Darkness Loves Company: A Tides of Darkness Prequel

by Sarah Blair

  “Hello?” A few taps on the open door startled her and she swiveled around.

  The last bite of donut went down her throat like a rock. Heat flushed her cheeks. “Hutch?”

  “Hey, Sid.” The last person she’d ever expected to see walked through the door and grinned that easy smile that still apparently turned her insides to mush. “You’ve done pretty well for yourself.”

  Head Boy in her third year at boarding school, Theodore Hutchison IV’s dark floppy hair and square rugged face had been like a magnet for her eyes. Although, seeing him now, he was shorter than she remembered. Or maybe he just wasn’t carrying himself with the same roguish confidence of boyhood anymore. He was nice, and fun to be around, the head of the circle of friends she found herself in, but other than that there hadn’t been much substance.

  Now, he sagged. Tired and drained. Violet circles under his eyes marred his once-tanned face. There was something deeper in his gaze that hadn’t ever been there before either. Sidney recognized it for what it was, because she saw the shadow of it in her own eyes every time she looked in the mirror, loss.

  “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t been able to miss the news. His fiancée, Peyton Remington, had been found dead, and the details were sketchy. The police had the case under serious lockdown. Hutch was less than forthcoming to the media on his side of events from that night. It was the biggest story to hit the high ranks of society since her own parents had been killed.

  “How long has it been, five years?” Her ex-boyfriend—if he could even be called that—raked his hand through his thick black hair. She’d always teased him that he could have played a great Clark Kent. Even bought him some fake glasses for his birthday as a joke.

  He’d looked good in them, and thinking about it now made her lower belly ache. Her lungs forgot what they were supposed to do, and her voice came out a little strangled. “Something like that.”

  A little line of consternation appeared across his forehead, beneath the dashing swoop of his hair. “I was worried when your grandfather cut you off.”

  The butterflies in her stomach scattered and flew away, replaced with the sour feeling of utter loneliness and abandonment she’d felt when she’d come back to New York and needed her so-called friends, and none of them had shown up for her.

  “Not worried enough to call.” She sipped her coffee.

  At least he had the grace to appear ashamed of himself.

  “And just so we’re clear, I cut him off.” She hiked her thumb toward the window. “I’d rather go live under the bridge than take his money.”

  “I always loved what a scrappy little thing you were.” His smile wasn’t a happy one. Hutch studied the letters painted in white on the door. “Chief, huh? I heard you were a P.I. now. Didn’t realize you ran the place.”

  “How about you? Your dad already make you partner?” Sidney surreptitiously turned over the marble nameplate on the desk so the name Mitchell Harris wasn’t visible.

  “Mail room.” His eyes went soft, like a puppy she’d just kicked. He took a few steps inside. “May I?”

  Sidney judged the distance to the door. The coffee was still hot enough to be a distraction if she needed it. Not that she expected to need it. Hutch may have been a lousy friend, but he was harmless. Wasn’t he?

  She offered him the client’s chair across the desk. He slouched in it, so familiar, but the person sitting across from her now was not the same boy who’d wrapped her up in hugs filled with sweat and sunshine, fresh off the pitch of so many winning rugby matches.

  His eyes traveled down her body, unabashed. “You haven't changed.”

  “How can I help you, Hutch?” she asked.

  Before he could answer, a tornado wearing a garish tie whirled into the room.

  “Yo, Lake! They had a fresh batch of those jelly donuts up at the bodega. Score!” Graham Williams, one of the lead investigators at the agency, interrupted the reunion. He froze solid when he realized she wasn’t alone. “I mean, uh. Good morning. What are you doing in the—”

  Sidney stalked over to the door. “Agent Williams, I swear if you interrupt me one more time when I’m with a client, you’ll find yourself on suspension.”

  Williams laughed a little. “Lake, I—”

  “I am the chief,” she added, jabbing her finger at the title on the window. “And you will address me as such. That Flenson report better be on my desk in half an hour, got it?”

  The other agent arched a dark eyebrow. “Whatever you say . . . Chief.”

  “Damn straight.” Sidney shut the door a little too hard and rolled her eyes. “So tough to find good help.”

  She turned back to Hutch and found him crouched over with his face in his hands. “Shit. Hutch, are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” He groaned. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

  She went over to him and he unfolded himself on her. Clinging to her waist like a Kraken wrapping its tentacles around a ship.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she assured him.

  “As soon as it happened, all I could think about was you,” he admitted. Sidney pulled back and he searched her face. “Do you know how tough you are to track down? I had to find you, though. You’re the only one who could possibly understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “I didn’t kill Peyton,” he insisted. “You know what I’m going through. You know what it’s like when nobody will believe the truth. That and . . . .”

  “And?” she urged.

  “Your parents.” His eyes met hers. “I figured you of all people would get it.”

  The blood drained from her head so quickly, she was glad he was still holding her up. “If you came here just to fuck with me—”

  “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels hazy like a nightmare, and other times so clear it feels like it’s happening all over again. There was something else there, Sidney.” He dropped his voice to a whisper even though the door was closed. “A monster. But who can I say that to? They’ll all think—”

  “You’re making it up.” It wasn’t a question.

