It didn't take long between Clarissa Heathholm leaving and the building repopulating. The gunshot had been heard, and more than one officer had come barging through as fast as possible, with no fear for their own lives, looking for a body or a wounded officer to rescue. When they had found Billy, back to a broken desk and a bullet embedded inches from his face, more than one had told him to go home and get some rest. Billy did not.
The building was swept. Three dead men and a dead woman were found, all police officers whose faces Billy had recognised, but with names he could not. Sophie and her team were called in, but Billy avoided them, knowing that they, like everybody else, would tell him to go home. He kept moving, avoiding his superiors and going directly for the people that worked for him.
"I gave you something to do," he announced to one of the younger people working under him. The young man in question had been assigned a very simple task before the building had been taken under siege, but that was somebody else's job now. "You need to find out where this phone came from," instructed Billy, pointing at the mobile phone still in his hand that Clarissa had sent him. "There's something else I need doing too. I want you to find the address of a man called Robin Harris who disappeared fairly recently. Look through missing persons; I know he's there. I need the address of his parents. He likely won't have one for himself."
Nameless, and in many ways faceless, his subordinate gave him a confused look. "Detective, we've all been reassigned right now," he began to explain in a level voice. "Our priority right now is to-"
"Your priority right now is exactly what I tell you it is. I'm in no mood to piss about with rules and regulations. I want this done. I know you've been told to put the security of this station above all else, and that's exactly what you're doing. What's important right now is that you do as you're told by me," Billy explained right back.
The subject of his speech thought things over for only a moment, before nodding his head, taking custody of the phone and getting to work. Billy took the opportunity to vanish again.
Charlie, his prisoner in pursuit of Dirk Fletcher, had been at the station for barely any time at all. He had been shot, point blank, in the chest. The people that did this knew their targets. Everybody who had died had died for a reason. They had either had the keys for the necessary cell, or had been in charge of it, or had simply been the highest ranking officer there. Their hits had been carefully hidden out of sight, either in cells or in a cupboard by which the first one had been found. When Billy had hit the fire alarm, it was already too late, and there had only been one target left: Detective William Riggs. Clarissa's target.
Dirk Fletcher had, of course, disappeared. Clarissa's accomplices must have been keeping people outside and making arrangements to escape while she had been talking to him. It would have been her first kill and she had been afraid. Billy had been lucky.
He found himself an empty office. There were banned rooms and restricted areas and people running all around the halls now, looking for evidence, desperate for clues and to find the people responsible. It made it very difficult for Billy to move, but he needed to communicate with somebody. Drawing his phone from his pocket, he made a quick call to Sophie.
She picked up within a ring and said: "I was wondering when you were going to call me."
He picked up on the teasing tone immediately and smiled to himself. "I don't have a lot of time, so I'll be quick," he began. "Did you get any DNA on Jess Matthews? I just need a yes or a no."
"Yes."
"Okay," continued Billy. "Is there anything from Clarissa Heathholm we can use for comparison?"
"No."
"She used her bare hand to lean on the desk opposite mine," he told her. "I've watched how you work for a long time. I know you talk about flakes of skin a lot. There's every chance she left something behind. I know it's her, so just go and look and find something there for me. All I need is confirmation, one way or the other. I know she was here. Understand?"
"Yes."
Billy shut off his phone, leaving Sophie to her search. The very spot at which he had been held at gunpoint by a teenage girl was now a sprawling crime scene, with people scanning and inspecting every single spot for anything and everything that might give a clue away as to the who and the why. He didn't even dare to go up to the second floor now, knowing the amount of trouble he might have ended up in if he was spotted having not gone home after being dismissed.
Before anybody else came into his hideaway, Billy received another phone call. Again, there were no formalities as the man on the other line began to speak.
"I've got two things you're going to like," he said. "I've got the exact address of Robin Harris' dad. He's the one who reported his son missing, and he hasn't moved. Says here he calls up missing persons once a year on his son's birthday just to check if there's been any news."
"Great," answered Billy. "Send it to my phone after we hang up. What else have you got? Is it the phone?"
