No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow. ~Euripides
"How long this time?" Laurie asked, sipping her cup of tea and carefully watching her sister for any signs of a new round of tears.
"Six months," Cathy sniffed, taking a steadying breath to try to compose herself. She hated this, going through it again and again, promising she'd be stronger next time. But how does one be strong when their husband is deployed for months at a time? How can a wife stay tear-free when she goes home to an empty house, never knowing if that had been her final goodbye?
She had kept herself together for her husband, had kept the tears at bay as she kissed him and watched him get on the plane. But when she arrived home to find Laurie waiting with a fresh pot of tea, she lost the strength to hold back the flood and cried out her pain, praying he would come home safe to her.
"Did he tell you where he's being stationed?" Laurie asked again; it was the same questions, the same tea, and the same heartache every time. Like each time before, she would be there for her sister until Cathy adjusted to the quiet house and kept her sorrow to an eager anticipation to the day the plane would bring her Daniel back to her.
Cathy shook her head, finishing the last gulp of her hot tea, Laurie always knew how to make it best. "It's classified. Ever since he was recruited to that special ops team he can't tell me anything! All he could say was that he would be 'hanging with the big boys in white sands'."
Her frustration at the secrecy was obvious, but he loved his job, and if not telling her exactly where he was saved lives, then she would deal with it.
Laurie stayed with her sister for another few hours, leaving only after the sun had dipped below the horizon and Cathy retired to bed exhausted, promising she would be back tomorrow.
She took the backroads home, preferring the extra miles to the busy streets and harried, impatient drivers. Flicking on her brights, she leisurely cruised down the empty road, fiddling with the radio until she found a country station. Singing along to Eric Church, she tapped the brakes, allowing a doe and her fawn to dart across the road before accelerating back up to speed. Laurie sighed to herself, loving how the line of trees relaxed her and brought a semblance of peace to her mind. She really did need to move out of her apartment in the city. It was a crap-hole and the landlord was a perverted jerk so there was hardly incentive to stay. Her savings was up pretty high, intended for a vacation, but living out in the woods would be a permanent stress reliever….That settled it then, once Cathy was alright again, she was house hunting. Or maybe before then. It would do her sister good to get out and get her mind off Daniel's absence. Tomorrow it is! And for lunch they could hit up that great little diner on the side of the highway, maybe a movie in the evening.
Coasting around a blind corner, Laurie slammed the brakes with a colorful swear as her car barreled towards a large lump in the middle of the road. There was no shoulder to get around. If her car didn't stop in time, there was no way she could avoid hitting it.
Tires screeching against the pavement, the car finally stopped mere feet from the obstruction, headlights shining brightly on the lump of...something. Heart beating wildly, Laurie climbed out of the car, wondering what someone would dump in the middle of the road. She paused next to her door. What if it was a body? What if the killer was still close by? Shaking her head, the woman resolved to lay off of the Criminal Minds marathons.
Stepping up to the fender, Laurie couldn't help but be wary. Her mother had been right after all, apparently, the crime shows did wear on her.
'Stop it,' she chided herself, it was nothing, a roll of carpet bound for the dump that had fallen from a truck, garbage, a road hazard that needed to be moved but no more nefarious than a discarded can in the ditch.
As she crept around the front of her car, headlights blaring on the obstruction, her heart continued to beat a mad rhythm that refused to be slowed. She gasped, jumping back when she saw the dark hair sticking out from the bundled cloth. Thoughts of serial killers and armed madmen in the woods invaded her mind, keeping her ears straining for any hint of the potential killer coming back as she slowly stepped forward again. There was always a chance, however slim, that this victim could still be alive.
She reached out to roll the body over, breath held painfully tight, arm shaking. Her hand passed right through it.
"What?" she yelped, jumping back and ramming the back of her knees into her car's bumper as the body she couldn't touch disappeared entirely.
