3rd Body: Just try to keep your head (Book 1 in the 2nd Darc Murders Collection)

by Carolyn McCray

  But Carly was smarter than most grown-ups. It probably wouldn’t work on her.

  There was the waterworks routine. Janey could start crying, and then maybe Carly would feel bad for her and either let her do what she wanted, or be distracted enough that Janey could get away. But looking at Carly’s face, Janey was pretty sure the tears weren’t going to do much for her sister.

  She could stomp on Carly’s foot and run as soon as her big sister let go. That might work, but Janey didn’t want to do that to her.

  So instead, she stopped, and looked right into Carly’s face.

  There was a long moment, and Carly was staring right into her eyes. Janey forced herself to open up all of the walls that she usually kept up, to protect her from the bad things that were out there.

  Carly wasn’t a bad thing, so it was okay.

  But it was hard. Even with Darc and Trey and Mala it was hard. Because there had been a lot of things that had hurt her, and sometimes it wasn’t easy to just let go.

  But she knew her sister needed to see her. Really see her, like all the way down in her insides see her.

  Popeye grumbled that no one wanted to see that, but Janey was so busy connecting with Carly that she paid him no mind. He wasn’t happy about that, but then again, he was never really all that happy, was he?

  And Carly was crying.

  “Oh, Janey,” she said, wiping away her tears. “Okay. All right. I don’t get it, and I really don’t agree with it. But okay.”

  Carly had understood. Janey had opened up to her, and she’d listened. She jumped up and gave her sister a huge hug. But just as quickly, she had to let go, even though it felt really good, and she didn’t really want to.

  Darc was waiting for her, and she needed to get to him as fast as she could.

  * * *

  The sound came again, and Trey’s heart stopped for a beat.

  It was Maggie’s voice, and it sounded like she was in pain and frightened. It also sounded like she was at least partially gagged.

  But who was it that was doing all of this? It couldn’t be Jeff. They had left him running away back up top.

  He moved through the nightmarish surroundings, trying not to disturb the bodies around him as much as possible. This was evidence he was disturbing right now, and Trey wanted to make sure that as much of it as possible stayed intact. This bastard had to go down, and he had to go down hard.

  His eyes caught on another body, this one with what looked like a hamster paw stitched to its torso. Looking closer, Trey could see the precision of the stitches, each one placed evenly, with what looked like a five millimeter gap between them. The work, in spite of the subject, was detailed enough to almost make it beautiful.

  Whoever did this was a master.

  And a sicko. Someone who apparently thought that none of these people who had been slaughtered were worth the space they took up. That they were no better than animals. Who would have that kind of arrogance?

  And then, in a flash of insight, Trey could see it. He knew who it was. Clarity burst upon his senses, and he understood not only whom he was facing, but where he needed to go for the final showdown.

  He took the next right, heading down a narrow hallway. As he rounded the corner, headed toward the autopsy room, a side door opened up, and a form rushed at him, snarling with rage. Trey’s gun was knocked from his hand, and it went skittering underneath a large metal desk.

  The man was big, and in the darkness it took Trey a moment to realize who it was he was fighting off. It was Jeff Fischer. That was not who was supposed to be here.

  “What the…?” Trey gasped. They had seen him, running away from the building.

  But his attention was dragged back to the present moment as Jeff’s fist connected with his jaw. Bursts of color danced in front of Trey’s vision, and he held up his hands to fend off the next attack.

  The next attack came from below, however. Trey’s legs were swept out from underneath him, and he tumbled to the floor, the breath knocked out of him by the impact.

  “Throw me against a wall? Threaten me?” the man raged above him as Trey tried to get away as best he could. “You are going up against a god!”

  Trey moved across the floor, expecting at any moment to feel Jeff’s foot slam into his back. But instead, there was a hurt cry and Trey glanced back.

  Darc was there, facing off with Jeff. The big man obviously had strength and size on his side, but Darc moved with the ease and grace of a ninja. Every time Jeff lashed out, Darc was no longer there.

