“Yeah, well, go ahead and get the I told you so out of the way, okay.”
“Again, expected.” He chuckled. “I swear, I’m never getting married. Nothing will end a cop’s career quicker. The job is hard enough, but the woman will always be what breaks you. Think about it. Do you know one of our fellow brothers who is married and happy? Fuck no. Marriage is a killer, man. It drives you to drink; there’s bitterness. No thank you.”
Maxwell had told Darek his philosophy on married cops too many times to count, and all because he knew a fellow officer whose marriage was so bad that he’d taken his own life over the shame of divorce. There was much more going on in that situation than either of them could know, but Max had made up his mind. Darek wondered if he should have taken the death as an omen.
They arrived on the scene. When they walked out of the elevator and stood in the doorway to the room, they were surprised they’d beaten most of the crew down.
“I told you I got to you in a hurry,” Darek said.
“I’ll give you credit this once, but don’t let it go to your head.”
The room was standard hotel beige, and the mauve carpet was a throwback to when the place had been renovated in the late eighties.
The victim was in the middle of the king-sized bed. Naked and still, her brown hair fanned out on the pillow, covering most of her face. She lay on her stomach on the bed in a pool of blood that soaked the sheets around her. As Darek walked closer, a sinking feeling hollowed out his gut, and sweat beaded on his lip. Gotta keep running. He took a deep breath, and the sharp coppery scent of her blood stung his nose.
Officer Coleman, the deputy on the scene, was busy on his phone, and Officer Ross Moody from forensics took photographs. They exchanged a quiet hello and went back to their duties.
Max made a sound of disgust. “She’s been sliced up pretty badly. What’s that say?”
There was something carved into the flesh of her back, an illegible, primitive alphabet, but that wasn’t what held his attention. He pulled his eyes down to the carved skin and deciphered what he could through the blood. “THE BEGINNING OF YOUR END.”
Max winced. “Someone’s sending a message.”
“Yeah, but to who? Us? Society?” Darek’s eyes went back to the tattoo; a circle diagram with symbols carved in each pie-shaped wedge.
Max leaned in closer. “That’s some ink. Looks newish. Had to take a long time.”
“It’s the zodiac,” Darek said.
Max laughed and shook his head. “Yeah? I don’t know much about that shit. Astronomy and all that psychic bullshit. ‘Hey baby, what’s your sign’ was a little before my day.”
Officer Coleman approached after hanging up his phone. “It’s Astrology. Astronomy is an actual science; the study of space. Astrology is like how the alignments of the planet affect your life. It’s fake.”
“To some,” said Darek. The zodiac was very real to some people, and they let it rule their entire lives.
“I guess you’re right,” Coleman said. “I’ve got an aunt that’s into that shit. She spent a fortune having us all charted for Christmas one year. What a waste. Mine went into the garbage, and then I prayed for her soul.” He laughed, putting a hand to the heavens.
“The ink does look fresh,” Darek said. “At least, on that arrow-shaped one. It’s leaking plasma.” Officer Moody snapped another photo as Darek leaned in. The mark was familiar to him. Too familiar.
A voice boomed out into the room from behind him, and he jumped out of his skin.
“Morning, gentleman. I’d say good morning, but from the looks of things, I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”
Darek spun around to see Chief Robbins standing behind him at the door. At his side was a gorgeous brunette, who Darek assumed was a representative of the hotel. She wore a tight pencil skirt, a silky blouse with a blazer, and enough lipstick to leave a stain around his dick.
He quietly remembered his wedding vows and walked over to shake the chief’s hand as he entered the room. “It looks as if this is some kind of ritual or revenge killing, something to send a message. She’s got the words ‘the beginning to your end’ carved over a zodiac tattoo.”
The woman’s voice was sultry with a southern accent; her tone unshaken. “The collar shows signs of a sexual nature, as well as the body being naked. Are you sure this isn’t a BDSM session gone wrong?”
Darek looked up to see that the woman had walked toward the body. “Um, miss, you shouldn’t get too close.” He threw a glance over his shoulder at the chief as the woman gave him a blank glare.
“Oh, my apologies,” the chief said. “Detectives Blake and Smith, meet Special Agent Elizabeth McNamara.” The chief’s put emphasis on the woman’s title, and Darek did a double-take at the woman. She looked more like someone who worked in a courtroom or a newsroom than a crime scene.
The woman held out her hand to shake his. “Call me Lizzy. As I was saying, the carving could be a cover-up. Someone wanting to the killing to look like a ritual of sorts. Perhaps this is just a sex game gone wrong.”
Darek laughed. “A sex game? With all due respect, you don’t carve up another human like that for a sex game.”
“There are submissives who pride themselves on handling pain for their Masters. Testing their limits.”
“Pain, yeah,” Darek said. “A little slapping, a little cutting, I get it. This is carved with a knife. The beginning of your end? That’s not a message for the victim.”
“I’m just saying that we don’t know if it’s a message at all. We need to look at the other evidence before we put this in a pretty box and call it a gift.”
Darek took a deep breath, and his chief gave him a hard look. “I think we’d all do well to remember we’re on the same team. Darek?” Darek nodded at the chief. “Lizzy?” The woman smiled. “Good. Now let’s remember that moving forward. Darek, I’m putting you on this case with Lizzy. I know you need it. Now make nice, and shake hands.”
Lizzy extended her hand, and Darek took it. “Yeah, sure, Chief. Thanks.”
The chief walked over to explain to Max that he’d be assisting and put him on a task. The guy seemed okay with the way of things, and he gave Darek a teasing smile as he took out his phone and walked out into the hall.
Others arrived on the scene from the forensics department, and Lizzy sprang into action, telling them what she expected. “I want a lot of photographs of that tattoo, and when you’ve got what you need, I’d like to see that collar.”
“This looks like paint,” Ross said before taking another photograph. Lizzy stepped around the bed, careful to not disturb the scene.
Darek frowned. Paint didn’t seem likely. He looked at the tattoo. “Is it black?”
“Yeah, what are you thinking?” She looked at him as if she were a teacher calling on him in class.