"Hey, my hand! You didn't even heal my hand!"
Darnell waved his burned fingers in the air, but Raven had already walked past him without a glance. Marco shot his partner an apologetic look and hurried after her.
"Come on. We need to move."
---
Raven sat in the back seat wrapped in her cloak, curled into herself. Her eyes were half-closed, as though she'd retreated somewhere far away from the noise of the world.
Marco rode shotgun while Darnell drove, navigating through mid-morning traffic. They'd been on the road for maybe ten minutes when Darnell's voice dropped low.
"Grey Chevy, three cars back. It has been following us since we left the hospital."
Marco's eyes flicked to the side mirror. An unremarkable car maintained a careful distance, blending into traffic.
"You sure?"
"Positive. I spotted it at the third intersection after we pulled out of the hospital lot. It's matched every turn we've made since."
Marco watched the mirror for a moment, tracking the Chevy as it changed lanes to stay behind them.
"Want me to lose them?" Darnell asked. "I can duck into the industrial district, and run them through some tight corners."
"No." Marco shook his head. "Not worth the risk. They might have backup waiting for us to split from traffic. Try some evasive maneuvers instead and see how well they can keep up."
Darnell started varying his speed, changing lanes, even deliberately looping around a block. The grey Chevy stayed locked on them, maintaining the same distance.
"These guys are good," he muttered. "Patient, too. But they're not even trying to switch vehicles. That's Tailing 101, you're supposed to swap out the follow car every few blocks."
"They don't care if we know they're there." Marco leaned back in his seat. "They're not trying to grab her on the street. They're just confirming where we're taking her. Where she's going to be."
"So we're getting visitors tonight."
"Yeah. Probably." Marco glanced back at Raven. "You know anything about who's tailing us?"
Raven finally opened her eyes fully and turned her head to look out the rear window.
"The hunt never stops. This is just another pack of hounds that caught the scent."
Darnell snorted. "Man, teenagers. Always gotta be dramatic about everything."
"Hey, Darnell," Marco said, keeping his tone light. "When you were her age, did you talk like that too? All doom and gloom?"
Darnell burst out laughing. "Hell no. When I was fourteen, fifteen, I was running lookout for my older brothers while they stripped cars in empty parking lots. I wasn't wasting time on philosophy."
"See?" Marco glanced back at Raven. "Normal teenage rebellion. Try it sometime."
Raven's expression didn't change, but she did close her eyes again and retreat back into herself.
The grey Chevy followed them all the way to the East End precinct. It was only when Darnell pulled into the secure parking lot behind the building, that the sensation of being watched finally faded.
---
Marco was leading Raven and Darnell toward the back stairwell when a familiar voice called out.
"Captain Vitale! There you... oh my God."
Dr. Quinzel had just emerged from the break room, arms full of patient files. The moment her eyes landed on Raven, everything else ceased to exist. The files nearly slipped from her grip.
Marco stepped sideways, trying to block her line of sight. "Morning, Dr. Quinzel. We're just bringing in a witness for protective custody. It's standard procedure. Nothing to see here."
"Protective custody?" Dr. Quinzel set her files down on the nearest desk and moved closer, her eyes never leaving Raven. She bent slightly at the waist, trying to catch the girl's gaze. "Hi there! I'm Dr. Quinzel, but you can call me Harleen. What's your name?"
Raven lifted her eyes just enough to give Dr. Quinzel a brief, disinterested glance. Then she looked away, as though the psychiatrist were nothing more than a piece of furniture.
Marco grabbed Dr. Quinzel's arm before she could get any closer. "Doctor. Back to your office. This doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't concern me?" Dr. Quinzel spun around, pulling Marco aside to a quieter corner of the lobby. She lowered her voice. "Captain, have you forgotten what my job is here?"
"Your job is consulting on officer mental health—"
"My job is mental health, period." Dr. Quinzel adjusted her glasses. "And that girl is exhibiting clear signs of severe depression and complex post-traumatic stress disorder. You can see it from across the room. And you're planning to just lock her in a cell?"
"She's not being locked in a cell. She's under protective custody—"
"Protective custody in a police station is still confinement. She needs treatment, not a cage." Dr. Quinzel crossed her arms. "If her condition deteriorates while she's in your custody, that's on you."
Marco rubbed his face. This was getting complicated. "Darnell, can you take Raven upstairs? Get her settled in one of the secure rooms and make sure she has food, water, whatever she needs. Let her pick out... I don't know, a blanket or something."
"You got it." Darnell gently guided Raven toward the stairs. The girl went without resistance.
