The Chilling Spree

by LS Sygnet

  Forsythe’s eyes roved to the metal assembly lying on the floor beside the amplification speaker. “Dark red stain on the metal. Maybe that clued him in that something wasn’t kosher.” He procured a swab, moistened it and swiped the stain on the grill. “It’s blood. Give us a few and we can let you know if it’s human or animal.”

  He glanced back at Johnny. “What’s he doing here?”

  I shrugged. “Apparently Devlin called Chris Darnell. The tech was part of Dev’s unit in the Marines.”

  “And?”

  “Let’s just say that even after all these years, Devlin is still gloating over Mr. Underwood’s dishonorable discharge. Since Johnny showed up, I can only imagine that Darnell is equally distrustful of our primary person of interest.”

  “Darnell’s unit?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And there is no love lost, it would seem. Underwood already expressed similar animosity toward Devlin. I can only imagine how he’d flip out at the sight of Chris and the knowledge of the power he wields in this little corner of the world.”

  “So?” Johnny thrust himself into the conversation. “Is this a crime scene or what?”

  Forsythe hand gestured to one of his men. “It’s definitely blood, Johnny, but we’re not sure if it’s human or otherwise yet. I was just telling Helen that we’ll need a few minutes to make that determination.”

  I watched Benjamin Tate, CSD’s resident blood expert, obtain a sample of wet blood from inside the black wooden box and perform a quick test. His eyes met mine a moment later. Nod. “It’s human, and from the depth in this container, I’d estimate massive, non-recoverable blood loss. We’re talking an injury to a major vessel.”

  To see the small amount of blood on the metal cover, I didn’t expect to find a victim with a surface injury to an artery or vein. There was no arterial spray. Only a small amount of blood had pooled on the surface of the speaker. The rest appeared to have drained through the metal and into the device.

  “I guess we should start looking for the body,” I said. “Dammit.”

  “How much traffic has been through here tonight?” Johnny asked. “Somebody had to have seen something. Or are we talking about a giant blood clot because it’s been in the box so long?”

  “It looked pretty fresh to me,” I said, “but then again, I’m not an expert in the clotting characteristics of a large volume of blood contained in a relatively small space. Ken, would Tate be able to give us a window based on the viscosity of blood?”

  Forsythe grinned at me. “I’m not sure viscosity is the word you’re looking for, Helen, but yeah, he should be able to give you a broad window on the time based on clotting.”

  I glanced at Orion, half expecting him to slide right into his typical MO where Darkwater police investigations were concerned, and butting in, taking over. He stared hard at the glossy concrete at his feet.

  “What’s the plan, Commander Orion?” I asked.

  “Perhaps we should have a few words alone,” Johnny said.

  My heart leapt into the back of my throat. I was certain he could see the fist shaped organ pounding to the beat of the hard rock coming from the stage. “All right. Let me have a word with Tate and then –”

  “I meant before you do anything else.”

  Oh boy. Here it comes. He’s going to march all over me with OSI’s territorial possession of all things homicidal. I can’t do this. I can’t be civil and play nice just because he doesn’t realize it’s not in my nature to –

  The internal diatribe was either written all over my face (which I strongly suspected, since Forsythe stepped back, like taking cover was suddenly a very good idea) or Orion had another conversation I was eager to avoid having on his mind. His fingers manacled my right bicep and tugged me without much effort out of earshot of the growing crowd.

  My stomach had the misfortune of falling on the floor, landing right where I’d been standing for a good ten seconds before it had time to catch up with me. I could either hurl at Johnny’s feet, or pass out from the fluttering in my chest.

  Instead, a snarl tore from my throat. “Don’t manhandle me, Orion.”

  He let go quickly. Eyes were fixed anywhere but on me, and for the first time tonight, I noticed the hard line of his jaw, the rapid clench and release along the notched joint that was a surefire sign of his irritation.

