Hellbound
âYou ever visited Novi before?â âNo, I never have.â
Monica can feel Van Allenâs gaze on her back as she continues toward the car. Itâs unsettling, but she resists the urge to look back over her shoulder; she doesnât want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that heâs unnerved her.Â
Itâs not clear what exactly his deal is. Certainly he wouldnât be the first small town detective with a chip on his shoulder about the FBI coming around to ask questions. Nor would he be the first man sheâs encountered who thinks women donât belong in law enforcement. But it feels like something more than that; the energy coming off him is dark and almost predatory. Monica learned long ago not to ignore those energies and impressions, even (or perhaps especially) when they are at odds with the way things appear on the outside.
When she rounds the front of the car and reaches for the driverâs side door, she lets herself look up again. Van Allen is still watching her, but to her relief, John exits the church just then, and the detective turns toward him instead.
âWhatâd I tell you?â he says. âWaste of time.â
John glances across the driveway at Monica before responding. âA man was murdered, Detective. Now he might not have been a Boy Scout, but that doesnât mean we shouldnât do what we can to find his killer.â
âFunny. I wouldâve thought the FBI had bigger things to worry about than why some low-life nobody got himself killed. You must be real busy if you go chasing after every little thing that comes your way.âÂ
The sneer in Van Allenâs voice gives Monica a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.
âVictor Potts didnât just piss somebody off in a bar fight and end up shot,â John says. âEven you have to admit the way he died was pretty unusual. I havenât seen something like that since I was working a lot of gang cases, and I wouldnât think you get a lot of that kinda activity out here in Novi.â
Van Allen shrugs. âA little here and there. This isnât exactly South Central. But it doesnât take a genius to connect the dots and figure out Potts probably made himself some enemies in prison. You drove here from D.C. yourself, Agent Doggett. You know the cityâs not all that far away.â
Itâs not lost on Monica that this is, essentially, the very same argument John made last night. Sheâs grateful, then, that he doesnât simply agree with the detective now.
âMaybe so,â he says. âMaybe thereâs something else goinâ on. If itâs all the same to you, Iâd rather not close a case based solely on an assumption of the facts.â
Instead of answering, Van Allen turns his head to look right at Monica, sending another chill down her spine. âWell, it looks like your partner is waiting for you, Agent Doggett. I wouldnât want to keep you from your important work.â
Monica breaks eye contact, not even caring in that moment if it makes her look weak; she canât bear another second locked eye-to-eye with him. She opens the car door, sits down inside, and puts the key in the ignition, not looking up again until John gets in the car.
***
Doggett reaches for his seatbelt as Monica starts the car.
âThank you,â she says quietly.
âFor what?â
âI know you think Van Allenâs right, that Victor Potts probably just got on someoneâs bad side, maybe while he was in prison. But I appreciate that youâre willing to see the case through anyway.â
He raises his eyebrows. âSince when do you need to thank me for doing my job? Now I might not understand what it is about this particular case thatâs got you all tied up in knots, but I meant what I said to Lisa Holland in there, that thereâs justice to be served. Regardless of whether or not heâs right, Detective Van Allen clearly hasnât done his due diligence, and you know that sort of thing is never gonna sit well with me.â
She looks over at him, smiling, before turning her attention back to the road. âAnd thatâs one of the reasons youâre not just a good agent, but a good man, too.â
âWell, no need to act all surprised,â he says, and she laughs.
He has to admit, though, that heâs still puzzled as to why theyâre on this case at all. Lisa Holland said that Monica contacted her about it, not the other way around, as Doggett had assumed.Â
âTell me something,â he says. âIf Lisa Holland wasnât the one who contacted you about this case, how did you find out about it?â
He sees her shoulders tense. âI⊠I read about it.â
âWhat, over the wire?â he asks, frowning. âTalk about a needle in a haystack. Were you looking for something in particular or what?â
âNo, itâs more like⊠this case found me.â
He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesnât say anything more. She gets like this sometimes, clearly holding something back, but he knows itâs not because sheâs trying to keep the upper hand or keep him in the dark about something important.
No, when she gets like this, itâs because sheâs afraid of looking foolish.
Doggett canât honestly say he buys a lot of the stuff that she talks about, feeling âenergiesâ and that sort of thing. But he knows Monica is a good agent. Sheâs smart and cares a hell of a lot more than most people. So it doesnât matter, most of the time, if she wants to believe in auras or ghosts or whatever. More often than not, they end up on the same page by the time a case is closed, even if they donât agree on how exactly they got there. No matter how this case ended up on her radar, itâs here now, and heâll see it through.
Wouldâve been nice if she couldâve waited until morning to bring him in on it, though. He stifles a yawn.
âWell, where do you want to go next with this? Back to the office to run backgrounds, or is there anything else in Novi you think we should check out first?â
âI think backgrounds are the logical next step, yes,â Monica says, nodding. âWe need to know more about Pottsâs connections, in prison and otherwise. Iâve also asked Dana to look for any cases with a similar M.O. or cause of death.â
âYou think thereâs a chance weâre looking for someone whoâs done this before and was never caught?â
Sheâs quiet a moment, then says, âI think it would take a certain type of person to do something like this. Not just the cruelty of it, but the precision. This is someone who has either done this before, or theyâve been planning for a long time, maybe after they saw someone else do the same thing.â
The precision, Doggett has to admit, is the one thing that has given him pause. Sure, heâs seen skinnings before, but theyâve generally been rushed, sloppy, and more often than not, inflicted after death. Whoever killed Victor Potts was skilled, and patient, more interested in prolonging the victimâs torture than just leaving a threat to some rival gang.
âYeah, you may be right,â he says. âLast thing weâd want is for this to be someone just getting started.â
He sees a shiver go through Monica. âThatâs exactly what Iâm afraid of,â she says quietly.
***
Background checks are tedious even under the best circumstances, but by early afternoon, Monica can see that the tedium combined with the lack of sleep is really taking a toll on John. His eyes keep drifting closed, and heâs had the file on his desk open to the same page for the last fifteen minutes.
As much as she hates to admit it, they arenât making much progress. Even sustained as she has been by caffeine, adrenaline, and nicotine gum, Monica knows that the sleepless night is starting to catch up with her, too. She wants to solve this case -- needs to solve it -- but sheer force of will is only going to get her so far.Â
âOkay,â she says, clicking âprintâ on the document sheâd been reading, a report about potential instances of death premonitions. âI think weâve hit a point of diminishing returns here. I say we take some work home with us and call it a day.â
John looks up. âYou go on ahead. Truth be told, I donât think Iâm in any shape to get behind the wheel of my truck right now. Iâll grab a nap here and head home a little later.â
Guilt hits her then. If heâs willing to freely admit that heâs too tired to drive safely, he must be completely exhausted. And itâs her fault. This case is important, yes, but did she really need to haul him out of bed in the middle of the night to come look at Victor Pottsâs body, or could it have waited until morning? It had felt critical and urgent in the moment, but now sheâs not so sure.
âYou know what? I have a better idea. Come with me. My apartment is all of ten minutes away, and my couch is way more comfortable than the floor in here.â
âItâs fine, really, I just need--â
âPlease, John. I owe you. Let me buy you dinner to make up for dragging you out of bed in the middle of the night. After weâve both had some rest, Iâll get something delivered.â
He opens his mouth like heâs about to argue more, then pauses. âYeah, all right. Gotta admit, that sounds pretty good to me.â
She smiles. âLetâs go, then.â









