Bradley was still sitting on the floor as I walked out into the hall, my cell phone at my ear.
“Barry, I can’t hear you,” I enunciated loudly, “Do you copy? I need – oh.”
Feeling really spurking stupid, I switched the phone to the ear that hadn’t suffered what I still hoped was temporary hearing loss.
“Sorry, Barry. Go ahead.”
I held out a hand to Bradley. He took it without a word, without looking me in the eye, and I helped him to his feet.
“Bobs, I copy,” said the dispatcher over the phone, “But I need confirmation. Are you calling in…”
“A Brick House Alert. Yeah, confirmed. It’s Brick House Alert,” I said, “Tell the Captain we need to close the Border. Put out an APB to all patrols and checkpoints for Alias Glenn Jackson.”
I gave Barry a description of our perp in both his guises, and added the armed-and-dangerous warning.
“Affirmative,” Barry said when I was done, “Now, get your cop back on the leash and get back here. Sounds like you both need medical attention.”
“We’re okay,” I replied.
“Bobs –” Barry started, but I cut him off.
“Barry, don’t spurking mother me. I have a lead to run down and you need to fill the Captain in. I’m okay. We’re both fine.” I turned to Bradley, “You’re fine, right, Detective?”
Bradley was still staring into Jackson’s apartment, “He says he’s fine, Barry.”
“Right. Whatever you say, Roberta,” Barry said. He only calls me that when he wants me to know that I’m not fooling him even a little bit, but since he wasn’t arguing the point anymore, it didn’t much matter if I was fooling him or not, “Just be careful,” he added.
“Okay, Mom,” I said, “Keep me posted,” and I snapped my phone closed.
I looked at Bradley. He still hadn’t said a word, and I wondered if maybe I’d been a little too flippant about his condition. “Bradley?” I asked him, “You there, or did he break you?”
He finally looked at me, his forehead a freshly-plowed field of consternation, “How did he get through the window?” he asked me.
I must have looked almost as puzzled as he did for a moment, then understood.
“He was… huge,” Bradley went on, “Just freaking huge, a giant…”
Bradley was wrong, of course. I saw a giant once. From a distance, thank Goddess. Alias-Glenn-Jackson wasn’t even as big as a small giant, but I knew what he meant.
“So how,” Bradley demanded, “The hell. Did he get. Through that tiny little window?”
“Come on, Detective,” I said, but gently, because I’ve seen logical thinkers confront Fairyland for the first time before, “You know how.”
He sagged. “Magic,” he said.
“Yeah,” I nodded, “Spurking magic. So seriously, you okay? Because I have an idea where we might find him.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s go,” he said.
