The Dark Places

by R. S. Whitfield

  She chuckled into the phone. “Nothing’s changed, hey?” she said with a smirk, and finally heard him laugh.

  “No, nothing, you still are the most tenacious woman I have met and one I intend on staying far away from.”

  “Fair enough,” she added with a casual shrug. “But since you did ask, I do have one little problem I could use your help with.” She waited for his reply and stared out the window, watching the raindrops shimmy down the glass. “Only a small favour, I promise,” she added when he hadn’t said anything.

  “Email it to me then,” he sighed.

  She silently cheered. “Thanks, Toby,” she said evenly. “I really appreciate it. This is a game-changer for me,” she said and meant it.

  “I hope it’s worth it, Madison, because if anyone finds out you contacted me, you’ll be in more trouble than your creative little mind can even imagine,” he cautioned and then hung up without another word.

  Madison put the phone down and smiled. Toby was a verified genius with computers, but he also knew every back-alley doorway to the internet, every shortcut, every hidden passage, every nook and cranny of the dark web. She had met him five years ago during the time of the infamous Loubuto murders, your basic gangland killings. One gang takes out this boss, so the other takes out that boss and so on and so forth. Toby had been working for Mr Johnny Loubuto, helping him launder millions of dollars through a popular bar downtown. Madison had stumbled on this little fact purely by accident. She had gone to interrogate Ricky Malthouse, an up-and-coming lieutenant in Loubuto’s organisation who tended bar and had been caught by police the week prior with an underage girl. Madison had walked into that bar intent on putting the sicko’s face on the front page of the paper only to accidentally run into Toby as he was running out, literally. He had smacked straight into her, dropping his laptop and multiple folders of seemingly endless paper. She had bent down to help him and glanced at what looked like ledger pages thinking nothing of it. Toby apologised, and she had been immediately taken aback by his deep brown eyes, they were kind. He asked her out almost instantly, and they had coffee around the corner at a little Italian café, her interview with a paedophile all but forgotten. It was weeks later, after the murder of Johnny Loubuto, when allegations of money laundering hit the media that she put the pieces together. She confronted Toby, who often casually stayed the night. “Are you a part of this shit?” she accused. He had gathered up his things and left the apartment without a word, and she had never laid eyes on him since. The police had questioned everyone he had ever known. It was rumoured that he had moved Loubuto’s entire wealth to his own offshore account as soon as the old man was murdered. He remained a very, very wanted man. Not only were the police searching for him but so was the dangerous and unforgiving Loubuto family.

  She quickly typed up the email, specifying exactly what she was after and hit send. She knew that after this, Toby would change his number and deactivate the email account. She had a very small window of opportunity to get his help and, in that moment, decided that the risk was worth it. Sitting back, she again went over the phone call from Surin. Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but feel that she was on a wild-goose chase of her own.

  28

  The town of North East in Cecil County was a meagre fifty-six-minute drive up the I-95, but to Surin Elliott, it was worlds away. They had been driving for over thirty minutes before she finally spoke.

  “It’s a small town,” she said apologetically.

  Parker turned and looked at her. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this,” he replied.

  She looked at him quickly, returning her gaze to the road. “I’m just saying, small towns, small minds.”

  He laughed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not entirely correct.”

  Surin sighed. “Look, I grew up in this town.” She glanced in the rear-view mirror as a truck tore past them. “They don’t see me as Surin, the detective. I’m Surin, the cheerleader, Surin, the deserter.” She smiled sadly. “I haven’t been back in years.”

  Parker waited. He could sense how nervous she was. “It’s an hour away, Elliott.”

  She laughed loudly, realising how dramatic she was sounding. “That’s only geography, Parker.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “What about your mum and dad?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “They visit me all the time. I have a great guest bedroom, as you know.” She smirked. “They enjoy the trip — Mum gets a pedi and Dad catches up with his old boys in blue.” She smiled half-heartedly. “This town, it’s my past, every time I come here, I don’t even recognise the girl they talk about.”

