Authors: Ben Hopkin
Tags: #General Fiction
Darc stepped in. “The principle the killer used in planning the locales of the murders along the different points of the pentagram.”
“Right, I get that,” Trey said. “Just like that High Priest was talking about.”
“Yes, but the spiral changes everything.” Mala’s eyes were glittering. She seemed to really dig all this symbolism crap. Perfect match for Darc. He stored that away as a future argument to use if and when Mala decided to bolt again.
“Okay, you’re talking about that freaky snail thingy?”
“It is another geometric recreation of the Golden Ratio,” she continued. “Each spiral moves outward by a factor of
phi
. The divine number.”
Trey looked around the room. The ME seemed to have lost interest, and Cody seemed both rapt and horrified. Strange reaction. No one seemed lost. Oh well. Trey was used to being three or four steps behind and completely clueless.
“So, what does that mean?” he asked.
“Well, it means that it’s less likely to be the Satanists,” came the response. Mala seemed almost upset at that. Perhaps she hadn’t taken a shine to Edward Hoffman.
“But he was talking about all of that
phi
stuff, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “But the Golden Spiral is not a symbol that’s typically used by Satanists. And I think Edward was just showing off his knowledge. Satanists usually use the pentagram to depict the devil.”
Trey shook his head. “What?”
Mala grabbed a scrap of paper off the ME’s desk, after a nod from the doctor gave her permission. She sketched a pentagram in the center. “Look. With one of the points turned down, the other two points on top could look like horns, and the one on the bottom could be the beard. The other two are the ears. It forms the figure of a goat.”
“Or Satan,” Trey said, realization dawning. “I saw enough drawings of that guy in Catholic school to know what you’re talking about now.”
“So we need to look into other groups that use the pentagram.”
“We already kinda did that,” Trey protested. “The Wiccans. But the girl we talked to said they were totally into harmony and stuff like that. No real grisly rituals there.”
“That’s mostly true,” Mala agreed. “But they aren’t the only other groups that have used the pentagram. Mormons, Freemasons, even the ancient order of Pythagoreans all did, and invoked some pretty nasty imagery for those who broke rank and shared sensitive information.”
There was a cough from across the room. It was Cody, who was looking uncomfortable and a bit pale.
“I think we maybe need to get out of here and let these guys work,” Trey murmured to Darc and Mala. “Oh, hey,” he said, remembering. “What happened with Janey?”
“She got into trouble for cutting off a boy’s rat tail.”
“What?” Trey sputtered, trying not to laugh.
“I know, right?” she said. “But it’s not all that funny. More problems at school means more possible problems at DSHS.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. We’ll figure it out.” She moved toward the exit, Darc and Trey following behind.
That was the thing with Mala. She did always seem to be able to figure things out.
CHAPTER 12
Mala was almost home when she got a call.
“Ms. Charan? This is Richard Templeton from DSHS.”
Fantastic
. This was exactly what Mala did not need right now. “Please. It’s
Dr
. Charan. What can I do for you, Mr. Templeton?”
“I need you to come in to my office right away. Some new information has surfaced that needs addressing.”
“I’m not sure that my schedule—”
“
Right
away. This is important, as I’m sure you can understand. Caitlyn is at school, so there shouldn’t be any difficulty here.”
“I am working, so actually—”
“Please,
Dr
. Charan,” he said, making the title an insult. “You’re a consultant. Not a full time employee. There should be some flexibility there. Would you like for me to call your supervisor?”
Honestly, that sounded like a great idea. Mala knew she was respected, even well liked, at work. But the thought of Captain Merle getting interrupted over a petty social worker and his ridiculous turf war didn’t sound all that appealing either.
“I will come in,” she assented. “But I will also be having a conversation with your superior about the way in which I’m being called in with no warning or consideration for my work schedule.”
Mr. Templeton’s tone got icy at that, but the stiffness of his diction told Mala that she had hit pay dirt. “We are the first line of defense for the children in our care. As such, we are given some leeway under certain conditions.”
“And to what conditions are you referring right now?”
“I think it best to discuss this in person.” The social worker disconnected the line, leaving Mala fuming.
She needed to calm down before she got to the office, or she would end up fulfilling every dire prediction Richard Templeton had apparently made for her as a foster parent. Nothing like having a screaming hissy fit in the middle of DSHS to throw a monkey wrench in her adoption process.
So, Mala took deep breaths and thought happy thoughts all the way to the social services building. The sight of the edifice threatened her emotional stability, but she thought of Janey and how all this was worth being with that amazing little girl, and the storm passed.
It passed, or she had gone into the eye, and the worst was yet to come. There was no way of knowing the future, but with what Richard Templeton had shown her to date, Mala wasn’t too optimistic.
She squared her shoulders and marched over to the social worker’s desk. And there he sat, his beady eyes peering at Mala with a nasty form of what looked like self-righteous judgment and indignation.
In Mala’s experience, there was nothing more challenging to deal with than someone that was assured of his or her own
right
ness. If there was no room for honest self-evaluation, how would one’s own issues and prejudices ever come to light?
“Ms. Charan,” he began, as she sat down in front of his desk.
“
Dr
. Charan.” Mala was done with playing nice. Civility was her new standard, and civility did not require her to ignore shots across the bow. This was clearly that.
