The grey was untrustworthy, just as Isaac Walters had proven himself to be untrustworthy. That ever-changing landscape might be telling Darc to follow up on the data he had uncovered here, but it was also telling him other things.
That he needed to talk to his partner about the coming baby. That he should ask Mala out on another date, and that it should be a significant one. That Janey needed him, and should have come with them to the crime scene.
All of them incoherent ramblings of an unconscious out of control.
“I’m just saying that we shouldn’t rule out the possibility of an otherworldly influence on the case,” Trey muttered, still clearly on the same illogical track.
That was the problem with these grey emotions. The inevitable result was one that bogged down the deductive process, rather than enhancing it. Trey’s effectiveness as a detective was constantly compromised by his insistence on listening to his “gut.” Even that turn of phrase was inaccurate. Emotions did not live in the abdominal cavity. There was no organ there capable of any sort of processing ability.
“The odds of this case having anything to do with extraterrestrial life are infinitesimal,” Darc uttered, once again forcing the grey into submission.
Trey’s face fell, his expression changing to another grey shape that Darc refused to process. There might be information to be gleaned, but it would come from the grey landscape within, and that was territory that Darc refused to traverse.
That was the place in which Trey’s betrayal resided. Where the cut of Janey being ripped from his arms by the social worker rested. It was where Darc’s failed relationship with Maggie lived.
There was too much pain there.
* * *
Trey pulled the wheel of the Land Rover, taking the corner a bit too fast for comfort. After spending so time out at that dairy farm, he was worried about how Maggie might be doing. Maybe they could swing by the apartment on the way back to the precinct. Just to check in on her, see how she was doing.
Unless…
“There really isn’t much stuff to go over from the crime scene, right?” he asked his partner. Maybe he could just call it a night. Get back to his girlfriend.
Darc just stared back at him, his eyes shadowed from the passing streetlights. His partner looked downright creepy. Trey shuddered.
“Okay, fine. Whatever.” A swing by it was, apparently.
To be honest, now that he was thinking about it, maybe a drive-by was a good idea anyway. Lately, Maggie was kind of a walking time bomb of emotions.
And the likelihood of any kind of extracurricular activities taking place was next to nil. Not because Maggie didn’t want to. Kind of the opposite. Lately she was getting all kinds of handsy with Trey. Wouldn’t leave him alone.
But something about sleeping with her, knowing that she was carrying his child inside her… just freaked him out. Took the sexy right out of things, really.
Yeah. A drive-past was sounding like a better idea by the moment. It was right along their route. Well, mostly.
He took the turn, and Darc perked up. Of course, the savant would notice when they altered their path by even a millimeter.
Before the bald detective could say anything, Trey came in with a preemptive strike. “Just driving past, Darc. Making sure Mags is okay. Maybe stop in for a quick hot cocoa?”
Darc continued to stare at him with that death-mask-shadow thing going on. Seriously, Trey should talk to him about that. The guy probably had no idea how majorly creepy he looked.
“So… no hot cocoa?” Trey waved his hand. “You know what? Forget it. I was thinking that maybe she could make you some fried eggs…” They were Darc’s favorite, and although he normally liked to make them himself, Trey had the sneaking suspicion that…
“Fine,” his partner intoned, his gaze still not changing from the creepy death-mask shadow. “We can stop.”
Bingo.
One of the benefits of being with a partner for this long was that you got to know his quirks. And fried eggs with Maggie was like Darc’s kryptonite.
He pulled out his phone and split his attention between the road and the keyboard as he texted. Darc observed him.
“You should not text and drive.”
Darc was right, of course. It was dangerous. But right now, it was more dangerous not to give Maggie a heads up that her ex was on the way and that fried eggs were on the late-night menu.
Another block filled with the brooding stares of his shaved-headed companion, and Trey was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea. Things had been a little… what? Weird. Yes, things had been a little weird between Darc and him the past few months.
It had to be Trey’s imagination, because Darc never let his emotions get the better of him. But it seemed like they had taken several steps back in their relationship.
After Darc and Mala’s date, where Trey and Maggie had tried to talk him through the thing, Cyrano-style, it had seemed like things were going well. Like, well enough that Darc was beginning to embrace uncertainty a bit more, loosen up with gut-instinct sort of stuff. Their partnership had never been better.
Okay, the date had been disastrous, but that was mostly because Trey and Maggie had gotten blitzed during the middle of the date. In retrospect, that might have been a bad idea. Although it had led to some fun stuff much later on.
Wait a minute. Was that when Maggie had gotten…?
Trey pushed the thought from his mind. Wasn’t important right now, anyway. He took the turn that led to Maggie and his apartment complex.
There, in front of him, was an orange glow. It lit up the inside of the Land Rover, illuminating the dark crevasses of Darc’s eye sockets.
The light was warm, caressing, beautiful. It would have been mesmerizing if it were not for one horrific fact.
It was coming from Maggie’s apartment building.
Trey and Maggie’s place was on fire.
* * *
Feuer.
Cleansing fire.
Flames were beautiful, really. The way that they flowed and surged, blossoming here, then darting over there. Blume. A flower.
