7th Sin: The Sequel to the #1 Hard Boiled Mystery, 9th Circle (Book 2 of the Darc Murders Series)

by Carolyn McCray

  But the sizzle just continued, and Trey was starting to smell smoke. He looked over at Darc, who might as well be a corpse for all the movement he was making. What could he do? What could anyone do?

  And then, out of the blue, Darc spoke. “We need to call Mala.”

  “What?” Had Trey heard his partner clearly? “You want to bring Mala in on this?”

  Darc turned around, his face blank, his tone level. “Yes. Is that a problem for you?”

  “For me?” Trey squeaked.

  “Yes, for you. Are you having auditory difficulties?”

  “No, no,” Trey rushed to respond. “I just thought that you… Well, because of your… It seemed like maybe…”

  “You were concerned that my feelings for Mala would influence my decision as to whether or not we should involve her in the case.” The matter-of-fact quality of Darc’s statement made it seem like he was discussing his grocery-shopping list.

  “Um. Yes?”

  “That would be an inefficient way to conduct myself during this investigation. I am having difficulties processing the information we have uncovered. My contributions to this case have been limited. Mala is intelligent, but can discuss the social and emotional aspects of the case with you effectively.”

  What Darc was really saying was that they needed more brainpower on the case than what Trey had. And Trey was all right with that. He knew that the whole detective thing was not his strong suit. He was a people person. And in that area, he gave even Mala a run for her money.

  “Yeah, I think you may be right.” Trey went to pick up the phone, then glanced back at his partner, who had gone still once more. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  Darc peered back at him, expressionless. “No, I am not.”

  Trey wasn’t sure which was more disconcerting. Darc’s emotional weakness, or how honest and straightforward he was being about it. Maybe it was all healthy and stuff to be that way, but right now Trey could use some rock-like strength. This admitting-to-weakness shiz just wasn’t working all that well for him.

  Now Trey had another thing to worry about—whether or not to get ahold of Mala. Fantastic. At the end of the day, calling Mala in or not could make or break this case. You know, unless Trey could figure it all out on his own. Hardy har har.

  Captain Merle rounded the corner and strode down the hall, his face looking like someone had pickled it. That wasn’t cause for concern; his face usually looked something like that. The concern came from the fact that he was here late, and out of his office. He was like a predatory beast out of its ecosystem.—on edge and dangerous.

  “Where are we on the case?” Merle asked without preamble.

  “Well, we’ve got—” Trey began.

  “We’ve got more murders and the beginnings of a cover-up scandal,” the captain cut him off. “When I told you to keep the new leads off everyone’s radar, I intended for you to have this wrapped up as soon as humanly possible. The longer it drags on, the more we end up with egg on our faces.”

  Trey didn’t want to bring up the fact that it was the captain himself who had wanted to keep everyone thinking that the Nail Biter was the guy. It wasn’t Trey and Darc’s fault that there was another serial killer out there. Okay, the fact that they hadn’t caught him yet was maybe their fault, but still…

  “We’re on it, sir,” Trey answered, doing his best to sound apologetic.

  “I hope so,” Merle grumbled, moving off back toward his natural habitat once more. “There are stirrings in the Prosecuting Attorney’s office. And I prefer shaken, not stirred.” Before Trey could even process the James Bond reference, the captain had moved out of earshot.

  If the Captain wanted things shaken up, Trey would oblige. Well, at least he’d try to get Darc to oblige.

  Same difference, right?

  *

  It was a typical Seattle coffee shop, filled with lots of dark wood shelving and hardwood floors, dim lighting, and hipster patrons. Watching the guys with patchy beards, ironic T-shirts and skinny jeans trying to impress girls with ratty hair, oversized glasses with the lenses popped out, and even skinnier jeans made Mala feel old. And tired.

  Because it was a typical Seattle coffee shop, getting a hot chocolate for Janey proved to be a bit more of an issue than any of them had expected. There was a thick European drinking chocolate that looked like the sludge at the bottom of a river, but that didn’t seem like such a great idea. Finally, they settled on a milk steamer with cocoa and hazelnut syrup shots.

