Dark Eye (10 page)

“So… is your dad home?”

“He’s in his study.” No movement.

“Can I talk to him?”

And the kid disappeared. Didn’t say yes, no, or go to hell-just turned around and dived back into the house.

So what was I supposed to do? I decided that I’d been invited in, so I stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind me.

And nothing happened. After a minute or so of waiting, I escorted myself down the front hallway in the direction I’d seen the boy go.

I found O’Bannon’s study. It was a gorgeous room, with walls of dark wood paneling and hundreds if not thousands of books. Two of the walls were completely covered with bookshelves stuffed to capacity. Beautiful books, leather-bound editions with gilt-embossed lettering on the spines. Some of them were police-related-criminology texts and such. But most were fiction, literature I was supposed to read in college but never did:
Wuthering
Heights
, In Search of Lost Time, Ivanhoe, Bleak House, One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Chief O’Bannon sat in a plush recliner, obviously designed to be a reading chair. The spine of his book faced me. He was perusing
Jane Eyre.
Yes, you heard me correctly. My tough-guy supercop boss was reading
Jane Eyre.

And he was drinking. There was a crystal snifter on the table beside him, and an open decanter of brandy beside that.

I could smell it, even across the room. It smelled good.

The kid who had opened the door was sprawled across the carpet. He was reading something, too.

I guess this room was far enough back that O’Bannon was insulated from the noise at the front of the house. Neither of them appeared to have heard me approach. Neither realized that I was standing in the doorway staring at them.

“Chief?” I said quietly.

He jumped, actually jumped, out of his chair, slamming his book shut. His elbow knocked over the brandy snifter. It spilled onto the table and soaked some papers. One of them caught my eye. It was a photocopy of a page torn from a spiral-bound notebook, filled with block lettering and symbols.

“Damn it.” O’Bannon tried to wipe the mess up with his sleeve. Fortunately, there had not been much left in the snifter. Once he had the mess contained, he focused his attention on me. “What are you doing here?”

I pointed. “Your son let me in.”

He looked down at the kid, frowned, nodded. “Well, what do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“It isn’t going to happen.”

“Just listen to me for a moment.”

“No.”

“Come on. We can help each other.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I need work.”

“And that’s why you came here?”

“I want to help.”

“I don’t need help. I need peace and quiet.”

“Chief, listen to me!”

“Go home.”

“A-A-Are you guys fighting?”

It was the kid, still lying on the floor, but now twisted around and watching us like a spectator at a tennis match.

“No,” O’Bannon snapped. “We are not fighting.”

“ ’Cause it sounds like you’re fighting. Do you need to go to time out?”

“Darcy…”

The boy looked at me. “Do you know that if you make him mad, you will have to go to time out? Or maybe military school.”

“Darcy!” O’Bannon barked. “We are not fighting!”

The kid’s eyes widened. He ran the tips of his fingers through his hair, as if he were washing it with invisible shampoo. He made a strange, excited noise, over and over again, something between a snort and hysterical giggling.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I don’t know why, but I walked over to him and tried to lower his hands. “Your dad and I work together. We always talk like this. It doesn’t mean anything.”

His arms were stiff and resistant. “S-S-S-Sometimes my dad talks like that, and it means he’s mad.”

“Well, it doesn’t now. Your daddy adores me and I know it. Even when he tries to hide it.”

Apparently O’Bannon’d had enough of this fun. “Susan, you’re wasting your breath. The only reason I’m tolerating this intrusion is out of respect for your father. But that respect can only go so far.”

“Look,” I said, “I know you’ve got a weird homicide on your hands. I know the victim was buried alive. Obviously, you’ve got a seriously twisted killer. My specialty. You need me.”

“Like hell. I assigned the case to Granger.”

“Right, Granger-hawkshaw extraordinaire. Give me a break, Chief. Granger doesn’t know squat about aberrant psychology. Except maybe what he picks up when he looks in the mirror.”

