by WL Knightly
“I love you,” he called out as she hit the nearest door to their living room.
“Oh, sure. Love you, honey.” And just like that, he felt dismissed.
He got into his car and adjusted the mirror. His lack of amusement in his home life was creased in his brow. He was beginning to feel like he was in a rut and hoped that he’d hear something from the Bureau soon.
Megan wanted him to be a special agent before she gave birth to their child, and at this rate, neither would ever happen. Maybe he didn’t want it to. He couldn’t exactly see himself as a father, but he knew if he ever had that privilege, he’d be better than his old man had.
His father, a wartime veteran, took discipline to a whole new level. Weakness was not an option. You fell down; you got up. You got pushed down; you fought back, unless it was him doing the pushing. Then, you had better show some respect and know your place.
He never failed to tell his son how much of a pussy he was, or a letdown. Darek had even joined the force because of his father, but not because he’d wanted him to. His father wanted his son to enlist with the Marine Corps, just like him, but he wasn’t about following the man or pleasing him. Not joining was the only way he could stand up to the old man without literally punching him the face, and he took the opportunity as soon as possible.
Once Darek’s achievements started to build into a career as a detective, he knew he’d found his calling, and joining the FBI seemed like a no-brainer. But then, his anxiety worsened shortly after his father passed away, and he’d struggled to keep it together. His focus was off, and he felt a permanent imbalance. Through lots of therapy and medication, he was finally doing a bit better, and the late nights by the pier were doing their trick.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home to his beautiful wife and make love and babies, but in a way, he didn’t feel like he deserved it.
On those nights away from home, he would stare for hours at the skyline, the twinkling rainbow of colors that were scattered across the night sky. He’d sip his beer and let his mind take him where it wanted. Most of the time, it was through his day or past week, and sometimes, he’d go way back, letting whatever little grains of a memory slip into his mind like sand in an hourglass. Not all of his past thoughts were pleasant, and thankfully, the new meds were helping to keep them at bay. Some things, the brain pushed to the depths, deep in the murky waters of the mind, so that a person could cope. That was where they belonged.
Just after his father’s death, something had triggered, bringing back the darkness, the self-loathing, and pain that had caused his episodes. Thankfully now, when he sat at the river in a fog, it wasn’t because he was fighting those old demons. Still, whatever had haunted him before his break was lurking beneath the surface, and even though he knew it was best to let it go, it would never sink deeper, where it belonged. The ghost was hovering close, waiting to say “hi.”
2
Darek
Darek made it to the station in record time, but that didn’t stop Max from complaining. The car had barely come to a stop when he opened the door and climbed inside, voicing his complaints.
“It’s about fucking time, man.”
Detective Maxwell Smith lived to give Darek a hard time. As partners, the two were considered a powerhouse team, and they had formed quite the brotherly bond.
“Fuck you,” Darek said. “I came as fast as I could. I even used the light.” He pointed to the flashing red light on his dash and cut the thing off.
Max shut the door and buckled up. “Well, it’s about damned time. You never use the light. Did you get my text with the location?”
Darek pulled away from the curb. “Yeah, we’re on our way. That’s not a bad neighborhood; seedy, but cleaner than most.”
Max tapped the passenger door panel with his thumb. He always did that on the way to a body, like the rush of excitement was too much for him. “It’s an old hotel. The place is struggling to stay open. This is either going to kill it or give it the attention it needs. You can never tell with these places.”
“Any attention is good attention when you’re struggling,” Darek said. “Someone should tell that to my wife.”
“Oh damn,” Max said. “Sounds like you had another rough morning.”
“Yeah, I didn’t get home in time to fuck her. She’s got this new app she’s trying. You’d think we had fertility issues from the way she’s timing this shit out. I want to fuck just to fuck, you know?”
Max nodded. “Right, and if it happens, it happens. I still hold to my original advice.”
