The 2nd Cycle of the Darc Murders Omnibus (the acclaimed series from #1 Police Procedural and Hard Boiled authors Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin)

by Carolyn McCray

There was too much going on right now. Carly, Janey, and now Darc. Each distinct, each a pull in a different direction. For the first time, Mala thought she might understand how being drawn and quartered might feel.

  Even as the thought occurred to her, she felt a stab of guilt shoot through her body. Darc’s newfound emotional vulnerability should not be one of the issues. She should be ecstatic over the changes in her partner.

  And yet…

  Experiencing Darc falling apart in her arms taught Mala an uncomfortable lesson. She didn’t mind Darc’s emotional disconnect. In fact, she might actually prefer it.

  A painful truth. One that she had no intention of sharing with Darc. Especially right now, with him still encircled by her arms.

  Trey hadn’t said a word since Darc started crying. In his own way, Darc’s partner seemed to not be handling this newfound sensitivity any better than Mala.

  It had to be difficult for him. Trey had always been the social one, the member of the team who could traverse the tricky emotional currents that always ran beneath any case. The currents that Darc conveniently didn’t have to worry about.

  But now things were in disarray. Where before Darc had been similar to a wind up toy, now there were nuances to dealing with him. It was clear that he had no idea how to handle these new emotions he experienced, but they had to be dealt with.

  Even now, they raced toward another body. Another human life that had been taken by a monster. And they needed Darc at the top of his form.

  Darc might be many things right now, most of the unexpected, but at the top of the form did not make the list. Not even close.

  And as much as Mala wanted to embrace Darc’s self-discoveries, they were damned inconvenient at the moment. The priority right now was finding Carly. Her danger was imminent and overwhelming. Even Janey’s situation paled next to Carly’s.

  As for Janey, Mala’s mind didn’t want to go there at all. What could they do about that? For the moment Janey was at least safe, tucked away in a group home somewhere. And although Regina Cross had been adversarial in the past, firmly ensconced on Templeton’s side of the battle lines, Mala’s interaction with the woman today left room for hope.

  It seemed as if Ms. Cross might be seeing behind some of Richard Templeton’s façade. The man had gone too far, taken too many risks in his desire to take down the perceived threat in Mala. That might just lead to his undoing.

  Much as it ripped at her heart to do so, Mala knew she needed to put Janey out of her mind for the time being. Right now the focus had to be on Carly.

  And to find Carly, Darc had to step up.

  There was no other solution that Mala could see. Darc was the only one who could decipher the clues, see the patterns, unlock the hidden places in this case. Mala knew she was intelligent, but her expertise paled in comparison.

  And Trey, while an essential part of the makeup of the team, was not one to make brilliant leaps in deduction. When it came to feeling out the emotional components of a crime, he was savvy, even better at times than Mala herself.

  That was a distinction that not many could make. Mala’s gifts were in profiling. The psychological makeup of the killer. But Trey oftentimes seemed to be able to feel their heart. Their true self, past all the trauma that put up walls between them and the world.

  Mala could see the defenses. Trey saw the person.

  Darc stirred in her arms, moaning in distress. Mala forced her frustration with the awkward timing down. Urging him to push those feelings down right now would do irreparable damage to the detective, cause him to shut down even more.

  And the scarring that would take place in the heart of the man Mala loved? She didn’t even want to think about the long-term repercussions of those actions.

  So, rather than entertain thoughts of telling Darc to suck it up, Mala pulled him in tighter, rubbing her hand over his back as he wept. She caught Trey’s eye in the rear view mirror for a moment, and saw her own fears echoed there.

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know, Trey,” she answered. “I think so.”

  Once more, Mala felt Darc move against her. But this time, he pulled away, breaking their embrace. His face, contorted in grief, began reshaping itself into a harder mask. The sight gave comfort to the part of Mala that needed Darc to step up.

  It also broke her heart.

  “I will be fully functional when we arrive at the crime scene,” Darc intoned.