  Why? He had no reason –

  “I’m told,” terse words fell from barely parted lips, “that my cover with OSI was blown because of you.”

  Oh God. I swallowed hard. “That was your choice. Nobody made you –”

  Bright blue impaled me. Whatever justification thought to follow died as surely as if someone had ripped my vocal chords out of my throat.

  “I have also been informed that the nature of our association was such that nothing would’ve prevented me from entering that bar and protecting you, so don’t blame this on me, detective. In light of that, I shouldn’t be shocked that I have very little memory of the past year because once again, someone needed to pull your ass out of the fire.”

  There are days when I wish I knew how to be a meek and genteel woman. This was one of them. Maybe it’s genetic. Maybe all those years of Wendell subtly teaching me how to stand up for myself had so warped my mind that it’s impossible for me not to become combative when someone makes me feel cornered. Then again, sometimes being a bitch is purely choice.

  “I have a partner tonight, Commander Orion. Don’t worry. Nobody asked you to be here tonight, and frankly, we don’t need OSI butting in. Again.”

  He ignored me. “I have also been informed that a number of people were… disappointed that you didn’t bother showing up after I was injured to fill in a few of these missing pieces of my life for me after I tried to rescue you once again.”

  “And that kind of information would’ve been well received from a complete stranger,” no, I can’t leave well enough alone. Johnny’s eyes blazed down at me. It still wasn’t enough to shut me up. “Perhaps you should consider that little mental reset button that Mitch Southerby pressed a blessing in disguise, Johnny. I’m certain all these friends who have so eagerly told you what an ungrateful bitch –”

  “Shut up,” he snarled. “I’m not finished yet.”

  My mouth shut immediately. If it was temper he wanted to see, the Orion I knew, the man who understood more about me than anyone else in Darkwater Bay really didn’t want unleash that side of my personality. The urge to pull my sidearm burned like acid through my veins.

  “Who told you that I don’t remember you?” Johnny stared at the floor again. His jaw relaxed – marginally. His voice was so low and soft, it curled my belly into a tight knot.

  “It was pretty clear, when you started asking for Gwen Foster at the hospital,” I said. “How could you remember someone you met after she died if you thought she –”

  “I didn’t tell you I was finished.”

  “Listen, I get how frustrating this is for you, but I’ve got a case that needs my attention. You don’t know me anymore, and no matter how much Tony Briscoe wants to spoon feed you every little tidbit of what he assumes happened between us over the past six months, he can’t do it. There were only two people who knew that information, and only one of them knows now. Me.”

  “And you’re not willing to help me, isn’t that the message you’ve so quietly sent me?”

  My heart cracked and splintered a little bit. “Johnny, if I were you, I wouldn’t believe someone who is in every way a complete stranger. Why should you?”

  “Because losing events doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything.”

  “I don’t know what that means. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry that my stupidity resulted in a blown cover with OSI. I’m sorry that –”

  “Stop apologizing.”

  “Fine. Let me do my job. Let Downey Division investigate a case that clearly falls under its jurisdiction.”

  A cold smile stretched his lips. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, D
etective Eriksson. It just happens that this particular establishment receives state funds, so it’s my jurisdiction too. Either you play nice in the sandbox this time, or I’ll be the one deciding who takes the case and who doesn’t. Since I can smell the alcohol on your breath, I’m not particularly confident in your abilities right now. Or those of your date for the evening.”

  “One beer.” I felt punched in the gut. Paranoia swirled around me. My homicidal urges exploded in the direction of one Tony Briscoe. He probably told Orion that I was little more than a drunk who couldn’t be trusted.

  “I’m working this case with you, Helen, or you’re not working it at all. Is that clear?”

  “Pulling rank,” the words, the truth of the matter transformed to bitter bile on the tip of my tongue.

  “Whatever you want to call it. You’re not ditching me. You’re not making a single move on this case unless I’m with you.”

