Transcending Nirvana (Dark Evoke #3)

by V. L. Brock

  With the sound of the downpour intensifying, he could almost discern each raindrop crashing to their fate against the hood, window, and sidewalk…a lot like some of the victims he’d seen in the fifteen years of his career. Each and every one of them meeting their end before their time was due. Each and every one of them––in their own way––responsible for his nights of insomnia.

  The car shifted when the extra weight was lowered into the passenger side, with the door being slammed shut, echoing through the neighborhood of sleeping occupants.

  “Darryl,” the husky voice broke through the silence from beside him. Nevertheless, Darryl never answered; he never did, still, that was something his new partner would have to discover for himself.

  Within twenty minutes, Darryl pulled up along the sidewalk putting the unmarked car into park, before switching off the ignition. From behind the windshield, he could see it was a full scene: flashing lights, patrol cars and officers, forensics, ambulance, tape…

  The tape was the worst. You knew that behind it lay something brutal, something which needs to be kept unsullied, and in his line of duty, Darryl Stephens had seen countless harsh, stomach-cinching pieces of evidence behind those plastic ribbons.

  “Do you think it’s as bad as the scene makes it out to be?” the small voice, which had equally matched Stephens’ a long time ago, sounded from beside him.

  He turned to face the man which looked more of a boy, and took a deep breath. How could he prepare this kid? What lay beyond that strewing of criminal tape could either hold no effect for his new partner, or it could be the first scene which would plague his dreams. Alone time will cease to be an option. Laying in the tub and hearing the drips from the faucet rippling into the water, all the while visualizing and reflecting, as you step into the shoes of both the victim and the perpetrator…the mind ruthlessly playing either tricks or doing continuous circles.

  “Just prepare yourself, kid,” was the only advice he could offer before ejecting himself from the vehicle and kicking the door closed, his suited body soaked to the skin within mere moments.

  The houses appeared well maintained along the block. Not your typical rundown neighborhood, or back alleys where you’d expect to find trouble. This thought alone saw the blood in Darryl’s veins turn icy, while the patrol officers guarding the top of the path, allowed both men through with an acknowledging tip of their heads, once they’d flashed their badges.

  Each step he took had his feet sinking further into the sludge. But it wasn’t the slop which almost failed to keep the thirty-seven year old, tall, muscular man from maintaining his posture. It was his heart quickening under his ribcage, as he silently primed himself for the visual he’d been imagining since picking up the call from his brisk encounter with sleep.

  “Detective Stephens, thank you for coming on such short notice,” an old man holding a hefty black umbrella over his head, shook his hand, practically ignoring his partner standing over his shoulder, as droplets fall into his squinting eyes.

  “It’s part of the job, right? So what have we got?”

  All three of the men ducked beneath the yellow tape. Forensics men and woman in white bodysuits made their way to-and-fro, while inspectors set out marked boards alongside each crucial piece of evidence, no matter how insignificant it may be. Each step they took into the center of the crime scene had both Darryl’s and the kid’s stomach tying into knots.

  “Male, late-twenties to early-thirties.”

  “Name?”

  The man shook his head solemnly.

  “John Doe it is then.”

  “It was called in at twelve twenty-six, the phone records show the call came from this address, but the suspect insists it wasn’t her,” the man finished, handing his umbrella to the kid then lowering into a crouch. Between his fingers, he grasped the zipper of the black, shiny body-bag where John Doe laid. “You might want to prepare yourselves, boys.”

  “Nothing can prepare you for what you see in this job,” Darryl flipped off then licked his lips. Knowing what had to be done, he took a deep breath. “Open him up.”

  The night and the downpour swallowed the grating noise of the zipper lowering. The plastic being pulled open, offering an unobstructed view of the victim, on the other hand, wasn’t as silent.

  His swollen face was painted in blood, his eye sockets already bruising, whereas the coagulated, deep red, practically black blood oozed from the numerous hollows of his skull. Fingers were missing from his hand, his eyelids removed from his face.

  “We’re pulling up his dental records. There’s still a few left…” the man lifted the gashed lip of the victim, displaying numerous missing teeth.

  Stephens groaned.

  “We haven’t come across any wea––”

  The man was interrupted by an officer ten feet from where the body of the mutilated John Doe was laying lifeless. “Boss, we got something here,” he called out, dropping the shovel and hauling a duffle bag from the sludge.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m guessing, the murder weapons,” the man answered the kid’s question.

  Making their way towards the new found evidence, Darryl felt his stomach raising, the bitter taste of dread torturing as it plastered itself over his tongue. Sometimes, preparing yourself to see the murder weapon is more daunting than seeing the result upon the victim.

  Hammer, clippers, knives, pliers…and that was merely scraping the surface. God only knew what else that bag held.

  “Who the Hell would do anything like this?”

  With a loud outbreath, Detective Stephens looked up to where his new partner was standing, his face pale even through the darkness. He tapped him on the shoulder twice in an act to bring comfort, although he knew the boy would never find it, just like he failed to on his first homicide. Sometimes, words just aren’t enough to upkeep assurance and poise. However, the only ones which brought a form of comfort over the years were offered.

  “That’s what we’re going to find out, kid.”

  Acknowledgments

  Wow, where do I even begin? I usually end up forgetting people so if I accidently forget someone, please forgive me.

  Firstly, to my readers. They say that a writer merely begins the story; the reader is the one to finish it. Without you, these stories would be left incomplete. So from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. I thank you for journeying alongside the characters, experiencing the emotions which come hand-in-hand with that journey, and taking the time to get engrossed in a world in which I have created.

  Two of my besties: Samantha Ulysses and Charlie Chisholm…without you two hounding me for more #WalkerLove, or as Samantha would call them, Wady, I wouldn’t have found the strength in writing this installment, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. The love I have for you both is out of this world. You were my first angels, my first readers, my first fans, and I thank you for that.

  My kick ass editor, Brittani Pritchard who absolutely loves how much I adore my commas. [Grinning]. You work your butt off with family life, work, pimping and editing…you’re a machine woman, and I love you more than you love my comma addiction.

  My ARC readers: Angie, Rhiannon, Linda, Jade, Titian, Laura, Heather, Maria Bianca, Megan, Lauren, Michelle, Keren and Donna, Thank you so, so much for taking the time to read and review.

  Kaprii Dolphin and Lorraine Lilly Wickson who make up the fabulous Two Ordinary Girls and Their Books, I have two simple words: you’re amazing! Your continued support and enthusiasm towards The Dark Evoke Series will always warm my heart. Thank you for hosting Transcending Nirvana’s Cover Reveal alongside the Release Day Blitz. And not forgetting the many other blogs which participated in the event also.

  To my Munchkin. I love you goo-goo pecks, and remember its ‘Red Rudolph’.

  Finally, two of the positive attributes I possess is my self-awareness and the ability to be an open book. My private life as many know had taken a nosedive, and I found writing this final installment the m
ost challenging to date. What people didn’t know up until recently was, as I was writing Kady’s story, I was writing from personal experience. People know that this is a topic close to my heart––it’s close to my heart because I’ve lived it. And I would like to personally thank a woman who was only supposed to take me on as a client for 24 weeks, yet kept me on for almost two years. Gillian Legge, my amazing counselor who helped me see the truth of my relationship from the outside, and helped me accept it, and fight to be the survivor I am today.

  Also, thank you to Women’s Aid who offers help and support to thousands of women to break free. I owe you…