“We’ll catch the killer, Susan. Without your invaluable assistance.”

I pointed to the photocopy on the table, the one with all the gibberish. “Is that part of the case?”

He shrugged. “We found that inside the girl’s coffin. But we can’t make heads or tails of-” He stopped short. “You are not getting involved, Susan. Give it up. Go home.”

Why was everything so difficult? Everyone kept babbling about how they wanted to help me, but every time I needed help, no one could deliver. “Chief, I need my job back. If I don’t get work, I’m going to lose Rachel.”

“That ship has already sailed.”

I was so frustrated, so furious, my hands tightened into fists.

“Are you going to spank my dad?” the kid-Darcy, I guess-asked.

If I thought it would help… “No. I told you, we talk like this-”

“Because whenever Unca Donald gets mad like that, he gets a switch and chases after his nephews and spanks them.”

There was something so strange about this young man, something so childlike and yet not, something unnerving because it was so ineffable. But I kept my attention focused on his father.

“Is this because of that jerk’s rich family?” I said. “Because if you’re doing this because you’re afraid of a lawsuit-”

“There isn’t going to be a lawsuit.”

This about-face caught me off guard. “Excuse me? This afternoon, you said-”

“No lawsuit.”

“Someone pulled some strings?”

“For you? Hell, no. You just got lucky.”

“What happened?”

“At the hospital today, some helpful RN knocked over a table where the frat boy had laid the pants he was wearing when you worked him over. And guess what fell out of his pocket? A little baggie filled with crystal meth.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Like I said, you got lucky. Of course, there’s no evidence that he was using on the night in question. But it would certainly explain his aggressive and violent behavior.”

“Did he have aggressive and violent behavior?”

“Sure. That’s how the fight started, right? You had to defend yourself.”

“To tell the truth, I’m a little fuzzy on the details…”

“At any rate, that’s going to be our story, and it persuaded the guy’s family to entertain second thoughts. Even if they managed to overcome this brilliant defense at trial, the whole world would know their son was a drug user. Possible dealer. They didn’t think it was worth it.”

“That’s fabulous.”

“That’s dumb luck, which does not in any way excuse or justify what you did. I can’t use a cop I can’t trust, Susan. I can’t use a cop who might lose it at any moment. I can’t use a cop who might be sneaking drinks on the side.”

“Chief, that’s all behind me.”

“So you’re all cured now, huh?”

“Well… yeah, I’m over it.”

“Fit as a fiddle. One hundred percent. Ready to carry a gun again. Ready to be some other cop’s partner. Ready to have someone count on you, depend on you. Ready to have someone put their life in your hands.”

I didn’t bother answering.

“I care about you, Susan. I
do.
And that’s why I’m saying this. I will not reinstate you. You need to get help-professional help. This may be your last chance to save yourself before you’ve lost everything.”

“I’ve already lost everything.”

“No, you haven’t. But you will if you start drinking again. Now get out of here.”

I wanted to scream. “Fine! Have it your way. You won’t see me back here begging. Not for a blue moon. Not if-”

“And try not to be so angry all the time. Relax. Read a book. Get healthy.”

I couldn’t leave without giving it one more try. I dropped a scrap of paper on his table. “I’m leaving you my new address and phone, just in case you change your mind.”

“I won’t. Go.”

Darcy walked me to the door. He still talked in that too loud voice with the odd inflections, but he seemed to have lost the stutter. “Will you be coming again in two and a half years?”

“Why-?”

“That’s what you said.”

“I said I’m never coming back here.”

“Uh-huh.” He gave me that sheepish grin again. “What you said was: ‘You won’t see me back here begging. Not for a blue moon.’ ” The amazing thing was, he not only repeated what I had said verbatim, he mimicked my inflection. Then he shifted into a colder, almost singsong tone, as if he were reciting in front of a schoolroom. “ ‘A blue moon is the second full moon in a given calendar month, which in North America occurs approximately once every forty-one months, or approximately every two and a half years.’ ”

I gave him a long look. “I’m not coming back.”

