The Dark Places

by R. S. Whitfield

  “Why won’t you just tell me?” he begged.

  She looked over at him. He had never seen her look so lost. She sighed. “Because it will change everything.”

  ***

  After hanging up from Surin, Vector scratched his head. What’s that girl up to, he thought with a chuckle. He logged onto his email and sent a request to the custodian of records of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner. Hitting send, he stood up and started prepping for when the detectives arrived.

  It took less than forty minutes and they were walking through the door. He immediately noticed tension between them, which was unusual — he had not seen anyone gain Surin’s trust like Parker had, and it bothered him in a fatherly way that something was wrong.

  “Detectives,” he said with a wide grin, spreading his arms in welcome. “Did you know that Greek physicians performed autopsies as early as the fifth century BC?”

  Parker shrugged his shoulders and made an obvious move to the other side of the room.

  “I wasn’t aware of that, Vector,” Surin replied kindly, ignoring Parker’s indifference. “I’ll have to brush up on my pathology general knowledge for our next visit.”

  “Well then, it might also interest you to know that more than one-third of autopsied patients have discrepancies between their clinical and autopsy diagnoses that may have adversely affected their survival.”

  Surin smiled. “That little titbit doesn’t do anything to improve the trust issues I have with doctors.” She sat down and pulled out a notepad. Parker did the same. They sat in silence for a few seconds until Vector stood up abruptly, his chair squeaking loudly on the linoleum floor.

  “Well,” he started, clearing his throat, “why is this feeling awkward?”

  Surin suppressed the urge to laugh at his forwardness. “Everything’s OK, Vec, honestly.” She glanced at Parker as she said it, mentally willing him to smile. “Did you get those files as I requested?” she asked, shifting her gaze back to Vector, her tone all business.

  “I did,” he nodded and sat back down. “I’m not sure what it is you want,” he added, opening his computer screen.

  Surin leaned forward. “I want a rundown, everything that was different and everything that was the same.”

  Vector nodded. “Starting with?” He looked at her over his glasses.

  “Emma,” Surin stated and clicked her pen, preparing to take notes. From the corner of her eye, she saw Parker move. He came beside her and sat down.

  Vector began. “Emma Silverman, murdered in 2007, nineteen years old.” He paused. “Just the Cliff Notes?” he asked quickly.

  “Yes, that’s fine,” Surin answered as he continued.

  “OK, held captive for approximately four days according to time of abduction and discovery of body versus decomposition, restrained but no adhesive residue was found during the initial external exam, raped multiple times but oral and anal rape kits were negative.”

  Parker shook his head. “At least he spared them that.” Surin’s face turned around to look at him, but she said nothing, so Vector continued.

  “Manually strangled four to five times before dying of asphyxiation.” He shifted in his seat and scrolled down the page. “Now, the toxicology screens, according to vitreous fluid, were negative for opioids, benzodiazepines and amphetamines.”

  Parker interrupted, “Vitreous fluid?”

  Vector smiled. “Fluid that is drawn from the eye.” He watched as Parker visibly paled.

  “Thanks, I’ll put that in my ‘don’t ever need to know file.’” He swallowed. “Please, doctor, go on.”

  “You’re not going to like this, Surin, but that’s it.” He took his glasses off and placed them on the bench.

  “What do you mean?” she replied, looking at Parker then back to Vector, confused.

  “I mean, no fingerprints, no DNA, no semen,” he continued, sounding mildly agitated. “Each one of these files is the same.” He clicked the mouse and changed screens. “I received this file from Delaware just before you arrived,” he added. “Lilly Jackson, murdered in 2009, nineteen years old, her report may as well be identical to Emma’s.”

  Surin shook her head and mentally gathered herself. “OK,” she sighed, “so there’s nothing forensic we can use.” But instead of sounding defeated, Vector heard a strength in her voice.