“Your original advice was not to marry her,” Darek said. “You told me that all the way up the altar. I was scared to death you’d do something unbecoming of your best man’s title and lose the ring.” Darek flipped the light on again, just to get through traffic.
Max laughed. “That would have been expected, and you know me, I’ve never done a predictable thing in my life.”
The bastard had a point. He was full of surprises.
“Yeah, well, go ahead and get the I told you so out of the way, okay.”
“Again, expected.” He chuckled. “I swear, I’m never getting married. Nothing will end a cop’s career quicker. The job is hard enough, but the woman will always be what breaks you. Think about it. Do you know one of our fellow brothers who is married and happy? Fuck no. Marriage is a killer, man. It drives you to drink; there’s bitterness. No thank you.”
Maxwell had told Darek his philosophy on married cops too many times to count, and all because he knew a fellow officer whose marriage was so bad that he’d taken his own life over the shame of divorce. There was much more going on in that situation than either of them could know, but Max had made up his mind. Darek wondered if he should have taken the death as an omen.
They arrived on the scene. When they walked out of the elevator and stood in the doorway to the room, they were surprised they’d beaten most of the crew down.
“I told you I got to you in a hurry,” Darek said.
“I’ll give you credit this once, but don’t let it go to your head.”
The room was standard hotel beige, and the mauve carpet was a throwback to when the place had been renovated in the late eighties.
The victim was in the middle of the king-sized bed. Naked and still, her brown hair fanned out on the pillow, covering most of her face. She lay on her stomach on the bed in a pool of blood that soaked the sheets around her. As Darek walked closer, a sinking feeling hollowed out his gut, and sweat beaded on his lip. Gotta keep running. He took a deep breath, and the sharp coppery scent of her blood stung his nose.
Officer Coleman, the deputy on the scene, was busy on his phone, and Officer Ross Moody from forensics took photographs. They exchanged a quiet hello and went back to their duties.
Max made a sound of disgust. “She’s been sliced up pretty badly. What’s that say?”
There was something carved into the flesh of her back, an illegible, primitive alphabet, but that wasn’t what held his attention. He pulled his eyes down to the carved skin and deciphered what he could through the blood. “THE BEGINNING OF YOUR END.”
Max winced. “Someone’s sending a message.”
“Yeah, but to who? Us? Society?” Darek’s eyes went back to the tattoo; a circle diagram with symbols carved in each pie-shaped wedge.
Max leaned in closer. “That’s some ink. Looks newish. Had to take a long time.”
“It’s the zodiac,” Darek said.
Max laughed and shook his head. “Yeah? I don’t know much about that shit. Astronomy and all that psychic bullshit. ‘Hey baby, what’s your sign’ was a little before my day.”
Officer Coleman approached after hanging up his phone. “It’s Astrology. Astronomy is an actual science; the study of space. Astrology is like how the alignments of the planet affect your life. It’s fake.”
“To some,” said Darek. The zodiac was very real to some people, and they let it rule their entire lives.
“I guess you’re right,” Coleman said. “I’ve got an aunt that’s into that shit. She spent a fortune having us all charted for Christmas one year. What a waste. Mine went into the garbage, and then I prayed for her soul.” He laughed, putting a hand to the heavens.
“The ink does look fresh,” Darek said. “At least, on that arrow-shaped one. It’s leaking plasma.” Officer Moody snapped another photo as Darek leaned in. The mark was familiar to him. Too familiar.
A voice boomed out into the room from behind him, and he jumped out of his skin.
“Morning, gentleman. I’d say good morning, but from the looks of things, I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”
Darek spun around to see Chief Robbins standing behind him at the door. At his side was a gorgeous brunette, who Darek assumed was a representative of the hotel. She wore a tight pencil skirt, a silky blouse with a blazer, and enough lipstick to leave a stain around his dick.
He quietly remembered his wedding vows and walked over to shake the chief’s hand as he entered the room. “It looks as if this is some kind of ritual or revenge killing, something to send a message. She’s got the words ‘the beginning to your end’ carved over a zodiac tattoo.”
