“I know I’m new to the department, Pezzini, but I hardly think that needing leave the day of notice was acceptable with either Siri, or that monster, Dante.” Her captain had been on the force less than a year, replacing Dante after his death. “That said, I know how hard you’ve been working yourself. How are your open cases?”
“We’ve been closing them regularly, Captain. Homicide’s got the least backlog in the last two years.” Her memory of Joe Siri clearly affected her still, but she knew she was doing better about it.
“And the fact that you still don’t have a regular partner doesn’t seem to be slowing you down, any. I read you’ve closed the majority of those cases yourself.” Captain Tannil’s grey eyes bore a hole in Sara’s face, looking for clues as to her motivation. “Almost unheard of, that. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were taking credit for everyone else’s work. Thankfully, I do know better. Several of those cases have been open for months, with almost no leads. I don’t know how you’re doing it, and I don’t care. As long as the department isn’t getting complaints, evidence thrown out of court, and you make progress like that, you can do your job however you see fit, including taking time off.” His expression softened. “Just take care of yourself. Joe left notes on every one of his officers, and yours are the longest, and most glowing, but it mentioned that you have a tendency to overwork. I appreciate results, but not at the cost of my officers having a breakdown. Take your time off.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Now get out of here, before someone thinks I’m a softie.”
Sara turned and left the room. Some work with one of the forensic artists got her a picture of each of the humans in her dream. The monsters would never have been able to be explained, though. She folded the sheets and stowed them.
A quick change in the locker room later, and Sara grabbed her bag. As she left, she glanced around the office. No one to say goodbye to. No one she trusted to watch her back, no one who needed anything other than a babysitter for them when they went out to a scene. Her memories of Woo and McCartey, those were partners. People who she trusted at her back. Too bad both of them were dead now. Danny to Gallow’s men. Jake to Dante and those “White Bulls”. Corrupt cops, and cop killers. The dichotomy still put her nerves on edge.
Strapping her helmet on, and climbing onto her bike, she checked that her bag was stowed and started the engine. The gentle rumble of her motorcycle always reminded her of freedom. She headed off to I-80 West.
Her thoughts raced like the landscape. Who was the blond stabbed in her dream? What was she fighting? How did the redhead throw fireballs? And what did that young man do to make that… Thing turn to dust? And what was it?
Was the girl dead? Sounded like it, from what Danny had said. But he also mentioned “That other branch” this was her only lead. She’d have to check the hospitals, or the morgue when she got there.
The Witchblade was silent on the subject.
She glanced down to see the speedometer creep up past 85. 6 hours or so. She’d find answers then.