  “Let’s look at the victims,” Parker started, “all young, nineteen to twenty-two, long dark hair, slim build, various occupations.”

  Surin added, “No witnesses and no sign of forced entry.”

  Parker looked again at his notes. “According to the families, none of the girls had current boyfriends or recent exes.” Surin stood and started pacing. Vector sat back and watched them bounce off each other.

  “Is that strange? I mean these women were beautiful, smart and by all accounts responsible. It’s hard to believe they were all single,” she stated.

  Parker shrugged. “Well, you fit most of those categories, and you’re single. Some women are more focused on their careers these days.”

  Surin tried to ignore the fact that he had just called her beautiful and continued with their profile. “Let’s assume, for the moment, that Emma was his first — we need to find the trigger event that caused him to start all this,” Surin said.

  Parker nodded and replied, “He has killed every two years until this year where, if you include the Lana Beau attempt, he was going for at least three.”

  “So far,” Surin added.

  Parker flicked a page in his notebook. “We know victimology is extremely important to this guy’s delusion. I mean, the mere idea that Lana wasn’t a true brunette was enough for him to abandon his whole fantasy.” Surin was nodding. “He stalks them, making sure they tick all the boxes he needs, he thinks he knows them, he chooses them.” Parker was looking at Surin intently, alarm bells were sounding somewhere in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “He’s trying to find a certain someone, or at least recreate them.”

  Surin looked down at her hands, a sense of dread overcoming her. “Vector,” she interrupted quietly. “Did you also get the other lists I asked you for?”

  Vector stood up. He had seen many partnerships over the years, but these two certainly had something very special.

  “That I did, Detective,” he replied and walked over to the desk at the back of the room, reaching into the top drawer and pulling out a slim manila folder and handing it to her. “Everything is documented in here case by case.”

  Surin held the file, looking down but not making a move to open it. “Thanks, Vec,” she said, clearing her throat and stuffing the folder straight into her tote bag. “We can review this back at the station.”

  Vector looked at her, confusion plain on his face. “OK, then,” he said and glanced at Parker, who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Vector finally understood why there was an undercurrent of tension between the pair. Detective Surin Elliott was hiding something.

  24

  She may have had a few too many. She reached into her bag, trying to find her house keys when she realised the cab was still idling in her driveway. Turning, she covered her eyes from the headlights and waved him off. “Jesus, go already,” she murmured. The window wound down, and a young black man wearing a fedora leaned out, propping himself up on his arm.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll wait until you are safely inside.” He smiled.

  That’s really what I need, she thought to herself, a knight in shining fucking armour. Digging through her bag, her hand finally wrapped around something familiar. Turning, she raised her Glock into the air and waved it at the man like a flag. “I think I’ll be fine,” she yelled. The cab driver ducked instinctively.

  “Are you crazy, lady!” he yelled, winding up his window at warp speed.

  She shook her head and held up her badge as well. “Relax,” she slurred, but the driver was already reversing out of her driveway. She turned, and only then did she realise that witho
ut the light from the taxi, she could barely see the keyhole. “Oh shit,” she said, and then laughed quietly to herself. “I wonder if he’ll come back.” On wobbly legs, she sat down on the front step and placed the gun beside her. I just need a few seconds to regroup, she told herself. What had started as one quick drink on the way home had turned into, actually, she couldn’t remember how many she had had.

  Looking down, she noticed her bag moving. “What the…” Picking it up quickly, she held it to her ear. Her phone was vibrating. She scrambled around sloppily and grabbed it on the last ring.

  “Hello?” she said carefully, holding her head as it began to spin.

  “Surin?” came the reply.

  “Ah, yeh, this is Surin, who am I speaking too?” she slurred.

  “Surin, it’s Madison. Is everything OK?” Madison listened to Surin chuckle.

  “Yeah, everything’s peachy keen,” she replied. “What can I do for you at— wait, what time is it?” she said, bringing her wrist up to her eye and squinting to read the time.

