The Displaced Detective: A Body Hopper Tale – Part 5
by Limbo’s Mistress

We only had to wait about ten minutes before an opportunity, two opportunities actually, became available.

From our hiding spot behind the delivery van, we watched a dark green Honda Accord pull into a nearby parking space. Immediately behind it was a dark red Jeep Wrangler.

The door of the Jeep opened and a young man, around mid-twenties, climbed out. He paused to check his hair in the side mirror before strolling away toward the skybridge that led into the mall.

“What do you think?” Matthew asked me, nodding his head at the Jeep.

“Let’s wait a second,” I said, turning my attention to the Honda. “At least make sure we aren’t seen by anyone who might call the cops.”

The doors of the sedan opened and a fortyish woman climbed out of the driver’s side. With her was a girl probably a year or two older than Sasha. The two of them were very chatty, talking animatedly about topics I wasn’t close enough to hear. They followed behind the guy from the Jeep, so caught up in their interaction that I never saw the lights of the Honda blink or the horn chirp.

"Let's go," I said to Matthew, moving out from behind the van toward the women’s vehicle.

Matthew caught up to me and lightly grabbed my arm. "Why that one?"

I looked up at him, then held up a pink-tipped finger. "One, because they didn't lock the

doors." I held up a second finger. "Two, because a mother and her daughter at the mall? Around lunchtime? They’ll probably get something to eat, then shop for at least an hour or so. By the time they come back and realize their car is gone, we’ll be well past any roadblocks.”

Matthew looked between the car and Jeep a couple of times before nodding.

I couldn’t help but feel a perverse sort of pride that, despite it recently seeming like he was the seasoned detective and I the bratty schoolgirl, my experience and skills were still occasionally mine to use.

"Do you know how to hotwire a car?" he asked me as I opened the driver’s door.

I shot him a Sasha-worthy look of reproach and leaned in under the dash. I pulled a couple of wires free and began reconnecting them in a different configuration. Luckily, the vehicle was an older model, without all the latest in security devices.

While I worked, Matthew leaned over me and pulled the level to open the trunk. I twisted my head from beneath the dash to look up at him.

“What are you doing?”

“The police are going to be looking for a man travelling with a young girl, right? I was thinking that it might be smart for you to ride in the trunk. Not the whole day. Just until we know we’ve managed to give them the slip.”

After I got the engine started, I climbed out and walked around to stand next to Matthew at the rear of the vehicle. The compartment contained a half-dozen black plastic garbage bags.

“What is this?” I asked Matthew, pointing at the bundles.

“Clothing,” he said. “Looks like a bunch of stuff getting donated to charity.” He looked over at me and shrugged. “Might make the trip a little more comfortable.”

“Okay,” I started to climb into the compartment, musing that my adult body would be cramped in the small space. Sasha, however, was petite enough that it wouldn’t be that tight.

Matthew waited until I buried myself behind the bags, before closing the lid and sending me plunging into darkness. I lay there, listening as I heard him close the driver’s door of the Honda, shift into reverse, then back out of the space. When he braked, I rocked from side to side, sending one of the bags falling over. The top opened and some of the contents spilled out over my jean-clad legs.

The car bumped over the entrance of the deck and accelerated. I felt the vehicle travel for a bit, stop for a few seconds, then continue. I kept expecting the ride to finally hit the smooth constant pace of the highway, but it seemed like it was taking far longer to get back to the interstate than it had to get to the mall.

The anxiety belonging to the teen began to creep through my mind, making me imagine all kinds of horrible things that could happen to me. We could wreck, my unrestrained body being launched into a ditch. Matthew could decide that this would by the perfect time to cut his losses, parking the car at a bus terminal or train station and leaving me to either die of thirst or be captured by the authorities.

The longer I let my brain journey down those dark paths, of which there were many, the more I started to think I should feel around to see if there was an emergency release lever that would open the trunk and let me escape those nightmarish fates.

“Jesus, Jack,” I snapped aloud to myself. “Get a fucking grip. You’re acting like a … scared little girl. Matthew isn’t going to ditch you.”

I wasn't sure how long we drove. It might have been about an hour, but felt like much more. While there were long stretches where we didn’t slow down, it never seemed like we had returned to the highway. Eventually, the vehicle slowed to a stop, the tires crunching on the gravel of the shoulder.