  There was no way this place would have marshmallows, and Mala hoped that Janey wouldn’t be too ungracious about the lack. She was about to bend down to say something to that effect when Bryce pulled out a baggie filled with the tiny white confections.

  “Wasn’t sure they’d have any, so I brought some along.” He winked at Janey. “I promised marshmallows, so marshmallows the little lady shall have.” Bryce swept a quick bow in Janey’s direction, which elicited a slight smile from the stoic girl.

  Janey picked out a table for them, clambered up onto one of the chairs, and plopped her bear down on the tabletop right next to her drink. She then waited a moment, looking into the cup with longing. Finally, she stuck out her hand for the baggie of marshmallows.

  Bryce handed them over. “You can put all of them in your cocoa, but that means you don’t get another one.” Janey glanced up, skepticism written all over her face. She turned her gaze to Mala, the question plain in her expression.

  “Yes. I’ll let you have another one. But only if you behave yourself while you’re here.” Mala watched while Janey seemed to have some kind of battle with herself, but eventually the little girl leaned back in her seat, kicking her legs against the bar of the chair. It may have been Mala’s imagination, but there seemed to be a spark of something stubborn in Janey’s eyes.

  That might be a warning shot across the bow. Mala debated cutting the meeting short… finding a convenient excuse to leave within a few brief minutes. But the truth was she wanted to get to know Bryce. She sighed to herself. Well, it couldn’t be that bad. Really, how much trouble could a little girl get into in a coffee shop?

  “So, how long have you known Trey and Darc?” Bryce asked, his tone casual. His eyes, however, were not. They were two beams of light focused through sapphires. There was intensity here, and precise focus. Mala felt like the Deputy Attorney was peering into her soul as he set his coffee down on the table.

  “Um, it’s been a few weeks. Not much longer than that. We met during their last case. The one with the reverend.”

  “Right. I know about that one. I’m pretty sure everyone knows about that one.” The lawyer cocked an eyebrow at her, his expression somehow managing to be both respectful of the tragedy and playful with Mala all at once. But still, there was that singularity of focus that was so disconcerting. Mala felt exposed, naked.

  She also wasn’t positive that she didn’t like it.

  Janey moved her arm to grab for the baggie that held the marshmallows, apparently to put more in. As she reached for them, her elbow knocked her bear off the table. She scurried under the table to grab her bear. It must have been pretty dim lighting under there, as it took her a bit to come back up. Janey placed the bear back on the table beside her cup of hot chocolate.

  Bryce lifted the paper cup back up to his lips for another sip of coffee. A moment later he was spitting into one napkin and using a second napkin to wipe off his tongue.

  “What? Ah… Is that...?” he glared into his cup at the offending liquid.

  “Is it too hot?” Mala asked, surprised at the large reaction.

  “No, it’s…” He looked down at the table, and an expression of understanding crossed his face. “It’s salty,” Bryce finished, nodding at the tabletop.

  There, right in front of Janey’s bear, were four packets of salt that had been torn open. Janey grabbed the bear and clutched in a tight hug, a look of beatific innocence on her face. Mala was stunned.

  “Jan
ey, did you—?” Mala started.

  “Hey, don’t stress about it,” Bryce said, cutting her off. “I can grab myself another coffee, no prob.” He went to step out of his chair and fell flat on his face, the chair tumbling up around his legs, which were splayed at an awkward angle.

  “Are you okay? What happened?” Mala said, moving forward to help him. As she got closer, she could see that the lawyer’s shoes had been tied to the legs of the chair.

  “Oh my… She’s… I’m… I am so sorry. I don’t know what—” Mala stammered. She had no idea what to say to make this moment less awkward.

  But to her surprise, a sound came up from where Bryce lay sprawled on the floor. Not a groan. Not a growl. He was laughing. And not some I’m-trying-not-to-be-pissed-off laugh. This was a full-on shake-your-belly kind of guffaw.

