A Treasure Hidden in Time

"Detective Sparrow, we have Waylon waiting in interrogation for you." Officer Hollis hands over the biolog, and I swipe and tap on the information I need on our suspect. The case we've been working has hit a dead end, and our only hope is Waylon. But the thief is a smug bastard who refuses to talk. So they've allowed me to get the information we need.

This isn't my first run in with Waylon, but he always walks free with nothing more than a warning. This is the first time I've been able to hold him for any length of time. He's a career criminal that may have finally tripped up enough for me to finally lock him up.

Placing my hand on the biometric scanner, it beeps and opens the door to a sterile white room with a protective force field between us.

"Good afternoon, Detective. How can I assist you?" Waylon says sarcastically. A smirk pulls at his lips, but I keep my face neutral.

"You helped steal a 1,000-carat Red Beryl. It was the largest and rarest stone from earth, and somehow you managed to get your grimy mitts on it. How?" I cut to the chase.

"I can't give you my secrets, detective," Waylon says as he paces back and forth in front of me.

"Fine, then tell me where it is?" I demand evenly.

"You can't prove I stole it," Waylon says as he leans his arm against the force field, a flirtatious smile pulling at his lips.

"We have footage, your biometric scans, and eyewitness accounts. You were successfully picked out of a lineup over 10 times. It's safe to say you won't see the light of day again, Waylon." His smile falls into a grimace as he finally realizes he's been caught with no way of ever getting free.

"I want a deal then," Waylon pushes off the force field, turning his back to me.

"That could be a possibility if your information checks out."

"Oh, it'll check out."

"Fine. Tell me where it is."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Waylon wags his finger as he shakes his head. "Oh no. The only way you'll get that information is if you take me with you."

"Absolutely not," I counter.

"Then I guess the Red Beryl will remain lost to us forever. Lock me away if you want, but I'll never reveal its location. Plus, there are the specifics of the deal we need to hash out before I even think of taking you there."

"Which is?" I ask dryly, getting tired of these games, but knowing playing along is the best way to get answers.

"I want to walk," he says matter-of-factly.

"There's no way you'll walk. Be realistic," I sass.

"Fine. 10 years minimum security. I want to feel like I'm doing time at a cosmic resort instead of a dungeon." None of our prisons are like a dungeon. We've come a long way with prison reform, and although it isn't luxurious, it's clean, and they get everything they need to survive—no more, no less. I find it odd that he used that word to even describe our prisons. It's archaic and grotesque.

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm going to need some piece of information in good faith."

"I already gave it to you." Waylon taps his temple before turning his back on me again. I place my hand on the biometric scanner, and it slides open to Officer Hollis with a file in his hand. He taps the screen that had his notes on it.

"Tell me what you noticed?" I ask.

"The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was the dungeon remark," he says as he scratches his head.

"I caught that, too." I mull over what he meant. How had he already given me a piece of information? My mind swirls.

"What was on his person when he was arrested?" I ask.

"Nothing really. He had his communicator that was wired to intercept police radio, but other than that, there was nothing on him." Hollis hands over the file, and I swipe to the log of his belongings. There is only one item besides his clothes and shoes.

"We need to go to the crime scene," I say, handing it back to him.

"Do you have any idea what he means?"

"I have a hunch, but I won't know if I'm right unless we can find what I think he's alluding to," I say, and we both grab our jackets and head to the shuttle.

---

We step out of the shuttle and arrive at the Intergalactic Earth Museum. We flash our holo badges at the receptionist and ask her to lead us to the Precious Treasures wing. We taped it off the night the Red Beryl was stolen, and it's remained that way since. Hopefully, no one has come in here to clean.

"Keep your eyes open for anything that may be out of place," I tell Hollis, and he nods in response.

"Any idea what we're looking for?"

"No, but it would have to be small, inconspicuous, and wouldn't draw our suspicion if left behind." We look around, being sure not to touch anything, as we conduct our search.

