Hitting his lights and siren, Trey made his way across town. He pulled up into the circular driveway that led to the emergency room of the Seattle Children’s Hospital as a taxicab pulled away from the curb, a dark form racing toward the door. From the gait and the shaved head, he knew it was his partner. Darc must’ve caught a cab. Unbelievable. The idea of the detective hailing a cab, then talking to a complete stranger while dressed in bloody clothes…well, if the situation wasn’t so serious, it would have made him giggle like a little girl.
It also made him feel something very close to parental pride. Not that he would ever share that with Darc. Dude, the guy had caught a cab. Would wonders never cease?
But for now, Trey had to get in there to run interference. The Rover jerked to a halt, and Trey was out the door almost before it had stopped moving. He raced down the hallway, spewing phrases like “It’s okay, he’s a cop” and “Don’t worry, blood’s from a crime scene” to the concerned ER nurses gaping in Darc’s bloody wake. Well, at least losing his partner wouldn’t be a problem. Trey could just follow the shocked reactions.
Seeing the lack of relief on the nurses’ faces, Trey realized they might not be all that reassured by a thirtysomething guy in a novelty tee running down the hallway, screaming that everything would be okay. He might just find that he got locked up before Darc did. And would that just be the most spectacular ending to a perfect day?
Stepping up the pace to a near sprint, Trey found himself staring at the back of his partner’s shaved head. There was a little mole on the upper-left-hand side that Darc would occasionally nick while shaving. Trey realized that he would probably have an easier time identifying his partner’s back than his face in a lineup. That was Darc, though, right? Always a step ahead…and not just of him, but of pretty much everybody on the planet Earth.
At least when it came to detective stuff. Force the guy to have a conversation, and it was a whole other story. Then it was sit back and watch the tall, dark detective do his best impersonation of a flounder that had just been pulled out of the ocean.
Which was why the taxicab thing was such a big deal.
Darc stepped into the elevator and pushed the button to go up to the PICU. Trey had to really pour on the speed those last few yards in order to hop in before the doors shut.
“You know, you could’ve held the door for me,” Trey muttered at his companion, not expecting a response.
Good thing, too, because there wasn’t one. Darc was in full-on trance mode. His eyes darted about, seeing who knew what all over the walls of the elevators. When he got like this, there wasn’t much talking to him. You just followed him around and tried to keep him from running into walls. Or, you know, punching through them when they might have booby traps on the other side.
Wow. Trey wasn’t even a good babysitter. He let out a huge sigh, wanting nothing more than to sink to the floor of the elevator and take a long nap. Being a detective was hard enough. Trying to keep up with Darc at the same time was exhausting.
Trey glanced over at Darc, who was inexplicably pushing the buttons to the floors beneath them in some kind of random pattern. Squinting his eyes and looking at the lights of the buttons sort of sideways, Trey thought he could see something that looked like one of the symbols traced on the apartment walls in blood. Awesome.
Whatever Darc was doing over there, the people waiting for the elevator downstairs were gonna be pissed. At least this wasn’t something Trey had to take care of. Was it? Trey pictured himself running from floor to floor, apologizing to cranky people looking at their watches. Definitely not in his job description. He hoped. Probably best not to ask.
The elevator dinged their floor and the doors opened up. Darc was out and practically running over the people waiting to get on before Trey could issue an apology. Trey groaned and pushed himself away from the wall of the elevator and starting jogging again. For some reason, Three 6 Mafia’s “It’s Hard out Here for a Pimp” was running through his head. Go figure.
A few turns later, and after Trey had nearly lost Darc twice, they were there at the pediatric intensive care unit. The girl they—well, Darc—had rescued was here and hooked up to all kinds of machines. A doctor stood by her bed, with a guy next to him with a white collar around his neck. Great. A priest. Trey mentally tried to calculate the last time he had darkened the door of his church. He came up with a big fat blank.
The priest was dressed in the typical black shirt but had on a grey sport jacket, jeans, and running shoes. Not quite like the Jesuit priest back in Trey’s altar boy days. Ah, good times.
This whole scenario was sounding like the start to a really bad joke. A cop, a doctor, and a priest walk into an intensive care unit…Trey shook his head, wondering if there was something seriously wrong with him. Ah, well. At least he hadn’t said anything out loud this time.
Darc moved into the girl’s room and, without saying a word, positioned himself in the corner. He stood like some sort of predatory bird, watching with intent eyes every tiny movement made by their little Jane Doe, or anyone else in her vicinity, for that matter.
If he didn’t know better, Trey would have said Darc was being protective. And he guessed in a way, that was true. Darc was protecting the information he knew the little girl had in her head. Trey made a mental note to himself to make sure he was around when their tiny patient woke up. Darc could be a little…intense when he was homed in on a case.
Trey looked around, searching for someplace to take up residence, since he was pretty sure they were going to be here for a while. As he gazed about, his eyes landed on pretty much the last person he expected to see here. His captain.
Captain Thomas Merle was an armchair kind of supervisor. He liked to do his captaining from the backseat. Trey had only seen him out from behind his desk a couple of times, and that was when he was in the bullpen. Trey had never seen him outside the precinct office.