Millions are scenarios of death and torture raced through her mind as she dashed frantically back into the safety of her, slamming on the electronic lock. Belatedly, she thought to look in the backseat. Flipping on the interior lights, she whirled around, screaming at the lump of her own backpack greeting her from an otherwise empty seat. Gasping for breath that seemed intent to evade her, Laurie turned the interior lights back off, wondering if perhaps she'd had a bit too much to drink. She was being ridiculous. Bodies didn't just appear and disappear in the middle of the road and inanimate objects in her car were scaring her into screeching. That last drink mixed with her general lack of sleep in the last few days was clearly mixing the signals between her eyes and her brain. Definitely no more crime shows for a long while.
Shaking her head at herself and her overactive imagination, she threw the car back into drive, determining to make it home and sleep for many long hours. Cathy would be fine with a late start tomorrow. The car rolled forward as she let off the brake and stepped onto the gas, wishing for nothing more than to be curled up in her blankets in her bed. She really should have just taken the city route; crazy drivers be-damned. She could have been stepping through her front door by now if she had.
Ten yards ahead the body flashed into view again and fake or not, instinct had her slamming the brakes again. This was either one hell of a hallucination or...well, she wasn't quite sure what 'or' could be, but it was certainly happening. Before the car could come to a full stop, before she could contemplate driving through the illusion, the car sputtered and died. Like a switch the engine cut off, the headlights following suit as the vehicle rolled with the last of its momentum through the blinding dark. She couldn't see the illusion, couldn't see the road or inside the car; she couldn't see a damn thing. Panic invaded her mind as she desperately cranked the key, willing the car to come back to life. It refused to even try, refused to give her even the light and comfort of the radio. Heart pounding in her ears, she felt around, yanking on the switch for the interior lights. They stayed dark. Tears burning her eyes, she felt around the passenger seat for her purse, attempting to search it by touch for her phone. A small sliver of relief passed through her as she found it. She was getting the hell out of here whether it was in her car or someone else's.
"No, no, no!" she yelled as she pressed the buttons to no avail. The phone was dead too.
The roar of a powerful engine cut through her panicking thoughts. Rescue! Someone else was going to drive by and save her from whatever bad trip she was on!
Yanking on the door, she cried out in broken frustration as the locks stayed steadfastly in place. She banged on the window, desperate to be out of the car so she could flag down whoever was coming. Headlights blasted directly through the glass, blinding her. They weren't coming through her windshield or back window, but rather, through her passenger window. There was nothing on that side of the road but trees and brush. The engine growled in steady rhythm. The car did not come upon her, it had been lying in wait.
The lights jolted as the mysterious vehicle rocketed forward. It reached her before she could swing for the window. What rightly happened, she couldn't track. The force of the impact flung her body like a rag, bashing her head against something solid. Her car skid across the road as it was continuously pushed before an impact on her side brought it to a jarring halt. Glass shattered, the frame buckling as metal tore away. Her head pounded, her bearings scattered. Metal crunched and clanked against metal, air exhausts vented loudly, and for the briefest moment, Laurie was sure she saw a flash of large tires and blue paint before the raging in her skull overtook her mind and dragged her into oblivion.
Red and blue lights flashed from almost every direction, bright spotlights shone off the roofs of the vehicles, keeping the gruesome scene visible well after the sun had set. Darcy wasn't even sure what the exact protocol was for securing and processing a scene like this, she wasn't sure anyone was. The sheer size and magnitude was not something any of them were prepared for.
The freezing fog had done little to help the officers figure out how far they needed to tape off before that idea was thrown out the window. Instead the entire fleet of SUVs had been brought up and formed a haphazard ring of flashing lights around the pit. The whole department was out here working on it, but with the only experienced homicide detective now retired as of midnight, Darcy suddenly found herself thrust into a role she wasn't entirely sure she was prepared for.
But as of this moment, she had a slightly more pressing matter than ordering around officers that knew how to do their job. The chief had arrived moments ago and instead of making a beeline for her, he was headed towards Agent Row, who hadn't said much of anything since making the call to her department when her cell had refused to find service. It really wouldn't have been much of an issue...if involving the FBI had been sanctioned.
Readjusting the mask someone had brought for her to combat the smell, she started to pick her way towards the two men, hoping to reach them before the chief could officially recant the invitation to the agent to assist with the case. So far it wasn't a federal matter, no matter how horrid; he could do it.
