Page 18 of Defended By Love

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I continue. “But that’s protocol for when radiation is either confirmed or suspected.”

The cop turns away from me, but I step in front of him. Suddenly, I have a wide berth from the reporters who have all backed up and are watching intently to see how this plays out.

When the cop realizes he can’t shake me, he bends down slightly to look me in the eye.

“I’m not confirming shit.”

I smile. “But you already have. If you initially set up here in the middle of the night, that means that you went directly into radioactive protocol. At a site like this, there’d be no reason to assume radiation, unless you tested for it right away. You got tipped off, didn’t you? Someone called it in that all this”—I gesture to the swarming suits and radiation technology at the site—“so that you could come prepared.”

I feel a little bad for the cop. There are very few people who know environmental policy and procedure as well as I do. Buddy just showed up to a multiple-choice test with a pen, while I’m over here wielding my #2 pencil.

The cop swallows, a vein pulsing at his forehead.

“No comment,” he repeats. “Now get out of here before I decide to do something about the fact that you’ve just entered a restricted area without authorization.”

He takes his foot and nudges (forcefully nudges) the tip of my toe to the other side of the barricade. I guess at some point I moseyed a little too close. Technically, my toes are in violation, so he could pursue this.

Dr. Debbie would argue against being so anal about rules. It’s rude. Honestly, if everyone read the book like I did, the world would be a much smoother place.

In any case, I walk away, sensing this is the end of any fruitful interrogation. Besides, I have enough to go on.

Whatever happened here, wasn’t an accident.

Somebody destroyed this building, but, between the fumigation and protocols, they wanted to make sure no one got hurt.

It would take someone immensely rich and powerful to orchestrate all that.

Chapter 9

Next on my list is to find out a little bit more about Grant. Just the usual stuff: Why was he mysteriously flying around my building before it collapsed? Where did he get his powers and what implications does that have for our world? Does he want a buffet or pre-ordered individual plates at our wedding? (Providing, I don’t send him to jail for whatever nefarious crimes he may or may not be committing.)

The last one’s a joke. There’s no way I’d have a buffet. Too much can be left to chance with a buffet. No, if I were to ever get married, I would have every single detail tacked down. I would probably lose my sanity, but my wedding would be beautiful.

Now, I consider myself to be somewhat of a shark at tracking people down. A lot of people think that lawyers just get handed a folder with the names and addresses of people who are happy to cooperate with your case. That’s not the case.

Especially with environmental law.

As a non-government, for-profit firm, we have to pick up hints of wrongdoings and build a case out of them—one that leaves both our wallets and the world a better place. Not an easy balance.

Building the witness list and interviewing people is by far the hardest part about my job. I have to find whistleblowers whose existence have been scrubbed out by the company. I have to find workers who seem inclined to turncoat. Barring actual leads, I have to find people who could have been at the right place at the right time or who might have seen something they didn’t realize was important.

I’m not the most naturally talented, but I am the most tenacious. I’ve been described as desperately dogged by my superiors.

I framed that performance review.

However, even I’m striking out on tracking down Grant, i.e. the Garnet Defender, i.e. the Crimson Streak.

I’ve creeped over a hundred Grants in my area on social media and came up with nothing. Well, besides a lot of older gentlemen. While it was dark last night, I don’t think it was dark enough that I could have made that mistake.

I also searched every imaginable post that pertained to the Garnet Defender. The posts only go back about a month, and none of them are any good. Every post seems to be about the same: a blurry picture of him saving someone or something. Honestly, the pictures are all so bad, I can’t even be sure it’s him in the pictures.

It could be anyone doing the saving in those pictures.

It’s a dead end.

Unfortunately, being unable to find him online leaves only one option: the real world. I might be a little socially gauche—I confess I do ask for detailed five-year plans on first dates—even I know that showing up at your one-night stand’s place the next day is all kinds of crazy.

I like Grant. I like him so much, I’d be willing to waive my policy of hearing five-year plans and settle for hearing about what he wants to do up until next Tuesday, but this is bigger. My intuition, coupled with basic deductive skills, tells me that something is going on. The fumigation, the building collapsing, and my timely rescue are all connected. The timing is just too convenient. I have to start tugging at any string I can if I want the mystery to unravel.

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