  Darc struck Jeff in the face, rocking the big man back on his heels. He then turned to Trey.

  “Go.”

  In that one word, Trey understood that Darc had made the same realization as he. There was no way that a new crime scene investigator would have the skill set to create suturing as fine was what was present on those corpses.

  Jeff might have helped, but he was not the big bad.

  Trey lifted himself off the ground, no longer feeling his wounds. One quick glance toward the metal desk that lay atop Trey’s weapon convinced him that there was no way he could go back for it. The desk sat right to the side of the epic battle that was raging between Darc and Jeff.

  Trey cursed his luck as he rushed back in the direction of the autopsy room. Two swinging doors later, and he was in the middle of the room, surrounded by bodies laying on carts, metal lockers lining the walls. His breath steamed in the cold air of the morgue.

  There, on a cart beside one of the bodies, were a row of instruments. Trey grabbed for the biggest one he could find. A bone saw.

  It would have to do.

  “All right, Hutchinson,” Trey called out. “I know it’s you. Come out and face me.”

  There was an inhalation of breath behind him and then a brief chuckle. Trey spun around to find the doctor behind him, a gun leveled at his chest.

  The doctor made a tsking sound with his tongue and teeth. “I have to admit, Keane, you’ve surprised me. I didn’t think an animal like you was capable of that level of deduction.”

  Trey held still, trying not to move even a muscle. The bone saw was down by his side, hidden by his body. It was possible the doctor hadn’t seen him pick it up. The saw would extend his reach just enough… All he needed was an opening.

  “But then you go and do something like showing up to a gunfight empty handed,” the M.E. continued.

  Was that a hint of a German accent Trey was hearing in the doctor’s speech? That hadn’t been there before, had it?

  “Of course, any violence toward me would be magnified on your… mate… and your illegitimate child. So, perhaps not so stupid after all.”

  Trey shifted his weight, holding his breath. Dr. Hutchinson was moving in a slight circle, the arc leading toward Trey. He only had to wait for a couple of moments more…

  “Perhaps I’ve misjudged you, mein Tier. Perhaps.” The doctor grinned, a death’s head smile. “But I don’t think so.”

  At that instant, the M.E. took another step closer. Just close enough.

  Trey lashed out with the bone saw, catching the doctor across the face. Hutchinson fell back, clutching at his wound, the blood flowing out past his fingers.

  Pressing his advantage, Trey stepped in to try to land another blow with the saw. The doctor, anticipating the move, held his gun out. The bone saw clanked against the weapon, ripping it from the doctor’s grip.

  The M.E. hissed in rage, the blood frothing at the corner of his lip, where the cut from the blade had ended. But once again, the doctor quickly transitioned from rage to humor, laughing with an edge of hysteria.

  “Again, a master stroke. A trap set for the hunter. How very human of you.”

  The doctor spat out a gob of blood onto the floor as he snatched up an instrument from the cart. Trey had no idea what it was called, but it was sharp and wicked, and for a second Trey regretted his choice of the saw.

  But the doctor was still circling, and Trey noticed something he hoped the M.E. d
idn’t. If he could just keep him stalled long enough…

  “I don’t get it, Doc. You’re an old guy, got a decent job, cutting people for a living’s gotta help keep the demons at bay. So what gives?”

  Hutchinson’s lips curled up in a sneer at Trey’s use of Doc. The doctor had always hated that term, and Trey had employed it as often as he’d had the opportunity.

  “I am continuing the work of mein Vater. He also did experiments on the animals at Auschwitz. And they are everywhere. All around us.”

  Fantastic. Trey was facing a crazed offspring of a Nazi lunatic. How on earth that had happened was a question for another day. Because the doctor had taken that final step and was now backed up against one of the carts holding a body.

  Trey lunged forward, again sweeping out with the bone saw to try to cut at the M.E.’s exposed throat. But this time the doctor was ready.

  Hutchinson caught Trey’s wrist as it cut downward, stopping his forward progress and twisting his hand away in a painful grip. Man, this old guy was strong.

