Obsessed by Darkness

by Autumn Jordon

  Beads of sweat formed under his dress shirt and Chase shifted forward in his seat and grabbed a pad and pencil.

  Will snatched the debriefing files from Adams, kept one and slid the rest to Gary who passed them around the table to each C.U.F.F. member, in turn, who kept one and passed the rest along.

  “The information in your folder is already in the database, thanks to Nasia’s quick work. File name is ‘NEICE,’ Northeast ice, and you’ll access it using your assigned security codes.”

  Adams prodded his laptop to life and a moment later the ‘situation’ became apparent on the huge screen behind him. Three students at a nearby college had died. Looked like suicides.

  While Chase viewed the information displayed in front of him, acid, along with his last drag of lukewarm coffee made a meal of the lining of his stomach. He loosened the knot of his tie and shifted uneasily in his seat. How could anyone throw away their life as if it were a worthless piece of shit? And for what? A few hours of drug-induced, mind-blowing thrills?

  Fools. If only they realized how final death was and how it would affect the loved ones they left behind. There were no do-overs where death was concerned.

  A close-up of yet another, distorted young face flashed on the flat screen. He studied the shape of each. Their color. Their representation of death. Something about them threw him back into the past, to the moment he held a cherry desert fox who’d walked into a second-rate sniper’s potshot.

  The pencil Chase twirled between his fingers snapped.

  Seven pairs of eyes shifted his way.

  He scrambled to retrieve the pieces, laid them aside, and then casually picked up another pencil.

  The senior leaders directed their attention back to Adams.

  Aden leaned toward him and whispered, “Dude, you OK?”

  Chase nodded, dragging a hand across his heated cheek. He forced himself to relax back into the thick padding of the chair and focused on Adams’ commentary.

  “This is the third Tri-Penn College student to die in the past six weeks. She is the third that is supposed to have overdosed on a flea powder that is very similar to crystal-meth.” Mike pointed to a woman’s face, white-washed with death.

  The stainless steel table under the victim and the Y track of stitches marking her chest made it clear the picture had been taken at the morgue.

  “Denise Davidson. Known to her friends as Dee-Dee. Details on her past are also outlined in your packets. Her body was spotted yesterday morning by, Emma Lewis, another student. Lewis was out for a sunrise jog. Denise was found lying on the edge of the river which runs through the campus. We’re still waiting on a time of death from the coroner. The temperature had dropped to exceptionally cold Saturday night during the thunder storm that raged through. We should know TOD later today.”

  Adams tapped a key on his laptop and several scene shots popped up on the screen, of Dee-Dee in her final resting spot along the river. “It appears as if she might’ve fallen from the stone bridge.”

  “The bridge doesn’t seem high enough to cause death.” Gary stated the obvious.

  “If she did a swan dive, it would be. According to the preliminary notes, it’s about a twenty-five-foot drop,” Will said. “Stranger things have happened. Did she fall from this bridge or was she attacked somewhere else and washed downstream? We can’t rule out any possibility. Forensics is working the area and, hopefully, we’ll have more evidence soon. But, you all know this isn’t a damn television show. It could be a week or two until the results are in.”

  “Was she sexually assaulted?” Jolene’s charm bracelet jiggled as she picked up her coffee and took a sip.

  “The coroner’s report shows no signs of sexual assault. In fact, she was a virgin,” Adams answered. “No other fluids were found on her body anywhere, but then again she was partially in the water.”

  “Doesn’t mean some bastard didn’t try.” Jolene sipped again. “Maybe caused her fall.”

  “True.”

  Watching Jolene drink her coffee, sour bile coated Chase’s tongue. He needed to learn to distance himself from these fuckin’ situations like Jolene seemed able to do. The woman was a rock. Not that she was uncaring. Jolene was very caring. Her goal in life was to save the world and everyone it, including every species of animal and mammal. Her sterling-silver bracelet stabled a ton of animal charms and represented her passion.