The engine silenced, and the door opened and closed. I rose to a half-sitting position and waited on Matthew to let me out. Seconds ticked by. I told myself that he was just making sure that no one was driving by before opening the lid. Soon it had been a minute. Then five. Ten.

I began to sweat and tremble at the same time. All those bad thoughts I’d battled so recently returned, bolstered by the unassailable fact that I’d been abandoned.

Feeling around, I found the release lever I’d assumed was inside. I curled my fingers around it and prepared myself to pull hard. Once I did, the trunk would fly open, and I’d be free.

If I did that, then I would be committed to getting out of the trunk. What if Matthew had stopped because of a road block. Maybe he was ordered to kill the engine and step out of the car. If the trunk flew open and a teenaged girl climbed out, any bluff he was attempting to use on the officer would be moot. The game would be up.

Maybe Matthew stopped for a non-police matter. Hell, he could be taking a leak on the side of the road. A grown man relieving his bladder might get a funny look from a passing motorist, but a young girl emerging from the trunk of parked car would scream human trafficking and definitely provide the worst type of response.

Another five minutes passed, then I heard another car pull to a stop right behind the Honda. The shaking in my hand increased. The car behind me was a cruiser, stopping to investigate an abandoned vehicle. Once they called in the plates, and discovered it to be stolen, I would be caught.

Any hope of getting my adult body back would vanish faster than Michael Dellinger could say “Hello, Pumpkin!”

The sound of the car’s door opening and closing was followed by a series of quick footsteps that approached the rear of the sedan. I steeled myself to make a break for it as soon as the lid opened. I wasn’t going back home in this body. Even if it meant having to learn to live on the streets.

However, when the trunk opened, the harsh afternoon sun blinded me. I threw up an arm over my face, blinking against the glare with eyes that had been staring into darkness for far too long. If I tried to flee now, I would probably run directly into the officer.

"Come on," Matthew said as he grabbed my arm and helped me out. "We have to hurry."

I climbed out of the trunk and stood behind the car on legs that were shaking from disuse and nerves.

“Are you okay?” Matthew asked, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking around at the wooded area around us. Then I noticed the car parked behind the Honda. It was another SUV, this one a brown Ford that had seen better days. "Where did you get that?"

Matthew looked at the bags in the trunk, then grabbed two of them before shutting the lid. He walked around to the open rear of the Ford and threw them inside. When he returned, he took me by the hand and led me to the open tailgate.

"We're about fifty miles from the mall. I stuck to the back roads and travelled parallel to the highway." He nodded back at the Honda. "The sweet GPS built right in the dash was really helpful."

"Are we outside the search area?"

He shrugged. "I think so. However ..." He looked from me to the SUV’s cargo area and back.

The meaning was clear. He wanted me to ride back there, hidden by the bags, for a little while longer.

I sighed and climbed into the back of the SUV. "You know, yesterday I was a highly respected member of law enforcement. Today, I'm luggage."

Matthew grinned, moving the bags around to partially conceal me. As well as provide me with something comfortable to lay on.

"But you’re really cute luggage."

He quickly slammed the hatch before I could kick him in the balls. He climbed into the front and soon we were back on the highway.

"If everything goes without a hitch, we should be at Carol's place around dusk," he said. "Are you okay to ride back there for at least an hour? Until we know we’re clear?”

"Yeah," I said as I stared at the roof of the car. "It's, like, totally better than the trunk."

“Okay. I'll keep an even speed and try not to draw any attention."

"Good idea."

Once again, the gentle swaying of the ride lulled me into a very relaxed state. Assisted, no doubt, by the minor panic attack I’d experienced in the darkness of the Honda’s trunk. Matthew turned on the radio, but the music was barely audible and only served to make me even more lethargic.

My drowsy mind turned inward, back to the boy at the gas station. There was no doubt I'd found him attractive. To claim otherwise would be a lie. The curious thing was that the memory was slightly uncomfortable, but not the least bit revolting. More like putting on a jacket that seems to be the right size, but just doesn’t feel quiet right.

But one that you could easily learn to like wearing.

I shook my head and turned my thoughts to the barista who’s shapely bottom I’d admired the day before. Now, instead of attracted to her, I felt … slightly jealous.

As if she were now competition.

The sensation of the car slowing down was quickly followed by an explanation from Matthew.

"We're pulling in to a rest stop. Sorry, Jack, I have to go to the bathroom."

I snickered, then realized that I did, too.

