…..CHAPTER 24…..
Gwen settled into the chair next to Jesse in the observation room. In the interrogation room, a man in a pale blue polo shirt with white shorts sat fuming, huffing occasional sounds of anger. Alone, he eyed the window, then the camera in the corner, then the door where Oliver and Oscar would come through shortly. Gwen knew the man had already been waiting for nearly two hours. He was not pleased.
“He’s just pissed he couldn’t make it to the eighteenth hole,” Jesse said, voice amused.
She nodded. He probably was. He looked like the sort to resent anything that interrupted whatever he was doing.
The door opened suddenly and the man, for all his anger, jumped like a shotgun had gone off by his ear.
Oliver’s mouth twitched but he didn’t smile, and Oscar followed him in.
“Mr. Nicholas Parson,” Oscar said as he sat down, back to the one-way mirror.
“Yes,” he muttered, eyes glinting with anger.
“You’re a witch?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I can sense your magic, Parson,” Oliver said, leaning against the door, crossing his arms. He’d changed his shirt to a blue polo and Gwen had no doubt he’d done it on purpose, to reflect the man’s image back at him. Oliver’s cuff was very visible.
The man shot a look at it and looked away.
“So, you’re an accountant? With what company?”
“Largen Corporation,” he bit out.
“But you used to work for Braden Kipling, is this correct?”
Parson hesitated. He glanced at the folder lying on the table and licked his lips. “I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Parson’s mouth tightened.
Oscar flipped the file open and pulled a paper out, turned it and placed it in front of Parson, tapping it twice. “This says you did.”
The paper removed any culpability for him in admitting it. “Yes, I worked for him. Not any more.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, shot a look at Oliver’s cuff.
“He was going to drop you in a fucking catchment, wasn’t he?” Oliver growled.
Parson stiffened. “No.” He didn’t sound very sure of that.
“Had you done or said something to make him think your loyalty was at risk?” Oscar demanded.
Gwen realized what they were doing. They weren’t playing good cop/bad cop. They were equally as aggressive but not overly so. They were shifting back and forth between them, distracting, unbalancing, rattling Parson’s concentration by hitting several topics at once.
“No! I just…I had to prioritize my life,” he finished in a lame voice.
“Tell us about the money.”
“What money?”
“King Kong’s giant piggy bank.” Gwen winced at Oliver’s snide comment. “Kipling’s money, Parson!”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where is it going?”
Parson blinked. “Going, not coming from?”
“Oh we know he gets his money from prudent investing from his parents and grandparents. We know he sells drugs, sells witches for sex, sells electricity to anyone willing to pay for it under the table,” Oscar said.
Oliver took over. “We want to know where the extra is going.”
Parson’s gaze ping-ponged between them, glazing with stress. “I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
“I don’t. He wouldn’t let me know.”
“He’s an accomplished business man. But Kipling is no numbers man. So if not you, who knows?”
Parson’s mouth tightened.
“Come on, man,” Oscar murmured, voice gentling.
Sweat trickled down his temple. “He’ll kill me…” he whispered.
“He can’t if he’s in prison.”
Parson gave a bitter laugh. “It’s bad enough that I left him. But I swore I’d keep his secrets. I’m not about to spill. I value life, and all that. Mine especially.”
“Just give us a name. A line to follow.”
Parson shook his head. “No.”
Gwen sighed to herself, caught up in the drama in that little room. She looked over to Jesse, who was intent on the conversation. She turned back.
“A name. Give a starting point. We could’ve learned it anywhere. We’ll be happy to say that very thing.”
He shook his head. “I want my lawyer.”
“We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us. Now that you’re here, Kipling might think you’ve talked whether you have or not. Let us help you.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. The anger of a trapped man. “You’ve helped me plenty,” he spat, waving at the scrapes on his face and pointing to his sprained ankle.
“If you were innocent, why did you run?” Oliver asked.
Parson glared at Oliver.