"Detective?" an officer halted her progress as he stepped in front of her, a clipboard and notes in hand. He looked young and green and Darcy had little doubt he was one of the many who had revisited their meals when they arrived.
"Yes...Campbell?" she peered at his nametag, it was vaguely familiar, most likely one of the new recruits that had joined over the last few months.
"Preliminary numbers are at least fifty-two human remains and one horse. M.E. is reporting a best guess at time of deaths at a few weeks to a year." To his credit, he rattled off the information with all the professionalism he could muster, though the mere thought of so many bodies before him seemed to be making him want to purge again.
Darcy nodded, waving him off to return to whatever duty he'd been assigned. Fifty-two people and counting; murdered and dumped in her jurisdiction. And it had taken her almost a year to find this dumping ground. She couldn't even take true credit for finding it, it was Row who had spotted the newly made road and taken it. Her gut sank and twisted against the building guilt. Why had it taken her so long to find this place? How many could have still been alive had she found it sooner?
Forcibly ripping herself from those thoughts, she returned to the here and now. She could wallow in guilt later, doing it now was not going to bring these people back. Finding and stopping whoever was responsible would at least bring some justice for the murdered and closure for the living.
One horse's remains found out among the humans? Erika Kyle, presumed victim number one, who had disappeared April 10th of the previous year, had been riding her horse. Darcy would bet anything Erika's bones were here as well.
Glancing over to the chief and FBI agent, Darcy mentally winced. While both men stood calm and were speaking in level tones, she could see the tell-tale redness of the chief's face that stated he was fighting hard to not blow up. The pulsing vein in his forehead proved it was just as bad as she'd imagined it would be. Row, for his part, appeared as stoic and unfazed as ever. Even after initially discovering this dumping ground, the cold indifference in his expression had Darcy half expecting him to call the horror 'unfortunate'. He hadn't, but she had to wonder at the things he'd seen in his life to make this unable to affect him.
She barely made it two steps towards them before she was stopped again.
"Detective?" She turned toward the approaching officer. Another rookie she barely recognized. They were getting a hell of an experience. Any who made it through this with their sanity and stomach intact would be able to face anything the job might throw their way. "We've ID'd one of the recent vics, Tom Felton. There's also a distinct set of tire tracks going through part of the pit and we've found some sort of corrosive acid on some of the bodies."
"Alright. Get an impression of those tracks and a sample of the acid to the lab right away." She sighed as he hurried off to relay her orders. The tracks could be a break and she'd bet her last dollar the acid would match what was found on Andrew's body. But she sorely wished she could have different news for the rangers and Tom's wife. Another death notification. The first of what was going to be many.
It was the one part of the job that simply never got easier.
Darcy started again towards the quiet confrontation, pausing as it came to an end and the chief stormed towards her.
"We will have words later," he snarled as he stalked past. She sighed again. The look on his face suggested she would be very lucky to escape that particular conversation with her job.
"That man is a simple-minded, arrogant fool." Darcy started as Row appeared beside her.
She shrugged as they watched the chief reach his car and drive off. "It's an election year."
"That is not an excuse for reprehensible behavior."
"That's politics." Either he'd really never dealt with politicians before or he just didn't understand them. Darcy could agree with the latter, and she hoped she never would reach the point of understanding.
"I am beginning to see the pattern," he muttered more to himself than her. Apparently he did have some experience with bureaucrats after all.
There was nothing for the two to do now that the processing was well under way, so they stood and watched the coroners loading body bags into the vans. They would be at it all night. No need for the head detective and FBi agent to hang around and she was in some seriously desperate need for coffee and sleep, in either order.
Row glanced over at her as a yawn audibly cracked her jaw. "There is nothing else to do this night and you need to recharge."
Darcy snorted as she stripped off the facemask and turned to follow him back to his Charger. "I'd rather just replace my battery."
She would almost swear he hesitated at that, looking back at her before shaking his head and muttering something too low for her to hear. She was too tired to even care what the stuffy agent thought.
