Anti-Hero | Tim Bradford

Chapter Twenty Six - Listening

Morgan nursed a coffee that had turned cold hours ago as she watched the screens before here intently, waiting for anything to happen. It had been hours since she had placed the bug in Sullivan's home but he had not done anything at all except watch reruns of crappy old sitcoms.

The room she was hooked up in was small and dark, so much so she felt like she could drift off to sleep any moment now. Groaning, she leaned back in her chair, sliding the headphones down to rest on her neck. Her back popped as she stretched, releasing tension that had been sitting there for hours. She stayed in that stretched out position for a few fleeting moments, shooting back up again when she heard the door open.

"Hey, hey, hey." She said, trying to seem a bit more collected than she felt.

"Hi." Chen smiled as stuck her head around the door, keeping the rest of her body hidden. "Is now a good time to talk?"

"Only is you brought me a-"

"Coffee?" Chen moved into the small room, presenting Morgan with a takeaway coffee cup, passing it over when the detective started making grabby hands. "I learn quickly."

"You're my favourite." She smiled into her coffee, blowing on it before taking a sip. "This is amazing. You're amazing. But what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you could show me how all this works, Tim is in court and it's either this or desk duty with Smitty."

Morgan nodded, gesturing for Lucy to pull up a chair beside her. She leaned over to the drawers beside her, pulling out a spare headset and plugging it in. "Put this on. All we need to do is listen, see if he says anything of interest that we can link back to Dyer."

Lucy hummed as she donned the headset, watching as Morgan shuffled through the computer screens in front of her. The two sat in silence for nearly an hour, listening to the tape until Chen all but slammed her headset down onto the hardwood desk in front of her.

"You okay?" Morgan asked, gently placing her own headphones down next to Lucy's.

"This is stupid, this can't be all there is to do." She ranted, running a hand over her head. "Rosalind would know that we were listening. It feels like we are running around doing exactly what she expects. Surely, you agree?"

"Yeah, I do. But nobody will warrant any other action at this time. Until we get permission from Grey, or someone higher, we can't take any official action." Morgan softly said, placing her hand on Lucy's shoulder, checking her watch as she moved. "Look, it's near the end of shift. I'm going to head off, you should too. Go home; eat, sleep. Come back here tomorrow. We can talk more then... see if any better ideas come to us."

Morgan watched as Chen nodded, leaving to hopefully go back to the locker room. Once the door shut behind her, she reached for her phone. Chen was right, they were not going to make any progress. Rosalind Dyer was playing chess and they were playing checkers. They had to meet her on a more even ground, one where Rosalind wouldn't expect them to be.

-

The sun hadn't even begun to rise when Morgan carefully removed herself from Tim's sleepy grip, silently getting herself ready for the day. She moved through the house with the stealth of an black ops agent, trying not to wake Kujo as she left, grabbing a large grey duffle bag from the office before leaving and shutting the door behind her. She had left the house as if nothing had been disturbed, everything was in its place.

As she slotted the key into the door, turning the lock shut, she let out a silent breath of relief that she had managed to leave undetected. She took a moment to collect herself, focussing her thoughts on what had to be done, before getting into her car, tossing her bag onto the backseat and pulling out of the driveway.

Even in the midst of nightfall, the streets and freeways of Los Angeles were mayhem to navigate; there was traffic from every given angle, drivers swearing at each other and barely anyone obeying traffic laws. Morgan paid no mind to the minor law infringements she saw, she had no time to pull these drivers over only to give them a fine. Dayshift would pick up any slack she left behind.

As traffic began to slow down to another standstill, Morgan pulled her phone from her pocket before turning it off and throwing it in the back alongside her duffle bag. She then leaned across the passigner chair to the glovebox where she pulled out a burner phone, an old Nokia she still had stashed away when she had returned to work. She shoved it in the pocket where she had pulled her phone from before turning into the Union Station parking lot.

Throwing her coat on, she got out of the car, locking it before placing the key on top of the back left wheel. She checked her pockets for everything she would need, her badge, her wallet, and a packet of gum as she walked towards the bus terminal.

-

The dark walls seemed to impose on Morgan, as if they were squeezing her, taking away the very oxygen in her lungs. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was fine and the walls were not, in fact, compressing her. Still, even with that knowledge, she hardly felt safe; the nonchalant attitude of the guard escorting her and the angry roar of inmates who recognised someone foreign to them were hardly reassuring.

Nonetheless, Morgan held her head high, not letting her lack of confidence show as the guard finally escorted her into the most easterly wing of the prison. It was one of the most secluded areas of the entire facility and yet it was the most sterile looking. It reminded her of a hospital straight from a horror movie.

The walls stood tall, the bright white paint giving the illusion that the corridor was light and airy. The luminescent lights shone down from the ceiling, causing Morgan to wince from the sheer amount of light that gave off. The image of a hospital ward was only fended off by the heavy metal doors aligning the corridor, each one marking an entrance to a cell which held some of California's most terrifying inmates. Kidnappers, war criminals, people involved with terror plots, and serial killers. Those heavy metal doors didn't let Morgan forget where she was or why she was here.

"You know the rules right?" The guard grunted, pushing his overgrown hair from his face. As he stopped outside one of the cells "No touching, no provoking, no transfer of contraband. If the inmate attacks-"

"Attempt to restrain the prisoner, and use suitable force if required. Yell for help. I know." Bradford finished as she watched the guard huff before he started to unlock the cell door.