by Hopkin, Ben
There was information there, certainly. But there was a warning as well. There was more to the messages in this office than met the eye. Even Janey’s eye.
And then, Janey walked around the room, pointing to objects within the space without actually touching any of them. She was refraining from physical contact to keep the crime scene pristine. Darc found that this realization churned an internal response within him, in that grayed-out topography of emotion.
He felt pride in her.
It made no sense. He was neither her parent nor guardian. But he did think about her more than any other person, with the possible exception of Mala. And there was a feeling of responsibility when it came to Janey and her wellbeing. It was the only reason that Mala had ever been able to convince him to exclude the little girl from his investigations, particularly when she could have been of help.
Like right at this moment.
She was tracking out a pattern in the room. A track that he never would have seen, because it related to how an individual personality would view the space. Objects that appeared to be randomly placed had been moved with deliberation, creating…
Creating the perfect pentagram. The rough sketch on the desk was intended to be misleading. Attempting any sort of triangulation from such a primitive approximation would have put their search off by at least five miles in any given direction.
This arrangement of objects… the stapler on the desk, the lamp in the corner, the potted plant by the side of the filing cabinets, a picture of the Mayor’s family on the wall… when viewed through the eyes of the child, Darc could see that each had been moved. Not dramatically in most cases. A matter of inches, perhaps as much as a foot. But moved. Positioned.
Purposefully.
It was another map, with each of the objects representing one of the crime scenes. The pattern crystallized in Darc’s mind, taking the information from Janey’s drawing, sublimating the positioning of the items in the office, reducing all of the available information to objects.
Regurgitating the answer.
Every instinct in Darc’s body screamed for him to move. Now. But as he looked down at Janey, she peered up at him with her bright blue eyes and Darc could see… sadness. Janey was sad. How had he seen that? It was part of the emotional landscape that Darc could only with great difficulty penetrate, and never with precision. And yet he saw.
She missed him.
Kneeling down on one knee, Darc stretched out his arms toward this tiny human, beckoning for her to approach. She needed no encouragement. Almost before he had completed the gesture, she had her arms around his neck and was gripping him with a force that was almost painful.
“You are… like me,” he murmured in her ear. “Like me, only better.”
Janey pulled back for a moment, apparently so that she could look at him. She peered intently into Darc’s eyes, holding onto the sides of his face with her small hands. A smile began in her eyes, radiating out to her mouth and cheeks. She nodded and stood up, pointing out the door.
Darc understood. It was time for him to go now.
Without Janey. Without Mala.
But it was all right. Because the lines that Janey had shown him would travel with him, and it would be as if Janey were right there at his side.
It made no logical sense, but it somehow made Darc feel better.
Much better.
* * *
“So, we’re not going to arrest any of them?” Trey whined.
They were back in the Land Rover, headed who knew where, and Trey was… well, he was confused, for one. He was pissed, for another.
“They were all Masons,” he continued. “Did you get that part? All of them. Three. All.” He kept hoping that if he reiterated the facts enough times, the information would actually sink in or something. Maybe they’d turn around and start questioning the people that really needed to be questioned.
Instead, they were off on another wild Darc chase.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. Anytime Darc led them off like this, they ended up finding something. It’s just that the something usually ended up being really, really bad.
And after what had happened last time, Trey was pretty sure they weren’t going to be waiting for any kind of backup. Unknown situation. Serial killer. Kidnapped Mayor. Didn’t exactly sound like a recipe for a nice night of board games and cocktails.
Bollocks.
Mala had taken Janey home, as surprised as Trey had been when Darc had told them to go. That never happened. It was especially shocking when Trey considered that Janey had been the one to help Darc figure the whole thing out. At least that’s what he thought had been happening there in the office.
“So, can you at least tell me where we’re going?” Trey finally asked. Some information was better than the next to nothing he currently had, he supposed.
“Railroads.”
Oh, great. It was back to cryptic Darc. Trey understood that it usually meant that Darc was in the middle of tracking whatever it was that he had to track in that machine of a brain of his. Didn’t mean it wasn’t as annoying as all get out.
“Railroads? Could you be a bit more specific? There are a lot of those around Seattle.”
“Industrial District East.”
Oh. That made more sense. Down south and east of Harbor Island was a huge stretch that was nothing but railroad tracks. Trey had been down there a few times, and it always left him feeling a little desolate. There were sections of trains scattered about, some being repaired, some decrepit, some ready to be joined back up.
It felt like a huge train set for a demented giant.
It also felt like one of the worst places to go in the middle of the night when you were chasing down a serial killer without backup. But hey, what did Trey know about it?
Traveling south on 4th Avenue, they crossed over the top of the railroad tracks, ending up on the far side of the area. Trey took a right down Dawson Street, peering off to the left, watching as they passed an area where the train cars were positioned next to one another, almost like cars in a parking lot.
“Okay, we’re here,” Trey muttered, pulling to a stop. “What now?”
