There was a duality here that existed in the Biblical text as well. Darc spoke, allowing the words to fall from his mouth.
“The plagues of Egypt.”
“The who with the what now?” came Trey’s response from a safe distance.
Ironic, as Trey claimed to have been educated in a Roman Catholic high school. The water turning to blood with the first murder. The frogs at the second. Lice here.
These were the plagues supposedly inflicted on the people of Egypt because their Pharaoh would not let the Israelites leave to return to the land of Canaan. And the next plague held some ambiguity, both in the Biblical text, and in the symbols here.
It all came down to one Hebrew word.
“The interpretation of arob is the issue,” Darc explained. “Some interpret it as wild animals, others as swarms of insects.”
The classic translation was that it had been a plague of wild animals. But flies or other swarming insects had become the prevailing idea.
But the dark strain inside of his mind warned Darc that this killer would preserve the classic, lesser known of the interpretations. Plus, as Darc sorted through the stored files of colored streams inside his head, one came out connected to his partner.
When Trey worked in Vice, he’d been assigned to take down a dogfighting ring.
Darc knew where the next murder would take place.
* * *
Janey felt ripped in half.
On one hand, she knew that Mala would sleep more and worry less if Janey weren’t there. Several times during the time since Mala had gotten out of surgery, she’d surfaced from her haze of pain and drugs and expressed concern that Janey was there.
Popeye snorted and said that was just because Janey was a pain in the rear end. Except he didn’t say rear end. He said something else. Something rude.
Naughty bear.
There was another part of Janey, a part that kept getting tangled up in the pretty patterns of color. Mala might not be safe there in the hospital.
The patterns were having problems right now. Ever since Darc had started acting funny, all they were paying attention to had to do with him. It was like they were trying to figure out what was going on.
It was true that there were policemen guarding the room, but what if the policemen were bad? Thinking that thought made Janey feel ugly inside. The gold badges they carried meant something special to her.
But how many people who were supposed to be good had ended up being bad? Janey knew there was someone called the Master behind so much of what had been happening in Seattle. And that Master seemed to have his fingers in everything and everyone. Father John. Van Owen. The Mayor. Even the social worker.
They were all supposed to be good people.
Plus, Janey had no idea where her sister was. Carly could just be hanging out with the new baby… Janey knew that sometimes her half-sister felt weird around Mala. But it seemed like, even with all of that, Carly would have checked in by now.
Cat reached out a hand to Janey, rubbing her shoulder. “You okay, kiddo? Looks like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Janey shrugged and tried to smile back at Cat, but the smile seemed to crumple up even as she tried to force it into place. Popeye told her she looked like she was trying to go to the bathroom. Except that’s not how he said it.
Sometimes Popeye was a real jerk.
Cat seemed to see something, and she called out to the man named Hardin. “Hold on a second, will you?” She knelt down in front of Janey. “Hey. Knock that off. You don’t ever need to smile for me, or anyone else, unless you really want to. Okay?”
Janey nodded. Somehow, Cat’s words made her feel better. Janey felt the woman’s strong hands gripping her arms, and she stared into Cat’s eyes and could see something there.
Cat was sad. She was tired. But there was more.
Janey wasn’t positive, but it looked like Cat was scared.
The ribbons of thought inside of Janey were still all tangled up with Darc, but the fact that Cat was scared was somehow comforting to Janey. Cat cared about Mala.
“You see it, don’t you?” Cat asked, sighing. “You’re such a smart little girl.”
There was another flicker in the woman’s eyes, then she stood up, patting Janey’s shoulder. Cat turned to the Chief of Detectives.
“Let’s get her out of here.”
When they arrived at the entrance to the hospital, a large officer stepped forward to block their path. He took one look at the massive Chief of Detectives and seemed to quail, but the policeman still didn’t step back.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not supposed to let anyone out of the hospital.”
“And who gave you that order, Officer?” Hardin asked.
The cop cleared his throat. “Um. Detective Darcmel.”
“A detective.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hardin gave the man a look. “And who am I?”
“The… ah… the Chief of Detectives, sir.” The poor officer seemed to be deflating even as he spoke. But with what looked to Janey to be one last burst of courage, the policeman continued. “But I don’t know who these other people are.”
The Chief of D’s pointed to Janey. “This is Dr. Mala Charan’s adopted daughter. And this…” he said, gesturing to Cat, “is her best friend.”
“Still--”
“Officer… Kingston, is it?” Hardin asked, looking at the man’s nametag. “You let Detectives Darcmel and Keane leave the hospital, correct?”
“Yes, but Commissioner Laurent--”
“And I’m doing the same thing now,” Chief Hardin said, motioning for Cat and Janey to continue walking out the door. “Please feel free to make a full report to the commissioner for me.”
At that, the man seemed to finally break. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
And then they were out in the night air, and Janey could breathe air that didn’t smell and taste of antiseptic scrub and death. She squeezed Cat’s hand, grateful to have been pressured to leave Mala’s side.
But she couldn’t quite ignore Popeye’s muttering. According to him, none of this would end well.
