The Blood Dahlia (The Dark Angel Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  ”Oh, stupid question. How did it happen?”

  “That is hard to explain.”

  Lucas leaned back against the desk. It slid a few inches against the floor with a loud scrape. Both he and Gina jumped at the sound, Lynch stayed still. He leaned back again, cautiously, and crossed his arms. “Try me.”

  “Okay, just don’t ask me to explain what it means.”

  “I never do.”

  Gina piped up, “I might.” The look Lucas gave her must have made her reconsider, “I won’t. I promise.”

  “A dark presence entered the room with Cheryl. She seemed to not be herself. Moved a little like one of those movie zombies. It walked her to that spot. Cheryl floated up and then hung upside down in the rafters. It used a rope to form the shape you saw on the floor and then stood in the center of it as blood gushed down over it and into the shape. It screamed once, then it left.”

  Neither asked him to explain. They just stood there in silence. The crime scene unit paraded past with labeled bags and Cheryl in a navy blue body bag on a gurney.

  “Well,” was all Lucas had to say when they cleared through the door and left them alone again in the office.

  “Yeah, I don’t get it either. I have never seen that before.”

  “Not just someone really evil? I remember what you told me about evil being dark and good being light.”

  “This was different,” Lynch stated. It was different. In all the years of this stuff, he had never seen anything like it before, and that was saying something. He had seen a lot. Most things he could explain, or at minimum accept. It took a while to accept the true presence of ghosts, but watching a spirit crawl out of a dead body and stand there or just walk off into the distance helped. That combined with the knowledge of what he was, forced his belief in the paranormal. He always found it interesting, the more he learned to accept their presence the more he experienced them in both the real world and his world.

  Occasionally something less normal crossed his view. Shapeless and gray. Its true form just beyond his sight. Beyond the worlds he knew and only seen when his vision went just a little too far beyond their perception of the world, and beyond the real world enough to peer into the void where worlds collide, giving him just a glimpse into what was on the other side. That was the theory Lynch created to help him understand what he saw. Whether it was true or not, he didn’t know, nor did he care. He was no scholar on such topics, and like much of what he knew, he learned through the school of hard knocks. If he ever saw something that didn’t fit, he would change the theory. In his mind though, it made complete sense. There had to be a border between the various worlds, and at some places that border was thin, super thin, and sometimes things may cross over. That would also explain some of the various UFO and ghost sightings people have.

  This wasn’t one of those shapeless gray entities. It was a void, an absence of anything, and moved in a way that made it look like it popped in and out of this world. It didn’t have a shape; it was just there.

  “Well, I must be slipping,” Lucas exclaimed.

  “What? Why?” Gina asked.

  Lucas threw his Scroll over to Lynch, who had a gander at the information on the screen. “Yep, you are.” He threw it to Gina. “She has been missing for two months. Reported and everything.” Looking back at his partner with question marks in his eyes, “Now, how does the daughter of a media mogul, that has done a news expose on every public figure in the world, go missing, and it now shows up on the top of the pile?”

  The answer was just a shrug.

  “I know this is against the rules, but you know what I think of rules. I want to go with you to meet with her family.”

  Lucas didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no. Instead, he took his Scroll from Gina and headed out to his car. Lynch and Gina followed him out.

  They followed Lucas across town to the south side, where the elite of New Metro lived behind walls and gates. Gates that were guarded by security guards and the best technology money could buy. In a true sign of a difference between the classes: The street in front of where they’d just left was littered with bottles, cans, and various wrappers. Where they were driving now, it was clean enough to eat off of. In the middle of the night a system flooded the streets with just an inch of water. The pressure of the water running toward the drains was enough to push the trash, dirt, and debris into a filtration system that lined the curb. They had arrived just after it went to work, and the water was still draining.

  The two cars pulled up at the gate in front of 11725 San Mateo Drive. The address was printed in scrawling letters in a glittering piece of white and gray marble. A peach stucco wall, with a white stone cap, surrounded the home. The main house was a matching peach and white stucco two story, that if Lynch had to guess from his view through the gate, was a five bedroom and four baths with a large theatre room in it somewhere and a resort pool in the back. Probably a tropical type one. At least that was what he gathered from the large royal palms that lined the front. That was a species that was anything but native to this northern climate.

  To get to the house, they would have to get through the gate, which was maintained not by an automated security guard that most companies used. This household was old-fashioned and still employed a human security guard. Lynch thought the word security is one someone should use loosely when describing the almost seventy year old man who sat in that matching building in a light blue uniform with a tin badge. He didn’t carry a weapon, even the police weren’t allowed to anymore. The most threatening accessory he had was a flashlight with a long handle, strapped to his belt.

  Whatever Lucas said had worked, or maybe it was the brotherhood the rent-a-cop felt for someone else with a badge. There was a good chance Lucas laid it on thick. In places like this, even the cops can’t get through the door until the homeowner’s attorney is present. The rich don’t like the cops, unless it is one they can bribe. Lucas pulled in and Lynch followed. The white-haired protector of the oasis saluted as they passed by. When the gate closed behind them, he limped his way up the drive, following the cars. It was something Lynch took notice of. Either the man was curious or suspicious.