  “It’s one in the morning,” Madison added meekly. “Look, I didn’t expect you to answer. I was going to leave a voicemail.”

  Surin sighed. “Well, it’s your lucky day, Lois Lane, how can I help?”

  Madison could hear the exhaustion in her voice. Something has happened, she thought. “It’s nothing really, actually, it’s probably the last thing you need to hear right now, but I didn’t want you to think I was keeping anything from you.”

  Surin shook her head. “What are you talking about?” She tried standing and then decided against it. “I don’t care what you do, Madison, we aren’t friends, we are colleagues and you are forcing my hand here.”

  Madison instantly felt stupid. Of course, they weren’t friends she thought sadly, wake up, Maddy, she mentally kicked herself. “Right, thanks for clarifying that.” She cleared her throat. “I thought you should know that Grayson Withers called me tonight trying to get information on Parker.”

  Surin sobered up almost instantly. “He what?” she said. “How did he get your number?” she added.

  “Yes, well, that’s what I would like to know,” Madison replied tersely. “I told him to talk to you, not to me and hung up on him.”

  Surin smiled. “Oh,” she answered, sounding a little surprised.

  “What?” Madison said in disbelief. “Did you think I was going to go round two?” She continued with a sigh, “Surin, I know I have said sorry, but honestly that night he could have been anyone. It was not some calculated move by ‘Madison the femme fatale,’ it was me picking a guy in a bar so I could feel better about myself.” She shook her head. “If he had said no, it would have been the guy in the booth beside him.”

  Surin listened not sure how to reply. She laid down flat on the cement, enjoying the cool feeling on her back. “Thanks for letting me know.” She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “I just thought you should.” Madison went to hang up but added, “Surin, he was drunk and very bitter so just, be careful.”

  “I will,” Surin replied and ended the call. Forcing herself to sit up, she grabbed the wall and pulled herself onto her feet. Using her cell phone as a light, she finally located her keys in her bottomless pit of a bag, turned and unlocked the deadbolt. “Aha,” she declared with a smile when the door swung open. She went to step inside when a hand touched her shoulder. Turning quickly, she fell sidewards into a bush. The adrenalin made her groggy head immediately clear. Still holding her tote, she reached in searching for her gun only to remember that she had left it sitting on the front step.

  “Looking for something?” an all too familiar voice called out. She scrambled out of the bush, ignoring the occasional thorns that were piercing her skin, and stood up to face him.

  “Grayson,” she said through gritted teeth, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

  ***

  He looked awful. Her heart dropped, and guilt wormed its way into her head at the sight of him. He had lost at least fifteen pounds since she had last seen him. His clothes were loose and wrinkled, and bags sat thick and heavy under his eyes. She watched him teeter off-balance more than once, drunk, she realised, just like Madison had said.

  “Nice night for a stalk,” she said, smiling sarcastically.

  He laughed quietly. “Oh, I have missed that smart mouth of yours,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. She looked down at his hand that was still clutching her gun. He followed her gaze. “Oh, this?” he said innocently. Her body tensed, police training kicking in. “I’ve never much liked them,” he said and lowered it to the ground in front of him, not breaking eye contact.

  Surin exhaled loudly once he had let it go. “Gray,” she said, carefully walking forward to retrieve it, “I’ll ask you again, what are you doing here?” She bent down, picked it up and clipped it onto her side holster, backing away from him again. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. You can see how this is borderline predatory behaviour, right?” she asked gently. He nodded, and she watched helplessly as tears welled up in his eyes.

  “I miss you,” he said quietly, his head dropping.

  “I know,” she replied honestly and sighed. “Did you ring Madison tonight?” she asked. His head snapped up in confusion.

  “How could you possibly know that!” he asked, then realisation dawned on him. “You talk to her?” His voice was laced with hurt.

  “She’s helping with a case, Grayson. She thought I should know.”

  He shook his head. “You won’t talk to me? Your fiancé?” he yelled.