There was only one other person in the gigantic ladies’ room. An older woman, who might have been between mid-fifties and early seventies, was washing her hands in the sink. She glanced up into the mirror as I passed behind her and flashed me a warm smile.

I returned it and hurried over to the nearest stall. Before I could close the door, however, she turned around to look at me.

"I love your hair, dear," she said, eyes glittering with mirth. "It's so bold and lively."

"Thank you," I said in response, reaching up the run my fingers through the short, red strands. "Although I think it might be too short."

She shook her head, grabbing a few paper towels from the holder on the wall. "The length is perfect. Makes you look sassy.”

“Sassy?”

She laughed, turning around to look at me. "There’s nothing wrong with being sassy, my dear. All of history's famous women were. Just remember to temper that boldness with a little common sense." She tossed the damp paper into the wastebasket, then gave me a stern look. "You're a pretty girl, and sometimes pretty girls don't think things all the way through."

I shrugged, my hand resting on the closed door of the stall. "Guess I'm still getting used to being a pretty girl."

She laughed. "Good. That's good. Never get used to it and you'll find strengths beyond your appearance.” She gave me another smile and turned toward the door. "You take care now, sweetie."

When I finished my business, Matthew was waiting next to the front of the Ford. There was a smorgasbord of vending machine snacks spread out on the hood, as well as a couple of bottles of water.

"You certainly took your time," he said, tossing me a smirk.

I glanced around to make sure no one was around, especially sweet little old ladies, then gave him the finger. “I don't have the equipment to, like, just whip it out and spray down a seat anymore, jerk." I planted my hand on my hip. "It takes a lady a bit longer, you know."

He laughed and handed me a candy bar. "It's not a real lunch, but it's probably not a good idea to get off the highway to try to get something more substantial.” He glanced up at the diminishing light overhead. "Only about another hour or so until we get there."

I took the offered chocolate bar and grabbed one of the bottles. While far from the ideal nutrition a growing girl like me needed, the sugar and calories from the junk food would keep me from crashing. I started walking toward the rear of the SUV, but Matthew put his hand on my shoulder.

“It’s probably safe enough for you to ride up front now.”

We got back into the vehicle, my butt and back grateful to have a real seat to sit in, rather than the stiff, unyielding floor of the cargo and some lumpy garbage bags. Matthew packed up our picnic and soon we were rolling down the highway once more.

“So,” I said, turning in my seat to look at him. “Tell me about this Carol person. I already know she’s a Hopper. Is she one like you?”

“Like me?”

I waited a second before answering, hoping I didn’t sound too crass.

“Does she work out deals with people who are suicidal? Or does she just take a body that appeals to her?”

“She’s … at least she used to be, like me. Like I said, she’s a lot older than me. With that kind of age comes wisdom.”

“And a loss of humanity,” I added. It was clear enough that this woman waiting for us at the end of the road didn’t have qualms about assuming some poor innocent’s life.

“Despite her morality, she’s pretty much the only person who might be able to explain why we’re stuck as we are. Do you want to risk throwing any chance of getting your body back away due to a disagreement with the way she uses her abilities?”

I arched a brow, giving him a skeptical stare. I didn't even need to look in a mirror to know the expression on my face seemed right at home. There were few people on the planet who could convey disbelief better than a teenager.

“Fine,” I said, putting a chill in my words. “I’ll table my feelings on that for now. I might be eternally grateful if she can fix us and decide to overlook her indiscretions.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. Just try to keep Sasha in check when we get there. I’m not sure throwing adolescent shade will do much to convince her to help us.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. A little over an hour after the sun had set, Matthew turned off the highway and onto a small country service road. The dirt trail was pitted with a ton of potholes and ruts, and it seemed as if he were determined to hit every single one. The jarring caused the Ford, and my boobs, to bounce around like a bucking bronco.

Thankfully, before my teeth could rattle out of my crimson-haired skull, we turned onto a long driveway that was much smoother than the road. The thick trees lining both sides almost completely blocked the light from the moon overhead. The drive emerged into a wide clearing, revealing a rustic, two-story farmhouse waiting at the end of the line.

The house looked like something out of a movie, looming ominously over the well-manicured lawn. The second floor windows were completely dark, adding to the eerie ambiance. However, I spotted a sliver of light peeping through a gap in the curtain of the large bay window on the ground level.

Someone was home.