"It is," came the reply, "and I think you might just love me after this. The phone was bought from a high street not five streets away from the address in question. It's a town about twenty miles from here, but it's still a bit too much of a coincidence if you get me. What got you following this up?"
In his head, the memory of Clarissa talking about Fletcher's family, back when he was still Robin Harris. The Jess Matthews lead was a good one, but it was also imperfect. If Billy was going to track down Clarissa Heathholm, as had abruptly become his greatest sense of purpose, he had to find Robin Harris, and this was simply his only clue by which to reach him.
That said, he wasn't about to declare his intentions just yet. He wasn't even sure where his head was. In addition, and much more seriously, somebody in this station could very easily be reporting his any and all move back to whoever was in charge of everything going on. Did he even trust the person on the other end of this phone? He did not, but somebody had to do the necessary grunt work, seeing as how they had already been on the task before the station had been raided.
"I have a hunch," he declared, which was a beautiful something heard on any and all cop shows, regardless of where they came from. In reality, it meant absolutely nothing, which was even more helpful. "I'm going to report it, then I'll do as I'm told and go home. Can you tell Grey I'm heading off?"
"I can. Goodnight sir."
This was another point that worked out well. Billy had the information he needed, and now he was leaving with a tape detailing the life of Dirk Fletcher in his pocket, in addition to a flash drive with plenty more undiscovered information.
Now, however, came the point where he had to be very careful. If there were spies on point, they would know that he survived, and this was another reason Billy had found himself ducking corners and hiding in offices. Had Clarissa told her accomplices that he was alive? Did anybody know? Who knew the answers? Billy was developing quite a headache. He had attempting to keep track of the people that had seen him, but he had no idea what any of their names were. Attention to detail had never been a particular strength of his. Now though, it was time to go.
He kept a hand on his retrieved gun, holstered at his side, and kept the spare hand in the pocket touching the tape and flash drive, as if afraid that they would vanish if he let go of them. He crept through the corridors, keeping his feet as light as possible, slipped out into the car park and started driving. The address he needed had been text to him before he had even gotten into the car.
It was starting to rain again, coming down in thick sheets that blanketed his windscreen. His wipers went on as powerfully as possible in the attempt to beat away his distraction. Everything he saw, he saw through a haze, and the roads were so slippery that he had to go very slowly. Minutes turned into almost an hour as he drove. He paused at a petrol station and very carefully paid with cash. He knew that he could track cards and wanted to make sure that nobody else with the same facilities could manage the same.
As he entered the town, the sound of the pounding rain got to him, and he turned on his radio. A CD was already in, which was a good thing. Stopping to mess around with discs was not something he was keen on. The CD had an interesting tune on it. It was an oddly soothing track, like something from an old memory, or a very odd dream. His eyes seemed to be drooping, his body relaxing, even at the wheel. There was no sense of panic, only an absolute calm that settled over him. His feet became heavy on the acceleration pedal, and his hands started to ease on the wheel.
His phone went crazy in his pocket, jolting him awake and making his car wobble violently on the road. He slammed on the brakes, coming to a stop in the middle of a largely empty side street. Rubbing his eyes quickly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and switched off the radio so that he could hear Sophie's voice.
"What did you get?" he asked, trying to avoid sounding as groggy as he felt.
"Exactly what you wanted. Going to tell me what's going on?" Sophie inquired.
"I'm not planning on it, but I think you'll be better off to be honest."
As he spoke, Billy carefully drove himself off onto the pavement to let another car pass. His heart was pounding rather heavily in his chest now, but he carefully held his cool.
"Well, as much as I like you're thinking of me at all, tell me," demanded Sophie.
The worst thing was how desperately he wanted to. "Sorry, Sophie."
He hung up and turned his phone off. This, two streets away from his intended location, was as good a place to stop as any. He hadn't even realised how close he was. Taking his precious items from his pocket, he stuffed them into the glove box and dragged himself out of his car.
The water woke him up quickly. He was drenched quickly, but it proved only a small distraction. He walked the streets as casually as possible, trying to draw as little attention as possible to himself. As he approached the street in question, he crouched so that the little fences covered his approach and drew his gun. There was nobody on the streets, but there was a light on in the Harris household.