  Parker shifted in his seat. “Well, I for one can’t wait to meet your parents,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “What did you go back for the last time?” he continued.

  “My big brother’s wedding,” she answered. “I literally drove in, donned a hideous pastel yellow bridesmaid dress, clinked my glass and left.”

  Parker snorted. “Wow, that bad?”

  Surin shrugged. “Half the town was at the ceremony. I felt like I had made the necessary appearance and got out of there.”

  Parker wound down the window and took a deep breath of fresh air. Closing his eyes, he conjured images of his own hometown and smiled fondly. “I gotta say, you’re not really selling it, Surin.” He lazily manoeuvred the window back in place and looked over at her. Her eyes were again focused on the road ahead, her hands steady on the wheel, and she laughed.

  “No, I don’t suppose I am.”

  The exit sign came into view, and he watched as her body visibly tensed. She slowed the car and indicated off the highway.

  “It’s not the town that’s the problem, on the contrary actually. People tend to fall in love with it.” She glanced at him. “It’s me, I’m not that girl any more, so coming back is, well, it’s just plain weird.”

  Parker saw the approaching neon lights of a service station. “Can we pull in here?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she replied, changed lanes quickly and came to a stop in front of the entrance.

  “I need a drink, and I thought I might grab a town map if they have one.”

  Surin shook her head. “I’m your town map, Rhodes,” she said.

  “Well, you may want to catch up with your folks alone, so with my new map I can go and see the sights.” She shrugged. “Need anything?” he asked. She shook her head, and he closed the door and walked inside.

  Surin watched him from the driver’s seat of the car. There was such ease in his stride, a confidence that was neither cocky nor intentional. She rolled her eyes at what her mother would say and smiled because she would probably be right. Something about this trip, this case, something was making her feel on edge — a sensation of impending doom — she instantly tried to shake off the feeling. Parker was on his way back to the car with a stupid grin on his face.

  “What?” she asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

  “Seriously,” he said, “there is a lighthouse called Turkey Point.”

  Surin laughed. “You’re damn right there is!” she replied dramatically. “It’s actually a historic landmark, and one we North Easters are very, very proud of.”

  Parker laughed as they pulled out of the gas station and continued the last five miles towards the town.

  “Honestly,” he added, “I can’t wait to see what this place is made of.”

  Surin looked at him and shook her head. “I’m sure!” she replied. “Don’t worry, Rhodes. It won’t take very long.”

  Surin pulled up in front of a large, charming, white-and-blue colonial home. The front windows were flanked with shutters, and the lawn was a crisp mint-green and obviously well maintained.

  “This is home,” she muttered and turned off the engine. They sat in silence for a few minutes before the front door flew open.

  “Surin!” yelled a well-dressed, happy-looking lady of about sixty.

  “Oh God, here we go,” Surin replied, and slowly
opened the car door and got out. “Hi, Ma,” she said with a smile, as she was enveloped in a suffocating hug.

  “You look so tired, baby?” her mother said, immediately holding her out at arm’s length and eyeing her lean frame. “Are you eating?” she added.

  Surin rolled her eyes. “Ma, I’m fine.” Parker was watching with a grin from the other side of the car. “Ma, this is my partner, Parker Rhodes.”

  Parker walked around the car quickly and took her hand in a gentle shake.

  “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs Elliott,” he said, with an easy smile.

  “Oh, please,” she replied, blushing, and placed her other hand over her heart dramatically, “call me Erin.”

  Parker grinned and patted her hand. “Erin then.”

  Surin tapped her mother’s shoulder. “OK, Mum, let him go,” she said teasingly and was rewarded with a loud laugh.

  “Surin, you never told me he was such a good-looking and polite young man,” her mother replied.

  Parker grinned. “What exactly has she told you then?” he said playfully, watching as Surin’s face flushed a gorgeous shade of pink.