Matthew drove toward the house while I glanced at the vast empty fields around us with a sense of foreboding. I wasn't sure if it was more of Sasha’s adolescent imagination making the tiny hairs on my slender arms stand on end. Perhaps it was the honed instincts of a cop who’s seen the worst side of people. All I knew for sure was the closer we got to the farmhouse, the less comfortable I became.

That disturbing feeling didn’t lessen when Matthew pulled to a stop in front of a detached garage standing like a silent guardian next to the house. It reminded me of the kind of place where serial killers kept their victims caged until the torture could begin. As isolated as the farm was from the service road, screams for help and cries of pain would go unnoticed.

“We’re here,” Matthew said, killing the engine. He opened his door and climbed out, stretching the kinks in his back due to sitting for so long. He pushed the door closed with one hand and walked around the front of the SUV toward the front of the farmhouse.

I, however, made absolutely no move to get out of the vehicle.

The thought of spending the rest of my life in the body of Sasha Dellinger didn’t appeal to me at all. Even if I could get away from her mobster of a father, I didn’t want to have to learn to live as a girl. Or a woman. I didn’t want to have to learn how to handle having periods, and boyfriends, and all the shit associated with growing up all over again. I’d done my time once, and I really didn’t have any desire to turn back the clock.

Staring up at that house, feeling the wave of anxiety pushing against my senses, I would have gladly taken off of that, including Michael Dellinger, rather than step foot inside.

Matthew put his hand on the gate of the little fence running around the perimeter of the yard, and looked back at the Ford. When he saw me still sitting in my seat, he turned around and walked over to the passenger side.

I rolled the window down. "I'm not sure about this," I said to him, nodding at the house. "I'm getting some, like totes, seriously bad vibes from this place."

He glanced back at the house, then turned back to me. "It's okay, Jack. We're safe here. Nobody knows we’re here. Not the police, the Order, or Sasha’s dad. We can finally relax a bit."

I shook my head, feeling about as far away from relaxed as humanly possible.

Something's not right here. I can feel it."

Matthew sighed and leaned in to put his arms on the window’s frame.

“I think it’s just your imagination is getting the best of you. I believe that somewhere deep down, you’re convinced that Carol isn’t going to be able to help us get you back into your own body. Or that she might refuse to help us. That worry is mixing with those teenage hormones running through your brain and causing you to freak.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head defiantly. “That’s not it at all.”

But … was it? I thought about the way my imagination had run away with me in the back of the Honda. I’d been so absolutely convinced that Matthew had ditched me that I was ready to leap out in the middle of nowhere. After all, hadn’t I been positive that the SUV was actually a patrol car?

Could my subconscious concern that I might have no choice but to remain Sasha be driving me to abandoning any hope of trying? I already had proof that my thoughts were sliding around in patterns completely unlike my normal self. Was it really that hard to follow the chain of clues to the very point Matthew was making?

I was about to agree that he could have a logical argument when the sound of a door banging against the frame caused me to jump in my seat and let out an embarrassingly girlish squeal.

Matthew turned around to face the house while I leaned around him, peering out from behind the safety of his shoulder.

There was a woman standing in front of the door, the yellow light spilling out from inside casting her in shadows. Though I couldn’t see her darkened face, I knew she was looking right at the both of us.

"Well, are you two going to sit out there in the car all night?" a melodious, almost cheerful voice with a Southern drawl called out to us. "Or come inside and be sociable?"

Matthew turned back at me, flashing a slightly forced smile.

“Jack, this is the best option we have. Hell, it’s the only option.”

He began to walk backward away from the SUV, gesturing for me to come with him.

I looked from him to the silhouette on the porch and back. There was no way I was going to be able to talk him into abandoning this plan. The plan. Any debate was only going to come back around to my being anxious and delusional.

So, I drew in a deep breath and, against every professional instinct I still possessed, climbed out and followed him.

The woman remained where she stood as we approached, hands planted on her wide hips. When we got closer, I was able to see that she was heavy-set and older than I expected. She looked like she might be in her early sixties, with a rounded face and dark hair almost as short as my own. A wide smile split her face as she waited until Matthew got within touching distance. Then she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze.

“Oh, Cornelius,” she said softly. “It’s been far too long.”

Cornelius?

“Hello, Carol,” Matthew said, giving her a slightly chaste kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for responding to my email so quickly.”

She nodded, then turned to me. “You must be Jack, right?”

