Page 42 of Deadly Deception
Henson’s expression went lax before tightening with realization. “Fucking hell,” Henson cursed. “That’s not as big of a leap as I wish it were.”
“It’s really not,” Tompkins agreed before looking at me and asking, “Do you really think Navarre saw something?”
“I have no idea. He did talk to me a little earlier, but I got the distinct impression Navarre’s not convinced I’m real. More precisely, he’s not sure if I’m alive or if I’m one of the spirits haunting his existence. Even if he did see something, I think he’d have a difficult time knowing if it was truly happening to the living or… Hell, I don’t know. I don’t have enough information to try and get inside Navarre’s head.”
“Damn.” Henson stood and paced the small length behind his desk. “Normally I’d say the station would be the best place to keep him safe, but—”
“But we don’t know if you’ve got someone on the take,” Franklin cut in. “If you really do have a bad apple spoiling the barrel, then Navarre’s a sitting duck in that cell.”
Plopping back down in his seat, Henson propped his elbows on the edge of his desk and placed his forehead in his cupped palms. Five deep breaths and exhales later, he peeked above his fingers and stared up at Tompkins. “What do you think, Shane?”
Franklin’s former captain shrugged and splayed his hands out to the side. “I think this is a clusterfuck.”
Henson chuckled darkly. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m not sure I can. However, I think it might be in Navarre’s best interest if we got him out of the precinct.”
“Exactly where do you want to put him?” Henson asked. “We can’t exactly release him back onto the street. He’d be even more of a sitting duck out there, and on the off chance Navarre did see something when DeWayne Foster was murdered, and on the even slimmer chance that we can ever get any useful information out of him, then I don’t want to lose the best lead we might have.”
“There are a lot of chances, maybes, and mights in that train of thought, but I can’t disagree with your logic, Alfonse.” Tompkins stepped closer to Sheriff Henson’s desk. “I can’t think of a lot of options. What I can do is offer up my home. Navarre can stay with me.”
Henson shook his head. “We don’t know what Navarre’s capable of. While he may not be responsible for DeWayne Foster’s murder, I don’t think a single person in this room is willing to attest to Navarre’s sanity. If Necromancer Boone is correct, then Navarre isn’t even sure what’s real and what isn’t. That can make for a dangerous situation.”
“Sheriff Henson’s right,” Franklin agreed. “It’s too risky.”
I remained quiet, hating that I agreed with them. While I didn’t think Navarre was violent, I also couldn’t begin to guess what he might or might not do.
Shane Tompkins’s senior years hadn’t diminished his recklessness. “What’s life without a little risk now and again? I’m willing to do this.”
Franklin stepped around me, placing himself at Tompkins’s side. “Is this about what happened before? You know that wasn’t your fault.”
My gaze flicked from Franklin to Tompkins. If either one had bothered to look, they would have seen the confusion dripping from every one of my pores. “What happened before?” I asked. I didn’t want to pry, but if it had any bearing on Navarre, then I needed to advocate for my fellow necromancer.
Tompkins’s head was bowed as he stared through Henson’s desk. Franklin finally answered, “It was another necromancer, the only one I’d met before you.”
Intrigued, I said “I didn’t know you met one before. What were they like?”
“Dead,” Franklin answered, and Tompkins cringed. “Suicide.”
I inhaled a hissed breath.
Tompkins sounded at least twenty years older than before when he whispered, “I should have done more. I knew he was in trouble. I saw the signs and I… He was a necromancer, and I didn’t want to get involved. I let my prejudices get the better of me. The day he took his life, I swore I’d never let that happen again.”
“Christ, Shane.” Henson leaned back in his chair, rocking it backwards dangerously. “That was what? Ten years ago?”
“Nine,” Franklin answered. “You didn’t put the gun in his hand.”
“Maybe not, but I didn’t do a damn thing to keep it out of his hands either. I vowed I’d do better, and I aim to keep that promise.” Tompkins raised his head, his gaze daring Franklin to contradict him.
“That’s why you were so damn persistent I bring O’Hare and Boone in on the case.” Henson sighed while tilting his head toward the ceiling, as if the sky beyond would unveil all its secrets. “I should have seen it. You’re not going to let me talk you out of this, are you?”
Tompkins grinned. “That’s a rhetorical question if I ever heard one.”
Henson grunted.
Tompkins made his case. “We’ll let everyone else believe Navarre’s been released back onto the streets. No one beyond these four walls needs to know where he truly is.”
“Okay,” Henson relented. “How do you want to do this?”
