The Watchers 22

How’s your arm, detective?

“I am sorry to be meeting under these circumstances Mrs. Davenport, but I felt it was really important after hearing about my detective’s behavior on yesterday evening that we sit down face to face.” Chief Bradford said.  

“I’ve always been upfront that our department had improvements to make but situations like what occurred in your home last night are completely uncalled for, and I have to say,” he paused to look to Blackfoot who sat in a chair on the other side of the room his eyes on the floor, “disturbing,” the chief said. Mrs. Davenport hadn’t looked at Blackfoot since entering the office. In fact, she hadn’t said a word. The nurturing grandmother was gone and in its place was the Mama Bear out for blood.

The chief cleared his throat and continued. He had his speech prepared and he was determined to give it.

“I’ll have you know that Blackfoot and I have talked. He called me at my home last night to inform me of what happened. I just have to say how much I appreciate your coming into my office, to speak with us. I know how busy you are.”

From her seat in the corner Liza could see everyone. Mrs. Davenport’s face was stoic during the chief’s speech, but she knew the woman was listening to every word. Blackfoot never looked up but in spite of the chief’s conciliatory words the man still managed to look rebellious. Liza couldn’t keep her eyes from him.

She hated Mrs. Davenport being dragged into this mess, but the woman refused to let the matter drop. Liza wanted to attend the meeting alone but Mrs. Davenport wouldn’t hear of it. She’d also insisted her lawyer, Mr. Bennet, accompany them.

As soon as they’d walked into the police department they were ushered into the boardroom. The eyes of every police officer were on them as they walked through the rows of cubicles. Liza didn’t know if they’d all heard about Blackfoot’s behavior. The chief’s secretary was gracious. She brought in refreshments and even offered to adjust the thermostat but Mrs. Davenport waved the jittery young woman away.

“I just don’t understand why Detective Blackfoot has insisted on treating my daughter as if she is the suspect rather than the victim from the very beginning,” the chief tried to interrupt Mrs. Davenport, but one stern look and he folded in on himself his mouth puckered closed.

“Since the beginning of this investigation he seemed to hold some kind of grudge against my family, my daughter. As far as I know when someone is attacked with a gun in broad daylight in a public place, they don’t become a target of the police. Am I right in that chief?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the chief said, but before he could speak again Mrs. Davenport continued.

“What I need is your word that this man will not harass my family in any way otherwise we will have to find another means to resolve this,” she said.

“No, ma’am” the police chief said then corrected his self at Mrs. Davenport’s frown, “I mean yes, ma’am. Blackfoot has been disciplined. He’s been placed on probation and the case as far as he’s concerned has been closed. You are completely correct ma’am in that we have our suspects. You will be happy to know that I have assigned the case to another detective, and I will be following it personally to trial. The detective assigned has been informed of all matters of the case therefore you shall not be having any more to do with it. We have your daughter’s statement so there isn’t any reason she should have to participate anymore. The investigation is closed all we are waiting for is the judge, and as we suspect the ruling will result in both suspects incarceration. I will be happy to let you know when that happens.”

“We hoped this matter would have been settled by now, but we see now that you are on the case it will be,” she said standing. “Now we can put all of this mess behind us, that is my hope,” she said looking down at everyone in the room.

“How’s your arm, detective?” Mrs. Davenport said addressing Blackfoot directly for the first time. Her face was the picture of concern but Liza knew better.

“It’s fine,” Blackfoot managed to grit out, but his face was hard as a rock.

“Thank you so much for your time,” Mr. Bennet said, assisting Mrs. Davenport to the door. Liza followed them out the door. Mrs. Davenport was greeted by several officers before we were finally able to walk out of the building into the bright sun.

Liza spotted Blackfoot standing beside his car with another officer she remembered meeting once before. Taylor was his name.  The two were deep in conversation.

Now that the investigation was done, Liza didn’t have to worry about any of their meddling. She was cleared but a part of her still felt out of sorts. It was the part that never felt fully satisfied. The part that wanted to run over to Blackfoot and plaster herslef to his side until he looked at her again like he did last night. It was the part that wanted to step into her Watcher role again. Only now the person she wanted to watch most was the person she needed to stay the farthest from.

Blackfoot hadn’t treated her like the agents at Central who were scared of her skills and her reputation. He also didn’t treat her as Trina. When he walked in that door last night, Liza felt like he was actually seeing her, responding to her, and for the first time in Liza’s life she felt truly alive. He didn’t want her skills, her job; he wanted to know what was in her head, Liza’s head. His methods were unorthodox but Liza could tell he was truly seeing her. Blackfoot’s visit last night had changed something in her in more ways than one. He’d helped her to remember what she was there for.