And that suited Trey just fine. Not that he didn’t like the captain. Okay. He didn’t like him. But still. The real thing here was that Trey didn’t want to feel like someone was watching over his shoulder. And now someone was watching over his shoulder. Almost literally.
Plus, the captain never laughed at his jokes. Not once. Oh, he smiled from time to time, but it wasn’t a real one. The most Trey had ever gotten out of him was a “that’s funny.” Saying that something’s funny when you’re not laughing is like saying something’s delicious without taking a bite. It’s just straight-up rude.
And what in the name of all that’s holy had gotten the captain out from behind his desk?
Well, whatever it was, it was time to do what Trey did best. Talk.
“Captain Merle. Sir. Your Highness.” Trey sketched a little bow and quirked his eyebrow at his commanding officer. Just because he hadn’t made the captain laugh yet didn’t mean he was going to stop trying.
Nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. The captain slowly let his gaze slip down Trey’s face and land on his T-shirt. Okay, maybe the outfit change hadn’t been such a brilliant idea.
Not that this would probably change the captain’s opinion of him. Trey had squeaked his way into the position of detective, and everyone knew it. Including his boss. Especially his boss.
He pretty much had gotten the position for one reason and one reason only. To watch over Darc. While Darc might be the best thing to happen to detective work since fingerprinting powder, he was a bit high-maintenance. And most of the other detectives weren’t all that interested in babysitting.
Whatever. At least Trey was in the game. He was part of the Show. The big time.
Even if he didn’t really deserve to be here.
The silence stretched out for what felt like an eternity, before Trey finally opened his mouth once more. Better to stick his foot in it again than to listen to the crickets chirp around them.
“So…what’s brought you out here, sir?”
Captain Merle’s gaze drifted from Trey’s shirt to the PICU behind them. “T
his case has caught the attention of the public. I’m getting some pressure to see that it gets taken care of. Soon.” The captain’s voice was a basso profundo rumble that Trey would’ve sworn was Darth Vader, minus the heavy breathing.
“Uh, yeah. We’re all over it. Well, Darc is.” Trey gestured over his shoulder at his partner, who hadn’t even breathed, as far as Trey could tell. He just…hovered. Oh well. At least the doctor hadn’t complained. Yet.
“Yes. Well, it’s good to see that you managed to make it out of the barrio alive.”
“You know, that wasn’t a given. Those Latinos almost ate me alive. There was one that I swear I’ve seen on Telecinco doing lucha libre. I even though for a sec that he was wearing a mask. Then I realized he was just the ugliest em-effer I’ve ever seen.”
Still nothing. Man, this guy could give a block of granite lessons.
The captain’s next statement made it clear that at least he was paying attention. “‘Em-effer’? Where is your usual colorful litany of rude descriptors?”
For a moment Trey didn’t know what in the hell the captain was talking about. Did he take a Darc communications class? Then it dawned on him. Cursing. The captain was talking about cursing.
“Oh. That,” Trey said, shuffling his feet. “Yeah, I gave up swearing for Lent.”
“Lent? I didn’t know you were Catholic.”
“Hey, hey. Keep it down.” Keane gave a nervous glance to the cleric inside the room. “I don’t have much time to make it to Mass, but that doesn’t mean I can’t rise above the rest of you heathens.”
“Okay, but swearing? You?”
“Yeah, it’s not easy. I’ve started using German insults. And British ones. I figure they don’t count. Plus, they’re kinda cool. I was—” A beeping rose up from one of the monitors strapped to the little girl inside the room, cutting Trey off. The doctor moved over to adjust the equipment.
Yeah, nothing like a reality check like that to cut off the not-so-witty repartee between you and your boss. Captain Merle gave a quick look in at Darc, who hadn’t even flinched when the noise started.
“How did he know which apartment?”
“How do I ever know?” Trey would’ve thought by now that he wouldn’t have to field these questions, but they came every single time. Like clockwork.
“Did he know which wall, or did he just guess which one?” The captain seemed unusually intent, staring deep into Trey’s eyes like he could see into the detective’s soul. Trey found it quite uncomfortable. He rubbed a hand over his face.
“You know, he’s really not much of a ‘sharer.’”
“The other walls were wired with enough C-4 to take out an entire city block.”
No kidding. Knowing for sure what he had already suspected probably should’ve given Trey more pause, but after so many years of working with Darc, it was just par for the course.
“Yeah. That would be the savant part.”
The two fell silent as they watched the doctor and the priest converse over the girl’s bed, then turn to exit the room. The captain caught the doctor’s eye.
“How is she doing?”
The doctor grimaced. “Physically? Mild shock. We’ll have to watch for aspiration pneumonia.”
Okay, somebody had to ask it. Trey stepped up to the plate.
“And how is she doing emotionally?”
The priest responded, his tone bleak. “After the horror that poor child experienced?”
“Right. Yeah. Well, Father, thanks for being here for her,” Trey murmured.
“Of course. But you don’t have to call me Father. I’m Anglican.”
