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

“You going?” Surin asked, rubbing her neck, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Yeah, I think I’d better.” He smiled. “I can’t remember the last time I was in bed at a decent hour.”

“Yeah,” she added, standing up and reaching for her tote bag as well. “You’re right. A good night’s sleep may be just what the doctor ordered.”

Parker smiled, and they walked together to the elevator. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Surin smiled, then remembered. “I’m going to run Isabelle’s things over to her mum tonight,” she added. The elevator beeped as they reached the ground floor.

“Did you want me to come along?” Parker asked.

“I can manage, thanks,” she said with a smile. “See ya,”

He watched her walk to her car, head high, hand resting on her bag. He walked around to the rear parking lot and sidled into the Crown Vic, sitting behind the wheel he paused before firing up the engine. All those girls, he thought and shook his head. All those girls and no one even noticed.

***

The drive to the Cresthyme Hotel was long but peaceful. Surin tapped her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of a tune playing on the radio. It was late, and the Golden Oldies program had begun.

The soulful voice of Louis Armstrong singing ‘What a Wonderful World’ filled her car. She shook her head and flicked it off.

“Wonderful world? Really?” she said aloud. The names of all six girls filled her mind. So young, so beautiful, so much time left.

“You’re a real son of a bitch,” Surin said, to no one, “but we see you now.” Smiling in the dark, as the hotel sign flashed up ahead. Surin exited the freeway and parked out front. She reached into the back seat and grabbed the ziplock bag filled with Isabelle’s personal effects.

Surin made her way to Bethany Lacross’s room and knocked on the door gently, praying that she wasn’t going to wake the poor woman.

She waited as the chain lock rattled and the door bolt slid back to reveal Bethany’s face.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and the skin under her nose was raw from being constantly wiped. Surin’s heart went out to her.

“Detective?” she said. “How nice to see you?” She smiled with a sniff and opened the door wider to let her in. Surin followed her as she perched on the edge of the couch, drawing her robe tightly around her frail body. Surin sat stiffly on the hotel sofa beside her.

“Do you have any news?”

“No, I’m sorry I don’t, Mrs Lacross,” Surin said, casting her eyes downwards. “I’m working on it though, I can promise you that.”

Bethany reached over and touched Surin’s shoulder. “It’s OK, love, I know you are.”

Surin looked up at her, this woman who had lost her child, who was feeling pain that few would understand and she was comforting her. She felt a lump rise in her throat. “I have Isabelle’s things,” she said, standing up and passing the bag over.

“Thank you.” Bethany sniffed, holding the bag tightly to her chest.

Surin nodded and turned to leave. “When are you leaving?” she asked, on the way towards the door.

“I don’t know,” Bethany mumbled, opening the bag and fingering the items inside. “If I go, then she really is gone,” she added.

Surin nodded. “I will contact you the minute I know anything,” Surin said, now desperate to leave.

“Thank you again, Detective.”

Surin closed the door behind her and let out a long breath. Worst part of the job, she thought, but also the most important. Detectives often live amongst a sea of dead bodies; a victim is just a victim, another day’s work, and sometimes the line between empathy and indifference can start to blur. Dealing with a victim’s loved ones reminds them that the latest dead body was, in fact, a person — someone’s daughter, sister, lover. It’s a dose of reality all cops need to remind them of why they do what they do. Surin walked back to her car, deciding on Chinese takeaway for dinner when a voice from behind startled her.

“Detective!” Surin spun around, hand automatically resting on her gun. She also noticed how strangely jumpy she was. Bethany Lacross was making her way quickly across the parking lot towards her.

“Is everything OK, Mrs Lacross?” Surin asked, concerned as she picked up her pace to walk over to meet her.

“Oh yes, sorry to yell out at you like that.” She smiled sadly. “I was going through Isabelle’s things, the ones you just gave me.” Her eyes watered up involuntarily. “There’s been a mistake,” she added.

Surin stared at her, confused. “A mistake?”

Bethany reached into the pocket of her bathrobe and pressed an object into Surin’s palm. “This doesn’t belong to Isabelle.”

Surin slowly looked down at her hand, and in that instant, the blood in her veins turned to ice, and her entire world collapsed around her as she sunk to the sidewalk onto her knees. She barely registered Bethany’s concerned voice. It felt as if she were floating underwater; time had stopped.

The sound of everything and everyone was distant, muffled and distorted. She reluctantly opened her trembling hand again and stared at the delicate silver chain. This is not happening, she thought, closing her eyes tightly and then reopening them. It’s impossible, she continued to tell herself.

Regaining a small grasp back on reality, she started to stand up on her very shaky legs, the sound of Bethany’s concerned voice rushed back to her like a wave.

“Are you OK?” she asked incessantly.

Surin nodded. “Yes, sorry, I, um, I skipped lunch and have low blood sugar,” she lied. “I’ll be fine.” Mrs Lacross was watching her closely. “Thanks for bringing me this,” she said, gesturing to her closed fist. “I’ll return it to the medical examiner,” she added with a weak smile.

“OK then, please go