  He kept his distance as they stopped and got out. Lynch told Gina to stay put, which she didn’t object to. Their escort seemed to notice her, and her appearance, through the window and became fixated. That would keep him busy, thought Lynch as they walked to the large white double doors with a single circle of glass spread across both.

  Lucas pressed the button and was humored by the old fashioned doorbell that chimed inside. No screen popped out, or voice came through any speaker. Instead, through the glass they saw a rather rotund balding man in blue pajamas with white vertical pin-stripes. He walked down the stairs in a daze, rubbing his eyes the whole way. When he reached the door, he didn’t look through the glass at who was on the other side before opening it. Stupid man, Lynch thought. It showed the misplaced confidence he had in his uniformed gummer. If someone really wanted to, they could be through the gate in seconds. Nothing he could do with that flashlight to stop them.

  The doors opened inward, and instead of splitting down the middle, they split along the central glass medallion with the entire circle on the left and a half moon cut out on the right.

  “May I help you?” he wearily asked.

  “Mr. Devon Hines?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am detective Lucas, this is my partner Lynch,” something about that sounded natural and familiar to Lynch. It had been a while, and still had a nice ring to it. “Sorry to bother you so late, but we need to have a word with you about your daughter.”

  I need to have a word with you about ‘insert loved one here’. That was a message that no matter how drunk, tired, or otherwise disconnected from the world you were, it sobered you up by the next tick of your heart

  “Umm, sure. Come in,” he stammered and staggered backwards into the great entryway before he turned and led them into what Lynch could only assume
was the living room. It was the room that time left behind. He had only seen sunken living rooms in old movies, but here he was, stepping down two steps to sit on a couch that lined the circumference of the sunken section.

  They sat. Mr. Hines’ eyes probed them for answers.

  “Mr. Hines. I understand you reported your daughter, Cheryl, missing six weeks ago.”

  “Yes, six weeks ago to the day,” Mr. Hines replied. “If I remember correctly.”

  “I am sorry to have to tell you this, but she is deceased.”

  “What?”

  “We found her tonight, and believe she ran into foul play. We can provide you more details at a later date, but wanted to let you know and see if there is anything you can tell us that might help us figure out who did it.”

  His body collapsed back into the leather couch as little rivers of tears formed in the corners of his eyes and began their travel down his face. Lynch could not only see the grief in the man’s face, but could also feel it in the room. It wasn’t the only thing he felt, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “I know this is tough,” Lucas said, showing the tact he’d always had, which Lynch never did. “Anything you might be able to tell us would be helpful. You initially reported her missing, but it doesn’t appear you ever followed up,” Lucas paused, “nor did anyone from our department, either. That strikes me as strange.”

  “We called off the report,” Mr. Hines said with his head in his hands. “This wasn’t the first time she had run off for a long time, so we felt we overreacted.”

  “She ran off often?”

  “Yeah. Friends, usually. Maybe a random boy here or there. She would eventually show up.”

  “Did she use an Autoride each of those times?” Lynch interjected. His voice harsh and cutting.

  “No. This was the first time. Most of the time she snuck out the back or something so Ralph, up front, wouldn’t see her. This time she left right in front of him.”

  Ralph was a good name for a rent-a-cop, thought Lynch. Karl would be a tool.

  “Was she into drugs? Maybe the wrong crowd?” Lucas asked, and gave Lynch a look he had seen many times. Each time in the past it meant he would take over the questions, which was fine by him. Of course, if his partner missed anything there was no guarantee he wouldn’t ask anyways.

  “Just the normal stuff teenagers did, you know,” he motioned up to his lips with two fingers and imitated taking a drag. It was a poor imitation, obviously not a smoker.

  “Any boyfriends? Particularly, exes? I didn’t see any of that in the report.”

  “More than I can count. I can get you names in the morning.” His head and eyes searched the room. They were empty and needed to be filled.

  “Sure, that will be fine. How about yourself? Any enemies? Bad business dealings?”

  That question had the same, if not more of a, sobering effect than the opening statement. A tell-tale sign to Lynch that someone had some skeletons in their closet.

  “Are you kidding me?” asked a defiant voice. “Do you know who I am? I, or my networks, have made enemies out of everyone. Hell, I am quite sure we did hatchet pieces of Gandhi and Mother Teresa at some point last century. I believe we even did one on you,” he pointed at Lynch, ”right after you got your little medal. Tarnished Hero, I think that is what we called it. I thought I recognized you.”

  Lynch nodded. It was a wonderful piece that ran on the local news the day after he received a medal. Dang story cost him a television.

  “Where shall we start?”, Devon Hines added.

  “Looking for someone that might have a personal vendetta. Enough to take and kill your daughter.”

  “Again, where shall we start?” The grieving was gone, and his signature confidence and arrogance known the world over shone through. “Look, it is late. You just told me my daughter is dead. Can we do this another time?”

  “Sure. The coroner will be in touch about your daughter, and we will talk again. So sorry for your loss.” Lucas pulled out a card, he was old-fashioned like that, and handed it to the man, who had flipped the switch and was back to a grieving father.

