The Dark Places

And with that, she turned her back to him and began typing her reports.
Parker watched her for a while. She typed frantically at the keyboard, flipping and scrunching paper, occasionally swearing under her breath. This will be fun, he thought.

3
Katia had always been beautiful. Ever since she was a young girl, people had stopped and looked at her, smiling and sighing at her striking appearance. She had long, silky ebony hair and snow-white skin framed by perfect cheekbones and clear blue eyes. When she and her family immigrated to America, she was finally looked at by the right people. Elite Models signed her by her sixteenth birthday, and she was now quickly approaching her thirty-second.
“Jason, I have told you before, I am not doing that stupid shoot in the desert. Get me something local, OK?” she snarled down the phone, checking her appearance in the apartment’s lobby mirror.
“Katia, now is not the fucking time to be picky,” her agent begged. “You’re no spring chicken. There are five thousand girls that would easily kill you for a chance at the desert shoot. Just do it, please.”
“No, find something else,” she snapped back, raising her voice.
“It’s for Giorgio Armani, Katia. They have never wanted you before — this could put you back on the runway,” he whined.
“Well, maybe Armani should have thought of that before rejecting me the last seventy times I have tried to get work with them.”
“Katia, please!” He swallowed before continuing. “Offers are a bit thin at the moment—” She cut him off quickly before he bought up her age again.
“Jason, I am one of the top models in this damn country, scratch that, not one of them, I am the top model, I don’t need to beg for work. I have things to do, now go and do your fucking job!” She hung up the phone, swearing under her breath.
Thirty-two or not she thought, glancing in the mirror again, I reign over these young girls. No experience, no decorum, and they get drunk just smelling a bottle of Cristal. She smiled at her reflection and noticed faint lines around her eyes. I will have to get those done soon, she thought.
“Katia, come on!” She turned into her group of three girlfriends.
“Hi, ladies, I am dying for a coffee, let’s go!” She smiled and wrapped her arm around one of the girl’s waist. They all giggled as they walked out the front door of the apartment building, with not a care in the world.


4
Her pager shook her out of a deep, satisfying sleep — the incessant vibrations rumbled deeply on the bedside table.
Still a bit dazed, she fumbled around trying to find the lamp switch, and with a flick, the room was instantly saturated with light. She covered her eyes instinctively with the back of her hand and blindly reached out for the beeper.
J6
Homicide.
She glanced over at the clock: three thirty a.m. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said loudly, flopping her head back on the pillow, then reached over and grabbed Parker’s card from her wallet.
It rang twice. “Rhodes,” he answered gruffly, his voice thick with sleep.
“It’s Elliott, we’ve got a homicide. Get to my place in ten minutes, and we can go to the scene together. I’ll have more info then. First and forty-third Street.”
She hung up, not waiting for an answer, rolled out of her comfy bed, threw the sheets aside and stumbled into the shower.
After a few minutes of delicious hot water running over her back, she was wide awake. Wrapped in a towel, she grabbed the phone and called dispatch.
“Elliott — about time,” a male voice grumbled down the line. “You have a one-eight-seven, suite four, Serenity Towers, Breckham. Female, thirty-one. That’s all I got. No one but paramedics have been in. Local PD is on the scene and waiting for you.”
“On the way,” she replied, and jumped into a pair of dark-blue jeans, threw on her button-up blouse and heavy jacket. As she closed and locked the front door silently, she saw her new partner pull up in a black Crown Vic.
“Good morning,” he smiled politely, and a little too cheerily.
She eyed him cautiously. “Tell me you’re not a morning person?” she moaned, and as she got in, he handed her a cup of coffee.
“Oh, thanks,” she replied sincerely, taking a cautious sip. The hot liquid slid down her throat, and she immediately felt the warmth spread throughout her limbs. “God, I really needed that,” she said with a groan, and let her head fall back against the seat.
“I took a chance on white with two. Didn’t know how you took it,” he stated, as he pulled out of the street and flicked on the lights.
“It’s perfect, thanks. Any coffee is good coffee this time of day.”
“No worries,” he replied with a smile.
Surin studied him as he watched the road. He did not look like he had just woken up. He had a pair of dark jeans on, with a white shirt and grey jacket. His blue eyes were alert and focused, and his hair was almost ridiculously perfect. She tucked hers behind her ears subconsciously.
“Right, what have we got?” he asked, glancing at her quickly, noticing her stare.
“Female, thirty-one. That’s all I know. We’re heading to Breckham, Serenity Towers,” Surin stated, looking out the window at the inky blackness of the suburbs at night.
“Breckham?” he replied. “Don’t they have local PD?” he questioned.
“Yep, and trust me — they are not going to be happy to see us.”
“Great,” he replied and put his foot on the gas.
***
Surin glanced around the lobby of Serenity Towers. Narelle, assistant to the medical examiner, was talking quietly to the paramedics, a rather shaken-up maid was sitting on a red sofa, her eyes darting back and