Free Red Shadows by Mitchel Scanlon Page A

followed the Judge's directions to his destination. The same sensation he had felt as he stood at Brenda Maddens's door.
    Soon, he told it, soon.
     
    "There was no delivery man," Weller said, his voice stern and confident as he stood facing her in the kitchen. "Nor even anybody dressed like one. After I arrived here and had a chance to inspect the scene, one of the first things I did was check the available surveillance footage. Unfortunately, the cameras inside the block have been offline for the last three days for maintenance, but the exterior cameras covering the block entrances and exits are working fine. I requisitioned the footage and had it sent digitally to PSU for analysis. I told them to concentrate their initial efforts on checking for any visitors to the block who might have had outwardly legitimate reasons for being here - block maintenance crews, repair men, delivery men, that kind of thing. PSU confirms that - aside from ourselves - the only people who have entered this block wearing any kind of uniform within the last six hours are a couple of plumbers who came to fix a broken wet shower on the fifty-third floor. That's it, so much for your phantom delivery man."
    "All the same, I know what I saw," Anderson said. "There must be some explanation."
    "I'm way ahead of you there," Weller replied. "I had MAC, the Justice Department mainframe, run a background check on the victim. Brenda Maddens was a member of three different Tri-vid rental clubs, with her membership records showing she mostly rented romance movies. Probably what you scanned from her was a romantic fantasy she half-remembered from some movie she'd seen, spliced together with her memories of the killer. That being the case, the results of your psi-scan are next to useless. There's no way for us to know which parts were true and which were false."
    "No," Anderson shook her head. "You forget that I've been doing this a long time. If her psychic impressions were that far off-kilter I would have sensed it. Right now, I can't explain the discrepancy between the surveillance footage and what was in Brenda's head. What I can tell you is that I saw what she saw, or what she believed she saw, at least."
    "You see any bouquets of flowers around here?" Weller's tone was sarcastic. "Any petals dropped during the struggle? Do you see any boxes of mock chocs, heart-shaped or otherwise? I'll have PSU run a pattern recognition search to see if surveillance shows anybody entering or leaving the block carrying anything like that, but I won't be hold my breath. What about you, Noland?" Turning, Weller fixed the Med-Judge with a challenging glare. "You find any residue in the blood to indicate our victim was under the influence of hallucinogens or any other kind of psychotropic?"
    "Well... Of course, I'll have to wait to get back to the morgue before I can do a full tox-screen." As though embarrassed to find himself caught in the middle of the argument, Noland shifted uneasily. "But no. So far I haven't found anything like that."
    "There you go then," Weller said as he turned back towards her. "There's no evidence to suggest the victim was seeing things. This delivery man business was just some lingering fantasy, which either you or the victim got mixed up with what really happened. I hear psi-scans can be unreliable that way. If they weren't, the whole Justice Department would be run by Psi-Judges, and Street Judges like me would be out of a job. Either way, I'm sure your talents are needed elsewhere. Me, I've got a killer to catch."
    It was there again. Even as Weller talked, Anderson could feel his disdain for her radiating off of him in bitter, spiteful waves. Abruptly, she sensed his aversion went beyond the vague mistrust some Street Judges occasionally felt towards psychics. This was more than a simple turf war. There was something eating at Weller, something dark and malignant burning deep inside him. It almost felt like hate. For a moment, she was tempted to