Square-jawed, frowning magnificently, Olympus pushed past the aide and stared down DA Bronson. “Is it true? You’ve filed charges against him?”
Bronson donned a vacant, smiling mask—his politician expression. “Captain Olympus! Thanks so much for coming! What can I do for you?”
Celia kept to the back, hoping Bronson would hide her.
“If the rumors are true, and you’ve pressed charges without consulting the Olympiad—”
“We had the warrants, we had to act quickly—”
“I’m not sure you understand the gravity of this. He wouldn’t let himself get caught with evidence you could use. He always destroys his plans, his devices, his associates never talk … Celia?” Olympus squinted, peering around Bronson. “Celia, what are you doing here?”
Bronson stepped aside, looking back and forth between them.
Captain Olympus, leader of the crime-fighting Olympiad, beloved protector of the city—Warren West, her father—put his hands on his hips and waited for her answer.
“I’m working with the DA’s office as a consultant in forensic accounting.”
“A what?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. He still didn’t want to admit it. The daughter of the greatest crime fighter Commerce City had ever known had become an accountant, and Warren West still hadn’t reconciled himself to the shame of it.
Bronson stepped forward. My hero, Celia thought. “Captain, we have the evidence this time. We seized the records of his clandestine financial empire. Tax evasion, fraud—all of it is good in court. He’s in custody without bail at the maximum security wing of the Elroy Asylum. He isn’t breaking out this time.”
Captain Olympus hardly seemed able to take his gaze from Celia. At last, he looked at Bronson in acknowledgment of what he had said. “Tax evasion? This man tried to destroy the city I don’t know how many times and you’re charging him with tax evasion?”
“Anything to lock him up,” Bronson said calmly.
He clenched his jaw—a bad sign. “I don’t believe … Was this your idea?” He pointed at Celia.
Enough was enough. “Dad, please. I’m helping sort through the records. It’s part of my job.”
“Forensic accounting? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
She tried to sound calm and reasonable. “We can prosecute the Destructor within the structure of the legal system. Isn’t that the important thing?”
“The legal system … I’ve got half a mind to head over to the Asylum and finish him myself—”
Bronson raised his hands. “Please don’t do that, sir. I’ll need you to testify in the trial, all right, Captain?”
Olympus glared. Bronson may have had the authority to stand up to the superhero, but Celia knew that glare. It had terrified her as a child, and, well, it still terrified her.
His lips thinned, his eyes narrowed. “Wait ’til your mother hears about this.”
Celia slumped against the nearest wall and closed her eyes. She couldn’t win with him. She just couldn’t.
Olympus turned to stalk out of the room, but the admiring crowd blocked the way. Everyone in the room held their breath a moment: what would Olympus do? But even from the back, Celia recognized him settling into his public persona, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. The crowd before him sighed, seemingly as one.
A woman in a gray dress suit stepped forward, tentative. “Sir? You probably don’t remember this but about fifteen years ago you saved a school bus from falling off a bridge? I was on that bus, and I … I just wanted to thank you.” Her voice cracked and tears fell.
Kindly, Captain Olympus touched her shoulder. “No thanks needed. It’s what I do.”
Then a flurry of voices rose up, and people stuck their hands out, and Olympus shook them all as he pressed forward through the crowd. People applauded as he finally left the room.
And that was Captain Olympus, Celia thought with a tired sigh.
Meanwhile, Bronson stared at Celia. “You didn’t tell him you were working on the case?”
“I try not to talk to him at all if I can help it.” It was a perfect end to the afternoon, really.