by A A Mize
Roberts hesitated for a moment when the lieutenant ordered her to hold off on calling homicide. While murder investigations were conducted by the Homicide Division, the case at hand could be Walker’s chance at revenge. One Turned had wronged him many years before; broke his heart and shattered his pride. It was an instance he had kept a closely guarded secret and if he could help it, he’d take what happened to the grave along with any Turned he could drag down with him.
“Yes sir,” she replied slowly. “I’ll get right on that.”
Once she was gone, Walker put the cigar back in his lips, hands on his hips, and glanced down at the paperwork on his desk. It could hardly be considered a decent distraction, but it would give him something to do to pass the time. He had to keep his cool, to the best of his abilities, until they had enough to track down a specific Turned. It would take more time than he had and patience that he wasn’t sure he possessed. He couldn’t keep Homicide at bay forever. They would eventually find the girl’s name and the wheels would be in motion. There were only a few days to spare, at the most, before they’d catch on.
Out the window the city continued as if nothing had changed, the shadows moving opposite the sun. As they always had, as they always would. Light versus dark, a world in balance, and yet Walker was convinced he was the sun and all darkness must be blotted out one way or another.
7
“Let’s go, I don’t have all damn day,” Walker barked at his young officers. He tapped his foot, eager to see the victim with his own eyes. Normally that might have been a morbid desire, as most men avoid the sight of death, but Walker felt he needed it. He needed a face. Not just a photograph of what once was to hold onto during this investigation. A spark in him to find the Turned responsible had already flickered within him but he needed more. He needed to be set ablaze.
After many years on the police force in New Orleans, it had become difficult for the man to be shaken. In many ways, he had seen it all. Occasionally a case would cross his desk that made him question humanity and what purity it might still hold, or if all of humanity had been consumed by some darkness, but most of the time what he saw was unable to shock him.
In truth, Rachel Summer’s case wasn’t that shocking at its core. She was a beautiful young girl who’d had her life snatched away from her all too soon, but there was nothing deeply evil about her death. Her body was intact and unmolested. There were no symbols carved into trees or threatening messages. No sign of it being a serial killer or even an individual with hatred toward her. The only thing that gave Walker such a bulldog mentality about it was the killer. A Turned had performed the deed, taking a life so easily as they had done to him before in a different sort of way with his beloved Janice.
Walker understood this in a sense that the others did not and his hatred for the Turned was deeply rooted not in a single moment, but an entire phase of his life he had to overcome. Most of the officers that knew of the Turned didn’t mind their existence and many of those under him had asked him point blank why he hated them so much, but his reaction was always volatile, and they never asked again.
Roberts and Kincaid kept pace with the lieutenant, ignoring his terrible attitude. Over time they learned to get used to the way he grumbled, growled, and yelled at them. They let it roll off their backs most of the time, but she was aware of quite a few people in their department who couldn’t stand Walker. She’d even caught a couple of guys with his face taped to punching bag at the gym. They’d scattered when they saw her, quickly crumpling the picture and tossing it to the trash where she later retrieved it and put it back where it was to relieve some stress. Not a smart move but it only happened once, and she hadn’t even told Kincaid about it.
Roberts had a harder time putting up with Walker than her partner. She was level-headed most of the time, but it seemed that Walker pushed every button she had and some she didn’t even know existed. Strong of character, Roberts had a hard time resisting questioning authority on anything that might taint her morality. She’d gotten better about holding her tongue but there were times she wanted to tell Walker how wrong he was in his decision making.
Like not contacting Homicide when he knew the name of the Jane Doe they’d been trying to identify. Deep down she knew it was wrong, but she’d refrained from calling him out on it. She couldn’t change it. He’d have her suspended to get her out of the way and he’d continue doing whatever he wanted. At least if she was there she could keep an eye on her partner and make sure he didn’t get himself in too deep in case an investigation ensued from it all.
Kincaid on the other hand, was a shy kind of guy who would rather go with the flow and accept orders than deal with the repercussions of refusal. He was a good officer; better suited to dealing with victims with his soft-spoken ways, but Roberts wouldn’t have another partner. They had been friends since they were kids and she trusted him more than anyone else on the force.
The pair walked in stride, following Walker down the long white hallway of the coroner’s office. Kincaid squinted in the bright lights and crinkled his nose at the smell of harsh chemicals. He’d expressed to her before how much he hated the morgue and he generally tried to avoid the building like the plague. He’d always said it was too much like a hospital and he’d been uncomfortable in those since his father had passed away of cancer when he was a teen.
Roberts gave Kincaid a gentle nudge when she noticed his face had gone a little pale. She wished there was a way for him to skip seeing the body, but that wasn’t possible with Walker around. The great bull of a man would no doubt make Kincaid’s life hell if he thought he was too weak to see a corpse.
Kincaid merely gave her a nod and a tight-lipped grin. They followed Walker into the examination room, Roberts halting a few feet inside to doors. Kincaid glanced at her and exhaled shakily, clasping his hands behind his back as he took her lead and stood beside her. She hoped that it would ease him and that if Walker had anything to say about them keeping their distance, she could say that they didn’t want to get in his way.