“Oh. Great!” Whoa. Come on, Keane, get with the program. Trey tried to dial back his relief a couple of notches. “I mean…that’s good. I guess. I’m Catholic…I just…”
The pastor cracked a smile. Trey got the feeling it didn’t happen much.
“Haven’t been to Mass in a while, eh?”
“Uh. No, Father…I mean, Reverend. I mean…What do you guys like to be called?”
The holy man’s smile grew even wider. “Most people call me by my name. I’m John.”
The sound of a cell phone vibrating came from the direction of the priest. He held his phone up to view the incoming text. The light from the phone’s panel lit up the white of the pastor’s clerical collar at his throat.
“I’m sorry. I’m needed at the chapel.”
The priest walked briskly down the hallway toward the nearest elevator. Man. Trey had gotten used to a lot of the stuff he saw out in the field. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for a man of the cloth.
The doctor’s eyes left the retreating form of the cleric and returned to Captain Merle’s. “We’ve called in a child psychologist specializing in severe PTSD, but…” The doctor’s words trailed off as he looked in once more at the child in the bed.
“So, she’s not talking?” the captain asked.
The doctor shook his head, his eyes sad. Trey stirred at that, looking in at his partner.
“Yeah, those two should get along just fine. The mute leading the mute.”
The captain’s uncomfortable gaze zeroed in on Darc, who was swaying back and forth just a bit. Not a great sign.
“When’s the last time he slept?” Merle asked.
“Night before we found the parents’ bodies in the cab.”
The captain grunted in acknowledgment. “There’s not much either of you can do tonight. You’d better get him home.”
After another piercing stare, Captain Merle turned on his heel and followed where the pastor had led. Dude. Someday Trey was going to hold that man down and tickle him, so help him god.
Trey went to drag his partner out of the room. From the look in Darc’s eye, it wouldn’t be without a fight.
“All right, my man. Your chariot awaits.” Trey put as much enthusiasm in his tone as he could muster up.
Just another night of babysitting. Hey. Trey would take it.
CHAPTER 3
The hallway of his apartment building was familiar yet foreign to Darc. Still, he moved ahead of his partner, doing what he could to outdistance him. The symbols continued to beckon to him, not quite falling into place, moving in an intricate dance across the surface of his vision. He needed time and silence away from his never-quiet companion to work with the letters, coaxing them to do his bidding. But from the look in Trey’s eye, which had only intensified on the way to Darc’s apartment, it was plain the smaller detective was determined to make sure that Darc got some rest.
Sleep was not a part of the program for this evening. Sleep was not even a realistic possibility. Darc knew himself well enough to know that until the ciphers could be settled into a pattern that made sense, the black oblivion of the little death would be denied him.
Besides, true death lurked if he slept, not for him, but for the killer’s next victims. He was the only one who could keep this darkness at bay, and even he was slipping. This was not arrogance. Arrogance meant nothing to him. Pride was an emotion, a landscape of grey, and he did not do emotions well. If only he had a way to convey that to those who would harm him by trying to help him.
Darc pushed open the door to his apartment. It was unlocked, and had been since his Maggie had left. There was nothing here of any worth any longer. Why bolt out the world when the world was welcome to anything that was left? Including Darc himself.
He swung the door to close it, only to have Trey stop its progress and force his own way in. Darc spoke without turning. “I don’t believe I invited you in.”
Trey ignored the statement, peering around the apartment. His partner glanced at a framed picture of Darc and Maggie’s wedding, the only one left on the walls…or anywhere else, for that matter. Trey’s eyes dropped for a moment while a sigh escaped his lips. He looked over at the empty bookcase on the wall and moved over to examine it more closely.
“Wow. She took everything”—he tried to shake the bookcase, only to find that it was attached to the wall
—”that wasn’t nailed down.” He grinned over at Darc, apparently trying to lighten the mood, but the smile died on his lips.
“Even after all this, Maggie still cares. I can call her. She’d come over.”
Darc felt something surge inside of him. A wall of familiar grey. The only grey he had ever willingly sought out. The grey that had walked out of his life, leaving him to his bright colors that somehow weren’t as bright any longer. He pushed it back down with a certain grim satisfaction. Darc continued his statement to his partner as if there had been no intermediate speech in between.
“Nor did I ask you to stay.”
Trey’s head jerked as if he had been slapped. His face was suffused with color.
“You know what?”
Darc watched as his partner stopped whatever it was he had been about to say. Trey took several breaths, mouthed something that could have been numbers counting upward, and then met Darc’s eyes. The neutral-colored inner workings of emotional behavior were always a bit of a puzzler to Darc, but if he had to hazard a guess, what he saw in Trey’s eyes was sadness. After a long moment, his partner spoke once more.
“I know you’ve got your issues—and they’re huge—but sometimes you can be a downright jerk.”
That was unexpected. When Trey exhibited anger and then stopped to breathe, what came out afterward was some sort of what his partner always called a “heart-to-heart,” where he would try to “connect” with Darc. And then Trey would say something “inspirational.” This did not feel like that. Interesting. Perhaps more clarification was required.
“And that was your pep talk?”
That may not have been the correct thing to say at this moment, as Trey’s face again went red.
9th Circle Page 3