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

“I’m sorry,” Parker mumbled, the colour draining from his face in sheer embarrassment. Turning to face her, he continued, “I should have known you would have had your reasons.”

“You know what?” she replied, waving her hand in the air, “save it, it’s no one’s fucking business anyway!”

At that moment, the doors opened with a ding, and they stepped out into the corridor.

Serenity Towers was atrociously upmarket. Each floor was occupied by only one suite, and they were four-bedroom, two-bathroom studios with huge floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed magnificent views of the city, especially at night.

Surin took note of the security cameras above the elevators, pointed at them, and motioned to Parker. “We need those tapes.”

He jotted it down on his pad, avoiding eye contact.

“There was only swipe card access to the apartment, so whoever the killer was, they were let in by the victim, maybe at one of her ‘parties,’” Surin narrated to herself. Walking through the entrance, she stopped to take in the entire spectacle.

Camera bulbs flashed constantly as forensics worked the scene. Surin said a few hellos, and then noticed her boss, Richard, talking to a local cop and walked over.

“Chief, what are you doing here?” she asked. “Where’s Parker?” he replied, ignoring her question.

“He’s just tracking down the security footage from the entrance hall,” she replied.

“What have we got, Jackson?” she called out to one of the forensic guys she recognised. Jackson shuffled over in his head-to-toe white crime scene outfit, the booties sliding soundlessly along the floor.

“Hey Surin, such a waste, man, have you seen her?” he asked before noticing the chief standing there, and he dropped his head quickly.

“Not yet, tell me what you have found so far,” she asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

He nodded. “Female, model, thirty-one, black hair, blue eyes, found by the maid, naked, lying on her back on the floor of the bedroom, obvious ligature marks around the neck. Bruising indicates an unusual pattern, not handprints. We still haven’t found any item to explain the marks. There are definitely signs of a struggle: broken lamp, sheets ripped off the bed et cetera.” He looked at Surin and waited as she processed the information.

“Great. Thanks, Jack,” she replied.

“Yeah, see ya ‘round,” he added with a smile and shuffled back to work.

Surin had gone on three dates with Jackson, he was a nice enough bloke from Southie. Then one night, they had stumbled back to her house, and during a lengthy make-out session on the couch, he had accidentally called her, ‘Samantha,’ who happened to be his ex-girlfriend and another cop. After that, it was just plain awkward. They had never talked about it again and thankfully remained friends.

Surin saw Parker walk into the room. He spotted her and walked over. She felt slightly embarrassed about her little elevator breakdown and smiled at him, trying to let him know she was sorry. It didn’t appear to work. His jaw tightened as he approached — he looked directly at the chief and nodded.

“Right, video footage is on its way to your office, should be there by nine,” he stated, then looked down at his notebook.

“Great, thanks,” Surin replied. “Let’s get in there and have a look, hey? The ME has finished up, and transport will be up here soon.”

“Righto,” he replied.

They walked past an obscenely large bathroom with mirrors on every wall; the basin was shiny and black, surrounded by tiles the colour of blood.

“Very 80s porno,” Parker commented, running his gloved fingers along the vanity.

As they entered the main bedroom, Surin noticed another set of mirrors on the ceiling above the large four-poster bed. “This lady certainly liked the look of herself,” she added.

The body of Katia Vespa lay naked and exposed on the overly plush cream carpet. As they approached her, Surin thought she noticed Parker stiffen. Surely, he can handle dead bodies, she thought.

“Well, she certainly was beautiful,” she stated, without a trace of female jealousy.

“Yes, she was,” Parker replied.

“Death favours no one!” a loud voice called out from across the room. Surin looked over and smiled as Vector, the ME, poked his head up from down beside the bed.

“Yes, Vec, very dramatic,” she mumbled and gestured towards Parker. “Vector, this is Parker Rhodes, my new partner.”

Vector nodded in Parker’s direction, suppressing a grin.

Surin knelt next to the body, leant down and inhaled deeply. “Wow, she definitely had a few cocktails too many, it’s practically seeping out of her skin, not to mention these traces of white powder inside her nose,” she noted. “The girl loved to party.”

“Yes, she did,” Vector added. “Forensics couldn’t find any food anywhere in the house — bottles of wine in the fridge, vodka in the cupboard, some miso soup and tins of tuna — that’s it.”

“The diet of a stick,” Surin mumbled, shaking her head. “Talk to me, Vec, cause of death?” she asked as she moved around the corpse, carefully lifting limbs, and placing them back.

“Manual strangulation, petechial haemorrhaging, signs of a struggle. We have samples of skin from under her nails; they are on their way to be analysed. Hopefully, we will get a match. I’m doing the autopsy tomorrow morning, early, and you’re both welcome to come, of course.”

“Thanks, we’ll let you know,” Surin replied over her shoulder.

As she walked the floor of the apartment again, hands on her hips, things started falling into place in her mind like pieces of an invisible puzzle.

“She knew this guy, and it was definitely a guy. Hey Vec!” she called. “Signs of sexual activity close to death?”

“Absolutely,” he yelled back.

“No forced entry, grog, drugs, sex… sounds like fun to me.” She smiled, raising her eyebrows. “A fight broke out, someone got angry, fuelled by cocaine and cocktails, it went too far.”

Parker watched her