In spite of herself, Janey found that she almost believed him.
* * *
In the end, it had been frighteningly simple.
Even through the safeguards and blockades that had been put into place to trap the would-be killer inside the hospital, the aura of goodness afforded to those in the inner circle penetrated the darkness of suspicion with ease. The Servant had passed through unnoted as the officer had been preoccupied with those who had never endangered anyone. The whole anticipated ordeal had been little more than a small bump in the road.
And while the threat that Mala posed had not been fully eliminated, it had been effectively neutralized. The good doctor wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.
Detectives Darcmel and Keane had been sent out on a merry chase, with enough intrigue and false leads to keep them occupied. Perhaps they would even think that they were helping to find Mala’s attacker.
The plan included misdirection within its very structure
What the detectives did not… could not… realize is that plans had been set in motion whose scope was much greater than these petty homicides. The clock was ticking down to judgment, and fire would rain down from the sky.
The Servant checked the night sky, looking and listening for something that would not yet be there. It was an instinctive move, one that betrayed a certain inner fear.
This would work. The Master had said so.
And the Master could not be questioned.
Even the beginnings of the idea forming in the Servant’s mind caused a sliver of panic to slither down the spine. The Master seemed to have a way of identifying weakness. Of sniffing out doubt.
This was not a time for hesitation. The prize lay shining ahead… a world free of the degradation that had converged on Seattle.
Passing by a young man who appeared to be smoking a
joint, the Servant found that creeping decay had become personified for a moment in this complacent hipster. More were appearing every day, now that the drug had been decriminalized.
But the Servant could not make this detour. Much as the marijuana-puffing idiot was practically begging to be punished, there was not time.
Other plans needed to be set into motion.
And who better to do so than the Servant?
CHAPTER 7
Now that Janey was away from the hospital, she could see that it had been an excellent idea. Staying there with Mala hadn’t been helping anyone, and while it may have made Janey feel less guilty, it had done nothing to catch the person who was trying to kill her adoptive mother.
That was the only important thing right now. It had to be.
So when Cat and she walked through the door to Cat and Jessalyn’s home, Janey was already trying to figure out a way to escape. Popeye grumbled. As far as he was concerned, the only thing he wanted to do was go to bed.
Lazy bear.
Okay, maybe Janey shouldn’t use the word escape. It wasn’t like she didn’t love Cat and Jessalyn. But Cat was a grownup and didn’t really understand about what Janey could do when she was helping out with an investigation. And Jessalyn, even though she was Janey’s best friend, was way too tired right now to want to help out.
In fact, when Jessalyn stumbled out of her room in her pajamas, at first she seemed to think the whole thing was a dream. Apparently Janey’s friend liked to sleepwalk at night sometimes.
But once Cat convinced her that everything was okay and that she should go back to bed, Jessalyn just nodded and tromped back up the stairs. She did stop after she was halfway up, turning back to face Janey.
“I’m glad you’re here, at least. And I’m sorry about your mom. I mean Mala.”
Janey nodded, then turned back to Cat and raised an eyebrow. Cat stared back at her, a grin on her face.
“Hungry?” she asked.
Janey shook her head no, even though Popeye was yelling at her that yes of course she was hungry and could she ask for some ice cream, please? But that wasn’t what Janey needed right now.
“You just want to go to bed?”
At that, Janey nodded. The sooner she could get Cat to think that Janey had gone down for the night, the sooner Janey could go out on her own.
That was the first Popeye had heard that part of the idea, so of course he put up a stink. He did have a couple of valid points. Like how she was going to find Darc and Trey while they were investigating crime scenes in the middle of the night.
But Janey knew what she was doing. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone out on her own. And finding Darc had never been a problem for her. Ever.
Cat started leading the way to the staircase, when a man dressed in olive green underwear and a t-shirt came stumbling out into the hallway. Janey would have screamed if she hadn’t heard Cat talking about her new boyfriend to Mala earlier.
“Hey, Jake,” Cat whispered. “Sorry we woke you. This is Janey.”
Jake gave Janey a half-wave. “You’re the one who doesn’t talk, right?”
Cat hissed at him to knock it off, but Janey just smiled and nodded. It was nice to have an adult talk to her like there wasn’t something wrong with her… like she had two heads or something. She waved back at the man.
“He’s on leave right now from the Army,” Cat explained. “So we’re letting him crash here. Kind of like a grownup sleep over.”
Janey nodded again, trying not to smirk or snort. Although she might not be clear on all the details, Jessalyn had talked to her about sex once. The whole thing sounded pretty gross, but then again, Janey had seen what gross really looked like, so whatever.
Popeye, for once, didn’t say anything.
“Jake’s kind of a computer expert,” Cat said, smiling at the man. “So if you need any hacking done, or anything like that…”
The man waved off the compliment, but the colored threads in Janey’s mind wrapped themselves around Jake’s expression. What Cat said was true.
Janey’s mind whirled. This man could probably do exactly what Janey needed him to do, but how on earth could she get him to do it? Especially in a way that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.
Popeye snorted and said that she should just cry. Crying girls always get what they want.