So unpredictable.
Just like human beings.
Tiere were common. Their behavior could be mapped out with precision. There was no subtlety in the beasts of this world. Just instinct. Act and react.
Pavlov’s dogs.
Tiere would chew off their own legs to escape a trap. Only a human would remain in the trap, suffering, waiting, preparing for the owner of that trap to come back. To take out the threat at the source.
An animal would just do what it could to run away.
And that’s exactly what would take place here, once this animal’s lair had burned to a crisp. The creature would flee, taking its mate with it.
Fire was man’s creation. Or if not his creation, his tool, certainly. Only man knew how to harness and use flame as a tool.
For warmth. For protection. As a way of enhancing his food.
As a means of destruction.
Fire was beautiful. Deadly.
It was another link in the chain that was being forged. The chain that would bind the animal to its fate.
The outcome was inevitable, really. There were only so many options for a cornered beast.
It would scurry. It would attempt escape. That was to be expected.
But at some point, it would realize it was cornered. That was the moment to look for. That was the end that was desired.
Because only at that point would it be clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was indeed an animal. A cornered animal would lash out at its attacker, even when it was clear there was no way to win.
A cornered human, however, would continue to play the game.
The mask would be revealed.
In the meantime… there were others that could occupy time.
Others who had already proven unworthy of the title of human.
So many others.
But for the moment, it was
time to get back to work. There was an animal den to clean out, and there was sure to be a few casualties along the way.
Hunde.
All was going to the dogs.
* * *
Mala stopped as the girl in front of her apartment turned to look at them. Janey’s hand grabbed onto hers and squeezed tight. Much tighter than Mala had ever felt from her before. She glanced down at Janey and saw that her face had turned white. Or was that just a trick of the fluorescent lighting?
Turning her attention back to the girl, Mala took stock of her. She appeared to be in her late teens, and was dressed in tight ripped jeans and a black leather jacket. On her feet were some black Doc Martens, and she had what looked to be a tattoo on her neck that was peeking out from underneath her Cramps concert tee shirt.
All in all, a little rough around the edges for most of the kids in this neighborhood. Not that there were many of those, to be honest.
Maybe it was time to start looking for a house again. The fact that her last real estate agent had turned out to be a cannibal serial killer could really only keep her out of the housing market for so long, right?
In the meantime, she had a ragamuffin teenager to deal with.
Mala was about to say something, when the girl gave her a tentative smile. And in that moment, Mala was struck. She knew that expression. Saw it every day, almost.
But that was impossible.
She took a step back, instinctively pulling Janey back behind her. As she did so, Mala watched as the slight smile that had been there on the girl’s face soured into something else less pleasant.
“Are you Dr. Mala Charan?” the girl asked, after clearing her throat and rubbing her hands against her legs.
“Ah… yes. Yes, I am,” Mala replied. “May I ask who you are?”
“I’m…” She cleared her throat again. “I’m Carly.”
“Carly…?” Mala asked, looking for a last name. But the girl just looked at her, then glanced down at Janey, who had moved out from behind Mala’s leg to get a better look.
Carly bent down on one knee, staring at Janey like she’d just seen an angel, or even the face of God. She wiped a dirty hand against her mouth, leaving a smudge as she moved the hand back down to her leg. Then she reached her hand out, almost as if she were trying to touch Janey.
Mala stepped in front of Janey once again, her protective instincts kicking in once more. This situation was getting stranger by the moment.
“How can I help you?” Mala asked.
But Carly’s eyes had never left Janey’s.
“You…” Carly said, not lowering her hand. “Are you Caitlyn Walker?”
Mala took in a sharp breath of surprise. “How do you know that? How did you get in here?” The fact that a teenage girl knew Mala’s name wasn’t shocking, considering the fact that she was a child psychologist. But to know Janey’s birth name…?
Carly finally looked up from Janey, meeting Mala’s gaze. There were tears in the young woman’s eyes, and it took a moment before she could respond.
“I’m…” she began, then cleared her throat one final time. She took a deep breath and rubbed her hands against her pant legs again.
“I’m her sister.”
CHAPTER 4
The orange glow from the blaze had died down, the fire mostly contained. The smell of char permeated the air surrounding Darc, the line of logic using the distinct odors to trace their origins back to the original components. Wood. Fabric. Oil.
Containing Trey had been surprisingly difficult. Darc knew his partner well, but the amount of physical exertion Trey had employed, attempting to get past the blockade and into the burning building had been beyond anything Darc had ever observed.
He was now sitting atop his partner, who was cursing into the pavement. Every once in a while, Trey would squirm, attempting to escape, and Darc would be forced to rabbit punch him into submission. The lines of color swirled around his fist and Trey’s neck, indicating the precise amount of pressure that would keep Trey’s cervical vertebrae intact and the spinal cord safe.
With each blow delivered, Darc felt an accompanying surge of grey inside him. There was a strange burst of pleasure that he had to yank back into submission each and every time.
It was disturbing.
“C’mon, man!” Trey cried out. “Let me up. Maggie’s in there.”
