Prologue

CI Parker and Detective Anthony deal with their toughest case yet; what appears to be a ritual sacrifice.

Prologue

 

If it wasn't for the stomach turning stench, CI Parker would have assumed the scene before him was a macabre arrangement of mannequins. He counted five in total, all with varying expressions; blondie with the garrotted neck had wide eyes, now devoid of any life previously held. Her lips were parted in shock, whereas the older man, around 25, had his head bowed and looked almost...content.

 

 But the worst had to be the young woman, barely shy of 20, who'd been found with the rope around her neck, feet brushing the floor, cracked lips curved into a smile that would haunt the corner of Parker’s bedroom. Analysis would reveal later she was the last to die and, judging by the sheer volume of blood staining her hands, had been the one to off the others.

 

His partner Anthony had excused himself moments upon arriving on the scene and upon his return the Chief Inspector pretended he hadn't heard the sound of his throwing up, or the scent of vomit that now mingled with the rusty smell of blood.

 

"What we thinking? Homicidal maniac took them all captive?" Anthony asked as forensics took samples and photographs of the scene.

 

Parker shook his head, looking thoughtful, though not elaborating until the forensics team finally packed up their gear, rushing towards the door with haste. Kneeling in front of the bowed-head man after donning plastic gloves, he examined his wrists at length, Anthony shifting uncomfortably with a hint of impatience behind him.

"What're you looking for, Chief? The puncture in his stomach makes me think he's been stabbed."

 

"Exactly," Parker murmured in response, glancing upwards at the twitching sight of his partner, "There's no sign he was restrained at all. Besides, he has at least what, 50 pounds on the girl?"

 

"Maybe he was poisoned? Some sort of paralytic?" Anthony suggested, glancing at the hanging woman for a brief second before returning his gaze to the floor. "Post-mortem guys will be able to tell us."

 

"We'll have to wait and see."

 

Moving onto the next victim Parker paused, taking a moment to scan his wrists that had a length of rope twining them together, fingertips gently brushing them back to examine the skin.

 

"See this?" Parker called over his shoulder when it became evident that Anthony wasn't going to approach without encouragement. "His hands were tied, but there's no sign he tried to get out. Remember back in '89, the basement of that stalker's house? The girl barely had any skin on her arm left she’d tried so hard to get out.”

 

"Fits in with the poison theory,” Anthony pointed out.

 

"Why only paralyse them? Why go through all the difficulty of getting poison, just to paralyse them and haul a bunch of bodies down to a basement?"

 

"Symbolism, maybe? I dunno, Chief, seems like a standard wack case."

 

"And since she's dead we can't ask her." Parker sighed, fingertips tapping rhythmically against his leg. “If the post-mortem comes back with nothing, how are we supposed to give the families proper closure? This is a whole other level to chasing down car jackers and petty criminals.”

 

It was a small town after all, with a mobile cinema that came round once a week to show movies that had been out on the mainland for months. Since the population barely touched a hundred most of the inhabitants knew each other, Parker even beginning to wonder if the blonde girl was the same one that always told him to have a good day when he bought the weekly paper.

 

His reverie was shattered at the sound of arguing at the door, before it opened, a man stumbling in. He had the same square jaw as the content looking man, the same eyes that seemed to glow golden in the limited light the basement offered.

 

"Hey, you're not allowed to be in here, pal. This is a crime scene." Anthony seemed oblivious to the distinct similarities between the victim and newcomer, the latter of whom turned his frenzied gaze towards him.

 

"This is me and my brother's house," the stranger managed to say, the breath rasping with difficulty from his lungs as though he'd just returned from a marathon, "Danny Doherty, my brother's Jack. Jack Doherty."

 

It seemingly clicked in Anthony's mind, the officer's stance immediately retracting as he found himself unable to meet the gaze of the stranger as he moved aside.

 

Parker firstly assumed the howl was the wind screeching around them, but it soon became apparent it was from Danny, who had finally seen what remained of his brother. He attempted to approach, but Parker, feeling weighted by anguish for the man, still stood to prevent him.

 

"Like my partner said, this is a crime scene, Daniel. You have my deepest condolences, but right now this is an active crime scene and we can't let you affect the integrity of that. You understand?"

 

Danny was shaking profusely as though every nerve was vibrating as he slowly nodded before letting out a broken sob. "I told them not to play it, but they didn't...I should've stopped them."

 

Anthony and Parker exchanged a meaningful look, Parker raising a hand to comfortingly settle on Danny's shoulder, who barely seemed to notice the touch.

 

"Daniel...­Danny, it's really important that you run us through what happened before all of this, yeah?" Parker murmured, keeping his tone comfortingly soft, relieved when Danny nodded again. "It'll help us better understand what happened to his brother if you do. Would you mind answering a few questions?"

 

Danny hesitated, but after a few seconds had spanned slowly nodded. "Not...not here though. Living room."

 

Anthony and Parker obliged, following him to the living room and settling themselves on the two-seater couch, bumping elbows as they both reached to retrieve their notepads.

 

"Alright," Parker began, clearing his throat. Where were you at the time of the incident?"

 

"I took the dog for a walk. Jack and Elizabeth had a massive argument so I took the dog for a walk."

 

"Elizabeth," Parker murmured aloud as he scribbled down the name, "The blonde, yes?"

 

Danny's features twisted, sniffing as he lowered his gaze. "Yes."

 

"What were they arguing about?"

 

"Earlier in the day, Jack and I were in the car-"

 

"What time?" Anthony interrupted, before hastily muttering an apology as Parker turned his head to fix him with a bemused look.

 

"I, uh, around three p.m maybe?" Danny shifted in his seat, clearly haven been thrown off by Anthony's interruption, before managing to continue. "We were in the car, and he nearly hit Elizabeth."

 

"So she was mad at him for nearly running her over?" Parker queried.

 

Danny shifted once more in his seat, lips twitching as his teeth worked roughly over them. Even from this distance, with Danny occupying the seat across the table from them, Parker could see the gleam from the beads of blood.

 

"It's alright, Danny," he assured as he moved forward in the seat, grazing Anthony as he did so, "Take your time."

 

Danny nodded, licking the blood from his lips with a vacant expression, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was hoarse, cracked like the skin on his lips.

 

"No, she was angry...she was furious, because he....because he missed."

Author's Note

I've decided to redo the idea of the Darkest Hour, so the next chapter may be similar to that.

Reviews

[SonOfPlunder]

This is really good! And an interesting start...post more soon!

[A. Amos]

Good work and like your story telling, truly enjoyed the read...