The woman’s voice was sultry with a southern accent; her tone unshaken. “The collar shows signs of a sexual nature, as well as the body being naked. Are you sure this isn’t a BDSM session gone wrong?”
Darek looked up to see that the woman had walked toward the body. “Um, miss, you shouldn’t get too close.” He threw a glance over his shoulder at the chief as the woman gave him a blank glare.
“Oh, my apologies,” the chief said. “Detectives Blake and Smith, meet Special Agent Elizabeth McNamara.” The chief’s put emphasis on the woman’s title, and Darek did a double-take at the woman. She looked more like someone who worked in a courtroom or a newsroom than a crime scene.
The woman held out her hand to shake his. “Call me Lizzy. As I was saying, the carving could be a cover-up. Someone wanting to the killing to look like a ritual of sorts. Perhaps this is just a sex game gone wrong.”
Darek laughed. “A sex game? With all due respect, you don’t carve up another human like that for a sex game.”
“There are submissives who pride themselves on handling pain for their Masters. Testing their limits.”
“Pain, yeah,” Darek said. “A little slapping, a little cutting, I get it. This is carved with a knife. The beginning of your end? That’s not a message for the victim.”
“I’m just saying that we don’t know if it’s a message at all. We need to look at the other evidence before we put this in a pretty box and call it a gift.”
Darek took a deep breath, and his chief gave him a hard look. “I think we’d all do well to remember we’re on the same team. Darek?” Darek nodded at the chief. “Lizzy?” The woman smiled. “Good. Now let’s remember that moving forward. Darek, I’m putting you on this case with Lizzy. I know you need it. Now make nice, and shake hands.”
Lizzy extended her hand, and Darek took it. “Yeah, sure, Chief. Thanks.”
The chief walked over to explain to Max that he’d be assisting and put him on a task. The guy seemed okay with the way of things, and he gave Darek a teasing smile as he took out his phone and walked out into the hall.
Others arrived on the scene from the forensics department, and Lizzy sprang into action, telling them what she expected. “I want a lot of photographs of that tattoo, and when you’ve got what you need, I’d like to see that collar.”
“This looks like paint,” Ross said before taking another photograph. Lizzy stepped around the bed, careful to not disturb the scene.
Darek frowned. Paint didn’t seem likely. He looked at the tattoo. “Is it black?”
“Yeah, what are you thinking?” She looked at him as if she were a teacher calling on him in class.
“Tattoo ink.” Darek wasn’t surprised when she nodded.
“I agree,” Lizzy said. “She doesn’t seem to have struggled. Hopefully, the toxicology reports will tell us if she’s been drinking or using. Once we get her cleaned up and out of here, we’ll have a better idea, but I want to go ahead and check around at different tattoo parlors in the city. Someone might know something. Maybe this was a marking gone bad.”
“A marking?”
“Yeah, you know, like a Master marking his property.”
“You still think this is BDSM?” Darek asked. “That’s one hell of a marking.”
“I meant the tattoo was a marking. The carving I’d consider either a message, like you say it is, or it could be a cover-up. It’s done hastily. The lines are hurried. They cut way deep in some places. We know she was alive during it. Probably bled out. If the killer was drugged up too, maybe he didn’t know how deep he was carving? Maybe she writhed around so much it just happened.” She gave a shrug.
Chief Robbins paced back and forth. “I want this locked down until you figure it out. If it’s some kind of serial killer or ritual killing, we’re keeping a tight fucking lid on it. There has been too much panic in the community lately, and we don’t need this shit adding to it.”
Lizzy smiled. “I’m sure Sam will appreciate that.”
Special Agent Sam Reed was who she meant, no doubt, and Darek knew that was the man he needed to impress if he wanted to move forward in his career. Lizzy used the man’s name fondly, like they were old friends, and he felt a little envious that this woman, who looked like someone Megan had competed against for a crown, had achieved what he hadn’t.
