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

  Good. Get angry, little girl.

  Rage stirred the senses, caused the heart to beat faster, the face to flush. It was so easy to turn that anger into arousal. Such a small little switch to make.

  Waves of desire blossomed and radiated upward from the Headminister’s sex. This evening’s play would wash away the sting of the slaughterhouse.

  And when the passion had been sated, the real work would begin.

  * * *

  When death and destruction happened, Internal Affairs lurked nearby.

  Trey hated Internal Affairs.

  So what was happening now? Why, he was seated right across the desk from one Officer Francis Nibley, lead investigator from the Office of Professional Accountability.

  And from all Trey could tell about the guy, a real prick.

  “Tell me again how you were unable to quickly subdue these… naked warriors,” Nibley urged, leaning forward in his chair.

  The guy seemed all reasonable and concerned for Trey’s welfare and stuff, but all you had to do was listen to the words he was saying, and it became clear he was building a case against Trey and Darc. And this particular detective wasn’t having any of it.

  “How about you tell me how I should have handled it, I’ll laugh hysterically in your face, and then we can go from there?” Trey stood up. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a case to solve. You know, the one with the naked-ass eunuchs?”

  He marched toward the door, sure that Nibley would call him back at any moment. But the man said not a word.

  Yeah. Trey was going to pay and pay and pay for this one.

  But man, had it felt good to tell that skeevy-faced backbiter off. And who knew? Maybe Trey wouldn’t lose his badge over it.

  Maybe.

  Rounding the corner to the bullpen, Trey almost ran into Darc. The tall detective had his robot face on, which boded well for their case, but not for whatever conversation Trey might want to have with him.

  “Your interview with Officer Nibley took three minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” his partner stated in the flattest of all possible tones.

  “Well, your last pee break took even less than that,” Trey shot back, heading toward his desk.

  “That response made no logical sense in context with mine.”

  “I know you are, but what am I?”

  Trey’s mood had swung from relieved to be alive and breathing, to irritated that all of the clues that might have led them to Carly had burned up in the fire, to pissed off that he now had to answer to Officer Interrogate McQuestion back there. So what was a good solution? Tweak Darc’s literal sensibilities, of course.

  Lately, that hadn’t been so much fun. With Darc growing ever more perceptive, he’d even been picking up on all of Trey’s idioms and even his pop culture references. Who would’ve thought that Darc would be able to understand an obscure reference to the Ellen DeGeneres show?

  But now things seemed to have settled back into some semblance of normal. If by normal you could include the fact that they had been attacked by sexless nudists with ancient artifacts.

  Darc continued to stare at Trey, and it became clear that the jig was up. Too bad. Back before Mala, they could’ve dragged this one out for hours.

  And to be honest, there was a part of Trey that found Darc’s recent regression sad, even heartbreaking. Comforting? Yes. Job securing? Also, yes. But a negative thing, not a positive one.

  He shook his head. This was Darc’s choice, not his.

  “So what did you want me for?” Trey asked.

  “I did not think you would enjoy being interrogated by the OPA,” came the response. Trey’s guilt magnified by a factor of one hundred. “Also I have set up an appointment with the tantric practitioner. You are the client.

  And, just like that, Trey’s guilt vanished. “Hold on. I’m the client?”

  “You used to work Vice, did you not?”

  “Yeah, but--”

  “Then you are the logical choice,” Darc cut him off.

  Trey blew out a long breath of air. What was Maggie going to think? She hated it when he talked about his days in Vice. It wasn’t like he’d spent a ton of time undercover, but he’d been involved in a couple of stings here and there. And Maggie? Not a fan.

  Maybe this was one of those times where her not knowing was better than full disclosure. For her sake, of course.

  Yeah, right. He didn’t buy it himself.

  She was so not going to be happy about this.

  Running his hands through his hair, he looked over at his partner. Darc stared back with the lack of emotion Trey was used to seeing. Well, sort of.

  To be honest, studying his partner, Trey forced himself to admit the truth. This wasn’t a good thing. Clearing his throat, he searched for a way to reach out.

  “Darc, can we talk for a sec?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Amazing. Darc’s inflection on that word hadn’t varied one iota.

  “Why not?” Okay, Trey hadn’t wanted to have this conversation in the first place. But now that Darc was being such a butthead about it, Trey’s irritation grew.

  “Because your appointment is in twenty minutes. Goddess Tanja’s schedule opened up.”

  Whoa. Too fast. Trey wouldn’t even be able to work up enough courage to talk to Maggie in twenty minutes, much less gear himself up for the sting.

  “We can’t even make it over there in twenty minutes. Why don’t we just reschedule?”

  Darc reached out, grabbed Trey’s arm and force-marched him toward the exit to the bullpen. “Her next available appointment is three months from now.”

  All Trey could think to say was, “Oh.”

  Maggie wasn’t going to be pissed. Nope. Not at all.

  She was going to be livid.

  * * *

  Mala’s jaw ached from where she had been struck during the fight. After a significant amount of time in the bathroom, she’d been able to cover over the dark bruise that had started to form there. Mostly.