We search for a close to an hour, when Hollis finally clears his throat.

"What about a weird-looking watch?" Hollis snaps a picture and inputs it into evidence before he takes an evidence bag from his pocket, opens it, and carefully picks it up. He closes it and hands it to me.

It looks like an ancient time teller, but it has wires attached to an electrical component I've never seen before. It's made of extinct tech that doesn't exist anymore. It's small enough to fit into a pocket without drawing suspicion.

"I think you found the piece we need, Hollis," I say as I clap his shoulder.

"Thank you, ma'am," he says with a smile.

"Ugh, I hate when you call me that. I'm only thirty-two. Ma'am makes me feel ancient."

"Sorry, detective," he says, but his smile stays in place. We've only been partners for a few months, but he's been the most competent thus far.

"Let's get this back to our lab and see if they know what this is." I place it in my pocket, and we head back to our shuttle.

---

Opening the door to the lab, Willa is dancing along to the song playing on her speakers.

"Oh shit," Willa jumps back as she turns to see us. "You could have said something when you walked in," she scolds.

"We didn't have a chance to," I say as I pull the item from my pocket. "Do you have any idea of what this could be?" I ask.

"That looks like a bastardized version of a pocket watch," she says jokingly.

"Okay, but there's a weird piece on the back with a bunch of wires," I say as I hand it over to her.

She puts on a clean pair of gloves before opening the bag and removing it.

"Well, that is interesting," she says as she turns it over, poking and prodding the watch.

"What is?" I ask.

"I believe you have a hand-held MacGyvered time travel device," she says, and she lost me.

"A Mac-what?" I ask.

"MacGyver. It's an old television show from Earth. That man can make the craziest things out of unrelated materials. But that's beside the point. This is a handheld time travel device. I've heard of these black-market ones being used, but they rarely work, and if they do work, it's unlikely you'll live through the travel part. The only people who have access to time travel devices that work well are the Intergalactic Science Federation, for good reason.

"Has the ISF looked into this problem?" I ask.

"It's not really worth their salt, but this may be something they'd want to see." Willa places the watch back in the bag.

"Well, Hollis, we are off to the ISF." He opens the door, and we're back on our shuttle.

---

After visiting the ISF and talking to one of the top time travel scientists, they had agreed it was indeed a time travel piece, and from the looks of it, one that works successfully. After getting back to the office, we called it a night and headed home for the day.

I slick my hair back into a bun and get ready to deal with Waylon. His charm's been known to work on other female cops in the office, but I refuse to let him get a rise out of me.

As I head into work, Officer Hollis is there with a steaming hot latte waiting for me, and I swear I could kiss him. I'm in desperate need of caffeine, and he just saved my ass.

"When would you like to talk to Waylon?" he asks as I take my first sip.

"As soon as possible."

"I'm on it." Hollis leaves me to enjoy this tiny luxury since coffee has become a scarce commodity; coffee beans don't grow as well in space. So each one is a little slice of heaven. Just as I was finishing it, Hollis came back.

"He's ready for you."

"Perfect, and thanks for the coffee. I seriously needed that." I move past him, grab the evidence and the case file, and head toward the interrogation room.

"Back so soon?" Waylon says with a smile.

"Yup, and I'm able to give you 15 years in a maximum security prison," I say.

"Fifteen years is bullshit, plus maximum security." He shakes his head, his light brown hair catching the light. "Twelve years and minimum," he offers.

"Seventeen and minimum," I challenge, quirking up my brow.

"Oh, come on." Waylon leans against the force field, dropping his voice flirtatiously. "I know we can come to some agreement." His eyes wander over my body, and I roll my eyes.

"You want some time off your sentence? Tell me what this is?" I tap my case file, and a hologram of his time travel device pops up, and his eyes go wide before schooling his face.

"I have no idea what that is," he lies. I've noticed his left eye winces ever so slightly when he lies.