  Tight lipped and pale, he nodded. He was so miserable, she couldn’t help but believe that he was telling the truth. But that would mean . . . .

  Sidney extricated herself from his grasp and went over to the window, trying to process exactly what he was telling her. She had to clench her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. They’d never caught the monster that killed her parents, but there’d been no sign of it ever since. But, if it was real, it was still out there. The ground outside zoomed towards her and she was overwhelmed by a sensation of falling.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” His voice was tired. Frightened.

  Sidney turned to him, leaning back against the window frame for support while she took a few deep breaths and settled her body. “What did it look like?”

  Hutch lifted his hands from his face, eyes wide with fear. “I never saw it.”

  “You never saw it.” She dropped her arms as the panic washed out of her, replaced with anger and distrust. “But you know it was a monster.”

  Hutch heaved a miserable sigh. “I haven’t told anyone except my mom. It sounds completely nuts.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I took a sleeping pill because I was really jet-lagged. We just got back from another trip to Brisbane. Peyton’s starting—was starting—a foundation for the koalas that were affected by the wildfires. We were going to move there after the wedding.” Hutch shuddered and took in a few ragged breaths.

  “I don’t know what woke me up. Peyton wasn’t in bed. I was really out of it. When I went to find her, this thing tackled me from behind. I hit my head on the floor. All I could see were huge, long claws. All up in my face. Peyton was on the floor.” His eyes turned red and he covered his face, like he could hide from the memory. “Somehow, I managed to push the thing off and—”

  Sidney waited for him to finish, but instead he turn
ed ashen and stared at his hands.

  “And what, Hutch?”

  He lowered his head and mumbled, “I locked myself in the bathroom and called my mom.”

  “Jesus,” Sidney whispered.

  “Look, I’m not proud of myself, okay?” Hutch jumped to his feet. “I didn’t know what else to do. If you’d seen those claws coming at you, you’d have done the same thing! I swear, Sid, whatever killed Peyton wasn’t human. I’m not a complete idiot. I know I can’t say that to the police. They’ll charge me on the spot. They all think I did it anyway. I’d never hurt her. I loved her.”

  Sidney sighed. “What happened when your mom got there?”

  “It was gone. In and out of our locked apartment like it had never been there.” Hutch hung his head, fresh tears threatening to fall. “But not before it got Peyton. My mom tried to help her, but it was too late.”

  Sidney leaned against the desk trying to process the myriad questions floating through her mind.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” Hutch asked.

  “I don’t…not believe you.” Sidney took pity on him and came around the desk. “Can you tell me anything at all about what it looked like? Were the claws similar to any other animals you’ve seen before? Was there fur? Anything at all.”

  “No. It was all so fast.”

  Sidney chewed on her lower lip. “Is there anything else to go on? Forced entry? Broken windows?”

  “No. But this is what you specialize in, isn’t it? I’ve heard things, Sid. You’re into the weird stuff. Ghosts and monsters and witchy shit, right? Track this thing down. Find the truth! Come on, please.” He grabbed her hand and clung to her as he begged. “The police aren’t even investigating any other suspects. I know how this seems. I know. But, I can’t sleep. What if it comes back? How does something get into a locked apartment and murder someone and just, disappear like that? None of this makes sense.”

  Sidney’s heart ached over the loss of her parents. All of the pain and bitterness she kept locked up in the darkest corners of herself bubbled up to the surface. Locked room, claws, no explanation. It was all too familiar. Still, something about it felt off.

  “It’s been nine years since my parents were killed.” She blinked and her view of the bridge melted and blurred. “None of it ever made any sense. I’m still no closer to finding out what happened to them. What makes you so sure you’ll find the truth?”

  “Because I have to. If I don’t, I’ll be spending the rest of my life in prison trying to find answers. I won’t give up until I know. You’ve got to help me, Sid.”

  Hutch wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She resisted for a second, but his familiar scent drew her in. It had been so long since she’d been this close to anyone. She forgot how nice it was to simply be held. He tucked his cheek against hers and she inhaled his fresh pine scent.

  A knock came on the door and Williams peeked in. “Uh, sorry to interrupt your, um, meeting, Chief. But here’s that Flenson report you asked for.”

  “Right. Thanks for being so punctual.” Sidney stepped away from Hutch and took the file. It was so thin, she wondered if there was even anything in it.

  Williams remained, and gestured to the folder. “Figured you’d want to take a glance at it. You know. Right now.”

  Sidney opened the folder and found a single sheet of paper torn off the bottom of a legal pad. Heavy block letters written in black permanent marker read:

  WHY ARE YOU CRY HUGGING A MURDERER?

  DO YOU NEED HELP?

  YES NO

  CIRCLE ONE

  “Well. Everything seems to be in order.” Sidney glared, then shut the file and handed it back to Williams with a tight smile. “Graham Williams, I’d like to introduce you to Theodore Hutchison IV. He needs our help with an investigation. Williams is my assistant.”

  “Hey there, ace.” Williams and Hutch shook hands, before Williams gave Sidney a pointed glance. “You going to run this by Agent Harris?”