  “Well, obviously not nearly enough,” Erin joked as she jabbed Surin gently in the ribs. “Now come on inside, your dad is watching the game.”

  “Great,” Surin said and reached through the car window, grabbed her tote and slipped it over her shoulder. “Who’s winning?”

  Erin wrapped her arm around Surin’s waist as they walked towards the open front door. “Not us,” she replied with a smile.

  The interior of the house was white and bright with a homey country ambience. Parker placed his small suitcase down in the entranceway and immediately walked towards the large family portrait that was mounted on the wall above a chocolate-coloured buffet.

  Four faces stared back at him. Erin, in her early forties, an attractive brunette with a smile that made it all the way to her sparkling blue eyes; Michael in his uniform blues, strong and manly with a genuine look of happiness etched into his hard features. The boy must have been Mason, the eldest. Parker estimated that he would have been around twenty in the picture, a spitting image of his father; solid and handsome with a smile that would have broken hearts, but the image he could not tear his eyes away from was that of seventeen-year-old Surin Elliott.

  She was standing in front of her mum and dad, their hands resting protectively on her narrow shoulders. She wore a pair of white pants that were short and tight, a green top that sported the local school’s football logo and barely covered her midriff, add in the little white lace-up sneakers, and she was the very picture of an all-American cheerleader. Her hair was out — thick, long and shiny, but it was her face that had him captivated. Her head was tilted back just slightly; her glossy red lips parted in a genuine laugh. He had never seen her look so happy, relaxed, and at ease with herself. It was as if he was looking at a completely different person.

  “You’ve been here five minutes and have already managed to find a picture of me in a midriff.”

  He turned to Surin with a smile. “Nice legs.”

  “Thanks,” she answered.

  “I was talking about your mum,” he replied and laughed when she slapped him across the shoulders.

  “Come and meet my dad,” she said. “You might not get much out of him though, not when a ball game’s on.” Parker followed her into the lounge room where Michael Elliott sat forward on a La-Z-Boy, yelling at the TV.

  “Dad, this is my partner, Parker Rhodes.” Parker extended his hand forward, and Michael grabbed it in a firm handshake.

  “Nice to meet you, Rhodes,” he said with an honest smile, then stood and wrapped his arm around Surin, squeezing her to him. “How you going working with this firecracker?”

  Erin and Michael both laughed as Surin shrugged him off. “Thanks, Dad,” she replied, shaking her head.

  “It’s an honour actually, sir,” Parker replied.

  Michael turned to face him, tilting his head and placing his hands on his hips.

  “Surin is probably the most highly regarded detective in the homicide squad, so I am privileged really,” Parker added. There was nothing pretentious or fake in his tone; his face was honest and open. Surin was staring at him. Not once in her life had she ever had to fight the urge to kiss someone like she did in that moment. Erin’s hands involuntarily came up and covered her mouth, and Parker noticed tears prick the corners of her eyes.

  “Talk about stubborn, though,” he added quickly to lighten the mood. Everyone laughed except Surin.

  “That she gets from me,” Michael added immediately and patted Parker affectionately on the back. “You follow football?” he continued.

  “Absolutely,” Parker added, and they sat down together and continued to chat quietly.

  Surin followed her mother into the kitchen, knowing full well that Parker had no interest whatsoever in football. She pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar and watched as Erin fussed around making cups of coffee.

  “Sury,” she said in a whisper, “he is just lovely!” Her hand fluttered up over her heart.

  “Ma, I didn’t bring a boyfriend home for God’s sake,” Surin said exasperatingly. “He’s my bloody partner.”

  Erin put the mug down quickly. “Don’t you speak like that, young lady,” she scolded.

  Surin rolled her eyes. “‘Bloody’ isn’t a curse word, Ma,” she mumbled, feeling like a chastised thirteen-year-old.

  “Well, I like him, and so does your father, does that count for nothing?” she whined.

