Page 29 of The Birthday Girl
By the time he finally calmed, the sky had begun to brighten.
Reporters crowded the barricades, lenses raised, their voices carrying in bursts of questions he refused to hear.
He turned his back on them. The thought of Shanice and her children reduced to sound bites and headlines before he even filed a report made his stomach turn.
Harlan joined him on the curb, scribbling something onto his clipboard. “We’ll coordinate with your division once we’ve got lab results, but Detective—” He paused, his soot-lined face unreadable. “This isn’t going to stay quiet.”
Vega stared at the motel’s husk until his eyes stung. “I know,” he replied before heading for the reporters.
“Detective Vega!” The voice cut through the murmur of the crowd.
A woman in a navy blazer thrust her microphone forward, the Pulse 11 News logo catching the morning light.
Behind her, a cameraman hoisted equipment to his shoulder, red recording light blinking like a warning. “Can you confirm the death toll?”
Usually, he would’ve kept walking and waited for the department’s press officer to do damage control, but Shanice and her children’s faces were haunting him. His silence would do nothing to help them.
Vega stopped and turned toward the cameras, his eyes red from smoke but fixed steadily on the crowd. “There are multiple fatalities,” he said, his voice raw but clear. “At least six confirmed at this time, including a woman and two children.”
The press erupted, voices tangling over one another. Were they targeted? Who was the woman? Are you treating this as arson?
“We are treating this as suspicious,” he continued. “And we have reason to believe it is connected to other recent homicides under investigation.”
The questions exploded again, louder this time. Which homicides? Is this the work of one killer? Is the suspect still at large?
Vega let the noise wash over him, then cut it off with one last line. “All I can say right now is that the same name keeps popping up. She thinks she’s untouchable, but she’s wrong. Her time is almost up.”
With that, he pivoted away from the microphones, deaf to the shouted questions that followed. Let them twist his words however they wanted. He was already gone, and he honestly didn’t care. His only concern was Tahlia Banks and making her pay for what she’d done to Shanice and her kids.
Vega shouldered through the yellow tape, his badge like a battering ram. He knocked the man's equipment askew, and the cameraman cursed a string of profanities that he ignored as he stalked to his unmarked car.
His hands made the steering wheel quiver, and the stranger in the rearview with red eyes, ash clinging to his cheeks, and his jaw clenching, bore no resemblance to the man he'd been yesterday. Vega should’ve been headed home for a shower and a change of clothes, but guilt drove his foot harder against the gas.
He bypassed his exit and steered straight for the precinct.
By the time he walked through the glass doors, dawn had broken in shades of gray, washing the lobby in cold light.
Uniforms stepped aside as he passed, their nods muted by the weight clinging to him like soot.
Someone had queued up the news broadcast on the TV mounted in the corner.
His face stared back at him, lips moving in sync with the words he wished he could take back but couldn’t.
“Vega,” the desk sergeant called, voice carrying a note of warning. “Captain Harper wants to speak with you. Now.”
Vega didn’t break stride. He already knew trouble would come knocking at his door after that interview he’d given the press.
Captain Harper's office felt like a greenhouse, with its drawn blinds slicing sunlight into stripes across the wilting desk plants and the towering piles of paperwork. Sweat prickled at Vega's hairline the moment he stepped inside.
Harper, a man in his mid-fifties with a salt-and-pepper goatee against brown, sun-kissed skin, didn't acknowledge him. Instead, he kept signing documents, his signet ring clicking against the desk with each signature, tracing the same path as countless coffee cups before it.
“Did Lawson not teach you a good enough lesson in court?” Harper asked, his frustration bleeding through his words.
“Captain, I—”
“Shut the hell up! I’m doing the talking.” Harper slammed his hand down on the desk, sending his pen flying across the room.
The blinds rattled from the impact, the sudden crack of sound slicing through the humid air of the office. Vega stood rooted, jaw clenched so hard it sent a throb down the side of his face.
“You think I like watching my best detective torch the chain of command on live television?” Harper’s voice was gravelly, every word grinding Vega down.
“Do you have any idea the calls I’ve fielded since sunrise?
The mayor’s office. The chief. Half the damn city council.
And every last one of them wants to know why Marcus Vega decided he’s the goddamn judge, jury, and executioner. ”
Vega’s fists curled at his sides. “Shanice Miller and her two kids are dead, Captain. They were burned alive in that fire because we’ve been sitting on our hands, waiting for evidence and warrants while Tahlia Banks keeps moving two steps ahead.
” His voice cracked at the edges, anger and grief scraping raw.
“I couldn’t stand there and feed the press another ‘no comment.’”
Harper pushed back from his desk, chair groaning under the weight shift.
He leaned forward, goatee catching the striped light, and stabbed a finger toward Vega.
“You don’t get to decide when this department goes to war with a billionaire.
The system does, and you just tipped our hand before we have a goddamn card to play. ”
Vega dragged a hand down his face, the grit of smoke still clinging to his skin.
“With all due respect, Captain, the system is failing. I told Shanice to run, and now she and her children are dead. At this point, I’m sure Banks thinks she’s untouchable.
It’s time we make her sweat, and to do that, we need to ring the alarm about Lawson’s disappearance. ”
Harper leaned back, eyes narrowing. “Careful, Marcus. Lawson’s file isn’t yours. You were pulled from that case for a reason.”
Before Vega could snap back, an obnoxious knock rattled the door, and Harper barked, “What?” His eyes never leaving Vega for one moment.
A young detective poked his head in, clutching a manila envelope. “Lab results just came in. Thought you’d want them immediately, Captain.” He set the packet on the desk and slipped out before either man could ask questions.
Harper tore it open, eyes scanning the page. His face hardened, the color draining out of it. He handed it across the desk without a word.
Vega snatched it, scanning the DNA results. His gut clenched. Positive match: Tyriq Lawson. The severed ear. The finger. Both his.
He gripped the paper until it wrinkled in his fists. “So he’s not just missing,” Vega spat, voice jagged. “He’s being butchered, and we let Shanice and her kids get slaughtered while the pieces were piling up right under our noses.”
“Marcus,” Harper warned, his voice rougher now. “This doesn’t leave this office. Not yet. If the media gets hold of it—”
“They deserve to know,” Vega cut him off, his chest heaving. “She was calling me for help while Lawson was being chopped up and delivered piece by piece to her doorstep. Then she and her kids were burned alive, Captain. Alive! The bitch didn’t even have the decency to off the kids first.”
For the first time, Harper’s eyes softened, but only for a breath. Then he shook his head. “I know you’re carrying that guilt. Hell, if you didn’t, I’d wonder what kind of detective you were, but you can’t let that guilt control your mouth. You’ll paint a target on yourself and on this department.”
The room fell quiet, the hum of the air vent the only sound. Vega’s pulse pounded in his ears, but he met Harper’s glare without blinking.
“I understand, Captain, but do you think silence is really the best move? Don’t you think the city needs to know what kind of monster is out there killing people?”
Harper slammed his fist on the desk. “I think blowing this wide open before we have a solid suspect will bury us! Do you want Banks to walk because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut?”
Vega leaned across the desk, his eyes burning. “I want her to pay, and now I’ve got proof Lawson is being butchered. And it all connects to Tahlia Banks. If we don’t drag that woman into the light, Shanice and those innocent babies would have died for nothing.”
“You better hope your instincts are right, because if they’re not, Vega—” Harper’s voice hardened, “—you won’t have a badge to hide behind for much longer. You get one shot, Marcus. Don’t fuck it up.”