The Dark Places

she handled herself at the crime scene, the gentle but not condescending way she dealt with Dennis, and the empathy she showed victims, all attitude aside, Surin Elliott was a brilliant detective. It was for these reasons Parker decided to trust her instincts on the serial case. He got the feeling that she wasn’t wrong very often.

10
Lucy eyed the man over the top of the menu again — so handsome, but in a subtle way. Deep, rich hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle with excitement when he looked at her, slightly wavy hair, cut neat and reasonably short but still long enough to see how thick it was, and her favourite part, big toned forearms. He obviously kept himself fit, which she liked. Lucy took superb care of herself; she ran ten kilometres twice a week and did yoga every other day. A man who takes pride in his appearance appealed to her.
“Everything looks so great,” she said, flashing him what she hoped was a dazzling smile.
“That’s what I thought,” he replied. “I hope you don’t mind that it’s a vegetarian place. I guess I should have asked before making the reservation.” He looked away sheepishly.
Lucy laughed out loud — it was a delightful sound. “Actually, I am a vegetarian. I was beginning to think you did your research on me,” she joked.
He laughed as well, a rich deep laugh that resonated with Lucy, lower and warmer than she expected. She felt the blush creep up her neck.
“What is it?” he asked, clearly noticing her embarrassment.
She fidgeted with her napkin. “I just, well, I just didn’t expect to meet anyone like you. That sounds cheesy, I realise that, but seriously I feel like I have known you for longer than just two weeks.” She looked down at the table, trying to hide her flaming red cheeks.
He reached out and touched her hand gently. She looked up, and he smiled. “Lucy, I feel like I have been waiting for you my entire life.”


11
“Elliott, Jesus, Elliott, wake up for fuck’s sake.” Surin opened her eyes and stretched out lazily like a cat.
“Morning, Parker,” she mumbled and smiled. Wait. What! “Parker! What the fuck are you doing in my house! In my bedroom!” Suddenly, she felt very aware of her see-through white Calvin Klein singlet and reached down to try to wrap her comforter around her body in an attempt to regain what was left of her dignity.
“Relax!” He laughed and backed away from the bed, hands up in mock surrender. “I have been ringing and paging and ringing. I knocked on the door for ten minutes and still no answer.”
“And you are in here how?” she screamed, realising she sounded a tad neurotic.
“What time did you get home last night?” he asked, changing the subject and throwing her off balance.
“What? Umm, I don’t really remember, around three a.m., I guess.” She sat up. “Yes, it was because my insane neighbour still had infomercials blaring on her TV.”
Surin reached up to rub her eyes awake when she noticed a streak of black running down her hand. Great, she thought, I’m sitting here half-naked, sporting hair like an escaped mental patient, and I now have mascara running down my face. Could this possibly be any more embarrassing?
At that moment, she caught Parker’s eye. He was staring at the opposite side of her white queen-size bed — the side that was currently occupied by a large stuffed yellow Minion. He looked at her, his mouth twitching, trying very hard to hold himself together.
“Right!” she yelled. “Get out!”
He left the room in a hurry, calling down the hallway. “Have a shower, I’ll wait here, and we have a scene so move it.”
Surin threw her sheets back and got out of bed, cursing under her breath. As she entered her en suite, she suddenly turned and shouted out to Parker, “Despicable Me is a really good movie!” Then slammed the door, trying to ignore the roar of laughter that was echoing down the hall.
After what seemed like an eternity, Surin finally appeared. Parker looked up from the newspaper he was reading and studied her. She had tied her hair back in a slick low bun. On anyone else this would look matronly, but Surin pulled the look off with ease. She had put on black tailored suit pants, heeled ankle boots and an ocean-blue Ralph Lauren polo. Match that with her shoulder holster sporting a Glock 22, and in his eyes, she looked as sexy as a woman could get.
“I have a coffee for you.” He gestured towards her kitchen bench where an impossibly large Starbucks cappuccino stood. Surin tried to ignore him, but the pull of coffee was overwhelming.
“Thanks.” She groaned and took a sip, her eyes rolling back with pleasure. They had been working together for two months now, and Parker had come to realise that the quicker Surin Elliott got coffee, the safer everyone was.
“What have we got?” she asked, snatching the paper from him and adding, “I thought you didn’t have time to read the news?” She eyed him sarcastically.
He smirked and lounged right back into her kitchen chair, lifting the front two legs slightly off the floor. “DB,” he said, and paused for dramatic effect. Surin put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to continue. “Fits the description,” he added and then watched as her face lit up, adrenalin and caffeine surging through her bloodstream and hitting her all at once.
“Why didn’t you wake me sooner!” she yelled, grabbing his car keys and heading quickly to the door.
Parker stood smiling and followed, handing her a cinnamon roll on the way out. She took the pastry and turned to face him.
“You never told me how you got into my place, Parker,” she said before spinning and striding towards his car.