“It’s OK, you’re right,” he replied, feeling a swell of emotion. “It won’t ever happen again.” He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. The tenderness of it nearly broke her heart.
“I’d better be going,” he said quietly and slipped his hand out from hers.
She watched him get his coat, his strong, lean body moving gracefully across her apartment.
“You can stay the night in the guest room.” She looked at him. “You have before,” she added.
“Yes, that was before I was aware of what was under your work clothes.” He grinned.
“Are we going to be OK?” she asked hopefully.
“Surin, we’re grown adults in a stressful job. Let’s think of it as a one-night-only tension releaser.” He smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning at seven; we have a lot to do.”
He left without another word, closing the door behind him. Surin laid back down on the couch and let a river of silent tears fall for something she now knew would never be.
Parker stood with his back pressed up against her front door and let out a long sigh. He knew it had been a mistake the minute she had walked into that bar, but he also knew it was one he would make over and over again if he were given the chance to go back. This is the end of these thoughts, he said to himself, trying to banish the image of her beautiful face. He would not let anything, including his own stupid feelings, compromise their partnership. With that, he shook his head, picked up his shoes and jacket and walked to his car, too preoccupied with himself to notice a beat-up Pulsar parked silently across the street.
***
Madison watched Parker as he left. She couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. Well, well, she thought. That explained a few things, and she smiled as the rejection she had felt earlier slowly dissipated. Not exactly professional on their behalf, but she could hardly blame Surin. Now, she just had to wait and watch, and if she was anything, it was patient. Eventually, one way or another, they would lead her to something, and she will bust this whole damn story wide open.
16
Parker was already at his desk when Surin arrived the following morning. He looked up and smiled at her as she entered. She was dressed in gunmetal-grey slacks and a button-up white blouse; her hair pulled back into a loose plait. She looked over at him nervously.
“Sleep OK?” he asked casually.
Oh God, she thought, embarrassment flushing her cheeks. “I did actually,” she replied, lying. “You?” She sat down and turned to face him.
“Yes, thanks.” He turned his chair away to continue working.
“Right,” she replied. “Parker?” She sighed as he spun around again to face her. “It can’t be like this. I’m so sorry for…” She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was paying them any attention. “Last night… I usually have more self-control,” she whispered. “But if we can’t make this work,” she stressed, waving her hands back and forth in between them, “you will have to be reassigned. It’s gone weird. I knew it was a mistake.” She put her head in her hands. “What the hell were we thinking,” she murmured, shaking her head.
“Pretty sure we weren’t thinking at all, Surin,” Parker replied gently with a grin. “We are adults, yes, I like you, but you being my partner is better than nothing, it’s enough for me. We can make this work. It won’t be weird, OK?”
“OK,” she replied, looking up. “But the minute it is, we need to go our separate ways. Agreed?” she stated and held her hand out.
“Agreed,” Parker replied, taking her hand in a firm shake, ignoring the feelings that stirred when he touched her skin.
“Where are we on Isabelle Lacross?” she added, switching into work mode so quickly that Parker was momentarily lost.
“Oh, um, yeah,” he quickly replied and grabbed the file off his desk, handing it to her. “We need to talk to her parents and roommate. She was missing for five days. Someone knows something,” he added.
“Right then, let’s do that first up today, then I want to go back and see Vector.” She stood, reaching behind her chair for her jacket.
“We are going to be OK, Surin,” Parker said quietly, gathering his notepad and car keys.
“Let’s hope so,” she replied with a sad smile.
***
Bethany Lacross had arrived from Atlanta that morning to identify Isabelle’s remains and was staying at the Cresthyme Hotel next to the airport. When Surin and Parker arrived, she was stuffed into an oversized sofa cradling a box of tissues, her eyes red-rimmed.
“Mrs Lacross, I’m Detective Elliott, and this is my partner, Detective Rhodes.” Surin introduced them quietly, flashing her badge.
“We are both so sorry for your loss.”
Bethany bowed her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I didn’t think it was possible for someone to cry this much,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Every time I think that there couldn’t possibly be any more tears, I picture Izzy dancing, or laughing or singing, and then they come. It’s quite amazing, really.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with a discarded tissue.
“Tell me about her,” Surin asked gently.
Her eyes instantly lit up. “I know you probably hear this a lot, but my Izzy was so special.” She smiled. “Smart as they come, top of her class at UMB, got offered a job in the city at a prestigious law firm right after graduation. She was beautiful inside and out; she had so many friends.”
“Boyfriend?” Parker asked.
“Not for a while,” she replied. “Her ex, Christian, went to college with her. They only broke up because he got a job in Boston. They were both realistic about the prospects of long-distance relationships.” She smiled. “She had Gadreel, that’s her cat. Her cat, her friends, her job and me. Doesn’t sound like much I know, but she was happy.” The tears started again, and she ignored them as they dripped off her face onto the suede material of the sofa.
“Sounds like all anyone could want, actually,” Surin said with a smile.
Bethany looked up and gently clasped Surin’s hands. “Thank you.”
“I have to ask you some hard questions now, Mrs Lacross, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t easy.”