That wasn’t such a bad idea. Janey allowed all of the pain and stress she’d felt during the day to build up inside her, and within moments, tears were running down her face and snot was coming out of her nose.
Popeye said that it was disgusting, but Janey didn’t pay any attention. Well, maybe she paid attention a little bit. It was kind of gross, but she couldn’t help that.
“Janey, what’s wrong?” Cat asked, kneeling down in front of her.
Looking around for a piece of paper and a pen, Janey walked over to the nearest table and drew a detective’s badge and a question mark. Then she wrote down Darc’s cell phone number.
Cat took a moment to figure out the sketch. “You want me to call Darc?”
Janey shook her head and pointed at Jake.
“You want Jake to call Darc?” she asked, her tone surprised.
Again, Janey shook her head. There was a long pause, then Jake spoke up.
“You just told her I was a hacker,” he said. “I think maybe she’s wanting me to trace his phone.”
“Come on, Jake. She’s just a kid.”
But Jake was looking right at Janey. And Janey was looking right back at him. He knew what was going on. And for once, Popeye didn’t have some rude thing to say about a grown-up.
Jake was going to help her find Darc. And just maybe, Janey wasn’t going to have to do this whole thing on her own.
* * *
Colors spun and mixed together with the black thread of Darc’s suspicions. The way his companion was acting did nothing to ameliorate the situation.
“Why is it that these murder sprees always end up taking us down to the Industrial District or South Park?” Trey grumbled as they drove over the Duwamish Waterway, traveling along the 509. “I hate these areas.”
Darc did not doubt that. The files that Laurent had given him regarding Trey’s previous activities in Vice showed that much of his work had included those two areas.
As they exited off the 509 onto Kenyon Street, Trey looked over to the left at the large structure that loomed next to them. His face went slack.
“Hey,” he uttered, his tone flat. “Is that the dump?”
“It is the South Transfer Station, yes,” Darc answered.
There was no response. Darc had not anticipated one. Trey’s response fit in perfectly with what the file said regarding this area.
Darc issued another command that took them down past the transfer station and into the block storage spaces to the right. Trey’s color changed from white to what appeared to be a shade in the green-grey spectrum. The tarred vein inside of Darc throbbed in recognition of the expression.
Trey was afraid.
“What are we doing here?” Darc’s partner croaked.
“This is the site of the next murder.”
“Next, as in it hasn’t happened yet?” came the throttled response.
Darc did not answer. But after a long pause, one that the pulsing streak of black indicated was perfectly calibrated to make Trey uncomfortable, Darc spoke.
“You recognize this place?”
Trey slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into park and then facing his partner. Darc had never before seen this kind of reaction from his partner. The inky thread chuckled inside, a sinister non-sound that spoke of guilt and pain.
“Of course I recognize it! This is where…”
He trailed off. His mouth worked, but no sound emerged. After a long pause, Trey turned away, his face contorted into an expression Darc had never before encountered.
“I wish you hadn’t brought me here.” A muscle in Trey’s jaw clenched and unclenched, emphasizing the line of t
he bone there. “I hate this place.”
He opened his mouth again, about to speak, when a sound intruded into the vehicle. Even through the closed doors, it was unmistakable.
The noise reverberated through the empty corridor between the storage units, expanding it, amplifying it. Trey pressed his hands over his ears and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.
“I can’t do it, Darc. I can’t get out of the car.” He lifted his head and stared at Darc, his tone beseeching. “Please don’t make me.”
And all around them, the sound of barking dogs kept getting louder and louder.
* * *
Trey did his best to shut out the cacophony outside the vehicle. Never in a million years did he think he would have to experience this again.
Ever since Darc and he left the hospital, he’d been experiencing a sense of déjà vu. So many almost-familiar settings, so many locales that created a feeling of mild panic inside of him.
But this was no longer mild. And it was now clear to him that the sensations hadn’t been déjà vu. Or rather that they had, in the literal translation of the words… already seen. He had seen this place before. No, not place. Places.
They were all from his days in Vice.
And now Darc was expecting him to… what? Get out of the car and break up the dogfighting ring again? That hadn’t gone so well the first time around. Better to have Darc deal with it on his own. Yeah, much better.
He looked at his partner, who seemed to be staring into his soul with a look that wouldn’t have been out of place on the face of a serial killer. Never before now had Trey seen that kind of stare from his partner. Penetrating, yes… oh, definitely. But pure evil?
Not until this moment.
Then, from out of nowhere, Trey felt a stinging slap on the side of his face. Darc had lashed out a hand, snapping Trey’s head around in a blow that caused his sight to reel like a drunken sailor on shore leave after months at sea.
What the hell?
“What… you… what?” Trey sputtered.
But Darc was already out of the car, sprinting off in the direction of the barking dogs. Trey knew what awaited his partner out there, and whether or not Trey had planned on just this scenario playing out a second ago, there was no way in hell he could let his partner take this on alone.
The 2nd Cycle of the Darc Murders Omnibus (the acclaimed series from #1 Police Procedural and Hard Boiled authors Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin) Page 59