“We do not know that,” Darc repeated, for the fifth time.
“She’s not out here. It’s way too late for her to be out with Mala and Janey still. She’s in there.” Trey’s tone tugged at the grey inside Darc. He ignored it.
One of the firefighters moved in closer to the two men. “Which apartment’s yours?” he asked.
“2B.”
The fireman nodded, his face grim. “It’s too early to tell for sure, but that’s where it seems like the fire originated.”
The swirls of color snapped to attention. “What did you discover?”
“Looks like the remains of a Molotov cocktail.”
“The fire was set?” Trey cried out from the ground. There was another burst of activity from underneath Darc, and he lashed out once more with his fist.
The firefighter glanced down at Trey with a contorted look on his face. Darc could not precisely track the emotional context of the expression, but it seemed that it could be one of sorrow. Or confusion. Those two often seemed interchangeable to Darc.
“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t be talking to you two at all, but I know you’re detectives.” He nodded up at the second floor. “They found something pretty weird up there. Bunch of symbols.”
There was a choked sound from the vicinity of Trey’s mouth, and the fight seemed to go out of him all of the sudden. Darc was unsure of whether this was a true submission or a precursor to a more concerted escape effort from his companion, so he readied his fist in anticipation.
From behind him, a familiar voice echoed through the chill night. “Darc? What’s going on?”
It was Maggie.
Stepping off of Trey, Darc moved to the side to allow his partner to stand. Trey rolled over and jumped up, wrapping Maggie in a desperate embrace. There were tears standing out in his eyes.
“I thought you were in there,” he whispered into Maggie’s ear.
The sound was crystal clear to Darc, and the waves seemed to travel straight through his cochlear nerve, into his cerebral cortex, and then into the roiling mass of grey. The surging landscape gave a strong shudder in response.
“In where?” she asked. “What are you two doing here?”
Trey pulled out of the embrace, holding Maggie at arm’s distance as he peered into her face. He shook her shoulders, his tone intense.
“Where were you? I thought you were dead.” His voice cracked on the word dead.
Maggie pulled away from his grasp. “I went to the corner market for some eggs. We were out.”
Trey glanced down at the multiple bags in Maggie’s hands and made a sound that was somewhere in between a laugh and a sob. Gesturing to the groceries, Trey gave her a lopsided smile.
“Just eggs?”
“Well…” she said. “I might have gotten a few more things.”
Trey peered into one of the bags. “You got like 4 bottles of mayo. You eat so much of that stuff.”
Maggie frowned, but there seemed to be something strange about the shape created on her face. Even as Darc interpreted anger from what seemed to be a straightforward expression, Maggie burst out laughing.
“I do, don’t I?” she exclaimed, in between bouts of laughter.
Trey was laughing too. The lines of logic tangled inside of Darc, tripping over each other in their quest to ascertain what was taking place right now. But a push from the grey whispered something regarding a release of tension.
That made no logical sense whatsoever.
“How bad is it?” Maggie asked, looking around at the fire engines and the man swarming about the complex.
“Bad,” Trey answere
d, putting his hands around Maggie’s waist, after brushing one of his palms over her belly in what appeared to be a possessive manner.
The grey boiled over, spilling into the network of logical colors, disrupting the patterns found there. Darc pushed and strained to recapture the grey flood, containing and shoving the raw emotions down.
“Where are we going to go?” she whispered.
Trey looked up at Darc, and whatever he seemed to see there in his face caused Trey’s expression to change. “We’ll figure it out. Move into a hotel or something? At least for tonight. We’ll work it out.”
Maggie also glanced over at Darc for some strange reason. Why were they looking at him? But again, after taking an instant to assess what she could see in his face, Maggie turned back to Trey.
“Yeah. I guess so. Is there anything left?”
Trey gestured up to the building with his chin. “Doesn’t look like it from here. I’m just glad you’re safe. Most of the stuff we can replace.”
Maggie wrapped her arms back around Trey, and the grey surf rose up inside of Darc once more. In addition to the formless emotional waves that assaulted him, there was a trickle of something else that made no sense. Something about how he should offer them the ability to sleep at his place.
But that was the farthest thought away from logical that he could envision. Maggie had chosen to leave that place. Why would she want to return? Especially now that she was with Trey and they were having a child together.
The fire damage could take months to repair. And if Maggie were to have the child while staying with Darc? That would be awkward. Children made noise and messes. Neither of which were conducive to good detective work.
In fact, Darc needed to talk this whole infant thing through with his partner. Trey was not the best of detectives right now. What would happen once this baby was born?
Darc was about to open his mouth to begin the conversation when one of the firemen walked up to them.
“You two are the detectives, right?”
Trey nodded. “That’s right. Whatcha got?”
“It’s probably nothing,” he answered. “But it was strange enough that we thought we should let you both know. We found it right outside the door to your apartment.” The fireman held out his hand, in which was a plastic evidence baggie in which was something that looked to be a metal rectangle, its surface burned nearly black.
The 2nd Cycle of the Darc Murders Omnibus (the acclaimed series from #1 Police Procedural and Hard Boiled authors Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin) Page 10