  “Ah, man,” he managed, in between bouts of laughter. “I was trying so hard to be smooth and suave, and here I am on the ground, tied to a coffee shop barstool. I’ve been taken out by a small child.”

  “Here, let me help,” Mala urged as she knelt down and began untying the knots that connected Bryce to the chair. “I had no idea—”

  He held up a hand, holding off the rest of her statement. “This is my bad. You told me it might not be a good idea, but I pushed.” Bryce looked up at the little girl who was still sitting as if nothing had happened. “You got me, kid. Twice.” His expression grew more serious. “Don’t think it’s going to happen again, though.” He winked at Janey, apparently to let her know he was still joking.

  “Let me get you another coffee, at least.” Mala wanted to do whatever was necessary to make this right. Or as right as it could be. Then she was out of here. She and Janey had a lot to talk about.

  “No, no, I’ll get it. It’ll let me walk off the shame and indignity of taking a nosedive into the wood floor. Plus, I’ll be able to tell if I’ve permanently hurt something.”

  Bryce stood, testing his legs one at a time before giving Mala and Janey a grin and heading back to the counter. Mala and Janey had a moment or two before he was back, and Mala intended to use every millisecond of that break.

  “Janey, what in the world was that all about?” Mala asked, planting herself right in front of the girl and kneeling down to get on her level. Janey looked right back, her gaze open and vulnerable. Mala had expected defiance, maybe even hostility, but there didn’t seem to be any of it. Janey just shrugged her shoulders, her eyes sad.

  “Okay. I can see you’re upset. We can talk about it when we get home.”

  Janey nodded and smiled at Mala, for all the world like she hadn’t just pulled two pranks on unsuspecting adults. Mala was starting to feel like she may have stepped in over her head and then some.

  “I know you can’t really talk about it, but we are going to discuss this, you know that, right?”

  Once more, Janey nodded. There was something strange here. It didn’t seem like she was nervous or frightened of that conversation. It almost seemed like she was excited.

  Mala’s perception of events started to shift. This felt too similar to what Janey had pulled with the group homes to be a coincidence. Janey seemed to carry little to no guilt about what she had done at those homes, and there didn’t appear to be much guilt happening here, either.

  And Mala had to admit, she agreed with Janey on that one. The little girl had known that she belonged elsewhere, and she pushed the system to make it happen.

  Perhaps this wasn’t just random acting out.

  At that point, Bryce came back with another cup of coffee. He pulled out his chair and started to sit down when he pulled up short. His seat was already taken.

  There, staring back at him, was Janey’s tattered bear.

  The lawyer paused for a long moment, then looked at Mala with a wry grin. “I think someone’s taken my seat.” He picked up the bear and set him down on the table with a pat on the fuzzy thing’s head. Taking his seat, he set down his second cup of coffee and settled himself in.

  Janey pulled a gold crayon out of her pocket and started drawing on the table. She jumped off of her chair when her arm reach wasn’t long enough to continue her picture.

  “Um,” Bryce murmured. “I may be wrong, but this joint probably frowns on that kind of behavior.”

  Mala had to agree. This was getting out of hand. “Janey. Stop it.” She got up to go to the little girl to take away the crayon, but Janey had finished up what she was doing. It was a gold detective’s badge that covered most of the middle of the table.

  But Mala was completely unprepared for what came next. Janey grabbed Mala’s cup of coffee, her own cocoa and her bear, and put them inside the badge. She then swept her arm out, catching Bryce’s cup and knocking it off of the table.

  Well, Mala supposed Janey couldn’t have been clearer than that. For a long moment, no one moved or spoke. Then finally, Bryce heaved a big sigh.

  “Well, it was a valiant attempt, at least. Right?”

  “I am so, so, so sorry. And I think that also about sums it up,” Mala agreed. She picked up her cup of coffee and nodded to Janey to do the same with her cocoa. “Maybe we can try this again at some point. And the next time, I’ll get the coffee. And hide the salt.” She gave Janey a meaningful glance. “And find a babysitter.” At least this time Janey had the good grace to look a tad embarrassed.