  “How about a boyfriend?” Chase asked.

  “No steady boyfriend, according to her roommate, Tara Beck,” Adams replied. Mike flipped open the manila folder in front of him and the room rustled with shuffling papers as the team followed his lead. “Denise left Tara a note stating she was going to a party. The state police have the note in their possession. There’s a copy in your folder. The original’s been dusted. Denise’s fingerprints were the only other ones found, besides Tara’s, and the vic’s parents verified the handwriting was their daughter’s. There are no indictors, so far, that this woman was a drug user who had an overdose, so we’re not ruling out homicide.”

  “She definitely had ice in her system?” Chase asked.

  “A form of ice which we’re labeling TWIN. Preliminary reports confirmed it.”

  Chase stretched his neck, fighting off the punishment of a sleepless night. Lately, his demons were making a comeback. “Did the note say anything else?”

  “She said she’d return around midnight. She didn’t say where she was going or if she was going with anyone.”

  “It could’ve been a last minute invite and she dashed off the note before taking off. I’ve done that,” Jolene offered. “Any calls on her cell?”

  Aden chuckled then clarified why: “We’re talking about a pretty college girl. Her cell phone probably buzzed three times a minute.”

  Still, Adams cleared his throat, sending Aden a stern look.

  The twinkle in Aden’s brown eyes faded. His auburn, shoulder-length hair, pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, straightened as he bowed his head to study the file he held.

  When Adams’ eyebrows met, his men knew he wasn’t happy with them.

  “Yes. There were a few calls and texts, all made and received within the hour prior to her leaving the building. The state police are tracking down the callers and conducting interviews with them now. We’re also getting her phone’s GPS history. All the information will be sent to Nasia as soon as it’s available and she’ll upload it to our database.”

  “Has anyone checked her Twitter and Facebook accounts?” Gary asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. “My niece can’t live without posting her status everywhere she goes.”

  “True. I’ll have Nasia check if the victim had accounts with them right away, and every other networking site out there,” Will said.

  “I’m on it.” Gary grinned, apparently already texting a message to their tech person.

  Aden raised his pencil in the air, drawing the senior officer’s attention. “What time did the roommate find the note?”

  “Around 10:00,” Adams responded. “Tara said she went to bed around 11:30, expecting Denise to walk in any minute, but she fell asleep watching a sitcom and didn’t wake up until around 6:15 the next morning. After calling Denise’s cell several times and getting no answer, she called campus security. They’d just received the 9-1-1 alert from the local police. The body was found within several hundred yards of her dormitory which could suggest she was heading back there when the incident happened.”

  “Or that’s as far as she got, heading to the party,” Jolene offered.

  “Highly unlikely. The dorms’ security camera’s timestamp shows her leaving the building at 9:10,” Will said. “At that time of night, the area is pretty active. And according to the primary investigation notes, she was found only thirty feet from the main walkway. It’s likely no one saw or heard anything.”

  “But not impossible,” Chase interrupted. While serving his country, he’d taken out a few trained soldiers who stood guard in broad daylight on
main streets within enemy controlled cities in Iraq—and replaced them with “friendlies,” without incident.

  Will aimed his pencil at him and then looked around the table. “Good point. We don’t know what or who we’re with dealing with, if anyone, at this time, so we can’t assume anything. The deaths could all be suicides, just coincidence. If we’re going to nail down the situation, we need to be open to any and all scenarios.”

  Adams cleared his throat, again, drawing everyone’s attention. “Yes. That’s correct. At this point we’re not sure the girl was attacked, or if she jumped off the bridge or was pushed, or fell into the river up steam.”

  Another key stroke on Adams’ laptop and all three victims’ college ID pictures were presented. Two men and Denise. Each appeared to be in their early twenties.