"Really? I thought you wanted time off your sentence. For every lie you tell me, I can add a year. The longer I have to wait, the more testy I get," I threaten as I hand the file to Hollis.

"Is she always like this?" Waylon looks to Hollis, who doesn't even acknowledge his question. Good on him, because if he'd made some smart ass remark about me being difficult because I'm a woman, I would've requested a new partner right after this interrogation.

I pull the device from my pocket and hold it up for Waylon to see. "So you have no idea what this is?" I ask, and he reaches for it, but his hand bounces off the force field.

"Based on this and your hint, I guess the question isn't just where's the Red Beryl, but when is it?" I ask, and the color drains from his face. "I'll give you thirteen years in a minimum security prison, plus you can have conjugal visits."

"Done." He answers before a look of surprise washes over his face. "Conjugal visits? Are you offering, detective?" he asks, and I roll my eyes hard.

"No. Now, when and where is it?" I ask again.

"I will tell you that when we get to the ISF." His smug grin pulls at his mouth, and it annoys me to no end.

---

As we stand in front of scientists, tapping away on their stations and preparing the time-travel device, the head scientist preps us with a whole host of rules. Blend in, don't speak or interact with anyone unless absolutely necessary. Essentially, be a ghost.

"All we need is the time and place," one scientist asks.

"1432, England." Waylon smirks, and my jaw nearly drops. He gives a few more details to pinpoint us to a more precise area.

Of all places to hide a precious jewel, why would it be in the medieval period? The scientists look impressed and terrified at the thought of us going back that far in time.

"Ready?" One of them asks.

"One more thing." I turn to Waylon and snap a collar around his neck. It's on him before he can protest or fight back.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks as he yanks on it, but he can't release it himself; only I can do that. The band around my wrist now links him to me, and he can't go more than ten feet from me before it vibrates, and I can yank him back. They're simple metal bands, nothing that should draw the eye or any suspicion to us.

" That's my insurance policy," I smirk back at him, and his eyes narrow and his mouth tightens into a grimace. I hand the flat, rectangular piece of matching metal to Hollis, who tucks it into his pocket. I can't risk having the key on me in case Waylon gets any bright ideas to attack me for it and disappear. If we lose him in 1432, there'll be no finding him.

"Now we're ready," Hollis says, and I nod to the scientist before a loud whining rings in my ears as the machine works. Colors, sound, and light blind me, rendering me useless as we move through time and space. My stomach rolls, and the pressure in my head is almost unbearable.

Then everything is silent as my body thuds to the ground, and something tickles against my skin. I breathe deeply to settle the roaring waves of my stomach as my spinning vision slowly comes into focus. I take a deep breath, and the air is clean and fresh. It almost burns my nose at how cool it is. The space station is temperature-regulated to maintain a constant temperature, and the air is recycled like the water. Here, I can smell the trees and flowers blossoming. It overwhelms my senses when I take in what's around us.

My wrist vibrates, I yank my hand, and Waylon falls to his ass.

"Damn it," Waylon grabs at the band around his neck, yanking it hard but only digging the metal further into his skin.

"You aren't getting out of this, so you may as well cooperate. That way, I can get you back to your comfy prison in time for you to have dinner." His eyes slice to me, and if looks could kill, I'm sure I would be dead. Unfortunately for him, I just chuckle and roll my eyes.

Hollis holds out a hand to me, helping me up from the hillside we'd landed on. His clothes look crisp and period-appropriate for a merchant. I run my hand along the collar of his coat, touching the soft velvet. It feels luxurious and expensive. These materials are nearly impossible to find now.

"You look good, Hollis. Excellent choice," I say, and I can't help but notice his smile and the way he stands straighter under my judgment.