“Ask what you have to, Detective. I want this person found.” Bethany straightened her back and nodded.
“I know that you and Isabelle talked over Skype frequently, do you know if she was on any internet dating or hook-up sites?”
“No, she worked sixty-hour weeks, she had no time for any of that,” she stated.
“Did she mention anyone following her? Anyone that may be threatening her?” Surin continued.
“No, and she would have told me, she told me everything. When I last spoke to her, she was happy, looking forward to the weekend. She was going to brunch with some college friends and relaxing at home. I was planning on flying up next month to surprise her for her birthday. I just… this just can’t be real.”
Surin gave her a moment to compose herself. “Thanks for your time, we will do all we can for Isabelle, I promise.” She stood and unconsciously smoothed the front of her pants. “We’ll get you her things as soon as possible. I’ll drop them to you myself.”
“Thank you, Detectives, you have been very kind.”
As Parker and Surin walked to the door, they could still hear Bethany talking more to herself than anyone.
“She had so much more to do; she had so much time, I just can’t comprehend who would do this to her? She would never have hurt a fly.”
***
Walking back to the car, Parker scribbled relentlessly into his notebook.
“What in the world do you put in that thing?” Surin asked, turning around, she squinted at him through the morning sun.
“I can’t wrap my head around how he is choosing them,” Parker replied absentmindedly.
“Well, if we had that answer, Rhodes, I guess we would have our man.” Surin walked over to the driver’s side, and he tossed her the keys.
As she dr
ove off from the hotel towards the morgue, he continued.
“Besides the obvious connection, dark hair, young, beautiful, these girls have absolutely nothing in common.” Surin looked over at him, sensing his frustration.
“Emma, nineteen, waitress; Kara, twenty, legal secretary; Jessica, twenty-two college student; Eva and now Isabelle.” He put his book down and shifted in his seat. “Five girls, how is it that we are the only ones who are noticing this?” He looked over to Surin for answers.
“The time gap, the different locations, the lack of motive or any discernible connection between victims? Believe me, I’ve asked myself all these questions before. The only thing we need to focus on is that we have noticed and we are going to get this guy.” She turned the wheel into the parking lot at the medical examiner’s office and turned off the engine.
“Time gap,” Parker repeated to himself.
“Rhodes, are you talking to yourself or me right now?” Surin asked, pushing her large black Audrey Hepburn-inspired sunglasses onto the top of her head.
“Emma was killed seven years ago, then nothing until four years ago?”
“Your point?” Surin added, getting that tingly feeling she got when she was on the verge of a break.
“That’s a huge gap. He has killed two this year already. That’s pretty major escalation, don’t you think?”
“You think we have missed one?” Surin asked quietly. “I mean, that is possible, I was the only one working on this. I’m not perfect. Some of the files may not have been uploaded at the time, and a lot of precincts are still upgrading computer systems.”
“Let’s check in with Vector, head back to the station and start looking,” Parker stated and opened the car door, stepping out with renewed vigour.
“We have a refined window to search, and now we know exactly what we are looking for,” Surin added with a smile, “the haystack just got a shitload smaller.”
***
Vector liked working alone. There was nothing he preferred more than being undisturbed in his environment. The crisp air, stark white walls and chemical scent may be a deterrent to others, but it was an odd comfort for him. The morgue held a type of silence that was rare in this city. Double-glazed windows, vacuum-sealed doors and solid walls meant that quiet was truly quiet. White noise did not exist in here. No monotonous droning of traffic, people chattering, bikes, bells, coughing, sniffing, birds singing or any other sound that people are oblivious to. This type of quiet can unnerve people, but not Vector. Today, however, he needed noise. He needed something to distract him from the body of a young man on the table in front of him who had pointlessly taken his life. In Vector’s eyes, these cases were more tragic than any, and far too close to home. His choice of noise: Johann Sebastian Bach’s Violin Concerto in A Minor.
Surin saw the music before she heard it. Through the viewing glass in the main room, she watched as Vector, oblivious to his audience, used a bloody scalpel to conduct an imaginary orchestra.
“He must have a suicide today,” she mumbled to Parker.
“What the hell is he doing?” Parker replied and watched as Vector spun in a tight circle to face them. His cheeks visibly reddened as he bowed for them and then waved them in.
“He needs a distraction. These cases aren’t easy for him.” She left it at that and walked around to the doors to enter.
“Detectives Elliott and Parker,” he announced upon their entry, “enjoy the show?” He smiled.
“You should sell tickets,” Surin replied and tapped him sweetly on the shoulder. The music had been paused with their arrival.
“What can I do for you this fine day?” he asked, pushing the young man’s body back into the wall fridge.
“We promised Isabelle Lacross’s mother, Bethany, that we would bring her Isabelle’s personal effects.”
“Of course,” he replied and walked over to a cabinet. Opening the cupboard door revealed rows of large ziplock bags, each containing the possessions of the deceased — some used for identification, some for crime scene analysis, and others unclaimed.
“Have the crime techs finished with it all?” Parker asked when Vector handed the bag over.
“Yes, all fibre samples, fingerprint swatches and DNA tests have been completed,” he replied. “Give it to that girl’s poor mother, the last remnants of her daughter’s life, condensed to a plastic bag.” Vector shook his head sadly and shut the door.