  “The state police have been working this case since the first student, Tom Rollman, was found dead in a local nightclub’s restroom a month ago, right after classes started. Apparently he’d wanted to party fast because toxicology reported he had injected the TWIN. A little too much, according to the medical examiner. At first, the police deemed it an isolated case, but then the second student, Benjamin McHugh, was found in his car, parked in a grocery store parking lot near the campus. Ben had snorted the drug. Medical examiner said he died of asphyxiation. He had asthma. His inhaler was found inside his coat pocket, untouched. And now Denise. She’s the first one to die on actual school property.”

  “It’s likely there’s a supplier or lab operating somewhere in the area that produces the drug,” Gary said.

  “Exactly what the local cops are thinking, but so far no one is talking. The college administration, at the insistence of one of their more distinguished alumni and benefactors, requested the local police ask for our help. The university doesn’t want another death,” Adams replied.

  “Can’t be good for business,” Gary muttered.

  “No. It’s not.” Adams scowled again.

  Rod finally spoke up, leaning forward in his seat: “Sending in an undercover officer is probably the quickest way to find the sons of bitches that are making and supplying these kids.” He propped his elbows on the table and clamped his hands together. “It’s got to be someone young, who’ll fit in. Kids can be tight-lipped.”

  Will spun in his chair and caught Chase’s eye. “Who is up to taking the lead on this one? Chase? Jolene?”

  Chase stiffened. Will wasn’t giving him much choice.

  Will’s lips turned up. Chase knew then that his superior had made up his mind about who would lead this investigation from the inside, even before he’d walked into the room.

  “I’m in,” Jolene chirped without the slightest bit of hesitation.

  Life was precious. No one knew better than him, but was he really the one that could save anyone?

  Will nodded in Chase’s direction.

  Apparently his mentor had faith in him. He wished he had the same confidence in himself.

  Chase flipped his folder closed. “When do we leave?”

  “We want both of you on campus tonight. Is that a problem?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Not for me,” Jolene answered along with him.

  “Good. Jolene, I want you to get chummy with Denise’s friends. And, Chase, find this Emma Lewis—”

  “The woman who found Denise? Don’t you think the local police got all the information they could from her?”

  “She’s a brilliant chemistry grad student, capable of making compound drugs and she even has unlimited access to the chem lab. She knew the victim and supposedly found the body. We need to take a hard look at her and any of her friends. See what you can learn.”

  “Yes,sir.”

  Chapter Four

  Bart Logan swung his Audi into his usual parking spot and slid the stick into park. He eased out of the car, adjusted his jacket and smoothed a hand over his wavy hair. The car chirped as the lock mechanism engaged.

  Preoccupied, revisiting memories made on the weekend, he didn’t notice the subdued manner of the people he passed. He’d spent the last three days with Vivian, a sophomore who’d caught his eye in the cafeteria last week. He and the golden-haired pixie had driven three hours north and visited dozens of Finger Lake wineries. During the day they drank and nibbled on food and then at night they enjoyed feasting on each other, in various positions. The woman was very flexible and they’d used every room of the suite well.

  A woman with dark curls, reminding him of Emma, rounded the corner. He’d yet to have the pleasure of Emma in his bed, but he knew, without reservation, his memories of Vivian, and every other woman he’d bedded, would be erased by her. Emma exuded passion. There was a difference between passion and plain old enthusiasm. In the meantime however, he’d take Vivian someplace again because she appreciated him now.

  Off in the distance, he saw yellow tape wrapped around trees and poles and even attached to the river bridge. It could be a Halloween display but, by the melancholy expressions of the individuals passing the area, he’d say it was something more.

  He grabbed the arm of the first person to walk by. “What happened over there?”

  “Some girl took a high dive off the bridge Saturday night. Killed herself.”

  “Who?”

  The guy shrugged. “Denise somebody. I didn’t know her. Her picture’s all over the place.” Without saying more the guy ambled off.

  Dry leaves crunched under Bart’s shoes as he walked slowly toward the bridge. The acid stirring in his stomach told him he already knew who the Denise somebody was. He didn’t want to see the woman’s soft puppy eyes staring at him from picture after picture after picture.