"Not too bad yourself," he says quietly, so only I can hear him. I look down to see I'm dressed in fine silks and velvet as well. The gold-colored bodice is form-fitting along my chest and torso, leaving nothing to the imagination, but hangs loosely at my arms and hips. It's pretty comfortable. The only thing I can imagine irritating me is how long the dark blue sleeves are that match the skirts of my dress.

When I look at Waylon, he picked the perfect outfit—peasant rags.

"You two will stick out like a sore thumb," he mocks with a laugh.

"Maybe, but no one will let the likes of you into established places of business, or anywhere, for that matter." I bite back, and his face falls in irritation. I try not to let him get under my skin, but his snide comments pluck away at what little patience I already have for him.

"Let's go," Waylon says as he walks forward, and we follow behind him. Just as we reach the crest of the hill we see a bustling town down below. Carts drawn by horses enter the stone walls, and people move from market stalls, chatting animatedly.

The closer we got, the more I regretted it being from this time period. The smell of animals, body odor, and all kinds of things assault my nose.

Hollis holds out a small linen pouch to me, and I look at it in confusion.

"It's for the smell," he says. I hold it to my nose and sniff it. It smells of lavender and herbs. I take a deep breath to abate the unpleasant odors around me. I look to the other women, who are finely dressed to see them daintily lifting their hands to their faces, a similar pouch in their hand. I give Hollis a smile in thanks and he nods with a confident grin.

I really should give him some credit. He seems to know what I need before I do and came prepared. That's something I can appreciate in a man.

"Oh Jesus, come on you delicate flower," Waylon says sarcastically, and just because he pissed me off I jerk my arm slightly, which yanks the collar around his neck. He whirls on me, but Hollis stands just between us, separating him from me.

"Are you her knight in shining armor now?" Waylon sneers.

"I'm standing here to keep you from embarrassing yourself. We aren't supposed to be drawing any attention, and them seeing a woman kick your ass would certainly do that." A smug grin pulls at my lips as I lift the pouch to cover it before I break out into a full on laughing fit. Hollis is definitely winning some brownie points with that comment.

Waylon turns abruptly and leads us down streets that lead to narrower roads. There is a group of rougher looking men, but they move off to the side, avoiding us except one.

The man spit at my feet and I look up at him offended. "How disgusting," I say to myself.

"You're on the wrong side of town," the man says, and he looks to Waylon like he was going to back him up.

"Keep your mouth shut," I say to Waylon, just as he opened his mouth to speak.

"You're going to let a woman talk to you like that?" the man says between missing and rotting teeth.

"Of course, she's royalty, and he's nothing more than a servant," Hollis says as he stands straighter with authority.

I yank my wrist discreetly and Waylon falls to his knees before me.

"Isn't that right, servant?" I say with a wicked grin. His eyes are full of anger, but there's something else I can't quite make out.

"Show this man that you belong to me." I yank the invisible chain locked around his neck until he's bowing before me. A wicked grin plays across his lips and a sick satisfaction twists my stomach as he looks up at me through his lashes. I lift my skirts to expose my leather slipper, and he leans down until his mouth touches the top of it.

"Now, leave us, before I make an example out of you next," I say, and the man backs away cautiously.

Waylon stands and dusts off his knees. "A manservant, really?"

"It worked, didn't it? Plus it seemed like you enjoyed being on your knees before me, kissing my foot," I mock and his eyes darken in a way I wasn't expecting.

Hollis clears his throat from behind us, cutting off the unwanted tension building between us. "Show us where the stone is."

I appreciate Hollis getting us back on track and out from under Waylon's charm. He almost had me, but was it him or the delicious feeling of making a man like him bend to my whim? Either way, I won't be indulging in that again.

We follow behind Waylon as he wanders down several tight alleyways until he walks up to a toppling building on the outskirts of town. He pushes aside a fallen board from a window, and slides through. I lift my skirts as best I can to swing a leg inside and Hollis grabs the rest so it doesn't get caught on the wood closing behind me. But when I slip through, my feet catch on the fabric, tripping me. Expecting to hit the floor, I brace for impact, only to fall into Waylon's waiting arms.