  “Ja. You see it now. The strength that comes from my pure humanity.”

  The doctor lashed out with the instrument in his hand, catching Trey across the shoulder. The pain was immediate and intense.

  But it did serve as the opening Trey needed to wrench his other arm away from the doctor’s vice-like grip. He twisted down and away, dancing back from the crazed man and his nasty, freaky morgue-tool.

  “Pure?” Trey said, forcing a laugh through gritted teeth. “Your name is Hutchinson, dude. Hardly a name from the Vaterland.”

  Yeah, that’s right. Trey had taken a German class back in Catholic school. He may not have liked the rulers on the knuckles, but it was a powerful motivator when it came to retaining vocabulary words.

  “My parents changed it when we escaped. We had to chose something to blend in with the animals here.”

  “Oh yeah?” Trey taunted. “What was your name before? Schmidt? Müller?”

  “Nein!” the man barked. “It was Hartmann. That means strong man in your English.”

  Trey darted in, landing a punch right where he had cut the doctor earlier. The man’s head rocked back and he cried out in pain, clutching at his face.

  “See, now that just sounds like you’re bragging,” Trey grunted, and watched as the doctor’s face flushed in fury.

  He thought for sure that the man would rush him, but instead, the M.E. turned and darted off to the other side of the room. Throwing open a door there, the insane doctor rushed over to a chair that was placed in the middle of the area exposed now that the door was opened.

  In the chair, Maggie was bound.

  Her flaming red hair was disheveled, sticking out everywhere. It made her look like she was surrounded by flame, and Trey’s heart ached as he saw the fear in her eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Hutchinson… or Hartmann, rather… stood next to her, grabbing her hair and forcing her head up. Thrusting the cruel instrument he held in his hand under her chin, the doctor glared at Trey.

  “I have your mate here. She has proven herself to be nothing more than a mere beast.”

  There was a bleating from the other side of the room in which Hartmann stood. There was a Billy goat, tied to a metal bookshelf over there. How had Trey missed that? He must have been too focused on Maggie to see anything else.

  “You see the animal? Disgusting beasts. Constantly masturbating themselves or fornicating with whatever they can find.” The M.E. gestured toward the beast. “Perfect for showing the lust in your whore here.”

  Trey ground his teeth, helpless with impotent rage. There was nothing he could do right now without threatening Maggie.

  “You will come close to me and sit in this chair,” the man said, motioning toward the chair that sat next to Maggie. “You will take her place and I will let her go.”

  Maggie moaned and shook her head, but the doctor wrenched her head back, silencing her. Trey’s blood boiled as he moved toward the chair the doctor had shown him. There was no way he could resist and risk having Maggie hurt further.

  He moved forward, and was close to Maggie and the M.E. Staring into his girlfriend’s eyes, Trey felt his heart lurch.

  “Hey, Mags,” he said. “Don’t worry. It’ll all be okay.”

  As he began to move toward the chair, he saw a flicker of movement behind the doctor. All of the sudden, the doctor cried out in pain, and a line of red blood appeared on the wrist that was holding Maggie’s head. The instrument he was holding dropped to the ground, and Hartmann stepped away from the chair, exposing the source of the problem.

  It was Janey.

  In her hand, she held a scalpel in her little hand. By her back in the darkened corner, another figure moved forward, her eyes wide. Was that Janey’s sister?

  But there was no time for that. Trey snatched the scalpel Janey offered him, and rounded on the doctor.

  For the first time, Trey saw fear in the man’s eyes, as he backed away, looking for an escape route. His gaze flicked from Trey to the scalpel to the exit that was too far away, and blocked from him by Trey’s blade.

  “That’s right, doctor,” Trey murmured, as he reached out with the knife, cutting off one of the man’s ears. “That’s what an animal feels when it’s trapped.”

  “No. No, please,” Hartmann cried, as he lifted his hands up to protect his face.

  Trey used the opportunity to cut off three of the man’s fingers. The doctor wailed in pain, backing away from the source of his torment. Trey followed, merciless.