“Oh. Is the reason that you will not come back because of me?”

“Of course not.”

“ ’Cause if it is, it’s okay. I know sometimes people don’t like me. My dad says it’s not my fault, but he still yells at me sometimes. Everyone yells at me sometimes.”

“It wasn’t you. Really.”

“Then-” His hands began to flap up and down. “Do you think that maybe you could come again sometime? My dad gets real lonely. I think he misses having a girl around.”

“I think your father made it clear… Never mind.” I wiggled my fingers, smiled faintly, and left. I probably should’ve said something more, but I couldn’t manage it. I was so depressed, so frustrated, so… empty. I didn’t have anything to spare for anyone else.

At first I thought the tall girl had a dog and I was worried because I don’t like dogs and dogs are scary mean and smelly, but it wasn’t a dog. The tall girl was sweaty and the hospital smells were still there a little and maybe one of those perfumes that she put on way too much of. I liked the girl and I think Dad likes her even though he was mean to her and she said he wasn’t mean to her but he was and I know that look like the coach at the YMCA when I was in the eighth grade. He smelled too and Cleanliness is next to Godliness and get your hands out of your hair and what is that smell and I liked her she was nice to me. I don’t know why she was nice to me but she was she touched me and I don’t like it when people touch me but sometimes I wish they would more.
My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath-a source of little visible delight, but necessary.
I was right when I said I hoped she would come back because Dad is lonely but sometimes I’m lonely too and I like the tall girl with the eyes that don’t match and the bump on her nose and the yellow Post-it stuck to the sole of her shoe. The girls at the day care act nervous around me but this girl didn’t I think she liked me at least some maybe a little but when Dad talks to me I can’t talk any more and he gives me that look like he’s so disappointed in me. He spent hours on that simple puzzle and he never asked me never once did he ask me even though I like puzzles and he doesn’t. The girl was keeping secrets and not just that she’s been in the hospital but I like the girl and I hope she comes back.

I wonder if she has babies because my dad said you need a girl to have babies and I like babies. Babies are nice to me. They don’t mind when I’m around.

He rolled her remains into an old carpet, which made it easier to transport her to the pickup. He was learning, wasn’t he? He was an innovator, never content with the status quo, always searching for ways to improve himself.

He drove the short distance to his chosen disposal place. This would be much easier than the last. Almost no chance of being spotted here, not this time of night. It was perfect-thematically appropriate (though the police were unlikely to get the joke), risk-free, and certain to be discovered.

Only an occasional plane passing overhead reminded him where he was. The glittering silver created a reflected brightness, but if he stayed on the far end of the lot, he would be safe. He opened a curved and unlocked silver door and laid her body to rest.

He hesitated. A ceremony before he departed seemed appropriate. Perhaps-some sort of prayer.

He lowered his head and spoke in susurrous tones.

“ ‘And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling-my darling-my life and my bride.’ ”

He took a handful of dirt and, just to give this a semblance of burial, sprinkled it over the body. “ ‘In her tomb by the sounding sea.’ ”

“You’ve got a date? A true-to-life, honest-to-God date?”

Lisa batted her eyelashes. “Control your envy.”

“And this isn’t with… what was his name?”

“The Human Plunger? Not him.” Lisa had an endearing habit of identifying all her boyfriends by reference to their kissing technique.

“No, I mean the advertising guy.”

“The Tongueless Titan. Ditched him.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“Kissed hard with his mouth open, but never any tongue.”

“Was that bad?”

“It was weird. Like he was administering CPR. And I asked myself, if he’s so reserved with his tongue now, is he ever going to-”

“Lisa!”

“Well, a girl has to wonder.”

I leaned through the open car window. “Have a good time. I’ll expect a full report.”

Lisa took my hand and squeezed. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, honey?”

“Of course I will.” Lisa was so sweet. She would do anything for me, I knew that. It frustrated her, not knowing what to do, what she could do.