“Thanks, Deena,” I say, and hang up. Biting my lip, I go to the front door and shoot the deadbolt into place. The guys, who all have extremely good hearing, no doubt heard the entire conversation but patiently wait for me to explain.
“Why would someone fake a crime scene like that?” I ask, more so thinking out loud than asking them.
“To cover something up or distract you?” Gilbert suggests.
“Distract me from what, though? Another murder? It’s not like I was out on patrol or anything. I was home.”
“Maybe it was the opposite.” Hasan turns away from the TV, jaw set and shoulders drawn back. “They wanted to get your attention.”
His words make something click in my head. “The crazy lady who found the blood did ask for me. She could have staged it to look like a murder knowing I’d come out to investigate.” I mull it over for a second and then shake my head. “But that doesn’t explain the stolen body.”
Or the voices I heard.
“Was anyone murdered?” Gilbert asks.
“No. The body that was stolen was a man who died from natural causes. The blood was all animal. If someone wanted to get my attention, they had a funny way of doing it. Though I suppose I’m glad no one was actually murdered.” I rake my hair over my shoulder, thinking. “If I said ‘the Dark Ones are coming,’ would that make sense to any of you?”
Hasan’s large shoulders move up and down in a shrug. “Many called themselves the Dark Ones in our time. And on TV,” he adds, just as serious.
“You’re right. It’s too vague.” I let out another sigh and go upstairs to shower for real this time. I have to be at work in the morning, and need a few hours of sleep before going in.
Thomas is in my bed when I get out, but this time, he just takes me in his arms and holds me against his firm chest, rubbing my back until I fall asleep.
* * *
I flipa page on the report, shaking my head. The blood in the basement was mostly cow blood, with a few splashes of pig thrown in for good measure. The first layer of blood is assumed to be a week old, with the freshest layer having been spilled not long before we got there.
It was a setup, I know for sure.
Now I just need to figure out why.
“Morning, Detective,” Nick, an officer at the precinct, says as he comes over to my desk. He’s holding two iced mochas, and one has my name on it. “Thought you could use one. I heard about the call last night.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the coffee from him. “Just another Tuesday, right?”
He laughs, eyes lingering over me a moment too long. “Right.”
I force a smile and look back down at the papers in front of me. I’ve never once claimed to have social grace, and situations like this irritate me. I can’t tell him to fuck off even though I want him to. He just brought me coffee for one, and two, we work together. Plus, he’s a nice guy.
“We’re going to Pete’s for lunch today,” he goes on. “Want to tag along?”
“Uh,” I start, “let’s see what the day brings.”
It’s like I cursed myself, because not even a minute later, I’m called out for a murder. A body was found in an abandoned church, with satanic symbols smeared on the walls with the victim’s blood.
I gather my shit and head out, trying not to think too much into it. The writing on the wall behind the animal blood was too smeared to be deciphered, but from the analysis, the words were written in recognizable letters, not symbols.
The church is on the edge of town, and was used as a daycare until a few years ago when there was a massive scabies outbreak that forced it to shut down. I park near the front and show my badge to the officer standing by the door. A strong smell of mildew wafts out at me as I walk in, and the faded rainbow wallpaper has seen better days.
Through the hall, past a nursery room that still has cradles and rocking chairs set up in it, we come to the chapel. The body is laid out on the altar, throat slit and eyes dug out. Slowly, I scan the room, taking everything in.
Right away, I can tell the woman was killed elsewhere and dismembered on the altar soon after death. The way the body is positioned lets me know whoever put her there wanted a shock factor.
There are various symbols drawn on the altar wall behind the body, and that’s where the killer made a rookie mistake. A large pentagram is front and center, surrounded by The Eye of Horus and Hecate’s Wheel. None of the symbols are connected, and putting them together doesn’t make any sense.
I walk around the body, eyeing the poor woman up and down. She has defensive wounds on her hands, and there’s a good chance we’ll be able to get DNA from skin samples under her nails.
The table underneath her is marble, and I’m betting we can get some fingerprints off it as well. I can tell by the smeared blood that her body was moved and finagled around a bit to get the desired look.