Without answering, Darc stepped out of the car and began walking directly down the middle of the parked train cars. Trey followed at his heels, trying not to cry out at every change in the shadows around them.
And then he almost jumped out of his skin as a train passed by, horn blaring out into the night. From a distance, that sound might be mournful and haunting. Up close, it was enough to give him a freaking heart attack.
“Mary Mother and Joseph,” Trey squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried unsuccessfully to slow down his racing heartbeat. Walking a little bit faster, he pulled up close behind Darc. It would have been better if he were walking beside his partner, at least for communication purposes, but that was never really an option when it came to Darc and his walking pace. How he managed to walk that fast without swinging his arms and hips like one of those freakazoids out in the parks, Trey would never know.
Besides, there were some advantages to having your partner go first in a big dark place with lots of nooks and crannies where scary things could lurk and hide. Until you started thinking about what could be sneaking up behind.
“What’s the plan? I mean, walking around this awesome railroad crossing-area-thingy sounds like a lot of fun and all, but…”
Trey cut himself off with a startled yell as a cat darted out from beneath one of the railroad cars. At least, he was pretty sure it was a cat. The other options were less appealing. Did rats grow that big?
“We are going to the location indicated by the positioning of the objects in the office,” Darc replied after a moment of staring at Trey. What was that for? It wasn’t like Darc had never heard him yell before, especially in places like this.
“Okay, fine, but…” Trey thought this through. There had been something bugging him about that whole office thing from the get-go. “… don’t you think that all t
hat stuff back at the Mayor’s office was… I dunno… a bit much?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? You mean like yes, I agree with you, or yes, that’s an interesting idea, keep going kind of thing?”
Darc passed the last of the cars in the row and turned to the left, heading out to the huge space in front of them that was crisscrossed with tracks and abandoned cars. He spoke over his shoulder as he moved.
“The office was a message sent by the killer.”
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning that he has invited us here and is expecting us,” Darc clarified.
“Oh, great. Sounds perfect,” Trey grumbled. “You do remember what happened the last time we got a personal invite from a serial killer, right? We went to an unholy funhouse of death and I got a corpse thrown at my head.”
Darc marched forward, not responding to Trey’s litany of why-this-was-a-bad-idea. He wasn’t sure why he wasted his breath. It’s not like it was going to change Darc’s mind or anything. Nothing short of a nuclear explosion would, in Trey’s experience. Well, that and Mala. Or maybe Janey.
“You’re sexist, you know that, Darc?” Trey jumped over one of the railroad tracks, landing weird and twisting his ankle a bit. Not enough to incapacitate him, just enough to piss him off with every step. “You think you could maybe slow down a bit? No? Right. I forgot. We’re too busy goose-stepping our way to our own demise.”
And then Darc stopped just before entering a huge open area. There was one car, right in the middle of what Trey now recognized was a gigantic circle, with five cars placed around the circumference. Five.
Aw, dammit.
“It’s a big huge pentagram, isn’t it?” Trey said, looking at the large open space in front of him. “That’s what it is. A pentagram made up of railroad cars. And we’re still not calling for backup, are we?”
Once again, the bald detective didn’t answer. But Trey was pretty sure that was just because, for once, Darc didn’t have to correct his partner.
* * *
Janey knew that going home was the right thing.
It made sense. Janey had school tomorrow, and she had to be there. Had to, had to. Otherwise, bad things would happen. Plus, Mala would get in trouble if Janey didn’t go and if that mean, nasty man at that one ugly building found out that she had gone someplace scary.
Janey thought about that and wondered for just a second what that man would act like if he ever went someplace scary like Darc and Trey and Mala and sometimes even Janey did. He would probably cry the whole time.
Popeye said something naughty about what the man would do in his pants. It made Janey laugh. Mala looked back in the mirror and smiled at her. Janey smiled back and then rubbed Popeye on that spot behind his ear that he loved. Sometimes Popeye could be so funny, even when he was saying things that he wasn’t supposed to.
But the real problem with going back to the apartment and not with Darc was that Mala wasn’t happy. Janey could tell. There were rays of colored light that kept coming off of her in waves. Every time Mala sighed or looked at her phone or checked her watch, the lights shifted around and told Janey that Mala was sad.
And Janey didn’t want Mala to be sad.
Especially not when Janey wanted to go anyway. She didn’t want to make Darc nervous, which is why she didn’t ask to go at first. She could see that Darc was worried about her and Mala.
That was new. And she could see that it was a good thing, like learning to share your toys.
But sometimes you shouldn’t share your toys. Like if a stranger-danger grownup comes over and wants to play with you. That was not a time to share.
So there were times that you weren’t supposed to follow the rules that were important rules. So even though it was good that Darc cared, maybe this was not a good time to listen to him when he told them to go away.
Besides, even though Darc was learning things, sometimes he still needed help. Janey was a good helper. Her mommy and daddy had always told her so. Mala did too. Even Mrs. Kingston, who sometimes got disappointed in Janey, told her she was a good helper. So it only made sense that she should go and help.