“On the inside,” I replied. My tension had abated a sliver or so, but I still felt like I might open a box and find a nest of rattlesnakes instead of a prize.

Carol blinked with surprise, then chuckled softly. The laugh shook her considerable girth.

“Oh, Jack. That’s hilarious.”

“Being funny is one of my many talents,” I replied, trying to temper my teenaged snark.

“Please, come inside, both of you.” She gave Matthew/Cornelius another long look, then turned around and stepped into the house.

Matthew waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to me.

“I know this is going to be tough,” he whispered to me. “Not only because it seems to be a natural thing for you and Sasha, but try to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. Remember, we need her help.”

I gave him a little salute, along with a hard glare, then moved past him to follow the woman into the house.

The room I found myself was decorated in what would have been a homey, welcoming classical farm style. Like something one might find in an issue Southern Living or Country Home. The floors were polished wood, and the wallpaper on the walls had a flowery print. A stone fireplace, which almost matched the steps outside, sat along the far wall. Flickering flames crackled within, giving the room a toasty feeling.

The mantle running across the top, made out of some variation of dark hardwood, was adorned with several framed photos

The middle of the room was dominated by a large, blue sofa flanked on either side by matching chairs. A hallway visible on the other side of the furniture led into a shadowed area and the barest hint of a staircase. Across from the front door, I could see the entrance to a cozy-looking kitchen.

The smells wafting from inside sent my nervous tummy rumbling with urgent need.

The woman stood next to the fireplace, looking at me. There was an odd look in her tired eyes. As if she weren’t simply looking at me, but was eyeing with the practiced gaze of an appraiser of fine jewels. When her gaze rose to meet mine, the expression in her eyes changed to one of care and warmth.

I suddenly liked her even less than the house.

Matthew stepped in behind me, closing the door. He looked around the room before turning his attention to his long-time friend.

“Nice place,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Not what I would have pictured you living in, but it really has rustic charm.”

Carol smiled and shrugged in a way that seemed exaggeratedly nonchalant.

“Well, when I figured I’d settle down for a while, it ended up being here. Then it just sort of grew on me, you know?”

I sighed under my breath and walked over to fireplace, letting the warm try to drive the chill from my body. Even though I knew the coldness in my veins wasn’t the fault of the weather.

“Matthew … uh, Cornelius, I mean. He said that you could, like, help us.”

She smiled and bobbed her head up and down. “I can certainly try.” She looked over at my clueless companion. “I mentioned that you’d tried to Hop back into her last night. Have you tried since then?”

My head whipped over at Mathew, who suddenly found his shoes to be fascinating.

“We were, uh, busy with trying to get away from the police … and the Order.”

She took a step back, nearly stepping into the fire.

“The Order? You didn’t say the Order was after you.”

“You left that part out?” I said to him, narrowing my eyes.

He held up his hands at both of us. “I worried you wouldn’t agree to let me come if you knew.” He lifted his hand and pointed from himself to me. “They’re the reason Jack and I are where we are now.”

Carol shook her head. “Did they inject you with something?” From the tone of her voice, I knew she already knew the answer.

He nodded. “When I was in her. I Hopped right before I passed out.”

She sighed. “Did you learn nothing in the years we spent together?” She gestured for him to come over to us. “Try to see if your powers work now.”

Matthew hesitated for a moment, then walked over to me. I turned to face him, looking up into my own face. Hopefully for the last time. He put his hands on my shoulder and stared into my eyes.

The thread sensation from before returned, this time a lot less strongly. When the tugging came, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad. However, it still hurt more than I preferred.

“Ow!” I yelled, twisting out of his grip to place my hands against my temples. Matthew staggered slightly to the side, doing the same.

Carol watched the event unfold, then nodded her head as Matthew and I slowly recovered from the attempt.

“It’s this new drug they’ve developed. It locks a Hopper into a body. Keeps them from being able to adopt a new identity and hide.”

“Wait,” I said, pointing at Matthew. “He’s locked in my body permanently?”

“Which body got drugged?” she asked me.

I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat as I reached up and tapped my chest.

“This one.”

She frowned a sympathetic frown and patted me on the shoulder, leaving her hand resting there.

“The drug affects the part of the brain where personality resides. It creates a sort of wall that keeps the personality trapped.” She looked over at Matthew. “Your ability is working just fine, Cornelius. The problem is in her.”

