The Glassbreaker Goes Home (The King Henry Tapes), page 13
“My other sister. Susanna Belle Price . . . now there’s a name .”
Ribera gave just the tiniest reaction as her eyes went wide. “We couldn’t find her, you know? I looked for her myself. Found photos from high school, but after that . . . seemed like she disappeared from the state. Thought about going to the IRS, have them check if her Social Security Number had been used anywhere, but decided that might bring your fake FBI friends down on me again.”
“Hey, you got one of them cool detective walls with the string and shit? What photo you guys using for me? Do I look good in it?”
No answer, no distraction allowed, just another question: “So where was Susan hiding?”
“Up north.”
They stared at each other like they were playing cards. Yeah, this was a lot more fun than Vega’s bullshit. Vega always makes me feel like I’m in one of them Matrix sequels. Who the fuck talks like that? Should’ve punched him . . .
“Up north,” Ribera repeated.
“Yeah, not the up north you’re thinking. Not the Institution. Further up north. Up north up north.”
“Like Northern California? Like Eureka?”
Oh dear, but that name popping up did make King Henry wonder just how many of them crazy conspiracy theories Ribera had come up with. And if they ain’t extra on the Crazy then she ain’t even close to getting the right answer, is she?
“More like Vancouver. Yeah, my sister’s been an illegal Canadian immigrant for about five years now . . . hard to admit, but them’s the facts.”
“Have you ever been to Eureka, Price?” Ribera wouldn’t let go of her string.
Sure you want to do that, Detective? People who play with my strings come to regret it, especially the ones try to tie me up with them.
“Have traveled a little bit, but not as much as some. Vegas, San Francisco, Seattle. London, obviously.” Met a dragon, killed a blood god, your usual weekend shit. “Do know what you’re talking about though. Eureka, that’s the place the news has been all about, right? Something about a gas line exploding? Don’t know why you think I’m involved with any of that . . .”
Oh, Ribera did look mighty frustrated now. “For all the names you’ve given me and your help, you continue to be massively full of crap, Price.”
“Better than being constipated, ain’t it?”
Gritted her teeth so hard she couldn’t talk.
“Fog’s gonna get ya!” he teased again.
They were about to have some police brutality up in Shithole Price tonight given Ribera’s expression. Furious didn’t go far enough to describe it. Set her completely off. “You’re a weapons dealer, Mr. Price. Worse. You design them too, don’t you? An underworld blacksmith making all sorts of illegal goodies for your family. Bombs too, I’m sure. How many innocent people have been killed with what you make? Is it really worth the money if its stained red? You don’t like working for Vega, I can tell. So stop. Grow a conscience. You’ll turn evidence for those federal friends of yours? Why not for me too? Be my witness. Do some good. Stop the uptick in arms flow you’ve created. Stop the drugs, the trafficking, the public corruption, especially the body count.
“Vega’s South American competitors attacked his San Diego docks last week. Did he tell you that? He’s gotten too big. All the little groups are so scared they’re starting to work together and when that happens it’s the beginning of the end. It won’t be long now. A few years. Maybe he’ll hold on for five. He’s the best we’ve seen so far, I’ll give him that. But . . . the downward spiral has started and you and your family are along for the ride unless you put an end to it. Those fake feds you think protect you? I know their type. Soon as it comes crashing down, they’ll just walk away and disappear. Get a promotion, wait twenty years, and do it all again with whoever replaces Vega.”
“That so?”
“Help me and I’ll protect you. Dozens of agencies are in on this. It’s not just Fresno PD. It’s big and getting bigger. I know you’re not the type of guy who worries about himself, but think of your sisters, about your nephew now too. He—”
“You don’t care about me and mine, lady,” King Henry abandoned pleasant and Plan Fill the Pig. “You got a fever called Justice and maybe we need more like you, but that don’t mean your boots haven’t crunched through whole piles of bones to get to your holy land named Guilty Verdict.”