Now she just had to find a way to tell Mala.
There was one way that might work.
Janey started drawing badges all over the windows. She drew one after another after another and then tapped Mala on the shoulder and pointed to them.
Mala turned her head and saw the drawings. Even though they were kind of drippy and messy, Janey could tell that she knew what they were.
“Oh, Janey. He doesn’t want us there. And we shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be there.”
Popeye said that he had told her so, and besides, he wanted a bedtime story. Janey told him to hush and it was way too late for a story anyhow. Once Popeye realized he wasn’t getting a story out of it, he changed his tune pretty fast.
But looking back at Mala, Janey just asked using her eyes. She was pretty good at it. Sometimes Mala knew exactly what she was asking without Janey even drawing a picture. And right now she was telling her that Darc needed their help.
She was also telling Mala that she would be good and stay in the car, but she wasn’t saying that as loud, because she wasn’t really sure she was going to. If Darc needed her help, there was no way she was staying put.
But Mala knew that.
“I know, Janey, I know, but…” Mala scrunched her face up. “It’s hard to explain, but I just want to make sure that we stay together.”
Janey knew that, but it wasn’t the right answer. Mala understood it wasn’t the right answer. So she just kept looking at Mala, and pointed at the badges again.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Mala asked.
Janey smiled and shook her head no. Mala was super smart. Almost as smart as Darc. What was even weirder was that Popeye seemed excited to go. That never happened.
Now she had to show Mala where they were supposed to go. Pulling out a piece of paper, Janey began drawing a picture of where Darc and Trey were.
She just hoped they got there in time.
CHAPTER 19
The fabric of glowing logic wove itself about the landscape around them. Darc could see clearly that there were several victims, including the Mayor, all trapped somewhere within those boxcars. Five marking each of the points of the star in the pentagram, one in the center.
Just as clear was the fact that this was a trap.
It was a trap that was unapologetic. There was no hiding that detailed piece of information. It had been clear in the office. It was clear here in the train yard.
Darc knew. The killer knew that Darc knew. That had been his intent. He knew that Darc would recognize the danger and come anyway. And Darc understood that there was little chance that they would be able to evade every part of that threat.
Darc calculated the probability of him and Trey coming out alive at 37 percent. The likelihood of them coming out unscathed was a statistical zero.
This killer was intelligent. He planned things out with precision, but remained flexible enough to change when things were not following the path he had laid out. He had help, possibly in the form of multiple disciples who were willing to follow his orders no matter how grisly they might become.
What’s more, based off of the information Darc had gleaned from the Mayor’s office, the killer was here. If not within sight of the area, close enough to be able to both monitor and shift the pieces that were in play.
Because as brazen as the invitation had been, the killer had left out anything that might help Darc ascertain the exact nature of the trap and neutralize it. He was operating with a plethora of information, but a dearth of useful intel.
The logical assumption would be that the center car would hold the Mayor. But something about that assessment rang false, the logic threads glowing a dark orange. The Mayor would be in one of the outer cars.
As they neared the first of them, Darc could see that every section of train was a typical boxcar
. The one that they were approaching was not on a track.
Getting even closer, small indicators around the car swirled into Darc’s consciousness, bringing with them bits of gleaming information. The boxcar was suspended on blocks, one positioned on each of the corners.
But there was something else that demanded Darc’s attention, a thread that shone a brilliant red. There were depressions in the earth surrounding the boxcar, ones that made no sense when put in the context of a railway.
Trey started to approach the car, holding up his flashlight in one hand, his pistol in the other. Darc put out his arm to halt his partner’s progress.
“Stop.”
Trey ceased moving with no hesitation. “Hey. Don’t have to tell me twice.” He glanced from Darc to the car and back again. “Is it booby trapped?”
Darc nodded his head once, and from what he could tell, Trey stopped breathing. It would be unfortunate if his partner were to lose consciousness, so Darc clarified.
“Do not get any closer to the car.”
“Right.”
Darc bent down, examining every inch of the bottom edge of the boxcar. It appeared that he had found the nature of the trap, but ascertaining the trigger was the most important part of the operation.
There. Along the side of one of the blocks, almost obscured by the machinery, was a thin metallic filament. Either through the use of a trip wire, or possibly a pressure plate, as soon as Darc and Trey entered the boxcar, it would trigger an electric charge that would lead… somewhere. The paths tangled up, searching for the elusive clues.
Darc crouched down, looking for a way to detach or sever the filament to prevent any charge from passing through it. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket, knowing the wood would not react in any way to the metal wire. It would take steadiness of hand to do this properly. But as he peered closer, another stray thread of logic washed across his mental pathways, alerting him to an unseen danger.
This filament was a decoy.
Following the wire back, Darc traced it to a large pack of C4. If Darc had pulled the wire out or cut it in any fashion, the entire trap would have sprung, destroying the boxcar and anything in the near vicinity. Including Darc and Trey.