  With any luck, Richard Templeton and Regina Cross wouldn’t notice. She moved toward the room where they were to meet, feeling a conflicting range of emotions.

  On the one hand, she wasn’t shocked that Janey had escaped from the care of DSHS. That little girl had proven herself more than capable of doing so in the past.

  But Mala had already gone to their emergency rendezvous point. And the backup location as well. Not only had Janey not been there, she had left no sign that she’d been there, either.

  So as much as Mala knew she was innocent of the accusations Richard had now leveled against her, that was irrelevant. Richard was nothing more than a gnat buzzing around her head at this point. What was important was Janey.

  And not knowing where to find her was eating away at Mala.

  Bad enough that her older sister had been captured by sadistic, oversexed killers. That was enough to send her into a tailspin. But now Janey was in the wind. Mala felt like she was being ripped apart, bit by bit.

  As soon as Mala opened the door, before she could even sit down, Richard launched into his accusations. His whiny tone pierced the air, a warning claxon not unlike that of an air raid siren.

  “You know where she is, and I’ll make sure you’re arrested for this!”

  “Richard.”

  Where Templeton’s voice seemed like it could melt steel, Regina Cross managed, in one quiet syllable, to back him off. Mala had never really taken much to Ms. Cross, but she could appreciate power when she saw it.

  After observing Templeton sink back into his chair, Ms. Cross turned to face Mala, her face a mask of officiousness. But underlying that blank exterior, Mala could feel her penetrating gaze.

  “My colleague is upset. As am I.” she murmured, and in with that quiet statement Mala began to squirm for the first time. “Do you have information as to Caitlyn’s whereabouts?”

  “No, I don’t.” Mala couldn’t explain why she did it, but in th
at moment, she dropped her defenses in a way she never would have with Richard Templeton. All her fears, her uncertainty… she let it all out in those three words.

  And Ms. Cross, her eyes locked onto Mala’s, sat there for what felt like an eternity. Then she sat back and nodded.

  “I believe you.”

  “You…?” Templeton sputtered, appearing flabbergasted. “You… believe her?”

  “Yes, I do,” she said, but then re-intensified her gaze. “I also think that you have worked out some kind of a meeting place with Caitlyn.”

  Mala stared into the face of the woman that she had viewed as her opponent for so long. Something seemed to be shifting inside this social worker, and Mala wanted to respond to it with the honesty that Regina Cross asked her for.

  The risk was great. If this was a ploy to draw Mala out, it could mean the end of most of her legal recourse in terms of Janey’s adoption. Without the support of DSHS, becoming Janey’s legal mother might be difficult or even impossible.

  But a strong impulse stirred inside of Mala. A sense that this was a pivotal moment in her relationship with this woman.

  Feelings like this didn’t come along every day. And the one that she had ignored when she had been so much younger had ended up costing her brother his life. Mala’s instincts had urged her to listen to his voice above that of his therapists’.

  She hadn’t paid attention.

  So in spite of the fact that her confession right now made no logical sense, Mala felt herself opening up her mouth. It was time to share… maybe not all of the truth, but at least this part.

  “Yes.” Mala felt her gut clench in fear as she spoke. “Caitlyn and I have an emergency meeting place in case… well, in case something bad were to happen.”

  “Something bad,” Richard sneered in a challenge. “As in DSHS taking custody of her in order to protect her from danger? You see, Regina? This is the kind of attitude I’ve been telling you about from day one.”

  But Templeton wasn’t reading the room well, as far as Mala could see. In attacking her so directly, he was also sticking out his neck. Overreaching.

  Regina Cross turned to look at him. “I don’t believe that’s what Dr. Charan said at all, Richard.”

  “But… but you heard her,” he sputtered. “This plan was in place in case Caitlyn was taken out of her home.” He leaned in close and stage-whispered in her ear. “Don’t let her fool you.”

  Ms. Cross shifted in her seat, putting space in between herself and Janey’s social worker. Her face pinched down into a frown.

  “We can discuss this at another time,” she replied in an even tone.

  Richard’s jaw tightened. “This is an urgent--”

  “Stop!” she said, cutting him off. “As I said, we can talk about this later.”

  “Regina…” Another stern look from his boss and Templeton seemed to wilt.

  Ms. Cross, for her part, seemed reluctant to speak her next thought. In spite of what appeared to be misgivings, however, she turned a concerned gaze on the man.

  “I’m beginning to worry about your ability to be objective, Richard.”

  And in that moment, the energy of the room seemed to shift one hundred and eighty degrees. Before that statement, Mala had been fighting not only to find Carly and Janey, but to then be able to keep custody of both of them.

  With Carly, that was less of an issue. She was of age, and could choose to do what she wanted. And what she wanted was to stay with Janey.

  But now, for the first time in as long as Mala could remember, she saw a window opening up here at DSHS. Someone else, someone on the inside of the organization, could see Richard’s bias against her.

  And that could make all the difference.

  Regina Cross faced Mala once more, and although it might have been wishful thinking, but Mala would swear there was a softening there. The woman cleared her throat and tapped one of her nails on the desk.