  Denise Davidson had been a sweet person. The kind everyone wanted as a friend. He had put her in the group of coeds he’d never date because they were more sister material. He didn’t have a sister. His father only produced sons—a fact Harrison Logan boasted about often.

  Bart had two sons of bitches for brothers. Both older. Both top in their fields. Both, apples of his father’s eye and most likely to be the only heirs of the Logan fortune.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and pivoted on his heel.

  “I heard you were away for the weekend. Did you just get back?” Tara Beck, Denise’s best friend looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.

  Emotion thickened his throat, so he simply shook his head.

  “I still can’t believe she’s gone.” Tara’s voice cracked and she leaned toward him. “I walk into our room, thinking she’s got to be there. I miss her laughter. I miss talking to her.”

  “I know.” He didn’t of course. He’d lived a charmed life so far and hadn’t lost a single soul he had an emotional connection to. He wrapped an arm around Tara and felt her tremble against his side. “What happened? Someone told me she killed herself. She wouldn’t do that, would she?”

  “No. I’ve never seen her happier.” Tara swiped a tissue across her nose and turned out of his embrace. Knowing he’d follow, she walked away from the scene and the onlookers who had their own versions of the truth to tell.

  With a last glance at the particularly good picture of Denise, he sauntered after her.

  “She left me a note Saturday night, stating she had a late date,” Tara said. “I don’t know who it was with. The last time I saw her was Saturday afternoon.” She hiccupped her torment.

  “Was she with Mark? God knows why, but I know she’s been hanging around him a lot lately.”

  “No. I spoke to him yesterday, after the police questioned me.”

  “They questioned you? Of course they did. She lived with you. You were her best friend.”

  “Yes. I’m really going to miss her.” Her voice cracked.

  He did what he’d seen others do in this instance and took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. “Are you sure she never mentioned who she would be going out with that night?”

  “No.” Tara swiped away her tears with her free hand.

  “I thoug
ht we shared everything, but apparently we didn’t.”

  After a short minute, Tara turned her puffy face up to his. Her narrowed, red eyes were filled with curiosity. “You really have no idea why Denise hung around Mark, do you?”

  ***

  The hammering in Bart’s temples thundered so loud his skull felt like John Bonham’s drums—a sure sign his blood pressure was in an elevated state. Both fear and fury rode his hot blood through his trembling veins.

  He stormed through the apartment and ignoring the tie on the door knob—a sign his friend was not alone—he threw open Mark’s bedroom door. The mini blinds, hung in the twin windows that flanked the bed’s headboard, were tilted in such a way the late afternoon sun cast a dim radiance on the couple on the bed, giving their movements a silent-flick feel.

  He ripped away the blanket covering them and the woman beneath Mark shrieked. Mark took her cry to be one of pleasure and pumped faster, harder.

  Dark, solid flesh piercing soft pink folds caused Bart’s cock to twitch. If he weren’t so angry with Mark, he’d join the couple and really give the coed an afternoon to remember.

  He stepped closer and recognized the woman as Colleen Shine. What the hell was she doing with Mark?

  Over his friend’s shoulder, Colleen’s eyes widened, their green pools flashing distress. She pushed against Mark’s chest and struggled to buck him off.

  Mark on the other hand, with his black ass in the air, was still oblivious to Bart’s presence. If Mark’s moans were any indication of pleasure, the redhead’s added movement increased his gratification tenfold.

  Colleen stretched, grasping for the comforter he’d yanked off them. Unable to reach it, she slapped Mark across the face with everything she had.

  "What the hell?” Mark recoiled. “Why did you hit me?”

  “Look,” Colleen said breathlessly and pointed beyond Mark. She bucked again at the weight pinning her to the mattress. “Get off.”

  Mark flicked a glance over his shoulder and quickly rolled away from Colleen, exposing his cum-slicked cock. Quickly he grabbed the sheet and pulled it between his legs. “What the hell, man. Can’t you see I’m busy?”