Unless prompted to do so, Roberts knew that Kincaid wouldn’t take another step forward. Even as she thought this and glanced over at her partner, she noticed that his eyes were focused on the face of the corner, rather than the body on the table.
“Lieutenant,” the coroner greeted with a nod.
Cora Jones was her name, and she was a kind, meek woman. The lady had short, mousy brown hair and a face that was far too long and narrow. Her thin mouth sat high over her pointed chin and deep brown eyes framed by heavy lids gave her the appearance of exhaustion even first thing in the morning.
“What can you tell me, Jones?” Walker asked, nearing the still covered cadaver laid out on the table in the middle of the room.
Cora eyed him suspiciously. “Where are the homicide detectives?”
“They’ll be along later,” Walker lied. “I just thought that if we saw the body and got caught up to speed on the murder they won’t have so much to explain to us later.”
The coroner paused momentarily, and Roberts hoped she would deny Walker. She didn’t, and Roberts cursed internally. Gently, Cora pulled the sheet back to reveal the face and collarbones of a once-lovely young lady with all of the color drained from her skin. “There’s not much to say really,” she admitted, adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her bony nose. “She died of exsanguination. Nearly every drop of blood was gone from her body. The only wound on her is here. A deep bite between the neck and shoulder.” She pointed out the wound, her gloved hand looming over it.
“Damn Turned,” Walker growled, leaning over to examine the bite. “Those filthy bastards are parasites, no matter what Superintendent Connors says. They’re just a bunch of monsters.”
The others in the room shifted uncomfortably, sharing quiet glances between one another. Only a trusted few officers and coroners in each district knew about the Turned, but fewer still had a distaste for the creatures like Walker did. The man had an intense hatr
ed for the Turned, but Roberts wasn’t sure exactly why. No one was, except for maybe the station’s therapist.
Once an officer was made aware of the Turned, they were required to see a therapist at least once a week until they came to terms with the knowledge that a creature they had always known as a ghost story, was real. Roberts hadn’t spoken to the therapist since she had been informed of the Turned, but she had handled the knowledge well so far. Not that the Turned didn’t make her nervous, or even unnerve her a little but she wasn’t the type to go out much at night when they roamed around hunting so in her mind she was less likely to be fed from. It was an unconfirmed truth she hid behind.
Kincaid on the other hand...well, the Turned scared Kincaid. When they were kids, he’d been afraid of just about every storybook monster that ever existed, so when Walker was finally cleared to tell Kincaid about the Turned, his childhood fears reared their ugly heads.
Roberts never gave her partner a hard time about it. She never gave him a hard time about anything that made him anxious. That would only cause more anxiety and distrust in her, and that was the last thing their partnership needed. Besides, it was very possible that she just didn’t fully grasp the dangers that the Turned posed for them or their society. Perhaps that was what scared some of the others so much; not what an individual Turned could do to them, but what the mass of society would do if they found out their governments hid the creatures from them.
“Homicide requested extra care with the measurements of the bite wound, but that was already obvious. It’s standard procedure in cases involving the Turned,” Cora said.
“What about the rest of her body? Did she have any defensive wounds?” Walker asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“No, no defensive wounds. No cuts or bruising anywhere else on her body. At least, none that would contribute to her death. But there is this,” she said, drawing a blacklight over Rachel’s hand.
Roberts leaned to the side to see around Walker, curious as to what they were looking at. On Rachel’s pale skin was a faintly glowing circle with a fleur-de-lis and cross in the middle. She’d seen the symbol in the Quarter before and someone had told her it was a tag that let Turned know when they’d crossed into another Leader’s territory. But why would Rachel have that on her?
“A bar stamp,” Cora said. “I feel like I’ve seen this one before.”
“It’s for a place called the Iron Lotus. It’s run by a Turned named Artashir, aka Xavier Knox,” Walker said. “Humans go there all the time but it’s a known hang out for Turned.”
“I guess you have a good place to start then.”
“What about tox reports?
“She had some sort of unknown substance in her bloodstream. I’ve never seen anything like it, so I sent it to another lab. I should have the results back in the next few days, but it really just depends on how busy they are,” Cora said.
“So, she was high?” Walker pressed.
“It seems so. Her body hadn’t metabolized it by the time I ran the tests, but since I have no idea what it is, I can’t give an accurate time frame for consumption.”
“She ate it?”
“Or drank it more likely. There wasn’t much in her stomach,” Cora said, her thin lips drawing in a straight line across her face. “I didn’t find any puncture wounds anywhere, so my best guess is she ingested it at some point before her death.”
“When you get that report back from the other lab, call me immediately.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, Jones,” Walker grumbled before turning on his heel to leave. He motioned for his officers to follow him, and they did so willingly, especially Kincaid who couldn’t’ help but exhale loudly with relief.
Roberts watched for a reaction from Walker, but he had none. He only charged ahead of them, fists clenched tight in anger. He would pursue this case as every other one involving the Turned: with determination and rage. Roberts and Kincaid would have little choice but to follow his orders, even if it led them straight to the mouth of hell.
