The Soul Collectors dm-4

by Chris Mooney

  Her eyes were burning. Wet. 'And do what?'

  'Live,' Sergey said. 'Coop has been calling me. He wants to know where — '

  'Don't tell him.'

  'He wants to talk to you.'

  'No. I can't risk it.'

  'You can't hide for ever.'

  'Don't tell him,' she said, and hung up.

  *

  Darby delivered the picture to the Boston office and then checked herself into the Four Seasons. The room she had shared with Coop was occupied, so she picked out the cheapest room, raided the mini-bar and got drunk.

  That night, she dreamed of men and women rising from the surf under a moonless sky, their ghoulish faces and bloated white bodies picked apart by fish. They crept across the sand dragging their chains and she was so tired she didn't hear them enter her room.

  She woke with a start. Her Glock was lying next to her, and she picked it up and searched the rooms.

  Sweating, she sat on the couch in the small living room, her Glock aimed at the door.

  87

  Sergey called two days later, a few minutes after midnight.

  'Where are you?' he asked, and Darby heard him give a sigh of relief.

  'Back at the rental house. Packing. I just got here.'

  'My guys lost sight of you.'

  'I've been moving around.'

  'If you're scared, the offer for protective federal custody — '

  'I'm going to do this on my own.'

  'Good. Good for you. The offer is there if you ever need or want it. You need any help packing? I can send some people there. They can drive you to wherever you're going.'

  'Thanks, but no. I'm all set.'

  Sergey paused. She sensed he had something more to say. She stopped packing and sat on the edge of the bed, her attention drifting to the windows filled with the black night sky.

  'The picture's a wash. No prints on it, no prints on the coffee-maker or your rental unit either.'

  'I figured as much.'

  'They're bringing in fresh eyes from ISU to take a look at the case,' he said.

  'And you?'

  'I'll be taking some time off. After that, we'll see.'

  So they had pushed him aside, probably dangled a golden parachute in front of him if he promised to step down.

  'What about you?' he said. 'What are you going to do now?'

  'I don't know.'

  'You ever thought about coming to work for us?'

  'The Bureau?'

  'ISU. There's been some internal talk. The new guy who's going to be heading up the profiling unit asked me about you, and I passed along my recommendation.'

  Darby didn't know what to say.

  There didn't seem to be anything left to say.

  'Good luck, Sergey.'

  'Thanks. You too. Stay safe and call if you need anything.'

  'Before you go — '

  'Yeah.'

  'I never had an opportunity to tell you how sorry I am about your son. I hope…' 'I know,' he said. 'I do too. Maybe one day.'

  'If you find anything out about Jack and Sarah, anything at all, please call me.'

  'You still think they're alive, don't you?'

  'I do.'

  'Why?'

  'Because they want him to suffer. That's what keeps these people alive — it's their nourishment, what feeds them.'

  Sergey didn't say anything after that, and they exchanged goodbyes and promises to keep in touch.

  Darby carried her bags downstairs. The inside lights were off, but she had left the back porch lights on and she could see well enough. She told herself she didn't need the lights. She would be fine.

  The plan was to go home, get settled and then take some time to figure out her next step.

  She put the bags down by the front door. She didn't need to call a cab. She had sold her bike for an ancient but sturdy Honda Accord. The transmission was a little shaky. All she needed to do was get home and then she'd dump it.

  She stared out of the window at her car parked in that endless night and wondered what was waiting for her.

  Heavy footsteps thumped across her back porch. She ducked into the hall and got into a shooter's stance.

  A fist banged at the door.

  'Darby?' Coop yelled. 'Darby, you in there?'

  Sergey. The son of a bitch had told Coop where she was.

  'Darby?'

  'Hold on.' She unlocked the door.

  Coop took a step forward, stopping when he saw the gun in her hand. He raised his arms slightly.

  'You going to put that away?'

  'Yeah.' She blinked as she backed away. 'Yeah, sorry, come in and lock the door.'

  He did and they stood there, staring at each other.

  'Who told you?' she said. 'Sergey?'

  He nodded. 'He's worried about you. I am too. I got your package.'

  Her face felt flushed, her throat tight. 'I just wanted you to know what had happened after you left.'

  'And in case something happened to you.'

  She didn't answer. She could hear the surf pounding outside the windows.

  'You didn't have to come,' she said.

  'I know I didn't. I came because I wanted to.'

  'You bring Amanda with you?'

  'No. No, I came alone.'

  She licked her lips and her eyes stung when she said, 'She's not going to like this, your making emergency transatlantic flights to make sure I'm okay. Not a good way to start off an engagement.'

  He moved closer and cupped her face in his hands and her throat seized and when he smiled she started to cry.

  'It's okay,' he said, holding her. 'Shhh, it's okay.'

  Darby buried her face in his chest and she cried the love she'd been carrying for him all this time and she cried for Jack Casey, knowing he was alive, living somewhere underneath the earth, locked in some dark place alone and thinking of his daughter, trying to find a way back to her.

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