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

has been in you, Surin, what’s the difference?” he said finally and turned away, shaking his head.

“OK,” she yelled back at him, and he pivoted back immediately to face her.

“What?” he asked, knowing full well what she had just agreed to.

Surin smiled a smile that she didn’t feel. “I said OK, next time, I promise.”

With that, Eamon grabbed her under the arms and lifted her to eye level. She wrapped her legs around his waist to steady herself as he kissed her full on her lips.

“Then, let’s not wait too long for our next study date, hey,” he whispered with a perfect smile, setting her back on the ground.

Surin picked up her bag and walked down the path, waving at him over her shoulder, trying to paste a believable smile onto her face. The creaking sound of an ancient screen door opening drew her attention to her left.

“Hi, Mrs Dellion,” she said as Eamon’s neighbour came out onto her front porch. The woman was tall and stocky, with harsh features, and she wore a soft purple patterned housedress that hung from her body like a tent.

“Surin Elliott, you best be getting home, it’s late,” she said sternly.

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, hearing Eamon chuckling from behind her, and with that, she picked up her pace and headed towards the shortcut home through the pines.

31

Baltimore, Maryland, Present day

 

The static crackle of the police scanner forced Madison’s gritty, mascara-crusted eyes to open.

“What the…” she muttered, clicking her tongue over her furry, cotton wool mouth. She sat up slowly and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She cringed when her feet unintentionally collided with several empty wine bottles, sending them clanging together loudly. The sound met her ears like a dagger of pain and made a beeline to her instantly throbbing head. “Fuck!” she cursed and reached for the Tylenol and water bottle on the coffee table. Thank God she had been prepared, she thought to herself, taking a large swig of the fluid to chase down two tablets. Last night had been a one-woman party. What was initially intended to be wine, chocolate, and Bridget Jones’s Diary had ended up becoming wine, chocolate, scotch, ice-cream and Titanic. She shook her head. Exciting life you lead, she thought.

Before checking the scanner, Madison flipped open her laptop and logged onto her email. She squinted at the blank screen that read no new messages. Nothing from Toby yet, she sighed. Maybe nothing would ever come, she thought as she reached over to the scanner.

Turning up the volume, she heard the ominous tone of police dispatch. “Unit four-one-two, please advise your ten-eighty-four on scene, over.”

“Unit four-one-two, we are ten-twenty-three, over.”

“Ten-four, four-one-two, over.” Static continued to crackle loudly.

Madison knew the codes by heart. Police officers had just arrived at a scene. She leaned forward, waiting for the next transmission.

“Dispatch, this is four-one-two, we have a ten-thirty-five, over.”

“Ten-four, four-one-two, ten-sixty in progress.”

She jumped up from the couch, clumsily, and reached for her phone, pressing five on her speed dial, she grabbed her pen and notebook before flopping back down on to the cushions.

“Yeah?” The person at the other end of the phone answered casually.

“It’s me,” she said, feeling a small swell of shame wash over her.

“I thought we were done,” the man on the other end said through gritted teeth.

“We are, we are, relax,” she replied calmly. “I just have one last question.” She shifted and pulled her leg underneath her and cradled the phone on her shoulder.

“I heard there was a ten-thirty-five tonight.” Madison knew this code was mainly used when a body had been found.

“And?” her reluctant source replied with a sour tone.

“I need to know the details, not for print,” she stressed quickly, “for me, it will go nowhere, you have my word.”

There was a sarcastic laugh on the other end of the line, followed by a long sigh. “Your word? Well, that’s a joke if ever I heard one,” he stated venomously. “Give me ten.” He hung up sharply in her ear.

She rubbed her eyes, telling herself she was doing the right thing. This would be the last time she would play this card. The scanner continued its coded transcription.

“That’s ten-four on J6 dispatch, over.”

“Ten-sixty-nine, four-one-two.”

Madison was reaching for her water bottle when her phone began ringing loudly. “What have you got?” she said, without introduction, after one ring.

“Young woman’s body found dumped downtown,” he replied in a hushed tone.

Madison’s heart started racing. “Raped?” she asked, mimicking his quiet voice unintentionally.

“Doesn’t appear so. Forensics are on scene now. First indicators are strangulation.”

“OK, not what I’m after then,” she replied and sighed.

“Are we done?” her caller asked impatiently.

She smiled, replying, “Yes, we are done.”

“Lose my fucking number, Madison,” he said with an edge of desperation in his voice.

“Consider it lost,” she said, hanging up without a goodbye.

True to her word, she flicked through her phone and deleted her source’s code name from her contacts. Pity, she thought to herself, Detective Dennis Palmer was going to be an irreplaceable asset.

***

The drive to Eamon Sutherland’s home was a quiet one. Surin sat behind the wheel, and her anxiety seemed to grow as each minute passed. She finally pulled up out front of a large home that was much the same as her parents’ house and turned off the ignition. She glanced at her reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“God, it’s been a long time since I have been here,” she said aloud, flicking a stray lock of hair back from in front of her eyes.

“Good memories?” Parker asked.

Surin smiled sadly. “Mostly, yes,” she replied, then cleared her throat and mentally pulled herself together.

“Right,” she said, getting back into detective mode. “Mr and Mrs Sutherland really are