  His inflection was more flat than Mala had heard it in months. This was the sound of the man that Mala had met so long ago in a hospital room. A time and place where Mala’s job had seemed to be to protect a little girl from the trauma an autistic detective was about to inflict upon her.

  So much had changed since then.

  Darc shifted over in his seat, moving farther away from Mala. Peering out the window into the overcast grey of a Seattle day, the hazy light illuminated only parts of his face. His heavy brows caused his eyes to become pits of darkness as he looked down.

  She could see him drawing in to himself, erecting his walls once again, retreating into the perceived strength of his overly logical mind. While this was almost precisely what Mala had hoped for, she couldn’t help but feel that this was a loss. A grave error.

  He spoke again, not looking at either Mala or Trey. It was as if he addressed Seattle as a whole.

  “Do not be concerned. I will not fail.”

  Mala knew he wouldn’t. But for the first time she could remember, that thought did not give her comfort.

  All she felt inside was despair.

  * * *

  Janey’s heart felt like it was trying to escape out of her chest. Even Popeye, who almost always had some smart-aleck remark ready for every situation, was silent.

  The woman’s voice was deep and raspy, which seemed like a perfect match for her face, which was wrinkly and saggy. The grip on Janey’s shoulder grew tighter.

  “So what’s a little girl doing hiding out in my shop?” the woman croaked.

  Janey turned around a little bit at a time. Moving too fast with that claw-like hand on her shoulder didn’t seem like a good idea, for one. And second, any sudden moves might make this woman all of a sudden turn into a witch. Or a dragon.

  Or even worse. A clown.

  The hand on her shoulder shifted and pulled away as Janey moved to face the old woman. Once she’d spun all the way around, she was surprised to see that the woman wasn’t too much taller than she was.

  Janey wasn’t short for her age. Not really. But she’d never been around a grownup who was anywhere close to her height.

  Popeye said something rude about the woman being a kid in an ugly grownup costume, but his voice was pretty shaky. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, her bear was scared of this shriveled old person in front of them.

  If Janey was being honest with herself, she was too.

  “So, you haven’t answered my question, little lady,” the woman said with a frown. “What are you doing in my shop? This wouldn’t have anything to do with those policemen I saw scurrying around outside, now would it?”

  Janey didn’t dare answer. If she shook her head, like she wanted to, she’d be lying. But if she nodded yes, this woman might call the police.

  Janey wasn’t sure what would happen then. It might be that Trey and Darc would get called. But whatever was happening with the stupidhead social worker and the judge might be something that was happening in the police station, too. She couldn’t risk it.

  “Not going to answer me, huh?” the woman asked. “Good plan. Never give away your position to the enemy. Although I have to tell you, little missy, I’m not your enemy, even if I might look like it.”

  She heaved a heavy sigh and put her hands on her hips. Janey had sometimes seen Mala do that same thing. Most of the time it was after Janey had done something she wasn’t supposed to.

  “Not supposed to talk to strangers, are you?”

  Janey shook her head. It was true. Mala t
old her all the time not to talk to strangers. Even though Janey already knew that. Father John had been a stranger, and he’d tried to kill her, before Darc had come down underground and rescued her.

  That thought made her sad. She missed Darc so much. And Mala and Trey and Maggie. Them too.

  The lady seemed to see the sadness that crossed Janey’s face. “Well, maybe this will help a little,” she said. “My name’s Eula. Eula Rudd.”

  Janey couldn’t help it. She made a face.

  Eula’s face broke out into a mischievous grin, and all of a sudden Janey wasn’t sure she was so scary. In fact, she might even like this woman a little bit.

  “Don’t like my name?” she asked. “Yeah. Me neither. Most of my friends call me Lula. That better?”

  Janey grinned and nodded.

  “Well, since the cat seems to have made off with your tongue, I suppose I probably ought to feed you. Little girls are always hungry, aren’t they? I don’t really remember any more. That was a long, long time ago.”