  “Devlin –”

  “Can assist,” Orion interrupted. His grin took on a sinister quality, “But he won’t be spending a lot of quality time alone with you. Still up to working your case, detective?”

  I wanted to shove his face into the speaker full of human blood for a hard dunk, but recognized the signs in front of me. Johnny’s behavior was the equivalent of a dog pissing on its fence in the backyard. I just wasn’t sure if the fence was a person (me) or if it was his ability to function as the head of the governor’s special police force.

  “We’ll cooperate with OSI,” I said slowly. No way was I cutting Dev out of the case that should’ve been ours, no matter what Orion said or thought. Beside that, he would be the buffer that prevented further one on one discussion that in no way related to the job.

  “Then let’s direct the search for this dead body.”

  I yanked out my phone and called Shelly Finkelstein. “Hey, it’s Helen.”

  “I’m so sorry that this ruined your date, Helen. Do you know if it was foul play or not?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “it’s most certainly something we have to investigate. I need bodies down here to search for a victim. Forsythe estimates that we’ve got most of his or her blood in a speaker box. No sign of the body yet. How soon can you call in the troops?”

  “I’ll call dispatch. Helen, I feel that there’s something you should know in advance. Darnell called me –”

  “Too late, Shelly,” I muttered.

  “Johnny’s there already?”

  “Uh huh. Listen, OSI is going to work the case with us. Something about state funding of the arts. Dev and I will keep you posted.”

  “You know, it’s technically Briscoe and Conall’s night on duty, Helen. If you and Devlin would rather bow out and let them take over, I can send them down.”

  I gnawed the inside of my lower lip. On one hand, any reason to continue to avoid Johnny – at least after his angry confrontation – looked pretty damned appealing. Add to that, Devlin had a personal history with the guy I figured either knew the most information about how someone could bleed out backstage at a concert or was the primary suspect in the case. Orion had given me the perfect out.

  “Shelly, Devlin and I weren’t expecting to be hauled out of the concert on a night off. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if we hand this one off. Did Darnell give you any information that Dev related to him?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I think I agree with that decision. I’ll send Crevan and Tony over there. You and Devlin should leave Johnny in charge until they arrive.”

  “He’s right here. Why don’t you tell him, Shelly? I’m not sure he’d take my word for it at the moment.”

  I thrust my phone into Johnny’s hand and watched the tension draw his face so taut, I half expected bones to start shattering.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “For the time being at least. God forbid she’s not comfortable.”

  I glimpsed Devlin out of the corner of my eye and left my phone with Johnny. “Shelly’s giving the case to Briscoe and Crevan. They’ll work it with OSI.”

  “What? Why? Helen, we were first on the scene –”

  My eyes begged. “Please, Dev. Either way, Orion is butting into this case. I can’t deal with it. If you want to stick around, fine. I’ll call a cab or something –”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” One hand slid up my arm. “Did he say something to you?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it. Shelly’s fine with us walking on this one. Given your history with Underwood, it’s probably not a bad idea. And working with… well, it’s a really bad idea at the moment.”

  “Okay.” His index finger curled and tipped my chin upward. “You wanna leave now, or do you want to see if we can see the rest of the show?”

  “I’d rather get out of here.” Antarctica seemed like a safer place at the moment, but I didn’t share that information with Devlin. “Would you do me a favor and get my phone from Johnny? I’m gonna find a bathroom. I’ll meet you at the west entrance and we can go to my place.”

  “You’re leaving?” Swanson interrupted our plans. “Aw, c’mon. You guys have VIP’s to the after party. You won’t want to miss it. If you’re worried about getting back to the throng down front, we can have you escorted ahead of the barricade that holds the rest of the crowd at bay.”

  Devlin glanced at me, those boyish eyes gleaming with hope. I sighed. It was his favorite band after all. “Why not?” I murmured. “Although I’m not sure there’s going to be a great after party tonight. The police are sending more cops to investigate what clearly appears to be a crime scene, Mr. Swanson. The last thing they’ll allow is more bodies tromping around back here and muddying an already compromised crime scene.”