He realized, of course, that no one was in any actual danger from Vega and everything Ribera thought was happening wasn’t, but . . . within the construct she’d created she was still trying to use him. He wasn’t one to back down from that. And bringing up Nick . . . fuck her! She deserved a verbal slap for it just as much as Vega did for all his bullshit earlier.
Hell, if King Henry wanted to really hurt Ribera, he would tell her the whole truth.
Forget filling her up so she’s too distracted to notice him dealing with Moore, he could make her pop like a balloon animal!
What she wanted after all.
More than what she wanted. Whole lot more. Mountains more. Worlds more.
Could just tell her . . .
Tell her and end more of the games right here. Let her watch. Let her see.
End his frustration in a snap. End Ribera’s too.
Something boiled inside of him.
God of Wrath, that’s me. Born with it. Weaned on it. Sustained by it. Always and forever. Channeled nowadays, maybe even channeled productively, but never stopped. Not even by Val. Unceasing in its desire to break, to ruin, to smash that precious status quo.
Could smash it right now, for this one little insignificant, mundane detective. Let her see inside the freak show tent for just one night . . .
Be so fucking easy.
Probably get Ribera killed eventually.
That would be bad.
“You’re wrong,” he started carefully, very carefully. “Not about everything. I’m sure Vega’s into some shady shit, but you don’t know a thing about what he really is. Or me, especially me. Six months ago, I decided truth had to be stolen and fuck was I right about that one. Given that . . . just handing it all over to you wouldn’t be healthy. Get you killed, or maybe worse. Might even make you put that gun to your head and pull the trigger.”
Her fury rose to meet his condescension. “If I scared, I wouldn’t still be watching you, Price. I don’t scare. I’ve seen hundreds of bodies, dozens of them Vega’s handiwork—”
The click of shoe on asphalt made King Henry glance over his shoulder.
Say one thing about Valentine Ward, well . . . say she’s awesome. Say two things about her . . . them farts, man, they burn. Say three things about her . . . say she needs to work on her fucking timing!
Val walking down the street in that red work dress of hers looked as out of place at Shithole Price as anyone had since Ceinwyn Dale arrived a decade before. So much leg, some animal part of King Henry couldn’t help but comment. Why legs? Fuck if he knew. They were just . . . yummy.
Can’t cook, can barely dance, always busy saving the world and I don’t even care a little bit.
Weirdly enough, Val had with her a plastic plate filled with dinner leftovers and a spare can of root beer. Food for Ribera. Food for the cop that had been snooping on them all night long. Cuz Val gave a shit about someone being hungry, even Ribera.
This is what happens when you raise your kids right . . . they just end up wrong in different ways.
King Henry found himself doing introductions again. Only this time he wasn’t prepared for them and no civilization worked itself into his tone. “Detective, this is my girlfriend Valentine Ward. I imagine you’ve also snapped a few pictures of her over the years during your invasions of my privacy. Also imagine the guys at the station have made copies . . .”
Ribera actually blushed that time.
“Val, this is Detective Ribera of the Fresno Police Department. I won’t comment on that organization, since . . . well, they’d fucking shoot me. Sad to say that Detective Ribera thinks I’m some kind of weapon designer for Vega’s gangs. I was just doing a horrible job at disabusing her of the notion.”
“Another one I haven’t seen around in a while,” Ribera managed to grunt out some syllables after looking Val up and down.
Listen, I ain’t saying the butch lesbian cop just male-gazed the fuck out of my girlfriend, but . . . the butch lesbian cop just male-gazed the fuck out of my girlfriend!
A beaming smile joined the food as part of Val’s charm offensive. The plate got passed over and Ribera’s hands were suddenly too full to even think about throttling King Henry any more. “The detective asked me a few questions at the airport once,” Val confided to him in a stage-whisper. “And yes, King Henry and I did have a bit of a break. But it’s all solved now!”
King Henry blinked in confusion.
Not at Ribera crushing on Val. Although . . . you’re a married woman, lady, what you think you’re doing having scissoring fantasies in the middle of the street about a suspect’s girlfriend?
Nah, what actually confused King Henry was even weirder.
Like . . . the weirdest thing ever.