  Thinking about it, Janey realized that she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten any of the breakfast they’d given her that morning. The eggs had been rubbery and kind of grey. She gave Lula an enthusiastic nod.

  “All right, then. How does tea and crumpets sound?”

  It sounded fantastic. Janey had never had crumpets before, but she remembered a story her mother used to tell her when she was little, and there had been crumpets in it.

  But then Lula snapped her fingers. “Oh, no. I forgot. I’m fresh out of crumpets. How does a nice turkey sandwich sound?”

  Well, it didn’t sound as exciting as crumpets, but Janey’s stomach started growling. And maybe she wouldn’t have liked crumpets, anyway. She knew she liked turkey sandwiches.

  “Hm. You know, tea doesn’t really go so well with turkey sandwiches. But I might have some orange soda somewhere.”

  Orange soda. That was Janey’s all time favorite drink. Mala never let her have it. Said something about high-something corn stuff and it not being good for her.

  Janey nodded, but Popeye groused about the fact that he was always left out. He was such a sensitive bear sometimes.

  “Oh, hold the phone a moment,” Lula exclaimed. “What have we here?”

  She walked around Janey, taking a look at Popeye, who Janey had been holding back around behind the other side of her leg. When she had gotten a full view of the bear, Lula looked into Janey’s face with an expression that was almost accusing.

  “You didn’t tell me you had a friend here,” she said, shaking a finger. Janey giggled. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to find him something, too. I understand that bears are partial to berries. I may have one or two around here somewhere.”

  Lula walked over to the door of the shop, turning around a sign there that said “open” on one side and “closed” on the other. When she flipped it, the “closed” part was facing out. Then she waved for Janey to follow her as she walked to the back of the store.

  The whole time, she was muttering to herself about saucy young girls and their uninvited dinner guests. The way Lula was talking, Janey could tell she wasn’t mad. It made her giggle even more.

  For just a moment, she felt guilty. Mala was worried about her, Janey knew that. She also knew there was something that Mala hadn’t told her. Something serious.

  She shouldn’t be having fun while she was out running away from the bad guys. Well, the good guys. It was confusing. Policemen were good guys, but right now they might be bad guys. When she thought about it too much, Janey’s head started to spin.

  Anyway, it didn’t seem like having a good time was part of the plan. But she guessed that Lula wasn’t going to call anyone, and Janey was super hungry. She might as well go along with it for now.

  Popeye agreed, but that might have been more about the berries than it was about trusting Lula. Sometimes that bear thought with his tummy.

  Her bear said nothing, but Janey was pretty sure she saw him smile.

  * * *

  Well, at least this time it wasn’t a young girl.

  That was the only positive Trey could come up with. To be honest, as tough as the girls had been, this one was worse. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there it was.

  This time it was an auditorium.

  The Seattle Philharmonic played in this space. Trey had been here once, with some smartypants girl he’d been trying to impress. Then she’d asked him about Vivaldi, and Trey had said that it was his opinion that he was the guy that had truly discovered the New World, not Columbus.

  That date hadn’t gone well after that.

  Every sound in the huge open area resonated with the amazing acoustics the space afforded. The sounds of the C.S.I. team muttering back and forth might as well have been right next to Trey for the level of clarity he was hearing. Maybe he should warn the one guy dusting for prints that he should seriously rethink his fantasy football choices.

  Randall ran around shooting his pictures with such enthusiasm that Trey wanted to kick his neck off. There was something about that guy that really got under Trey’s skin. Burrowed under, actually. Like a tick or a chigger.

  Mala hovered around Darc, looking for all the world like some kind of erratic satellite that was starting to lose its orbit. Darc appeared… well, like Darc for once. Meaning that there was no discernible emotion playing out on his sharp features.

  Trey wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, it was reassuring. They had worked together as partners for a long time now. His days back in Vice were a dim memory at this point. And during all their time together, they’d figured out a few things. Like how to play to their individual strengths.