Climbing into the muscle car, she was extraordinarily grateful for whatever was wrong with the thing that made it still warm after sitting in the cold for well over twelve hours. As Row put the cruiser in gear and began down the long road back to civilization, Darcy leaned her head against the window, lulled by the warmth and purring engine into a place between consciousness and sleep. Even the window was warm, she noted absently.
"You can crash at my place if you want. I've got a spare room and it beats driving all the way into the city for the hotel," she offered quietly. He'd gotten as little sleep-less actually from the drive to whatever hotel he was staying in-as her, so why not offer the spare bed? They were most likely going back up the mountain together tomorrow anyway.
Row said nothing, and it wasn't until the phone buzzing in her pocket jolted her awake that Darcy realized they were back on pavement and out of the trees. Apparently she'd fallen asleep. While the perfect warmth of the cruiser encouraged her to go right back out, the buzzing had woken her enough that she wasn't about to ignore it. It was a text. From the chief? The chief didn't send texts...well, unless it was the only way to get a message to her, intended for whenever she came back down into the reception area. Funny that she was just getting it now when there had been a clear signal by Tom's truck.
She sighed after reading the text, thumping her head back against the headrest. "Sleep will have to wait, Chief just called me to the station."
Without blinking, Row shifted the car out of the turn lane, still unbelievably affected by the hour.
A rumbling, growling stomach reminding her of the single muffin so many hours ago quickly had Darcy altering plans again. "Chief can wait a few extra minutes, food first. There's a 24-hour food joint just up the road from the station."
A loosely used term for the fast-food that was one of millions scattered across the country. Hardly real sustenance, but at this point Darcy couldn't find it within herself to care. She needed calories and it didn't really matter where they came from. Without question of choice or directions, Row drove straight past the station and into the parking lot of the greasy food joint. His expression stayed neutral save for the small raise of an eyebrow as he took in the colorful place.
"You want anything? I'm buying," she offered, climbing stiffly out of the Charger. No way was she about to eat in a car that nice.
"No," Row responded stiffly, slowly looking around at the cheerfully decorated walls and appearing distinctly out of place standing in the lobby.
Darcy was beginning to give up on the guy; he didn't eat or drink anything seemingly ever.
Row wandered off to find a table-not that there were any that weren't available-while Darcy ordered for herself. Despite the lack of any other customers, she had a feeling he was going to pick a prime spot to watch the door and his Charger. Glancing over to the spot he chose, she knew she wasn't wrong.
"Are you sure you don't want anything?" She sat across from him with her food, gesturing to the heaping serving of salty fries they'd given her.
He picked up one of the offending fries, looking at it like it had insulted him personally. He quickly dropped it back onto the tray. "I assure you, i can find my own...sustenance."
Taking a gulp of the coffee, Darcy grimaced. For all the hype of the commercials, the station's coffee was better than this, and that was not a high standard to beat. But caffeine was caffeine, so after inhaling her meal, she downed the rest of the cup. "Alright, might as well face the executioner now."
Row gave her a strange look as they walked back out to his car. "It would be counterproductive for your senior officer to murder you."
She snorted, just where did this guy come from? "Depending on how mad he is, he might not think so."
The trip back to the station felt like it took seconds and Darcy hesitated before forcing herself to step out of the relative safety of the Charger. She turned back before she closed the door. Row had been shadowing her all day, he certainly didn't need to continue to do so. "The chief just demanded my presence, you don't have to wait; there's no telling how long he may go on for."
Row nodded, but turned the key and leaned back in his seat all the same. Darcy couldn't help but smile a little to herself as she closed the door and turned to face the music. It was always good to have an FBI agent as backup.
"Close the door, Detective," the chief ordered the second she entered his officer. She did so, knowing such an order was never a good sign and feeling a pit of dread sink into her gut as the door clicked shut.
"Do you enjoy your job, Detective?" Sitting comfortably behind his desk, the chief did nothing but look at her. His laptop remained shut, paperwork untouched and phone tucked away. His sole attention was on the woman before him and that was never a good thing.
"Of course, Sir." She was hesitant to answer, unsure if the question was supposed to be rhetorical or not.
