The Dark Places R. Whitfield (read aloud books TXT) 📖

much until I get her back to the office, but I can tell you she was sexually assaulted, tortured, strangled and most certainly dumped here. What I can’t tell you is how she died because I don’t know yet.”

“How long?” Surin asked quietly, always amazed at what one human could do to another.

“Ten hours give or take,” he replied, making a so-so motion with his hand.

“OK,” Surin said, “we’ll see you at the autopsy.” She looked at Parker and nodded.

“I’ll do her first thing after lunch,” Vector added. “See you both then”. He walked away, slipping under the yellow tape, and headed towards his white sedan. Surin watched him stumble up the hill, his short, stumpy frame slipping on the loose stones.

She had met Vector her first year on the job. He was processing a scene where she had been the first responder. Her first body and she was the fresh-faced rookie, green as they come. She had been following him around with a notebook and pen, asking what must have been hundreds of questions until a detective came over to put her back in her place.

“Sorry about the newbie, Doc,” he had said, snatching the book out of Surin’s hands. “Some women don’t know where they belong.” He followed the comment with a snort and a laugh.

“Rookie, get your small ass back over there with the other uniforms and try not to contaminate anything,” he yelled, raising his hand to point back over to the front of the building where a small crowd was gathering.

“Sorry, sir,” she mumbled, trying to control the rage that was bubbling inside her, but as she went to leave, a gentle hand touched her shoulder and turned her back around.

“Detective Covoner, is it?” Vector had asked.

“Yes?” the burly detective replied, squaring off his shoulders.

“This rookie, Elliott, I need her here for the moment.” He turned to continue processing the scene. Surin had looked at the detective, mouth open and shrunk under his gaze.

“What the fuck for?” the detective replied, perplexed.

Vector smiled at the man. “She has asked more probing and intelligent questions in the last five minutes than you and your partner over there have asked in the last five years,” he stated matter-of-factly.

The detective’s face began turning a dangerous shade of red, but Vector continued.

“I play golf with your chief on Tuesdays, and I will be making sure he knows that this rookie is going to be one of the finest detectives in the department in a very short time. I would be careful how you treat her. I have no doubt she will be your boss one day soon.” With that, he bent down and continued his examination.

Surin had stood there frozen to the spot, her mouth wide open in shock. The detective didn’t move for a few seconds either, then threw her confiscated notebook on the ground and stomped away like a sullen teenager.

Surin, never having been good at thank yous, picked it up and stared down at the doctor.

“Well?” he asked. “Are you going to tell me what it is I’m seeing here or not? I don’t have all day.”

The two of them had been working together ever since, and until she made her first case as detective, she had spent every spare second in the morgue watching autopsies and reading reports.

Surin smiled as she watched him get in his car. She owed a lot to him and didn’t he know it.

Refocusing on the scene at hand, she felt something shift inside her as her mind began to fully process what she saw.

“It’s him,” she said, “I know it, Parker.”

He watched as adrenalin instantly began leeching into her system; all her senses switched to high alert. He had to agree with her. “It does fit his MO, let’s have a closer look at the VIC.”

They walked up and knelt down beside Isabelle Lacross. She had once been an exquisite young woman. She had a slim but athletic build, long shapely legs and was curvy in all the right places. She had creamy, flawless skin and long dark hair that was now splayed out in the dirt, forming a halo around her face.

“His type,” Surin mumbled, mentally stopping herself from brushing back a stray lock of hair that had fallen over Isabelle’s forehead.

Parker noted tear trails staining her cheeks, and her eyes, once probably an alluring hue of chocolate-brown, were now glazed over in an eternal look of fear.

“Definitely his type,” Parker agreed. “I’m going to go speak to that rookie, Miller, and get a line on who found her. You ’right here?” he asked Surin, standing up and brushing the dirt gently off the knees of his pants.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll meet you in the car in about twenty. I need to sit here for a bit.”

He looked down at her and nodded. There was a certain sadness in her voice, and he knew she needed to be there alone.

He turned and walked briskly back up towards the edge of the road, searching the uniforms for the first responder. He decided instead to study the faces of the large crowd that had gathered. There was a sea of iPhones that appeared to be filming the grim display. He turned to make sure that Surin and the VIC could not be caught in a recording that would end up on YouTube in the next ten minutes. Luckily, the actual dumping ground was well hidden from onlookers; all they could really see was a bunch of cops, crime scene techs and emergency vehicles. Speculation will be flying, he thought. He turned to leave when someone grabbed onto the edge of his long-sleeved grey button up.

“Detective Rhodes, isn’t it?” said a soft feminine voice. “I’m not sure we’ve had the pleasure.”

Parker turned and was suddenly staring into a beautiful set of baby