  He took the card and extended a hand to both Lucas and Lynch. As he shook and thanked Lynch for coming out, something hit Lynch. It was in his touch, something there, something wrong. Something, dark and shapeless, and evil.

  The door closed behind them, Ralph had given up his fascination in Gina and returned to the guard shack. Gina sat in the front seat, half asleep.

  “That was odd,” admitted Lucas. “Usually means someone had something to hide, but of course you know that.”

  “Yep, he is hiding that, and then some.”

  16

  “Where can I drop you off? Your place?”

  “No, yours,” Gina said through a yawn.

  “Nope, not going to happen. I am broke and not asking for any freebies.”

  “Stop it. There is more to me than that. I don’t know. Something about tonight, I just don’t look forward to going back to my apartment alone. Unsettling. Can I crash on your couch?”

  There was something unsettling about the night, that was for sure, and it had nothing to do with the blood, dead girl, or even giving her father the bad news, so he didn’t argue and kept on driving. She curled up against the door and closed her eyes.

  She was silent for a long while. Even her breathing had slowed to the point Lynch thought she’d fallen asleep. And she may have. The roads weren’t the smoothest and after a good jolt that traveled up through the shocks, she stirred and asked, “So, you have never told me, what is that thing you do? I mean, I have seen it a few times, but what is it? How did you get it?”

  “It’s a long story,” he sighed. Not wanting to get into it.

  “I like stories, and we have a long drive back.”

  “Nah, go to sleep.”

  “Tell me, or I will keep asking.”

  It was something Lynch didn’t like to talk about. He explained what happened to him and what he does to Lucas once. That went over like a lead balloon. First, he asked him if he was on drugs. The first time he saw it with his own eyes was another thing all together. Lucas avoided him and acted scared for days. When he got over it, he left the room for the next few times but, over time, he seemed to get used to it.

  “We are well beyond secrets, honey, let it spill.”

  One thing he knew for sure, Gina never let anything go. It was one of the things that made her a good nurse and horrible girlfriend.

  “All right, but feel free to fall asleep while I tell it.”

  “Not a chance,” she yawned, making her words almost unintelligible. “I am all ears.”

  “Remember, I spent four years in the Marines after college?”

  “Ah, huh.”

  “Two tours over in Yemen and Kenya as peacekeepers. The first time over, we were sent in to rescue a group of Green Berets that were pinned down in a firefight. I am not talking about anything you see in a movie; this was the real shit. Bullets whizzing past you in the air. Grenades bouncing over you, and you hope you survive long enough to hear the thud of the explosion. If you don’t, it means you are dead. That was the first real action I saw, and pissed my pants before I stepped off the chopper and into the sand. I felt like a real wanker and got yanked down to the sand in the puddle of my own pee by my lieutenant, just as a bullet flew through the air where my head was and hit the side of the helo. Are you listening?”

  “Yep, of course,” she said with another yawn.

  Great, Lynch thought. He had hoped his story would have put her to sleep by now. “Somehow, we fought our way to them, but lost more than half our guys on the way. There were five of them, but two of them were injured. One could walk. The other, a Native American fellow, didn’t have a chance. He had taken three pops to his left leg. It was shattered in so many pieces, you could hear the bones crunch together in his leg when they tried to move him. Our ammo was running low, and the birds were inbound again to pick us up. Our assh
ole of a lieutenant gave the order to move out, while we were getting pounded. They took off, leaving the poor guy behind. I couldn’t leave him and grabbed him. I ran out of there like some Rambo impersonator, wounded guy over my shoulder, and both his and my weapons in each hand, unloading on anything that moved. It wasn’t until I went to visit him a few days later that I learned he was their CO. He thought it was the bravest thing he ever saw and had me reassigned to his unit. I can tell you this, it wasn’t brave, it was stupid. How he was back up and walking around in two months, I had no clue. Some miracle healer, as I later found out.

  “A year later we were back in Yemen, similar situation. It was now my time to get shot up. I don’t remember how many times I was hit, five or six would be my best guess. Those things burned going in and out. I dragged myself out on my own, but felt life leaving me with every step. Supposedly, I died a few times on the helicopter ride out of there. Our CO, Paul Stanley, sat over me the whole time, including the last time my heart stopped and the corpsman couldn’t bring me back. I woke up two days later in the field hospital, with my CO still sitting there. His first question to me was, ‘Lynch, feel any different?’ Now, at first, I didn’t know how to answer him, but then I did. Somehow, I knew I was dead before, so I said, ‘I feel less dead’. He pulled up my shirt. The two holes I had in my abdomen were already healed over. He looked me right in the eye and said he gave me a great gift as thanks for saving his life. I just thought the bastard had donated some blood for me, or applied some old ancient healing method to me or something. Oh, no. He conjured the spirits of his Native American ancestors, poured some concoction down my gullet while I was dead, and gave me life after death, which put me in tune with the afterlife and all the dimensions in between.”

  “Sounds like you’ve stayed up watching too many of those old war movies,” Gina said, sounding either half interested or half asleep.