8
Sophie
I have no idea how to start this thing. I haven’t kept a journal since I was a kid but since Mom gave it to me for Christmas, the least I can do is try to use it. Who cares if it’s boring? I’m the only one reading it, right? Anyway, let’s see what I can do here.
I’m up way too early. The sun’s rising and all night I’ve been tossing and turning with these crazy dreams. Too bad I can’t really remember them once I wake up. All I can remember is that they involve Rachel. They started the night of New Year’s Day. Anna thinks I drank too much, which is hilarious since I’ve only been drunk a few times in college and that was years ago. Honestly, I never really understood the allure of it. I’m sure my friends got a good laugh back then from the weird text messages. I learned a long time ago to never trust auto-correct. I’m sure it was created by the Devil himself.
Speaking of Rachel, I haven’t heard from her since right after midnight on the first. It’s unusual that she has gone so long without calling, but I guess she’s just caught up in her vacation. I can’t say I blame her. She and Dustin went to New Orleans, and rumor has it he planned on proposing to her there. It’s about time. They’ve been together for almost seven years. I keep feeling this nagging urge to call her, but I also don’t want to interrupt her romantic weekend. Besides, she should be back tomorrow, so I think she’ll call before she leaves.
As far as my New Year’s celebration goes, it was the same it has been for the past few years: spent sitting on the porch with a few sparklers, watching the fireworks from across the lake with Bluto. Poor guy, he’s getting so old now. All he does is sleep and I’m afraid his days are numbered. Looking at him now I can remember why I named him Bluto. He’s an ugly little guy for an English bulldog, and he’s been ugly since birth. He was far more wrinkled than the other pups, with a big head and one hell of an underbite. But I was ten when Mom got him, and I loved that movie Labyrinth, so she let me name him Bluto. He’s seventeen years old now so I’m afraid that someday I’m going to go to work then come home and he’ll be gone. Not that there’s much I can do about it. Mom lets me keep him with me sometimes, but he’s her dog at the end of the day. Whatever happens to him, she’ll have to handle it.
On a different note, the old family cabin has been the best thing that’s happened to me in a while. It’s so peaceful here and I’m only about a half an hour from Jackson incase mom needs me. Being here had been so much better for me than my apartment. Well, Owen’s apartment. Yeah, we broke up this past Christmas. OK…he broke up with me, but whatever. We’re not together anymore and that’s the bottom line. That place was starting to feel like a cage anyway. My depression was just getting worse and worse. Going to work and coming home every day in the same boring routine. Sure, it’s sort of boring at the cabin, but I am free here. I can walk around in the woods or drive out to town whenever I want, and I don’t have to let anyone know what I’m doing.
I know I’m not perfect, and maybe I could have tried harder to be content for Owen, but I just didn’t feel the way about him that I probably should have. I could easily say that I loved him, but there are different kinds of love and deep down I knew that what I felt for him wasn’t much different than the love I felt for my few close friends. Sure, breaking up was hard because we had been together for so long, but at the same time it was a bit of a relief. Looking back, I’m not sure why I stuck around so long if I knew the feelings weren’t right.
Even with the freedom to come and go as I please, I can’t help but feel the clock is working against me. I hate my job but I’m afraid to leave it, I don’t have any idea what I want to do about college, and now I don’t even have a relationship. I guess I could go back to school and work toward a business degree but man I don’t want to.
The only thing that is certain right now is that I can’t stay in the cabin forever. Family members will soon be coming from all over Mississippi to schedule anniversarie
s, weddings, reunions, and other such holidays and occasions here. The cabin itself isn’t big enough for most of that stuff, but the campgrounds nearby are perfect, and the scenery is unbeatable. I know I have to be out within the next month, month and a half at most, but places to rent are so hard to find around here and the thought of going home to Mom at twenty-seven years old is enough to make me sick. I love my mother, but it’s a huge setback for me.
I could give in to Anna and go live with her. Since she’s my sister, I don’t really have to worry about the “shame” of living with family, but she has red hair and a fiery temper to match, so getting kicked out often is a definite possibility. Not that it would last long, but one night living in a car is bad enough without the added drama and anxiety of “Is she going to kick me out again tonight?” I need somewhere I can be free and stable.
I have been thinking seriously about moving away from here. I want something more for my life and I feel it pulling me. There’s something better out there for me, I just have to find it. Call it a gypsy soul, or a restless spirit, or what have you, I just feel like I have to get out.
I’m going to try not to stress about it for now. Anna wants to come over after work tonight and set up a dating profile for me online. She keeps insisting that the longer I’m out of “the game,” the harder it’s going to be for me to find someone. I don’t really see why it’s that important. I lived alone for a long time without Owen, I don’t really need anyone. If she wasn’t my sister, I would tell her to mind her own business, but she’s done a lot for me, so I guess I’ll indulge her. I think online dating is a little sketchy, but if it’ll make her happy, I’ll try. Honestly, if it fails, I’m more than OK with that. I’m just not looking forward to wading through tons of guys before Anna is finally satisfied with giving up and letting me handle things on my own. Besides, I think I need to work on myself before getting into anything serious.