Weirder than fucking dragons.
So weird, that maybe a mentimancer was fucking with him. Cuz if a mentimancer wasn’t fucking with him . . . did he hear that right? Nah, impossible! Wait . . . was Val? Why is she playing up her Australian accent that much? It doesn’t even come out that thick when I really piss her off. Like . . . I could shit in the hallway and it wouldn’t be that bad. It was almost a caricature of what Americans thought Aussies sounded like. Then there was the posture . . . slunk and passive and . . . and what the hell was she doing with her face?
“I take it he cheated on you?” Ribera asked, dead serious.
Val laughed like it was just so funny! So funny! “No! How silly . . . and he doesn’t work for Horatio! Or . . . just some contract specials, wasn’t it, Kingy?”
For once, King Henry’s mouth couldn’t form words.
Valentine Ward was playing the dumb blonde.
Where was this during roleplay night?!?!
Maybe he had lucked out by missing it. He couldn’t’ tell if he was aroused or mentally scarred . . .
Val giggled so hard it sounded like a fairy with a vibrating egg stuck up its ass.
Did that Eternal Order fucktard of Vega’s slip Monk Mojo Juice into my root beer float somehow?
“If you need help, Miss Ward, I can provide it for you,” Ribera went full white knight.
Val did a valley girl ‘oh stop!’ fake slap.
WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!?!
“I’m perfectly fine, really. Perfectly! So is Kingy, it really is just a family thing. And weapons? Never! It was some type of specialized gardening stuff, wasn’t it? For like mangoes? Or avocadoes? I love avocado toast, don’t you?”
SEND HELP! I’VE SLID INTO AN ALTERNATE DIMENSION AND DON’T KNOW HOW TO GET BACK!!!
“Gardening equipment,” King Henry at least managed to mutter.
“What was it you did again, dear?” the questions from Ribera kept going, even if she was far less threatening with a plate of mole enchiladas in hand.
Surely, neither of them were thinking about having a conversation on any kind of truth or lie or . . .
MY GIRLFRIEND HAS BAMBOOZLED ME!
“I help find new students for our school,” Val said, smiling like a rainbow on a sunny day. She stole that expression from Vicky! I’m telling! “I just love kids! Love! If only I could keep my figure, I’d have like twenty of them, you know? Twenty!”
Something hurt deep inside of King Henry’s psyche. “You have to stop. I’m about . . . I think, is this what a stroke feels like?”
“Oh, Kingy, you’re fine!”
King Henry worked up the mental energy to glare at the Best Girlfriend Ever. “This is so damn wrong . . . I love you for you.”
Val gasped again, dumber than most rocks. “Are we doing song lyrics now?”
And King Henry just lost permanent IQ points. “Did you lose a bet or something?”
An intense frown formed like Val’s little brain was pushed beyond its merge limits. “I don’t know that one.”
Detective Ribera cleared her throat. “I believe you were getting ready to threaten me, Mr. Price, just before—”
Again with the fake valley girl slap. “As if!”
Did she just fucking ‘as if’? I have to break up with her now . . . there’s no way our relationship can survive this . . . it’s over . . . I just let her meet my father and that’s it . . . nope . . . over!
“Kingy is so gentle, that’s what I love most about him.” She put her arm through his, steadying him. “He probably just wanted to clear everything up with you. Such a misunderstanding! Plus we’re moving in together, up by Reno at the school, so we won’t even be around Fresno for such a long time! Of course he told you already, I’ll bet. He’s such a softie . . . the idea of you spending days wondering where he is, thinking he might be hurt when he’s fine with me . . . he would never want that. Never!”
Silence reigned as Ribera tried to put her thoughts in order and King Henry tried to remember if Val was part of the Asylum Drama Club or not. He felt like he would remember her in a play . . .
“You should eat that food before it gets cold. Mole enchiladas . . . so good! Stakeouts must be so stressful too; I bet you have the munchies!”
Ribera locked eyes with King Henry. Was this an accident or one long play to confuse me? them beady eyes asked. Aloud, she said, “Gardening equipment? Or growing equipment?”