  Surin smiled. “Of course it does, he’s the person who I trust with my life every day so I would hate it if you didn’t like him.”

  Erin smiled and reached out to touch Surin’s face; the gesture was brief but full of love. Neither of her parents had liked Grayson. At first, of course, they raved about him, especially being a big shot lawyer and a man who, on the surface, accepted that Surin was a dedicated police officer. As the years went on and his resentment towards her job grew, they watched it slowly poison the two of them. One of the last times Surin’s parents had visited her when she was still engaged to Grayson, they had gone out for dinner. Grayson had gotten so horribly drunk that he started provoking Surin, and when she failed to take the bait, he stormed out of the restaurant, knocking over a waitress with a tray full of martinis.

  “Well, it’s nice to see you with someone who recognises how good you are at what you do,” Erin said absentmindedly as the kettle started to boil.

  “He is also a detective, Ma, and a very good one,” Surin added.

  Erin looked at her with a sly smile. “You like him,” she said.

  “Ma!” Surin groaned.

  “Surin,” her mother started, “there is many a thing I do not know, but girl, I know you.”

  Surin looked down at the kitchen bench in front of her, cursing the tears that were threatening to come. “He’s my partner,” she whispered.

  “I know sweetie, and I know what that means. I’m a cop’s wife and a cop’s mother,” she continued. “Partnerships are forged in ultimate trust. Risking that sacred relationship for something that may not work.” She sighed. “It’s a big risk to take.”

  Surin looked up and agreed with a nod.

  Erin leaned forward and held her hand. “But Surin, nothing, nothing is too big a risk when it comes to love.”

  ***

  Parker was staring at the TV, listening to the mindless commentary. He was vaguely aware of Erin whispering in the kitchen and was curious as to what they were talking about. Michael turned to him.

  “So, Parker, you play?” he asked and gestured towards the screen.

  “Ah yeah, I used to back in college.” He shifted in his chair. “A lifetime ago.” He smiled.

  Michael nodded. “Not the biggest sports fan any more, eh?” he asked.

  Parker grinned. “What gave me away?” he asked.

  Michael chuckled. “I was a cop for thirty years, Rhodes, some things you never f
orget, like knowing a lie when you see one.”

  Parker nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to offend you,” he added, holding up his hands.

  Michael shook his head. “And you didn’t,” he replied. “I’m not that precious, son.”

  Parker smiled. He liked these people. Real and down-to-earth. He was beginning to understand why Surin was how she was.

  “So, tell me about Miami,” Michael asked casually.

  “Wow,” Parker replied, sitting back on the couch instantly feeling like he was about to be interrogated. “You have done your homework!”

  “My baby girl gets a new hotshot partner? You bet your ass I did my research,” Michael replied unapologetically.

  Parker nodded. “Well, I busted up with a girl and needed a fresh start,” he answered honestly. “I was given the opportunity to work with Surin and jumped at it.”

  Michael was eyeing him carefully. “You have a degree in psychology?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Parker replied.

  “You shot anyone?” Michael continued.

  “Yes,” Parker answered.

  “You worked serial before?”

  “Yes,” he responded.

  “You spent the night at my daughter’s?”

  “Yes,” Parker answered before he recognised the trap.

  Michael grinned.

  “Rookie error,” Parker said, shaking his head. “I guess being an expert in interrogation means you’re a nightmare on first dates,” he added.

  Michael laughed loudly. “You’ve done your homework too, I see.”

  Parker nodded. “New partner? Female ass-kicker? You bet I did all the research I could, including the discovery of a respected legacy of father-daughter police officers.”

  Michael reached out and put his hand on Parker’s shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.

  “You promise me that you’ll watch her back and she’ll damn sure watch yours.” Parker nodded, and the men fell silent. At that moment, Erin and Surin walked back in carrying coffee. Surin handed one to Parker and eyed them both suspiciously.