  Darc’s were solving crimes. Trey’s were solving Darc’s messes.

  So when Darc placed a hand on Dr. Kelly’s chest as the M.E. approached, Trey was almost glad to see the offended expression spread over the young doctor’s face. Look. A mess for Trey to clean up. Hallelujah.

  But on the other hand, Trey couldn’t help but feel that something had just been lost. Something new and precious. Was he really so selfish that he didn’t want his partner to turn into a real boy, like Pinocchio?

  Well, there was no blue fairy floating around, and there was a body, so maybe this wasn’t the right time. At least that’s what Trey decided to tell himself.

  “Sorry about that, Doc,” Trey said, stepping forward to brush down the M.E.’s rumpled shirtfront. “Sometimes my partner doesn’t understand the meaning of personal space.”

  “It is important that I speak with him,” Darc said, his inflection flat as a board. “Immediately.”

  “Right,” Dr. Kelly said, glancing back and forth from Trey to Darc. “Ah. This one is… how shall I put this? Graphic.”

  Great. Trey had been there for the first two, and this one was graphic? Maybe he could just slink away and let Darc handle all of the gory bits. But before he could suit actions to thoughts, the M.E. continued.

  “The young man’s penis appears to have been… um… threaded… into his… er… rectum.”

  Well, that was more than Trey needed to know. He made a mental note to himself to not get any closer to the body. And maybe not to glance over in that direction. In fact, perhaps it would be a good idea to find himself another task.

  “Hey,” he said to the group at large. “Anyone want a cup of coffee? I suddenly really want a cup of coffee.”

  Darc grabbed his arm. “Stay.”

  Perfect.

  Mala stepped forward, her face pale but determined. “When you say threaded, what do you mean, precisely?”

  “Who are you?” the M.E. challenged her, and Trey realized that the two hadn’t met. There had been too much going on in Mala’s life recently for her to be at the station much, and they hadn’t needed her for any of their cases for the last couple of months.

  “This is Dr. Mala Charan,” Trey said, making the introductions. “She consults with the department as a profiler.”

  “I see
,” he said. “Well, what I mean is that someone took what appears to be ordinary thread and needle, inserted them into the man’s penis and stitched the member inside his own orifice.”

  Trey retched, but tried to keep it under control. He’d thrown up at the last scene. Doing it again would just be too much. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to keep himself under control.

  Mala just nodded. “And was this pre or post mortem?”

  “Pre.”

  That did it. Trey rushed to a garbage can toward the back of the auditorium and vomited into the receptacle. Oh, this was foul.

  Corn. Why was there always corn? Trey couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten corn.

  Thankfully, this time he’d been a bit more prepared. He pulled out a stick of gum and popped it into his mouth before returning to the conversation still in progress.

  A brief thought of stretching out the vomiting fit to avoid any other descriptions had tugged at him. But now that his stomach was empty, Trey should be fine. Well, at least until he had to go to sleep that night.

  Who was he kidding? With Maggie in the state she was, Trey wasn’t getting any sleep. So it was a win-win all the way around, he supposed.

  The doctor was in the middle of his description, when he seemed to take a closer look at Mala. “Hold on a moment,” he muttered, walking around the child psychologist as if he was trying to see her face from all sides. “I think there’s something you need to take a look at.”

  Scurrying over to the body, the doctor angled the black light they had set up on a stand, revealing the symbols and pictures shimmering with the ethereal blue of phosphorescing organic matter. The thought of what had created those patterns tugged at Trey’s stomach, until he spotted what the M.E. was pointing out.

  For a long moment, what he was seeing refused to register in his brain. This could not be what he thought it was. That was impossible. Unthinkable.

  And yet, there it remained.

  In the center of the young man’s chest, right in the middle of the glowing artistry, was the rendering of a face. The lines were rough, crude, as they would have to be when drawn on human skin. But the likeness was unmistakable.