"And do you understand direct orders when they are given?" The calm in his voice might have made her relax if it weren't for the pulsing vein in his forehead. He was a volcano ready to blow.
"Yes I do." She couldn't stop the slight bite to her tone. Sure he might be upset that she went behind his back but it had resulted in the biggest find of the department's history! Shouldn't the pit of human bodies take precedence over his issue with the federal agent?
"Then would you mind telling me what the hell the FBI is doing here?!" He ended in a full yell that made Darcy glad the station was deserted.
"Sir…"
"No." He held up his hand, signaling that he really didn't care what she had to say for herself. "I gave you a clear order and you deliberately disobeyed it. I will not stand for insubordination in my department. You called the feds when I wanted this kept in-house."
"With all due respect, it was necessary…" He cut her off again, face red in his fury.
"I don't need officers who do what they think is necessary! I need officers I can trust to follow basic commands!"
She clenched her jaw. "We have a lot of families who will finally get closure because I called. Sometimes the ends justify the means."
"Not in my department," he growled, fists clenching on his desk. "This isn't the first time you've crossed the line, but it will be the last. Pack your things, Blake, you're done here."
"What?!" She jolted to her feet. A demotion she could understand, perhaps even riding the desks for a few years, but to lose her job entirely? It was absurd!
"This conversation is over, turn in your badge and your weapon." This was it then, he was just going to fire her and then what? Assign the case to one of the rookies? Absolutely not.
"Look," she planted her hands on his desk, "fire me for doing the right thing, I don't care, but not until this case is closed. I know the details better than anyone else. By the time someone else gets caught up, whatever leads the dumping grounds have given us will be useless. Take my job, but let me see this one through to the end."
The chief stared at her hard for several long moments, which she elected to take as a sign he was thinking about it. "You will run every decision you make by me, you will take no new cases or get involved in any others. This will be your one and only and you are gone the moment it's done. Now get out."
Giving a stiff nod, Darcy walked out of the chief's office, pausing only when she reached her desk to take a breath and gather her bearings. She loved this job, hell it was her life, but she stood by her decisions. At least she could stay on until they caught whoever was responsible. She could worry about a job after it was over. Glancing at John's empty desk, guilt gnawed at her gut. She still hadn't apologized to him. Later, she had later to do it. Right now the priority was getting home and getting some sleep so she could be fresh to read the reports from the dumping grounds in the morning.
Dragging herself out of the station, she was surprised and grateful to see Row still there, passenger door unlocked and open for her. He didn't ask when she climbed in and she didn't tell, but it was nice to not be completely alone with her thoughts.
The trip to the house was silent and for the first time Darcy could say the agent actually looked tired, or at least mildly strained. No doubt he needed a good sleep as well.
"The offer still stands," she yawned as they pulled into her driveway. "The guest room is there if you want it."
Honestly, she expected him to refuse like he did everything else. He surprised her again by nodding with a quiet word of thanks and following her inside.
"It's on the right," she pointed down the hall at the open door as she stumbled through her own. "Feel free to raid the cupboards if you're hungry. I'll see you in the morning."
She wasn't even totally positive she was still speaking clear english as the exhaustion hit her like a wall and muddled her words. Barely managing to close her door all the way, she shuffled to the bed, knowing she should shower first. She was too tired to care and only forced herself through changing out of the clothes that still smelled of death. Flopping onto the bed, she was out before her head hit the pillow.
She didn't dream, or if she did, she had no memories of it. It was too dark for her to be waking up naturally, so what? The shrill ringing of the phone tugged her back from dozing off again. Blearily, she threw her hand onto the nightstand, attempting to find the phone without lifting her head from the pillows or opening her eyes. Curiosity finally won over when her hand found its target; dragging the phone to her, she glanced at the time and the caller ID. Muttering a hello, she wondered why John was calling her at a quarter to seven.
"Detective Darcy Blake?" The voice was female, urging Darcy's brows into a frown before she remembered her old mentor was married.
"Juliet?" her voice drawled on her, eyes half closing as she half slipped back towards the world of oblivion. She was just so damn tired.
The woman on the other end sucked in a shaky breath. "John's missing. I think he's been abducted."