  Bryce chuckled at that. “Sure thing.” He turned to walk them out, but then stopped. “But let’s not make it too soon, shall we?” He grinned at Janey and shook his head. “You’re good, kid.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding. I mean it. You were great.”

  “You’re worth it,” he replied, no hint of a grin on his face this time. “And I get the feeling this little one is, too.”

  The heat from the first comment combined with the glow from the second, and that potent concoction kept Mala warm all the way home.

  *

  It was late, and Darc was walking back to his apartment. Trey would have said that it was far too great a distance to travel by foot, but the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other was soothing. There was nothing awaiting him back at his domicile. Unlike Trey, he had no one there with whom to interact. No Maggie to caress away the hurts of the day.

  No Mala to cast a gray fog over his entire mental process.

  And sleep would not come tonight. Darc knew that. When there was this much chaos within, the brief surcease that slumber afforded would elude him. He had experienced as much too many times not to recognize the patterns. Even if those were the only patterns he could currently recognize.

  The ever-present Seattle drizzle accompanied him as he moved through the night, the sound of the light patter echoing through the narrow streets, beating on the cars parked along either side, tapping against his face, running down his neck as it accumulated. The rain, too, was an old acquaintance, one that had carried him through many a difficult night. It was a constant presence that watered the informational pathways that were the sum and total of Darc’s life.

  Darc was logic. Logic was Darc.

  What that said about him, he could not decipher.

  More lines, their glow tracking residual flashes across his consciousness, crashed into one another as Darc pushed to get answers. No matter how much he pushed to make them cooperate, there was no coherence.

  Their case refused to coalesce. And the more information that came in, the worse it became. It seemed to be an essential misconception that was interfering in the processing of the case.

  Was it possible for one woman to so disrupt his mental capacity? It seemed to be so, for at this moment, Darc could come up with no other solution.

  The decision, since rescinded, to abandon or bury his feelings for Mala had made sense. And yet if this were the block, the obstacle which stood in the way of Darc’s deductive process, what did it mean if Darc chose not to remove it? Would that not mean that every successive death was his responsibility?

  As if he had summoned it with h
is thoughts, a text alert chimed on his phone. Darc pulled out his cell and observed the screen, shining brightly against the dark, wet night that surrounded it.

  Dude. We got another one. Where are you?

  Trey. There had been another killing. It was the only thing that would cause his partner to interrupt him in the middle of a walk.

  As Darc began to text Trey his location, another murder settled onto his shoulders, resting there with the weight of an entire life.

  CHAPTER 19

  Responsibility sucked.

  There was a part of Trey that had always wondered about that. Responsibility didn’t come his way very often, so there had been a real possibility that he’d been missing out on something all of these years.

  Yeah. Not so much.

  The swish of the tires against the wet pavement droned in the background of his thoughts. Driving in the rain in Seattle. Trey thought for a moment about what his tires sounded like when the street was dry. He came up with nothing.

  Normally Trey got the crap jobs, but he didn’t mind them all that much. He was the guy who made sure Darc’s shirt was buttoned up correctly and that he put food in his gob from time to time. That was just being a good friend, right?

  Well, maybe not typically, but it was when your friend had Asperger’s.

  But now? Now, Trey was handling all the same stuff as before—keeping Darc from bullying the other detectives and government workers, and taking candy from small children—while simultaneously shouldering accountability for a freaking murder case.

  Maybe this is what most detectives lived for, but that was not Trey. He lived for breakfast meats. Well, that and a good Reuben sandwich. And pie. Pie was good.

  Okay, so maybe he thought about food too much, but that was the point. He was not designed to be in charge. Some terrible mistake had been made on a cosmic level, and Trey was the unfortunate recipient.

  The windshield wipers set a constant rhythm that punctuated and orchestrated his morbid thoughts. The rain pelted against the glass, creating a mosaic of tiny beads that was swiped away by the rubber wand each second, leaving a clear streak. Driving through the dark trying to find his partner. This felt awfully familiar. But there was one significant difference. There was no answer to the case waiting for Trey when he found his elusive partner.