He looked back to the girl on the bed and figured things could be worse. “Do we have an ID yet?”
He looked up at Deputy Coleman, who gave him the thumbs up as he spoke into his phone. Coleman hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. “I’ve got her prints on the way. There wasn’t anything found in her handbag, just a picture of the tattoo. Looks like she’d printed it out.”
Darek cleared his throat. “We need to figure out who did the ink. I want a list of all the parlors in town.”
“And the sex shops,” said Lizzy, speaking up a bit louder to Officer Moody. “I want to find out what we can about the collar. It had to come from somewhere. Maybe the seller knows something about who gave it to her. Submissives don’t usually buy them for themselves.”
Even though he didn’t think BDSM had much to do with the crime, he knew the collar was a big clue, and he couldn’t argue that they needed the information on that piece of evidence. He smiled as Max came into the room, and then Lizzy stepped away to make a call.
“I knew her in the academy,” Max whispered. “She was always quiet and kept to herself. Some of the guys said she was a lesbian, but I think she was just too good for them.”
Darek fought his urge to be attracted to her. “Yeah, that’s not the vibe I’m getting.”
Max laughed. “You’re a married man, remember?”
He remembered all right. He remembered so much, it hurt right in the balls. “I know, and trust me, I’ll stay faithful. I love my wife, God help me, but a body like that can sure make you daydream, especially when you’re not getting any at home.” It had only been a few nights, but it seemed like forever.
“Poor bastard. If it’s any consolation, you’ll at least get plenty of time to fantasize. This one’s liable to take a while.” He patted Darek on the back. “She’s a smart one, too. I heard she had high marks. The chief loved her. Supposedly, she had connections, and she used them. Her father was a retired detective or some shit like that.”
Hearing that was a different kind of feeling in his balls; more like a kick. “Figures. Daddy’s girl is getting all the perks.” He hated to hear that not only had she had a wonderful relationship with daddy, but she had used it to climb to the top. Bitterness from his old man’s abuse crept forward and stirred the fires of resentment inside him.
“Use this opportunity, man,” Max said. “It’s a fucked-up thing to say with a cold one three feet away, and though I’ll miss you like crazy, you
need this.”
“I plan on it.” Darek had to get his break soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer his marriage would last if he didn’t show Megan something she could be proud of. He had to hear her bitch daily about how he hadn’t gotten this promotion or that promotion over another officer. It didn’t matter if he was one of the most accomplished. There was always room for better, and even though before he married her, he thought she pushed him out of love, he was starting to think of her as no better than his abusive father, who he was never good enough for.
She wanted someone to brag about the same way his father had, and when they’d both run out of things to brag about, their disappointment had become apparent. His father’s disappointment manifested as hard-ass verbal abuse. Megan’s was more passive aggressive. Both were demeaning.
Darek looked around to see if anything else stood out. The arrow-shaped symbol gave him a pain in his arm. He rubbed the rough spot through his shirt and stared at the woman until his vision blurred. The nightmares he’d been having came back to him, but he refused to let them panic him. He was much too close to achieving his career goals now to ruin things. He had to appear as stable as possible. Focused.
The forensics team did their jobs, taking samples, snapping photos, collecting every ounce of evidence, and covering every inch of the room for clues. Finally, it was time to move the body. The coroner had them roll her over, and the collar was removed carefully and bagged before it was handed to Darek.
“Lover.” Lizzy’s voice was like warm honey, and it sent a lick of heat through him as she spoke it over his shoulder. He hadn’t been aware she’d come up behind him.
“That’s not a very affectionate nickname,” Darek said.
“The name on the collar is often the owner’s, not the wearer’s. Not always, but in some cases.”
“How do you know so much about this stuff?” He looked at her like he could have been making an accusation, but was careful to let his tone stay on the more innocent side of the implication. If she was into kinky sex, it wouldn’t do his married ass a bit of good.