Oliver gave him a feral smile. “At the very least, you’re in trouble for going unregistered. You could be seeing jail time for that alone.”
Oscar immediately started talking when Oliver was done. “That doesn’t include working for a mob boss, and all the money laundering that has your finger print on it. If you want help, start telling us about Kipling.”
“Oh yeah,” Oliver said, looking over at Oscar. “Don’t forget about the crazy chase through traffic that almost caused accidents, risked the life of a law enforcement officer, and…”
“Shut up!” Parson snapped, lifting his handcuffed hands to his forehead. “I want my lawyer! I’m not talking to you idiots any more!”
“If you would be willing to testify, we can cut you a deal,” Oscar said. “Or just a name.”
Parson groaned and put his head down. “Assholes.”
“Come on. It’s the right thing to do. We know why you left Kipling.”
Parson jerked upright, eyes sharp. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Oliver snorted while Oscar moved the top few papers of the still open folder.
Whatever he saw made him pale. His gaze went to Oscar and he gulped.
“I know this is why you left,” Oscar murmured. “I commend you for that.”
His gaze dropped back to the paper. Gwen thought it might be a photograph. Lifting onto her toes, she leaned against the window, trying to see it.
Jesse gave a soft laugh at her efforts. “It’s a picture of his newborn son.”
Parson put his face in his hands. “I can’t. Please don’t register me. I love my son. What’ll happen to him? I want to raise him.”
Oliver met Oscar’s gaze and the room was silent for a long time. The dim sound of unsteady breathing came from the man, and Gwen wondered if he was crying.
The tragedy of this was unspeakable. An unregistered witch had fathered a child and was now in custody. He’d committed crimes, no question, as the accountant of a mob boss.
Now he was going to jail at the very least. To an Academy for certain if not jail.
He would never be allowed to raise his child.
And his son would be watched his entire childhood until he either awoke to magic, or he reached adulthood without awakening, because past a certain age—usually seventeen—awakening didn’t happen.
Gwen sighed softly at the sadness of it all. Then anger swirled to life in her heart. How dare he? He was a witch, knew himself to be a witch, and he’d fathered a child! Indignant at the man’s choices, she continued to watch.
“Mr. Parson. Please give us something to work with. Kipling can’t hurt you if you help us put him in prison. If you want, we can give you and your wife and child witness protection.”
Parson shook his head as it continued to rest in his hands, the handcuffs clinking minutely as he moved. “I can’t.”
Oscar and Oliver just waited.
When Parson lifted his face, it was indeed wet. “I want my lawyer.”
“Mr. Parson…”
“I said I’m not talking to you!”
“I understand. I’m just making you aware of the offer. Feel free to call on us if you change your mind once you’ve had a chat with your attorney.” Oscar stood and stepped up to Oliver at the door.
Oliver leaned over the table, meeting the man’s gaze. Parson drew back, eyes widening.
Gwen didn’t even have to be in the room with them to sense the tension. Anxiety rolled off the man, and anger came from Oliver.
Oliver stared for a long moment, then straightened. “You’re an Air witch, level three, and you know what you’re doing with it, when you use it. Someone trained you. And it wasn’t the government.”
Parson flinched, eyes still wide.
Oliver shrugged. “Oh well. Hopefully we’ll see you soon.”
Gwen let out a breath when the door closed.
“Oliver’s pretty intense, huh?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
They left the observation room, met Oliver and Oscar out in the hall.
The moment she came close to Oliver, she shivered and looked up at him, puzzled. He felt…different. Something about him…
Oliver caught her staring at him and lifted an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head, not in denial, but in confusion.
“Why don’t we chat over here? Oscar and Jesse need to coordinate.”
She glanced at Jesse, who nodded for her to go, and she followed him down the hallway to the elevators.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know? I don’t know that anything is wrong. Just…different.”
“What is?”
“You are.”
Oliver shot her a sharp look. “Me?”