  “He was very clear this morning that he had some personal business to attend to today.” Sidney gritted her teeth. “I don’t think we need to bother him with any of this.”

  Williams nodded vigorously. “Super. Super. Okay. Chief, could you help me find that, uh, file I can’t find? Out here. At my desk. It’ll only take a second.”

  “No problem.” Sidney followed Williams out and shut the office door. He swept her to his desk and they hunched over while he pretended to search his papers.

  “Lucy, you got some ‘splainin to do,” he told her in a terrible Ricky Ricardo impression.

  “Ugh. I’m sorry. Hutch assumed, and I couldn’t—it’s complicated.” She winced. “Thanks for playing along.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “Boarding school. We were never serious, but we, um . . . fooled around on a ski trip over the holidays once. I haven’t seen him since he graduated.”

  It wasn’t a habit of hers to share many details of her sordid past, but Williams had wiggled into her life as the big brother she’d never had. Besides, he’d played along with the whole charade and had her back, the least she could do was give an explanation.

  “So.” Williams waved at his screen where a gossip news site was pulled up front and center, featuring a photo of Hutch coming out of the police station. “He was the last person to see his fiancée alive. You just made out with a murderer.”

  “I did not make out with him. And he didn’t kill Peyton. He might be a complete idiot, but he’s not a murderer.” Sidney frowned. “He hinted around that there’s something paranormal going on.”

  “Suuure. Blame it on a Spectral Apparition. Oldest trick in the book.” Williams shook his head and turned his attention to his monitor.

  “Yeah, well. Supernatural or not, I can’t exactly let an innocent guy go to jail. I really don’t think he did it.” Sidney sighed. “He hasn’t told the whole truth and nothing but the truth to the police. And I know for a fact they wouldn’t believe him if he did.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Williams narrowed his eyes.

  “Because they never believed me.”

  Three

  By the time he arrived, the Coroner’s van instead of an ambulance sat at the curb in front of the East 66th Street building that Mitch had lived for so many years. It felt like there was a balloon expanding inside him, filling his chest, crushing the air from his lungs until he could hardly even swallow.

  The doorman rushed out to greet him. “Mitch, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

  “My car.” He handed the keys over.

  “No problem.” The doorman tipped his cap and held the door for him. “Henry’s upstairs with the police.”

  “Thanks, Silvio.”

  Despite the antacids, the back of his throat burned. Nausea threatened and it was a wonder he didn’t vomit all over the black and white tiled foyer. Mitch met the gaze of the uniformed officer stationed at the elevator. He veered left and jogged up the stairs like he’d done countless times before without even thinking. Static from the walkie echoed up the open stairwell after him, and an electronic chirp responded from above.

  Familiar faces of other tenants out in the hall passed in a blur as he wound his way up. A loud sob greeted him the moment his feet landed on the fourth floor.

  “Mitchell! It’s awful. Isn’t it awful? They won’t let me in!” Deirdre’s neighbor threw herself into his arms. The officer at the door remained motionless, save for an exchange of weight on the balls of his feet. “We’ve lived across the hall from each other for nearly twenty years. Best friends are the same as family. But he won’t let me in!”

  She shrieked at the officer instead of Mitch. She’d always been passive aggressive like that.

  “Kitty, go back inside.” Mitch put himself between her and the officer, using his height to corral her. “You don’t need to see any of this.”

  He urged her back into her apartment and shut the door. The sound of her sniffles let him know she was on the othe
r side, spying through the peephole.

  “Sir, I can’t—” The officer started.

  “Mitchell Harris.” He handed the officer his driver’s license. Luckily, he’d never bothered to have the address changed. “That’s my wife in there.”

  The uniform examined his ID and spoke into the radio attached to his shoulder. “Delarosa, I’ve got the husband out here.”

  “On my way.” The radio crackled.

  “Copy.” The officer kept Mitch’s ID and went back to staring at a spot on the wallpaper without saying anything else. Mitch’s irritation grew along with his sense of dread.

  All he wanted to do was get inside and assess the situation for himself. It was what he was good at. He needed to see. To piece together how it happened. He scrubbed his palm across his mouth, trying to wipe away the sour taste of self-loathing.

  The door opened, and a woman emerged. Mitch caught a glimpse inside. A blue sheet covered a form at the base of the stairs in the entryway. The Medical Examiner, Dr. Tom Fellows kneeled on the pristine white marble, catching Mitch’s gaze with a hint of consternation.

  It all happened within a split-second. A mental photograph burned into his memory.

  The door snapped shut and the woman approached him. She was wiry and younger than Mitch, somewhere in her mid-to-late thirties, with dark wavy hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. The burgundy blazer she wore complimented her deep bronze complexion.

  “Get this logged in.” She checked his license and handed it back to the officer. “Mr. Harris, I’m Detective Delarosa.”

  She offered a hand. Mitch gave her the handshake he reserved for law enforcement. Strong and brief, telegraphing through his grip that he wasn’t the type for bullshit.

  “What the hell happened in there? Why are you treating this like a crime scene?” Mitch demanded.

  The detective canted her head. “What makes you think we’re treating this like a crime scene?”