Wu's POV
"Thank you," Dwaine said as I handed him back his phone.
"This way," I said, leading him out of the interrogation room.
"Wait!" Dwaine yelled before I opened the door.
I turned around to face him.
"You guys are doing the right thing," he promised. Oh, yeah. That was really reassuring coming from a gang member whose gang had killed at least eleven people, injured two, robbed two, and kidnapped one all within a week.
"It doesn't feel like it," I admitted bitterly.
"Sometimes it's hard to tell," Dwaine said. "Keep that in mind when you're thinking about Trubel."
What did that mean?
I was going to ask him, but his phone rang.
"I've got to take this," he said. I opened the door to the interrogation room and held it open. Dwaine walked out and said, "Give me a sec," when he answered the phone. He looked at me nervously before walking down the hallway and sitting on a wooden bench far enough away that it was out of earshot. I decided to leave him to it, since he would probably hang up on whoever was on the other line if I started investigating.
I walked down to the garage, got in my Prius, and drove outside. I wanted to park it somewhere where I could watch the Fusion and eventually found the perfect spot after circling the block once.
I would be ready to follow them wherever they went.
*************
Hank's POV
"You're free to go. Your car is parked outside the precinct," I told Marcus in an unfriendly tone as I unhandcuffed him.
"Great," Marcus said, grinning triumphantly. "But where's Burkhardt?"
"That isn't any of your business," I told Marcus. "And I'd get out of here before I ran into him if I was you."
Marcus laughed as I opened the interrogation room door for him. I had already released Bruno, and he was waiting in the hallway for us.
"We're free," Marcus said to Bruno.
Bruno's smug grin mimicked Marcus's. "Let's go," he said. He turned to me and said, "Better luck next time, detective."
I gave them both a cold look as they turned and walked down the hallway. I waited for them to disappear before I called Wu.
"You got eyes on them?" I asked him.
"Oh, yeah," Wu said proudly. "We'll see where they go."
I nodded even though Wu couldn't see me. "Good," I approved. "We don't want to get made, so let me know where you end up, and we can switch off there."
"Got it," Wu said before hanging up.
I hurried down to the garage and got into my Volkswagen sedan. It looked less like a police car which would be perfect for the surveillance of our suspects.
*************
Gabriel's POV
"Hey, Gabriel!" someone yelled as I walked passed the doorway of the research room in the compound. I froze and backed up a few paces to see who was calling me. There was a guy - I knew he worked here and was one of the higher ups, but I didn't know him personally - and he was staring at me from his seat in an office chair. He had two guys standing next to him, and his computer was open to a screen displaying some official looking document, though I couldn't read what it said from the hallway.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"You're friends with Theresa Rubel, correct?" he asked me.
"Yes," I said hesitantly. "Is there a problem?"
The man stood up from his chair as he said, "Do you have a minute?" in a serious tone.
I hadn't been heading anywhere important, and now he had my attention, too. "Yeah," I told him. "What's up?"
"Come have a seat," he requested. The guards next to him shot nervous looks between each other. What was going on?
I walked over to the desk, toward the computer that the man was next to; he stood in front of it so I couldn't read the screen. I sat down in the chair across from him.
"When was the last time you talked to Theresa?" he asked me. I didn't know why he cared. He didn't even know enough about Trubel to call her by her preferred name.
"Not too long ago," I said cautiously. The man gave me a look like he was waiting for me to say more. "I think it was the fifteenth," I added.
"What time?" he asked.
I thought for a minute, trying to remember.
"I'm not sure, it was later in the day. Maybe four or five?" I said.
The man nodded to himself. "What was the topic of your conversation?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, am I missing something?" I questioned him. I don't know why they were grilling me, and I started to feel more uneasy as the conversation went on. If they were going to get answers from me, I was going to need answers from them. "Because it seems like you know something you're not telling me."
"We just want to ask you a few questions," he stated. That didn't explain anything to me.
"But, why?" I asked.
The man sighed and said, "Take a look at this," while pointing to his computer.
Before I could read the screen, he added, "This was entered into the database a few days ago," he said.
I finally had the chance to look over the document and its contents, but I couldn't believe it.
"Is this real?" I asked. My voice came out in a whisper.
I was staring at a death certificate for Trubel dated a day after I talked to her.
"I'm afraid so," he said. "It was filed with the Portland Police Department. I did some digging after a contact in Berlin reported that Theresa failed to show up for an assignment, and according to police records, she was murdered. The case was gang related."
The guy was talking way too fast. I didn't really hear anything after he said, "I'm afraid so." I was still staring at the computer screen with disbelief, trying to understand what was going on.
"So I ask you again," the man said sternly. "What were you two talking about?"
"I don't know," I said, unable to think straight.
"You don't know?" the man asked suspiciously.
I stood up out of my chair and pointed my finger at the man who was questioning me. "Listen, buddy, I just found out that my friend is dead and I was probably one of the last people to talk to her. So sorry if I need a minute," I yelled.
The man raised an eyebrow, making him look a thousand times more judgemental and smug. I was about ready to see how smug he looked after getting punched in the face.
"Woah, G!" one of my friends who had been doing research on the computer yelled. "G, relax," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
I took a deep breath to composed myself before sitting defeatedly back down in the chair I had been in. The anguish of my situation was catching up with me.
"She was just asking me for a favor," I said sadly.
"What kind of favor?" my friend who had calmed me down asked gently. I liked it better when he asked questions; it didn't sound like he was accusing me of something.
"She wanted me to get her some weapons and body armor from her room and bring it to a contact of hers," I explained. "I didn't think anything of it. I just thought she needed something for an assignment or something."
"Her next assignment was in Berlin," the man said.
"Yeah, I know that, now," I said angrily. "But I didn't at the time. So I grabbed what she wanted me to and gave it to her contact."
"Who was...?" the man questioned.
"I don't know. Trubel didn't tell me and neither did the guy. I just gave him the stuff and came back here," I described. "I just figured the secrecy was for the sake of a mission. I mean, Trubel told me that she would be in danger if I talked to people about what was going on."
The man seemed to be thinking about my response. His lips sort of curled with concentration, and it looked like he was staring at something far away.
"Odd," he noted. "Did she want you to keep secrets from anyone in particular?"
I thought about it. "Yeah, she did. She said I couldn't talk to Burkhardt or his friends."
I just kind of figured the man knew who Nick Burkhardt was because everyone knew him. He made some waves as a cop, a Grimm, and a cop-Grimm. And everyone knew that he and Trubel were pretty close. I hadn't been working at the compound long when I started hearing stories about how Burkhardt had killed half of the Black Claw cell in Portland when they invaded his house or stories about how he had kidnapped Chavez when he thought Trubel had been taken by her. Burkhardt and Trubel were legends around here. They along with, Meisner and Eve, but Meisner was dead, and no one really talked about what happened with Eve...
"Which brings me to this," the man said, taking his computer back and typing a few keys before turning the screen around to show it to me again.
It was security footage from outside the compound. The man who I recognized as Burkhardt from his profile in our database was holding his hands up in surrender and talking to a few guards.
"He's here, and he claims that Theresa Rubel is not quite dead," the man explained.
"Trubel said I wasn't supposed to talk to him," I objected anxiously.
"Well, he's our only connection to answers. You don't have to talk to him much, but make sure he talks to you." I looked up at the man who was staring at me and waiting for a response. I didn't give him one, so he asked, "Can I count on you?"
"I'll go get him," I said, getting up from my seat. I started walking down to the garage to meet Burkhardt.
This should be interesting.