I shook my head from side to side, feeling a wave of despair rolling toward me. A tsunami of panic that I knew, without question, would drown me in its wake.

“No. There has to be something we can do. Something to counter-act the effects.”

“Jack …” Matthew said, sitting down slowly on the arm of the sofa. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears formed in my eyes, blurring my vision into distortion. I was trapped in here. Forever destined to be the girl I saw in the mirror.

Carol patted my shoulder again.

“Now, now, dear. There’s no need to cry.” She leaned down and looked me in the face, our noses only a few inches apart. “After all, you are right, there is an antidote. One that will allow you to be plucked from that beautiful little head like a rose from an award-winning garden.

I sniffled, my shoulders slumping as the good news sent a wash of endorphins surging into my brain.

All was not lost, it seemed. There was an antidote to the Order’s horrible drug.

An antidote.

To a relatively new chemical concoction being deployed by an organization known to be an enemy of people like Carol and Cornelius.

I don’t know if it was the fatigue, the hunger, or the hormones, but the dominos that began to fall moved slower than I liked.

The feeling I’d experienced outside the house that I knew was more than just nerves. The way that Carol didn’t rush to peer outside when Matthew mentioned that the Order was after us. The fact that she not only new about the drug locking a Hopper in place, but that it also had an antidote. The way she’d eyed me warily when I first came into the house.

I suppose crossing the finish line of the only logical conclusion happened for me and Matthew simultaneously.

“Hold up,” he said, rising back to his feet. “How the hell do you know that there’s …”

Before I even registered her moving, Carol had produced a pistol from behind her back. She held it in the hand not resting on my shoulder, leveled the barrel at my body, and pulled the trigger.

The explosive rapport I expected never manifested. Instead, there was the sound of a gas cartridge being activated and the whip of something small leaping across the air from the weapon to Matthew.

“Fuck,” he yelled as he slapped at the side of his neck. He took a single step toward us, then another, before falling over one of the smaller chairs to crash face-first onto the floor.

“Now,” Carol said as her fingers dug into my shoulder. If not for the leather jacket, I probably would have screamed. “Your turn.”

Back in the hospital, Matthew had show apprehension about uncuffing me. He’d been afraid that I would use my combat training against him. I’d countered with the argument that I was much too small in Sasha’s body to do any damage to anyone.

Which was a complete and total lie.

As she began to bring the pistol to bear on me, I lashed out with my left foot, driving the toe of my sneaker into her shin. The impact sent a blast of pain into my foot, but achieved the desired result. The vicelike grip on me evaporated.

I kept moving, slamming the palm of my right hand squarely into the woman’s solar plexus. The motion was textbook perfect, despite my diminutive size. The gun clattered to the floor as the air rushed out of her lungs, and she fell sideways against the side of the fireplace.

My head snapped over to Matthew, lying on the floor out cold. I didn’t want to leave him, but there was no way I could carry him out to the Ford. Not if I had any hope of getting away from our supposed “savior”.

In fact, I could see Carol already recovering from my attack. With one hand planted on the stone facade of the fireplace, she was already leaning over to retrieve her weapon. Five more seconds and I’d really be a mafia princess. Only this time I’d be Sleeping Beauty.

I spun around and bolted for the front door, running for all that Sasha was worth. My hand gripped the knob and turned it as I glanced back to see Carol rising back to a standing position, fingers curling around the pistol’s grip.

I yanked open the door and leapt through it onto the porch.

Or, would have, if I hadn’t found myself face to face with the man standing just outside the doorway.

His barrel chest was attired with a dark gray ribbed turtleneck sweater beneath a black sports coat. The butt of a pistol was visible just under the left lapel. His face was ruddy, possibly from the evening’s chill, and a smattering of light stubble peppered his chin. The smile on his face was genuine, if less than completely friendly. His eyes, though, were shielded behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

“Hello, Detective Rollins,” he said in a deep timbre voice that reminded me of Orson Wells. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I suddenly felt a bee sting me on the back of my neck. My hand flew up automatically to the wounded area, my fingers brushing against the tiny metal tail of the tranquilizer dart lodged in the flesh.

“That …” the world around me suddenly upended, as darkness formed at the edges of my vision and rocketed to the center. “That’s, like … totally not cool.”

My eyes closed as my arm dropped from my neck and my legs decided it was quitting time. I felt the strong hands of the man catch me before I hit the floor.

And after that … nothing.