  “I assume you will enlist the help of your detective friends to find Caitlyn?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Please do so.” Regina nodded. “I have already fired three people over this, Dr. Charan. I want Caitlyn found. Now.”

  “No more than I do,” she couldn’t help but respond.

  Again, it might have been a trick of the light, but Mala thought she could see the woman’s mouth twitch up in a grim smile. A fierceness radiated out of Ms. Cross, and Mala could see underneath the passion that must have driven this woman to social work in the first place.

  “I daresay you’re right,” she agreed. “But keep something in mind. These are my children, too, Dr. Charan.”

  Then she sat back in her chair and picked up a file, a clear dismissal. So Mala got up to leave. But not before she caught the look directed at her by Richard.

  Regina Cross might be coming around in regards to her, but it was clear that Janey’s social worker was not. When he caught her looking, he gave her a grin, baring all of his teeth.

  The message was clear.

  Back off, or get bitten.

  Better watch yourself, Richard, she thought to herself. I have teeth, too.

  And I won’t warn you first.

  * * *

  The location looked out on Puget Sound, and the colors in Darc’s mind traced the outlines of the landscape, finding intricate combinations of symmetry and asymmetry that together signified something of beauty. This was an area that many would find aesthetically pleasing.

  A murmur, a small flash of what might have been silver. Not enough to track down the source, but enough that the delicate balance Darc had achieved in his inner landscape was once more threatened.

  Don’t you want to experience that beauty for yourself?

  The question was irrelevant, regardless of the source. The dangers inherent in opening up these emotional horizons had now presented themselves fully.

  Having a breakdown could not be allowed. Better to return to a system with known blind spots than to continue to experiment with new ideas and processes that possessed the power to cripple him.

  The answer shone in a bright blue band, thicker and more substantial than any of the others. This was a prime computation. Not to be questioned.

  Then why are you still thinking about it?

  Darc sent tendrils of light out into the recesses of his mind, seeking the dissenting voice. A remnant of his emotional connection remained, and must be burned out, excised, poisoned to death. Like the cancer it had demonstrated itself to be.

  Turning to face Trey, Darc noticed that his partner was bouncing up and down, shaking out each individual limb, then stretching his neck to one side and then the other. This was a ritual Darc had never before observed.

  For a moment, a silver pulse of curiosity invaded, but Darc turned his attention away from his contortionist companion, reading instead the results of the latest information on the case. They had received a call from a historian with whom they had left the scythe and spear that were almost the only remnants of their foray into the depths of that abandoned building.

  The two weapons were not, as they appeared, ancient. Rather, they were clever replicas created by someone who seemed to know his or her historical weaponry.

  And another piece of information from the CSI unit… that they had recovered the charred remains of the corpses and were now examining them. One body in particular had been less exposed to the blaze, and there was a much greater possibility of useful knowledge coming out of the autopsy.

  Trey cleared his throat.

  “You sure we need to do this?” he asked. “I mean… Maggie hasn’t signed off on this, so it seems kind of like… you know… cheating or something.”

  Darc responded without turning to face his partner. “This is part of an investigation. It will be unnecessary for coitus to occur.”

  “I know that,” came the response. “I’m worried about what else this ‘goddess’ might try before we get the information we need.”

  “This is not a sting
operation. There will be no need for you to allow any physical touching of any kind.”

  An expression crossed Trey’s face. In the past, Darc would have endeavored to decipher it. Now, it became white noise in the middle of their conversation.

  “But wouldn’t it be better if we get some leverage? You know… threaten her with getting arrested, but we’ll work with her if she’ll tell us what we want to know?”

  There was no answer that Darc could give that would be satisfactory. So rather than respond, he continued to analyze the data streams in his mental landscape that had to do with their case.

  “Fine, fine,” Trey groused. “I’m going.”

  Odd. Darc had said nothing about his needing to attend the appointment. Trey’s reaction to his silence had been to recognize it as a criticism. For a brief moment, Darc began to file that realization away.

  But that was information with a social and emotional context. Even the act of considering the storage of such data caused a silver reaction somewhere inside the grey topography of Darc’s emotional world. That was unacceptable.

  Useless intel. All of it.

  Trey walked up the stairs leading to the apartment number they’d received by text from the woman who styled herself Goddess Tanja. Darc had searched out her real name.

  Tanya Reynolds. Far less exotic.

  The bands of color swirled about the name, identifying the markers there that pointed to an esoteric branding inherent in choosing such a name. Goddess Tanja knew her business.

  The idea that this woman might have some sort of a genuine religious sensibility had been sent through the network of banded light. The resulting symbol spun around, identifying itself in Darc’s consciousness. The probability came back as less than seventeen percent that this was anything other than a mask for prostitution.

  A tiny flash of white light warned him not to say anything to Trey. And in spite of himself, Darc listened and remained silent.

  With one final backward glance, Trey entered into the complex. At this point, he had committed to his course of action. Darc’s partner would either get the information they needed, or he would end up in an interesting position. Or both.