“No idea what he’s using it for, but . . . they make some fantastic soil. Vega does have orchards at his mansion,” King Henry ended with the same bullshit Vega spewed about why he wanted floro-seeders. T-Bone had confirmed those orchards existed . . .
“Have you ever visited his ranch?”
“Never have and never plan to. Like Val said, I’m out as of tomorrow.”
“I’m sure it’s wonderful though,” Val added. “Eat up, please! The thought of you being hungry while we were having ice cream . . .”
Ribera glanced down at some mouthwatering grub in her hand. “If this turns out to be drugged, Miss Ward—”
Val gasped in horror, hand clutching pearls that didn’t exist. “I would never! How could you think that?”
“Unless you count drugging yourself with wine,” King Henry muttered so low even he could barely hear it.
Val grabbed onto his arm tighter, threatening an Indian burn.
“I’ll be right here until Vega leaves,” Ribera informed them. “If either of you want to cut the crap and save your lives, not to mention probably hundreds of other people, I’ll be here. Thinking about everything you told me, Price, especially that fog you’re so quick to joke about.”
“Really don’t need to worry about me—”
“I do. Every night, Price, I go to bed worrying about you. You and that shop that makes no logical sense. The drive-by, the fire bomb, the break-ins. The weird school, the fake feds, your sister being married to Vega, now your other sister magically reappearing. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop worrying about how much I might have missed.
“Or how about what we found? How about electrical stun rings without any battery source, that seem to work on static electricity? And not one of my techs could explain how they even made scientific sense! Of course someone stole the thing from our evidence lockup, so who cares, right?!? How about the truck filled with live coyotes that we found a month ago? Thought it was drugs or guns but no . . . coyotes. And Vega’s gang members escorting it looked more worried about us calling animal control than if it had been guns or drugs. Or what about the two dead men Visalia PD has found in the last couple weeks? One was a block from your father’s house. Nothing special about them . . . they were just drained of blood.”
Ribera seethed, barely holding back tears.
“Explain that!” she challenged him.
But he had nothing more to give her. She was full up and if he pushed in even an ounce more . . . so he just shrugged. “Enjoy the enchilada, Detective.”
“Drained of blood? Eww, very eww,” was Val’s brilliant commentary.
The Shithole Hits the Fan
King Henry managed to restrain himself until they were a good twenty feet from Ribera’s car. “You got shit timing, Miss Ward, know that?”
“As if!” she vehemently shot back, but her expression cracked plenty, laughter plainly uncontainable.
“I was trying to give her just a dash of truth to put her mind at ease, not make the poor woman teeter on the edge of a psychotic break,” King Henry admitted breaking about fifty Learning Council laws.
“I know you were, Mr. Price, I know you were.” The smile Val gave him was complete Boomworm brilliance and not . . . well, stupid, brain dead Aussie beach bunny.
Kept his mouth shut some more. Strolling with his girlfriend, all casual like. Shithole Price up ahead to the left, Gentlewoman Moore’s fucking spyhole of ill repute up ahead to the right. Couple dead guys completely sucked off, huh? Didn’t see you as that type, you adorable little monster. But then, Moore used to be a pampered embassy vampire, now . . . not so much.
“Why?” he asked. Wasn’t mad about the interruption exactly—sexually and emotionally confused by some of it—just . . . wasn’t often Val overrode one of his plays.
She put her arm through his again, even snaked a hand down to hold. “Generally I support your Truth at All Costs thing you have going, especially with me, but it’s not fair to offer that to a poor mundane woman who can’t even guess at what she’s about to get herself into. And all of it? Vampires? Coyotes? Even if someone tells their parents the truth, the vast majority keep the darker parts back. For some weird reason, humans don’t do very well with the idea that they’re food.”
Of course they didn’t. Look at what one feeding drove JoJo to do . . . “All them genetic memories boiled up from deep lizard brain about how we used to be prey, I guess. Of course, I don’t think the Vamps were around when we were swinging through trees throwing our shit at oversized spiders and scorpions . . .”