"Detective, I knew you were falling for me." He smirks in the dark of the empty room, and I push away from him, brushing myself off.

"I'm not. It's all this damn fabric." I say just as Hollis' feet hit the dirt floor, kicking up dust.

I wave it away, but can't help the cough that scratches at my throat. When I turn, Waylon walks into another room before I hear him curse.

"Would you two hurry up. I want to get out of this filth." He motions around to the building and himself.

We follow again and he lifts a few empty barrels, and then a large plank of wood, before he digs into the dirt about a foot deep. He pulls out a box about the length and width of his hand and a few inches deep from beneath the soil, and my heart leaps.

"You buried a priceless jewel in the dirt covered by some wood? That is the least secure thing I've ever seen," Hollis says from behind me with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Well, they don't exactly have the technology to keep it safe the way I would've preferred," Waylon snaps back. He opens the lid of the wooden box to see the jewel still inside and sighed.

"Right, let's get out of here," I say as I hold my hand out to him. He stares at the wooden box in his hand before reluctantly handing it over.

"Can you carry this in your pants?" I ask Hollis before handing it to him.

"I think I can make some room," he says, and I don't miss the way his brow lifts suggestively. I feel a grin tug at the corner of my mouth as I really take him in.

Waylon clears his throat. "Are we going now?" His head falls to the side as he crosses his arms impatiently.

"Yes." I follow behind Hollis, who leaves the building first, and holds a hand out to me, to ensure I don't trip over the fabric again.

"Son of a bitch," I hear Waylon complain from inside. No doubt he was trying to stay behind, but the further we got, the more his collar yanked him along unwillingly.

"I want nine years since you slapped this damn collar on me," he says as he nearly trips out of the window.

"I'm not making any promises. We still need to get home and confirm this is really the Red Beryl you stole." Hollis holds out his arm. I rest my hand in the crook of his elbow. We could easily be a merchant couple, although we're clearly on the rougher side of town, which could strike passerby as odd. Waylon drags his feet and walks behind us. We both glance back to ensure he's still trudging along.

Hollis leans in close. "Are you considering lessening his sentence?"

"Absolutely not," I whisper back. His eyes find mine and my heart flutters at the way he looks deep into my eyes. I look away as we finally make our way back to where the market stalls were.

I hold the linen pouch to my nose as we walk through the muck that's accumulated from all the people and animals wandering about. The thought of a long hot shower sounds like a fantastic idea and the brief thought of having Hollis join me crosses my mind. I shake away the thought, then an even dirtier one replaces it. Waylon on his knee before me again, but this time there wouldn't be any fabric in the way.

I blink hard to clear the thoughts from my head, and ignore the tugging feels low in my belly. I lower my hand as we reach the open hillside again. We find our way back to the spot we'd landed and Hollis pulls a small device from his pocket. Waylon looks defeated, his shoulders slumped and his face slack and emotionless.

"Oh cheer up, I'm sure the food in prison will be much better than whatever you would get here if you could've escaped," I tease.

"The food may be hell, but I'd be free," he mutters and shoves his hands in his pockets as he moves to stand closer.

Hollis presses the button and the waves of nauseous and pressure resurface until we hit the ground of the lab. We take a moment to collect ourselves, but when we do, two officers are waiting for Waylon.

"See you in 11 years, Waylon." I wave in victory.

"Count on it, detective," he smiles wickedly, as the officers drag him out.

"I thought he got 13?" Hollis asks.

"I wanted to, but the judge wouldn't allow it. Punishment not fitting the crime bullshit." I roll my eyes and he chuckles.

"You want to go grab some dinner? I'm starving after the traveling."

"Thought you would never ask." He holds his arm out to me again and link mine with his. Thankfully, when we got back, whatever grime that was on us is now gone, but that shower still sounds so enticing.