She nodded, still trying to figure it out. “It feels off. Are you alright?”
Oliver turned his gaze away, staring at middle-distance, mouth tightening with…anger? No. Worry. But it was so slight she almost thought she imagined it.
When he turned back to her, he smiled ruefully. “I don’t know if you know this, but my magic has always been a little odd. The moment I arrived at the Academy, they noticed, and it was noted in my file. They never did find out why. You’re strong enough to sense it, so I’m not surprised.”
Gwen blinked in surprise. “Magic can be…odd? How?”
“Don’t know. I’d sure like to know,” he muttered.
Oliver’s own puzzlement spurred hers. When she was alone in her cubicle, Gwen decided to look it up. Oliver hadn’t lied. His profile showed his red flag status, but buried within, under the magical analysis tab, it stated clearly that Oliver’s magic was unusual, and it wasn’t because of his strength. Someone had noted that the breadth of his magic, being a quint, was likely part of it. But the teacher wasn’t sure if that was the only reason.
“What’re you focusing on so hard?” Jesse asked, amusement rich in his voice.
Gwen looked up at him with a smile, ducking her head back down. “I was just looking something up. Oliver said something that confused me.”
Jesse set some files down as he seated himself. “Oh yeah?”
“He said that his magic was unusual. They noticed when he was taken in.”
Jesse lifted an eyebrow, his smile…not really disappearing, but it did dim. “Odd how?”
She shrugged. “No one knows. I sensed it today, and Oliver told me the truth. I decided to see if I could figure it out. I’ve always been a little curious about how our magic works.”
Jesse’s smile broadened. “You want to research magic?”
Gwen shook her head quickly. “Oh no. I’m not smart enough for that.”
With an exasperated sigh, he shook his head. “Don’t say that! You’re plenty smart, Gwen. Just because you’re inexperienced, doesn’t mean you’re stupid. Those are two very different things. Are you interested in learning more about magic?”
With his gentle scold still ringing in her ears, she nodded, gaze in her lap.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She blinked up at him. “What?”
“The Federal Witchcraft Research Center is here in Denver, and we have a satellite office here in the Bureau. We have to, since we deal exclusively with witches. You can help them out there a few hours a day, if you want.”
A swell of hope lifted her up. “Really?” she breathed.
Jesse stared at her, eyes softening. “Yes, really, Gwen.”
For the first time, her wants were addressed. She’d always been fascinated.
Tears pricked her eyes. “Thank you, sir.”
“Hey,” he said, voice both soft and admonishing.
“Yes, Jesse.”
He smiled and left her to her search. Gwen glanced at Oliver’s file. Lattice preferred, but he was equally skilled with Earth itself. His least preferred was Matter. His ability with Magnetism was strong, too. Just an all-around skilled witch.
Gwen flipped to her own profile out of curiosity. She was surprised to see a very recent notation in her files, made shortly after she’d arrived here in Denver.
Written by Oliver.
“Witch Gwen is powerful and quint-skilled. I have confirmed her status at level nine, native Element Water, preferred Aspect Water. She is nearly equally gifted with Transformation, and her ability to use Time is a noteworthy clue to her power and talents. Gwen is shy, tentative, and extremely inexperienced; however, no one should ever underestimate her. I believe she will gain not only experience here in the FBW&R, but she’ll gain wisdom and strength of character. Once she’s fully awakened to her strengths, Gwen will be an excellent addition to our Bureau.
In addition, I sensed an unusual broadness to her magic. Like myself, Gwen’s quint abilities speak to a range not seen in most witches. I’ll keep an eye on her magic and provide assistance at need.”
Gwen’s cheeks warmed. That Oliver had such faith in her embarrassed her, especially with her stupid mistake that put Oliver at risk! Not to mention snooping in his file.
In her defense, she was just trying to understand.
Sighing at her dichotomy of confusion and curiosity, she closed out of it and got back to work on the Kipling case.