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

They walked together over to their desks, Surin sat down and rolled over on her chair to sit beside him. “We need to go back,” she said.

Parker got his notebook out and replied without looking at her. “Go back to what?”

She grabbed the book out of his hands. “The beginning.”

He turned to face her, waiting for more.

“We need to see Vector.” She slid back across to her desk and picked up the phone. “We have to see every autopsy report, and most importantly, we need to go through every single set of personal belongings starting from Emma.” Parker shook his head and watched her talk on the phone. She hung up and stood. “Right, Vector can see us now.” Grabbing her tote, she started leaving, then noticed Parker wasn’t following. “Rhodes?” she said questionably, turning to face him. “Are you coming?”

He looked at her, not knowing what to say. “Surin, I don’t even know what we’re doing.” He stood up slowly, she sighed.

“I promise to tell you everything,” she said, avoiding his gaze, “but I need you to trust me for the moment.”

He bent over, opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out his Glock 22, slipping it into his shoulder holster. “I do trust you,” he replied.

She nodded her thanks and they turned and walked out together.

The car trip to the morgue was a quiet one. Surin could feel Parker’s uncertainty, and she felt terrible that she was keeping him in the dark, but more than anything, she did not want any of this to be true. For the whole drive, she repeated the mantra: this can’t be happening; this can’t be happening. Anytime she actually let herself think for a moment that it might be a reality, bile started to rise in her throat. I need to snap out of this, she told herself.

An old Michael Jackson favourite came on the radio, and she smiled to herself. “My brother and I, crazy MJ fans,” she said to Parker with a grin.

He looked at her quickly, then continued to watch the road without saying anything.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she went on, ‘Surin Elliott, a Michael Jackson fan?’ But it’s true. I cried my eyes out the day he died.”

She glanced at him again.

“I had a picture of him from his Bad album cover on my wall for years.”

She waited, but he still didn’t reply.

“My brother and I would watch Moonwalker over and over again.”

Still nothing.

“I have to tell you, I have a pretty impressive moonwalk myself.”

Parker shook his head with a chuckle.

Finally! She thought.

“I know what you’re doing, Surin,” he said after a long sigh.

Surin looked over at him. “You mean trying to apologise by telling you embarrassing tales of my childhood?” she asked.

“No,” Parker replied. “You’re finding another way to avoid the issue altogether,” he added, looking at her again.

“Parker,” she said, suddenly feeling defeated, “once I understand what the hell is going on, I will have no choice but to tell you.” She ran her fingers through her hair, loosening the French braid and letting the long locks freefall over her shoulders. “When you do know everything, you will know why I’m doing this,” she added.

“Why won’t you just tell me?” he begged.

She looked over at him. He had never seen her look so lost. She sighed. “Because it will change everything.”

***

After hanging up from Surin, Vector scratched his head. What’s that girl up to, he thought with a chuckle. He logged onto his email and sent a request to the custodian of records of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner. Hitting send, he stood up and started prepping for when the detectives arrived.

It took less than forty minutes and they were walking through the door. He immediately noticed tension between them, which was unusual — he had not seen anyone gain Surin’s trust like Parker had, and it bothered him in a fatherly way that something was wrong.

“Detectives,” he said with a wide grin, spreading his arms in welcome. “Did you know that Greek physicians performed autopsies as early as the fifth century BC?”

Parker shrugged his shoulders and made an obvious move to the other side of the room.

“I wasn’t aware of that, Vector,” Surin replied kindly, ignoring Parker’s indifference. “I’ll have to brush up on my pathology general knowledge for our next visit.”

“Well then, it might also interest you to know that more than one-third of autopsied patients have discrepancies between their clinical and autopsy diagnoses that may have adversely affected their survival.”

Surin smiled. “That little titbit doesn’t do anything to improve the trust issues I have with doctors.” She sat down and pulled out a notepad. Parker did the same. They sat in silence for a few seconds until Vector stood up abruptly, his chair squeaking loudly on the linoleum floor.

“Well,” he started, clearing his throat, “why is this feeling awkward?”

Surin suppressed the urge to laugh at his forwardness. “Everything’s OK, Vec, honestly.” She glanced at Parker as she said it, mentally willing him to smile. “Did you get those files as I requested?” she asked, shifting her gaze back to Vector, her tone all business.

“I did,” he nodded and sat back down. “I’m not sure what it is you want,” he added, opening his computer screen.

Surin leaned forward. “I want a rundown, everything that was different and everything that was the same.”

Vector nodded. “Starting with?” He looked at her over his glasses.

“Emma,” Surin stated and clicked her pen, preparing to take notes. From the corner of her eye, she saw Parker move. He came beside her and sat down.

Vector began. “Emma Silverman, murdered in 2007, nineteen years old.” He paused. “Just the Cliff Notes?” he asked quickly.

“Yes, that’s fine,” Surin answered as he continued.

“OK, held