All the men Liza knew were like her or variations of her. They understood each other which meant we could only go so far. People like her didn’t find happiness. People like her were happiness takers.

Liza was an expert on normal. Abnormalities were what she’d built her entire career on. It allowed her to manipulate others without blinking an eye and use it to her advantage, but she hadn’t- not with him.

Liza wasn’t Trina Davenport, nor did she want to be. However, at that moment last night right before she took him down, she’d wanted to be like Trina if it meant she could have him. For just a moment she thought she could.

When she’d climbed back into the trailer earlier today, she’d traced the wires to the surveillance unit hooked to the generator. It had a running loop of feed from several cameras that she could flip between and see for several miles around the entire trailer. she’d also discovered several trip wires attached to alarms that could be set by satellite. At one time they had been activated but weren’t now.

Liza didn’t find any phones. On every job she always had one burner, sometimes two, but there were none in the trailer. As a matter of fact, she found no identification at all for herself for when it was time to leave. It was odd, but it just meant she’d already destroyed it, or she had another safe house located somewhere else. She found her target board that listed everything about Trina Davenport from her bra size to her favorite color. The board listed the comings and goings of Trina along with candid pictures taken of her that captured everything anyone could ever want to know about the woman. The last entry was two days before she’d been attacked at the bookstore.

Usually before she stepped into someone’s life she destroyed her safe house along with everything she’d prepared so when the mission was complete, she could leave. There was no time afterwards to go back and get rid of the evidence.

It was clear she’d been watching Trina Davenport for a long time. Her only question now was: Where was Trina?

After Liza dropped Mrs. Davenport off at the house she drove around town. She found that she liked the quietness of the town. To the south were miles and miles of beach that anchored the state between its neighbors to the east and west. North of the city were acres and acres of trees and lush forests. The city was teeming for an explosion of growth, but still had its grip firmly seated in tradition determined to keep its small-town southern charm as the city welcomed new residents looking for a slower way of life.

Liza liked it here more so than anywhere else she could remember. It felt familiar, and every day it felt more familiar. The people were simple yet complicated. For the most part there was a sense of goodness to them, even with Blackfoot. It surprised her how much the man stayed on her mind.

Liza turned the car onto a street where the detective lived in a small one-story house. She’d looked him up online. There wasn’t much on him online. No Facebook page or any other social media presence which in itself told her a lot. He worked hard but she wondered how did he live? She wanted to know.

Liza parked a few blocks down from where he lived. Pulling the black cap low to cover her hair, Liza zipped up her coat hiding the white shirt she wore underneath. Crossing through a couple of yards she then walked through the woods in front of his house until she was able to have an unobstructed view of Blackfoot’s front door.  It was a blue clapboard house. It was old but in good condition.

The sun was already setting but Liza stayed in her hiding space between a pair of bushes along a privacy fence until it was dark. There weren’t any homes close enough to have good visuals of her hiding space, but she made sure to stay low until it was safe to move closer.

It wasn’t long before she saw Blackfoot’s car pull into the driveway beside his house. Just as she suspected no drinks with the boys or errands after work. He came straight home. Liza waited until it was dark before she approached his house. There were no kids playing no adults out for an evening stroll. The street was empty; save the occasional car.

Liza made her way to the side of his house until she was in his back yard. He had no pets but that didn’t surprise her. Blackfoot didn’t seem the sentimental type nor did he seem overly concerned with security. If someone came for him, he’d deal with them directly and relish doing it. Although she doubted he could do much right now with his arm in a sling.

His bedroom window was dark. Liza heard noise coming at the other end of the house, where the lights shone out onto the backyard. Carefully she worked her way to the other end of the house. Blackfoot was in the kitchen. Liza felt a thrill seeing him standing at his sink his broad back to her. The windows didn’t have blinds only some cream-colored curtains that were so sheer they were transparent. The windows were closed but she could hear music playing softly from another room. He was alone.

Liza watched him struggle to wash a single plate and a glass with his one good arm then put both still a little soapy on the drain board to his right. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator then walked out the kitchen. Liza wanted to follow but there were no windows on that side of the house. The only windows to the TV room were upfront facing the street. Liza waited for a few minutes until she heard the radio stop and replaced by some sports game on the television.

Liza had a feeling this was a typical night for Blackfoot which meant he had even less going for him then she initially imagined. Either way the Watcher in her wanted to learn more. For the first time she had a non-Central sanctioned target. It went against the rules, but she no longer cared about rules.

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