The Dark Places by R. Whitfield (novel24 TXT) 📕

night — another thing he hated about these women. So needy, so inconvenient. At first light, she had rolled over and gently started stroking his back; it was enough to make him sick, and he felt the bile creeping up his throat. Jumping up out of bed, he invented a hectic work schedule for the day, and with a painfully long kiss goodbye, he pushed her out the door and into a waiting cab. She had been waving like an idiot, face flushed and hair tousled, and with the promise of a phone call, she disappeared down the street. He sighed. Alone at last, gazing back at his perfect reflection in the mirror, he realised he already felt the need to get another. If he was going to have to put up with Lucy, he would definitely need something to take the edge off… or someone. Smiling broadly, he ran his fingers through his hair. I need a shower, he thought. With that, he stripped naked and stepped under the steaming faucet, closing his eyes to the mundane image of Lucy, and instead, conjuring a picture of the only face that had ever meant anything to him. Not long now, he smiled.

***

“Well, we now know nothing more than we did forty minutes ago!” Surin scowled as she lay her head on her desk. Parker was sitting beside her, spinning slowly in his office chair like a ten-year-old at the fair.

The cab driver they had just interviewed had absolutely no new details that could help map out Isabelle’s final moments. He drove past in the early hours of the morning, got out to relieve himself after a long, busy night shift and saw her lying there. He didn’t even approach the body to check if she was alive or not; he simply rang 911 and waited in his car, sipping coffee.

“Yep, a total bust,” Parker agreed, coming to a stop facing her. “But I think we both know we aren’t going to get anything easily with this guy. There’s minimal forensics and let’s face it, we found her because he wanted us to.” Surin looked up at him as he continued. “Surin, you’re the only person over how many years who has even connected all the victims to the one killer, I wasn’t even sure myself until Isabelle.” Parker leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “This one is smart, Surin. Smart, cunning, organised, he has been doing this for a long time, and he likes what he does.”

Surin let a long sigh escape her lips. “I know, I know.” She sat back in her chair and ran her hands through her hair, she stopped on her neck and started rubbing the knots that had built up there.

“Let’s call it a day,” Parker stated. “My shout at Blarney’s,” he added and stood, grabbing his grey jacket off the back of the chair.

“Actually, I’m exhausted,” Surin replied. “How ‘bout I meet you there later? Let me catch a few z’s, and we can meet up, have something to eat, and talk about exactly how we’re going to catch this sicko.” She looked up at him for a reply, and for the first time, he noticed the dark circles developing under her eyes. She did look exhausted.

“Sounds like a plan,” he answered with a smile. “I’ll see you ‘round eight then?”

“Excellent, try not to miss me,” she added, standing and grabbing her briefcase firmly. “We have been joined at the hip lately. Lucky for you I’m easy to work with!” she said, grinning.

Parker responded with a loud laugh and wheeled his chair back over to his desk. He glanced over his shoulder and watched her walk out slowly, waving to a few of the others as she passed and laughing at a comment made that he couldn’t hear. A few hours of rest would do them both some good, but the last thing Parker felt like doing was being alone with his thoughts. He sighed aloud, sat down and leaned back into his chair, stretching his arms overhead.

“Parker?” Dennis called from the other side of the room.

“Yep, still here,” he replied.

“We’re heading to Blarney’s. Think your old lady will let you come?” he said.

“Dennis, you know I’m single,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I know that,” Dennis replied with a smile. “I was talking about Surin.”

There were a few chuckles.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if she were here, would you?” Parker replied with a laugh.

“Fuck, no!” Dennis started walking over to Parker’s desk. “She’d kick my ass.”

Yes, she would, Parker thought to himself with a smile. Well, he was meeting Surin there anyway, and drinks with the boys, sure beats being home alone.

“Yeah, OK, hold up I’ll get my things.” He stood again and grabbed his wallet and keys off the desk.

“It’s been that kind of day,” Dennis stated to no one in particular.

“Yeah, it has.” Parker nodded, and they headed out the door.

Blarney’s was your typical cops’ bar. It was in fact owned by three ex-cops who had bought the place when it was a run-down bookstore going into foreclosure. Once the three of them retired, they renovated and reopened as Blarney’s which was a nod to their Irish heritage. Blarney’s quickly became the go-to watering hole for all types of uniforms from all over the place. Parker walked in and was immediately met by a warm ambience and the sounds of laughter. The bar itself was the focal point of the room: long, sleek and made of dark-cherry oak. There were high-backed booths that framed the walls; the scattered tables and chairs were crafted from the same rich wood but padded with soft black leather. Behind the bar stood Patrick O’Callahan. He was leaning over talking to a patron, his big, bare, arms resting beside a large pint. Patrick had been a detective with the District Detective