  “You killed innocent men and women. You acted as judge and jury on their humanity. You kidnapped and threatened my wife. My child. And then you have the gall to ask me please?” He paused to take a breath, then finished. “And you made me think that there were aliens in Seattle!”

  He lashed out again, this time catching the man on the neck, right at his jugular. Blood blossomed out from the wound, and Hartmann pressed his hand against the cut, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding.

  And then, he paused, letting awareness grow in the wicked doctor’s mind. He wiped blood off his face, breathing heavily.

  “Without immediate medical attention,” Trey explained, “you will die. You know it. I know it. Give up now, and you’ll live, at least for the moment.”

  Eyes wide, the M.E. nodded once, gasping as the motion caused a fresh gout of blood to flow from his neck. Trey turned to Maggie to reassure her, even as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

  The slightest of growls and a cry from Janey alerted him. Rising up to his full height, Hartmann had released his wound and was charging straight at Trey, his finger grasping for the throat.

  But Trey had not given up his vigilance entirely. He still held the scalpel in his hand. And the blade slid in between the doctor’s ribs and into his heart with almost no resistance.

  A look of shock covered the man’s face as he sank to the ground. Trey followed along behind him, whispering in his ear as the man’s life left him.

  “Only animals growl when they attack.”

  And then the doors to the morgue burst open, and Darc and Mala rushed through. Trey lifted himself up, then felt the room start to spin.

  “Hey, guys,” he said as he began to fall. “I may need a little help, here.”

  EPILOGUE

  Mala really had no other choice.

  She needed someone to watch Janey while she and Carly spent some time together. Even though Carly had come around considerably after what had happened earlier that day, this was something that she needed.

  That they both needed.

  And so, in spite of her reservations, Mala walked up the steps to Cat’s house with Janey and rang the doorbell. She’d called earlier to ask, and Cat had exclaimed that she’d thought it was the best idea in the world.

  Plus, Cat’s house was really close to where Mala was taking Carly. So, that was also a bonus. The awkward silence that would reign in the car would be blissfully shor
t.

  The door swung open, and Cat appeared in the entryway. “Hey, you two! Janey, Jessalyn’s up in her room. You can run on up there.”

  Mala murmured a thank you, and was about to turn to walk back to her car, when Cat stopped her.

  “Listen, Mala. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Cat’s tone had taken a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. The chipper speech she’d used with Janey was now somber, almost as if she were ashamed.

  Mala looked closer. That’s exactly what it was.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you this, but I feel like you have a right to know.” Cat took a deep breath, then continued. “When Janey was over here for the sleepover… I left them for a while.” The last part came out in a rush.

  “Oh,” was all Mala could manage.

  “It was only about a half hour, and I know the girls are both super responsible, but I felt terrible about it.”

  “Why would you leave them like that?” Mala couldn’t help but ask.

  Cat let out a heavy sigh. It seemed as if she was working herself up to tell Mala something that was hard for her.

  “Jessalyn’s dad. He got arrested on a drug possession charge. I had to go to post bail for him.”

  “But--” Mala began.

  Cat cut her off. “I know. I should’ve called you. But you were out with Darc, and I didn’t want to screw it up. I also didn’t want Jessalyn to know what had happened with her dad. I wouldn’t have even bailed him out, but he promised to give me full custody of Jessalyn if I did, so…”

  “So you did what you had to do,” Mala finished for her.

  “Yeah,” she said, with a huge exhalation of breath. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Mala replied. “I get it. And thanks for telling me.” She started to leave, then turned back. “But next time, call me, okay?”

  “You got it,” Cat answered, and then gave her a hesitant smile. “Forgive me? Still friends?”

  Mala smiled back. “Still friends.”

  * * *

  Trey sat by Maggie’s side in the hospital, where the OBGYN was still checking her out to make sure everything was okay with the baby. The obstetrician moved the sonogram wand back and forth across Maggie’s belly, the gel she’d used making a wet, slurping sound. Trey suppressed a shudder.