe as she gathered her thoughts. Those claws. An inch long at least. He wanted her to go in there with him.

      Her nerves tingled. “You keep saying women are going to die. But you won’t tell us where they are. You won’t help, like you say you want to. This shows me you don’t really mean what you say. You’re going to let those women die. You’ll be an accessory, Griff. You’ll go to prison.”

      He turned away. “Then you are, too. Because you won’t listen.”

      By Sprechan’s damned shoes, he was stubborn. “I’m listening, Griff. Where is the warehouse?”

      “It is not so easy.”

      “Sure it is. You tell me the warehouse location. My team will go find this X character and the women, and we’ll all take the rest of the day off.” She meant it facetiously, and she hoped it came across that way. “The point is you’re the one holding us up.”

      “You’ll die. You don’t understand.”

      “Then explain it to me.”

      He faced the monitor and raised his hands to her. “Stealth is required. X does not hesitate to kill. I can take you. But it is too dangerous to send you without the proper precautions. I would be an ‘accessory’ to your death as well. Would I be locked up for that?”

      Jaco slammed a fist on the desk, cutting off her half-formed response. “Screw this. I’m not playing games with this piece of luggage any more. We’re going back to our own investigation. Maybe after he sits there for a few days he’ll change his mind. Come on, Sanderson.”

      She wasn’t finished. But he was right, they didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Jaco was already out the door. She cleared her throat and looked Griff in his virtual eye. “If you change your mind, you let them know. They’ll call me.”

      She followed Jaco out. Muttering, her boss took the stairs two at a time. She hurried to catch up. He hit the door on their floor already bellowing orders.

      “All right, circle round, people! We’ve got some street time coming.” He grabbed the nearest computer and activated it, calling up a map of the subdivision. The area consisted of approximately two hundred square kilometers, the majority of the population in the city, but plenty of rural areas surrounding it. Kylie hadn’t been through more than a few of the grid areas in Muraco, only the ones where the bodies had been found.

      Jaco projected what was on his screen up onto the portascreen in the front of the room. “There’s approximately twenty-five grids in the city, if we carve it into natural blocks.”

      His fingers flew over the keyboard, yellow lines appearing over the subdivisions’ gridded area. “We’ll walk it. Loring, you’ve got one and two. Qilamen, three and four. Peterson, five and six—”

      “But boss, what about the alien research?” Pax protested.

      He stared the younger man down. “You mean you’re not done with that?”

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