“Nothing new to report then?” Surin asked, “With Isabelle?”
“Nothing, I’m sorry to say,” Vector replied. “I’ll let you know if I do, as always.”
“Thanks, Vec,” Surin added gently and she and Parker left the same way they came. Surin turned and glanced through the glass on the way out and caught a glimpse of him spinning with his eyes closed. Some days were harder than others.
17
Madison reached her arms over her head, letting out a sigh as she stretched her back over the top of the hard plastic library chair. She had been at it for hours, not even sure exactly what she was looking for. Frustration bit at her as she let her head fall forward into her hands.
Goddamnit, I know there’s something here, she thought. Think outside the box, she reminded herself. What would make a detective as accomplished as Surin Elliott leave her jurisdiction to go all the way to Breckham? And at three in the morning no less. As far as Madison had heard, and she had followed the case closely, the victim of that crime had been an on-her-way-out model, murdered by her agent. It made no sense. That case had been an open-and-shut.
OK then, focus on something else she told herself, the recent murder, Isabelle Lacross. Now that made sense, the seemingly horrific murder of a young woman, definitely something Surin would be put on. I’ll start there, she thought. Pulling her hair back out of her face into a messy knot, she moved the mouse on the computer and fired up the search engine remotivating herself.
“Isabelle Lacross,” she said out loud as she typed the name into the search bar. The search yielded seventeen results, mostly various mainstream news articles on the discovery of Isabelle’s body and even a few mentions of Isabelle from her hometown newspaper, including one on her direct entry to college.
Madison clicked on the article from her own paper that should have been written by her. She shook her head at the headline: Young woman’s body found by taxi driver. Well, that’s stating the obvious, Madison thought to her herself. God, who is editing this crap? I would have gone with: City gripped with fear as gruesome body of young woman is discovered. Now, that’s how you sell a paper, she smiled. After clicking on a few more links that were very much the same, she found one that had somehow managed to get a grainy picture of Elliott and Rhodes at the crime scene. They were standing facing each other — Surin’s hands were on her hips, her head bowed. Madison studied the picture, leaning in closer to the screen. She really was a beautiful woman. Large eyes, graceful posture, she even managed to make being at a crime scene in the dirt look appealing. Parker was looking at the top of her head, obviously mid-sentence as the picture was snapped. He was tall and broad and in complete contrast to Surin. Light where she was dark, calm where she was intense. She definitely saw why they appealed to each other. Parker was a hell of a lot better than that cheating bastard Grayson. Whoa, she thought, you made him into the cheating bastard and why are you happy that she has found someone else, she’s a complete bitch!
Madison shook her head again. Dark where he was light. Dark — Isabelle had dark hair. Maybe if I search by her features, I might come across some obscure paper that has more information. Some tabloids manage to scrounge information from old school flames, distant relatives and people who just want their five seconds of fame, but sometimes the smallest details can make a case. A lot of these types of papers didn’t use the actual name of the victim for legal reasons. It’s a long shot, she thought, but worth a try.
Murdered, dark hair, young, female, Maryland.
The screen inevitably filled with pages of links
as she had expected, but there was one in particular that caught her eye. She clicked on it and sat looking at the picture displayed for the longest time. It wasn’t Isabelle, that she knew for certain, but it damn well could have been. Dark-haired girl, found raped, body dumped in Annapolis. The article was dated June 2007.
Madison quickly typed the new information she had found into the Annapolis Times search bar and sat back, staring at the screen.
Who the hell was Emma Silverman?
***
He watched her in the reflection of the window, his arms stretched above him and folded behind his head. She turned and smiled stupidly, shaking her behind at him playfully.
“Stop watching me!” She giggled. If she only knew what was going through his head right now, he smirked.
“I like watching you dress,” he lied and got up slipping on grey cotton boxer shorts. “I need to shower, I have a meeting in an hour,” he added, then walked past her and into the bathroom.
“Do you want some company in there?” she asked suggestively. He rolled his eyes, resisting the temptation to grab her and throw her out of the nearest window. What I need is to wash your stench off me, he thought.
“No, sweetie, I’m in a rush,” he replied, and with that, he closed and locked the door.
She stared at the bathroom and tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Jesus, Lucy, she scolded, he is perfect. What is your problem? She shook her head and continued to get dressed for another tedious day at work. For the first time in her life, she had a man who was not only gorgeous but sensitive, understanding, had almost exactly the same interests and tastes that she had, was smart, had money and, more importantly, a decent job.
OK, so he could seem a bit distant at times, had hardly told her anything about himself, he wasn’t interested in meeting or spending time with any of her friends or family, and he didn’t like going out very much, so what? He was shy and a bit of a homebody. It could be much worse. She dabbed some coral-coloured Revlon lipstick on her lips and smiled into the mirror. He was very impressive in bed, she added, mentally ticking off a list, defending him to herself. Yes, it took a lot for him to actually want to get in bed, but when he finally did, he was amazing. Slightly rougher than she was used to, but still, the best she’d had in a very long time.
The Dark Places Page 9