Once they were out of earshot, Marco turned back to Dr. Quinzel. "This situation is complicated. The girl's father is a cult leader. Dangerous people are trying to take her back. We need to keep her safe and secure until we figure out our next move. The psychological issues will have to wait."
Dr. Quinzel's expression sharpened. She tilted her head, studying him. "You're lying to me. Or at least, you're not telling me everything."
"I'm telling you what you need to know."
"Captain. I've spent the last three years conducting psychological evaluations on criminals, addicts, and corrupt cops. I can read selective disclosure from a mile away. Your body language, your tone, the way you're choosing your words, it all screams that you're holding something back." She stepped closer. "So let's try this again. What's really going on?"
Marco stared at her for a moment.
"It's classified," he said finally. "Above your clearance level."
"Bullshit. I'm sorry... What I mean is, this is the East End precinct, not the Pentagon." Dr. Quinzel wasn't backing down. "That girl has been through something traumatic. Something severe enough that she's completely dissociated from reality. And you're keeping her here instead of getting her proper psychiatric care. Why?"
"Because proper psychiatric care won't keep her alive when the people hunting her show up."
"So tell me what we're dealing with. Let me help."
Marco shook his head. "No."
"Why not?"
"Two reasons." Marco held up a finger. "One: professional ethics. You just said you can't ignore a teenager with serious psychological issues. So if I tell you what's really going on, you'll feel obligated to help. Which means you'll put yourself in danger." He held up a second finger. "Two: you won't believe me anyway. And even if you did, it wouldn't change anything."
Dr. Quinzel studied him for a moment, then smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. "Okay. Let me make you a deal."
"I don't make deals with—"
"I formally request to participate, in my capacity as a consulting psychological expert, in the protective custody and evaluation of this witness. I'll sign a full liability waiver absolving the department and you personally of any responsibility for my safety. I'll even work pro bono." She crossed her arms. "In exchange, I provide professional psychological intervention to help stabilize her condition. Win-win."
"No."
"Captain—"
"No." Marco shook his head firmly. "This isn't a game, Doctor. This isn't some interesting case study for your research. This is life or death. And I'm not putting a civilian in harm's way just because you're curious."
"I'm not just curious," Dr. Quinzel insisted. "I'm concerned. That girl is suffering. And whatever she's been through, whatever she's carrying... She needs help. And I can provide that."
Marco started walking toward the exit, guiding Dr. Quinzel along with him. "I appreciate your concern, Doctor. But the answer is no. Go home. Take the rest of the day off."
Dr. Quinzel planted her feet, resisting. "If you don't let me help officially, I'll go to headquarters. I'll file a report with Child Protective Services—"
"CPS won't touch this case." Marco kept walking, his hand on her elbow. "Trust me."
"Then I'll contact the media. I'll tell them the GCPD is holding a minor in custody without proper oversight—"
"And I'll have you charged with obstruction of justice." Marco's voice was calm but serious. "Dr. Quinzel, I'm asking you nicely. Drop this, go home, and forget you saw her."
They'd reached the security turnstile at the lobby entrance. Dr. Quinzel grabbed the metal railing, stopping herself from being pushed through.
"Wait. Okay. Hold on." She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her tone had changed. "What if I sweetened the deal?"
Marco paused. "What?"
"Information. Something you'll want to know. About the West End precinct and their 'highly praised' psychological consultant, Dr. Jonathan Crane."
That made Marco stop. He turned to look at her properly. "Dr. Crane? The guy who's been on the news talking about his advanced PTSD treatment program?"
"That's the one." A knowing smile played at Dr. Quinzel's lips. "His 'advanced therapy' is more than just talk therapy. According to a source at Gotham University's Academic Ethics Committee—"
"What about him?"
"Uh-uh." Dr. Quinzel wagged a finger. "You let me help with your witness, and I'll tell you everything I know about his program. Trust me, it's worth it."
Marco studied her face, trying to gauge if she was bluffing. But Dr. Quinzel's expression was serious now. Whatever she knew, it was real. Still, it didn't matter. He couldn't let her get involved.
"Nice try, Doctor." He turned her around and guided her through the turnstile. "But the answer is still no. Whatever he is up to, I'll figure it out another way."
"Captain—"
"Have a good day, Dr. Quinzel."
Dr. Quinzel stood on the other side of the security barrier. "You're making a mistake."
"Probably. But it's my mistake to make." Marco gave her a small, tired smile. "Go home and get some rest."
He turned and walked back into the precinct before she could respond.
Behind him, he heard Dr. Quinzel mutter something under her breath. It sounded like, "I'll just come back tonight then."