  He grinned, communicating a we’ll see attitude and ushered us to the right side of the stage, down a flight of stairs and toward a security guard. He paused long enough to yell something neither Devlin or I could hear over the throbbing din of music. The guard nodded and escorted us to the front center section of the front most barricade. He leaned close.

  “Enjoy the show!”

  I saw no need to stand in front of Devlin until I realized the hand that started groping my ass didn’t belong to my date.

  Chapter 5

  Our guard escort returned twenty minutes later with two large glasses of beer in his hands. “From Swanson,” he shouted.

  I glanced up at the grinning singer on stage. Uh-huh. Right. I was wary of drinking anything I didn’t watch the vendor dispense, but Devlin had no such qualms. He guzzled. I tentatively sipped. The fact that we were served more Guinness made me exceedingly paranoid. I felt my discomfort radiating in waves. Surely Devlin felt it too.

  His lips brushed the shell of my ear. “You’re not having a good time.”

  Guilt, that hated and waste of emotional energy, shrouded me. Hadn’t he told me – repeatedly – for the past week how much he was looking forward to this concert? His hand curled around my waist.

  “If you want to go –”

  I rested my hand over his, let my fingers slide between his and shook my head. “Sorry, Dev. I’m trying to shake it off.”

  “Don’t give him the power to ruin our night. Was he here because he wanted to be with you?”

  More like lord his authority over me. The dagger hit my heart. Unfortunately, Devlin saw the effect his question had on me. The hand at my waist tightened. “I’m sorry,” lips moved in slow motion.

  “No, don’t apologize. You’re right.”

  “Drink your beer,” he urged.

  Alcohol, my anesthesia of choice. For a split second, I hoped someone had dropped a hit of something else into the cup before handing it to me. I tipped the cup to my lips and let the pungent liquid roll over taste buds down a willing throat. Wasn’t this the excuse Johnny planned to use to throw me off a case that by all accounts should’ve belonged to Dev and me? If I had the label, I may as well embrace it.

  I tossed the empty cup to the floor and let Devlin pull me back into a thrashing rhythm. Soon enough, the alcohol hit my
blood stream. The arms around me soothed away some of the pain I’d been grappling with since Johnny’s little mind wipe.

  Maybe Ned was right. There was no indication that Johnny was interested in anything other than blaming me for a lot – even though he wasn’t exactly wrong to do so. He lost his cover, lost his memory, maybe gained some insecurities. I never asked him to follow me anywhere. I never wanted him pushing his way into my life.

  At least Devlin showed enough respect to let me make the decision to spend time with him.

  More beer appeared.

  Madden struck familiar chords. A memory floated back to me. I hadn’t been completely forthright with Devlin when he invited me to see this band in concert. Yes, I had bought records based on a name that I knew Marie would have a fit of apoplexy over when she saw them. But I wasn’t ignorant to the music, and there were bits and pieces of the band’s songs that I knew very well. Before long, one fist was in the air and I was singing along at the top of my lungs.

  I felt Devlin’s laughter ripple through my chest. His lips grazed my neck. The fist uncurled over my head and reached around to ruffle through the hair at the nape of his neck. His arms tightened around me in response. I melted into the embrace, head tipped backward against his chest.

  “Helen?”

  “I don’t want to hurt anymore,” I said.

  As a general rule, I am not accustomed to feeling the protective instincts of men. Only one man ever got away with it – my father. But Devlin’s snuggled around me in that instant, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel smothered or offended by the feeling. Perhaps it was a sign of how truly battered life had left me. Then again, it could’ve been a shot of Crown and several enormous glasses of Guinness. Maybe creepy Fulk Underwood’s eye rape and provocative, presumptuous words were the final straw. All I knew was that in a single instant, it felt good to have someone else carry my burden, even if it was only for an hour or two.