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

whole truth.” She sipped her coffee. “Once I caught him in the act, there were no more excuses. She really did me a favour, I guess, but it all came crashing down that night.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t want to fail. I’ve never been good at relationships, it’s hard being with someone who’s not on the job, as you know,” she added, motioning to him. “I wanted it to work with Grayson, just so I could prove that it could work with someone.”

Parker nodded. “With the right person, it works, Surin.”

She smiled at him. “Well, I hope so.” Standing, she cleared both their plates and placed them in the sink. There were piles of dishes scattered across the bench. Typical man, she thought with a smile, uses every available plate, bowl and spoon to make one thing.

“Right,” she said, snapping out of her daydream. “I have something to show you.” Parker stood and followed her into the lounge room. “I thought we might work from here this morning if that’s OK with you?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said and sat down, cross-legged, on the carpet.

Surin crossed the room to her tote bag that she had dropped inside the door earlier that morning and retrieved a folder. Parker immediately recognised it as the one Vector had given them at the morgue the day before.

“I’ve gone over this and circled items of interest,” she said, hesitantly. “Please be patient and hear me out before you judge.” Parker nodded and took the folder from her hands.

She returned to her couch and tucked her legs up underneath her. Parker waited, not knowing whether to open the folder or let her talk. She made the decision for him.

“Open it,” she said, pointing. “These are the itemised personal effects of every girl this guy has murdered starting with Emma,” she continued, her voice small. “This only lists items found directly on them or in their possession at the time their bodies were discovered.”

Parker briefly scanned the pages, noticing one item in particular had been circled in red pen multiple times. His adrenalin began to surge. He looked up at her, still not fully comprehending the situation.

“OK,” he breathed, “you’re going to have to break this down for me, Surin.”

She nodded. “It’s the necklace,” she said, her voice adopting a hushed tone.

“Yes, I see that. Like the one we got from Lana Beau’s things?” he replied, excitement beginning to leech into his voice.

“Yes,” she said and unconsciously wrapped a throw rug around her legs. “Silver ball chain and a pendant engraved with the letter E.”

Parker sat up on his knees. “Are you telling me that every single victim had this exact same chain when they were found?”

“It appears so,” Surin replied.

“The killer must have given it to them,” Parker added enthusiastically. “This is the link that we needed. This might finally point us in the right direction.” He looked at her face, expecting to see his excitement reflected in hers, but he watched as she grew paler.

“Surin? What is it?” he asked, still grasping the papers in his hands.

“Parker,” she said and paused, not sure how to continue. “That necklace,” she said, pointing a shaking finger towards the papers he held, “I’ve seen it before.” With those words he froze, dread hitting the pit of his stomach as he stared into her deep emerald eyes.

“Where have you seen it, Surin?” he asked carefully.

She shifted in her chair. “Fastened around my neck.”

25

He felt like he was unravelling. It was as if he were a giant ball of yarn being pulled apart piece by piece. Sitting in his office chair staring out the window, he clenched and unclenched his jaw, enjoying the small stab of pain it produced. Control and patience had never, ever been an issue before and the fact that it was starting to become one now was concerning him more than anything. He had unknowingly been mere seconds away from killing Lucy the other night. Losing himself in the moment, imagining that it was Isabelle underneath him, writhing and moaning, he had forgotten where he was. He had frightened her, and now she would be questioning everything about him. Disgusted with his own lapse of control, he picked up a pen from the holder and started twirling it between his fingers. The phone buzzed on his desk, breaking his train of thought. Pressing the button, he answered sharply.

“What!”

“Ah, sir, your ten o’clock is in the conference room,” a shy voice replied from the intercom.

“Very well,” he said, disconnected and stood up.

Lucy was now a liability, he concluded. “And how am I going to deal with that?” he said aloud to himself and smiled. Two birds with one stone, he surmised, and picked up the phone again. After the fourth ring, she answered, her voice annoyingly chirpy.

“Hello, Lucy Mead speaking.”

He cringed inwardly. “Hi, honey,” he replied, keeping his tone light.

“Oh, hi,” she said cautiously. “I didn’t recognise this number,”

“I’m calling from the office,” he said, noting that she probably wouldn’t have answered had he called her from his cell. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” he continued pouting into the handset. There was a pause before she replied.

“Yeah, I know, sorry, I have been really busy with work.”

He rolled his eyes at her meagre excuse. “I miss you,”

She laughed nervously, her resolve breaking. “I miss you too, sweetie.”

Her tone was apologetic, so he continued. “The other night, I may have taken things too far,” he said quietly trying to sound embarrassed. “I just, well, you make me so hot, Lucy.”

She giggled, and he could imagine her twirling her hair around her finger like a teenager.

“It’s OK. You just frightened me a bit, that’s all,” she added.

“I’m really sorry,” he said and waited. After a few seconds,