  “Ex-fiancé,” she corrected, aware of his rising agitation.

  “And what of this Parker Rhodes?” he spat.

  Surin’s body reacted at the mere mention of his name. “What of him?” she yelled back.

  “How did he slime his way into your panties?” he asked spitefully.

  Anger and alcohol surged through her veins. She was a nanosecond away from punching him in the face. “My panties are of no concern to you, Grayson.” She walked closer to him, “But while we are on the subject, Parker Rhodes is twice the man you are, I trust him more than I ever trusted you!” Grayson physically blanched. “Yeah, that’s right,” she snickered, “you honestly think that I didn’t know?” she said, scowling. “I’m a fucking detective, you moron!” she screamed, ignoring her neighbour’s porch light as it flicked on. “I know there were others before Madison.” Grayson started taking backward steps as she walked towards him poking her finger at his chest. “But you shoved it in my face with her, in our bed. That’s pretty hard to ignore.” She stopped and shook her head, all ire evaporating.

  “I’m sorry,” Grayson whined, “I just wanted to hurt you,” he said. “I knew you didn’t love me like I wanted you to. It was always the job first, right?” he added, his chin jutted forward in defiance.

  Surin turned and walked back to her door, disgusted. “Grayson, you have five minutes to get off my lawn, or I will shoot you in the fucking kneecaps, understand?” She didn’t turn to face him. “I never want to see you again, am I clear?” Her voice was controlled and level, but tired.

  “Crystal,” he replied.

  She stood and listened as he shuffled off down the street. When all was quiet, she slumped back down onto the steps and put her head in her hands. She was not sure how much time had passed or if she had fallen asleep, but a kind voice brought her head up.

  “Busy night?” he asked.

  She smiled before she even saw his gentle blue eyes. “Oh, you know, just a normal night in suburbia.”

  He chuckled quietly. “I parked behind your house earlier, I didn’t want your nosy neighbour to start gossiping about us, but I have a fair idea that she has a lot to talk about now.” He reached out for her hand and helped her to stand. Surin inhaled his scent, closing her eyes. “Let’s get you inside” he added.

  “How much did you hear?” she asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and sc
ooped her up.

  “All of it then,” she said and surrendered to his warm embrace. “Parker, that had nothing to do with you,” she explained.

  “Shh,” he said, “we can talk about it later, you need some sleep.” He carried her down the hallway and placed her gently on the bed. Removing her shoes one by one, he tucked her under the blanket. She was mildly disappointed when she realised, he wasn’t getting in with her.

  “Behave, Surin,” she said aloud.

  Parker looked up. “Behave?” he asked.

  She laughed at herself. “Did I say that out loud?”

  Parker shook his head with a chuckle. “Night, Surin.” And with that, he closed the door quietly and walked into her guest room.

  He smiled as he heard the sounds of soft snoring coming from her bedroom. Someone is going to have a very nasty headache when they wake up, he thought, then rolled onto his side and fell asleep almost instantly.

  ***

  Surin stood under the shower for a full fifteen minutes, letting her body soak up the glorious heat. She gently rinsed her hair, running her fingertips firmly over her scalp. She loved the feeling of being underwater, the peace and quiet making all thoughts and troubles dissipate. Turning off the faucet reluctantly, she stood on the mat, drying herself, and recapped what had happened the day before in her mind. She dressed in faded jeans and a black polo shirt, leaving her hair out and wet. She could hear Parker milling around her kitchen, and her stomach rumbled at the thought of breakfast.

  “Morning,” she mumbled, walking into the room and went immediately for the medicine cabinet.

  “Good Morning, Detective,” he said with a wide grin.

  “OK, save it, Parker.” She grimaced, popping two pills with a mouthful of tap water. She slumped down at the table, and he placed a stack of buttermilk pancakes drenched in maple syrup in front of her. “A girl could get used to this.” She smiled.