Richard Templeton made no acknowledgement of her correction. Instead, he launched himself headfirst into the fray.
“We understand that Caitlyn is having difficulty at school.”
Shit
.
How in the name of all that was holy had he heard that? She had just met with the principal
today
. There was no way that word had spread that quickly. Unless... Templeton was keeping tabs on Mala above and beyond what was necessary and appropriate.
Her mind raced, thinking through the various scenarios. In the end, she decided that going on the offensive was called for here. She would use every tool in her arsenal. It seemed clear that this man was doing what he could to stand in the way of Mala’s successful adoption of Janey. That made him the enemy. There would be no quarter given here.
“May I ask where you came across that piece of information?” Mala asked, keeping her tone light.
“When we have concerns about a child’s well being, we dig. From the start I’ve had questions as to whether you could keep your professional ego in check and become a true parent to Caitlyn. She needs discipline that you seem unprepared to provide.”
Mala ground her teeth to keep from barking out her question once more. “I will ask you again. How did you know about my conversation with the principal?”
“Did you really think we wouldn’t be checking in with Caitlyn’s school?” he asked. Mala noted that he hadn’t really answered her question at all. “How well would I be doing my job if I didn’t?
From what I hear, this kind of attention to detail is a first for DSHS
, Mala thought but didn’t say. She may be at war with Templeton, but allowing it to get out of control would hurt no one but her. And Janey. Keeping her eye on that prize was all-important.
“Ja… Caitlyn is having difficulty adjusting to school life,” Mala replied. “That’s not surprising considering her history. We’re working it out with her teacher and principal.”
“I believe that the issues here are symptomatic of larger problems.” The social worker ordered files on his desk, studiously avoiding Mala’s gaze. “They usually are.” He rapped his finger against his desk for emphasis.
Mala froze.
“That’s an interesting ring you have there,” she commented, pointing at the piece of jewelry.
Templeton snatched his hand below the desk, but then recovered with a silky smile. “It was my grandfather’s,” he said.
“Interesting,” she replied. “It’s a beautiful piece.
“Thank you,” he said with poor grace. “Now, as for this situation with Caitlyn’s school—”
“I said that we are working it out,” Mala shot back. “Now, was that the only reason you called me in?”
“Only reason? I think you are underestimating the seriousness of—”
“And I think your behavior is bordering on harassment,” she retorted. “I don’t know for sure, but my guess is that’s frowned on here.”
The social worker met her gaze and smiled at her, his teeth showing. “You might be surprised. We all take the safety of children very seriously here.”
“As do I, Mr. Templeton.” She stood up. “Was there anything else?”
“Just that I wanted to let you know that I’m escalating your case,” he said, tapping the file in front of him. “All this information will now be in front of my direct supervisor. Thought you should be informed, so that there are no surprises.”
“No. Wouldn’t want surprises, now would we?” Mala stared into the man’s eyes, wanting nothing more than to gouge them out. But she had other plans.
There was a certain someone that she needed to chat with.
* * *
The glowing pathways intersected in new ways, with fewer collisions, more connections. The information they had received today had gone a long way to reconciling the disparate strands and streams that had been pushing back so strongly since the beginning of the case.
There was still interference from the odd groupings of numbers, but that disruption was less now. And it seemed to have to do with letting go of the Satanist angle. Or at least backing away from it for the moment.
Darc sat in the passenger seat of Trey’s Land Rover, the sounds coming from his partner filtering in to Darc’s branched highways of brilliant color, merging with what they found there and coming up with a solution.
Trey had a question. It was a realization that struck Darc, as those types of intuitive leaps were generally beyond the scope of the logical threads. But the combination of Trey’s grunting noises and awkward shifting, added to the glances he continued to send in Darc’s direction, gave shape to what before would have been grey emotional topography.
Darc was learning.
“What is it?” he asked, turning toward his partner.
His messy-haired companion startled at that. “What d’you mean?”
“You have a question for me.”
“How…? You…?” he began. Then he shook his head. “Wow. This is big, Darc. Like, I-gotta-tell-everyone big. You know that, right?”
But Darc just stared at him. Somehow he knew that Trey wasn’t truly looking for an answer to that question.
“Okay,” Trey said after a moment. “How come we’re not racing off to another crime scene right now?”
The pathways tangled again in confusion. Trey must have seen the echo of that chaos in Darc’s face, as he continued.
“I mean, last time, you saw the star-map-whatsit and you were off like a bat out of hell.” Trey thought about that for a minute. “Come to think of it, you almost look like a human bat. The smooth head, the small kinda pointy ears…”
“Trey…” Darc prompted.
“Right. Well, my question is this… Why don’t you know where the next murder’s gonna happen?”
The strands of light buzzed about, seeming almost… offended… somehow. Odd. Logic should not get upset. Things either were or they were not. There should be no personality involved. And yet, the response was definitively there.
Darc sorted through the various colored threads to find the one that would communicate most readily with his partner. He picked the most straightforward of the lot.
“When we saw the first array of points on the pentagram, they included two outer points of adjacent arms of the five-pointed star, and one inner point on the far side of one of those arms. The remaining inner space was still lacking a mark, which indicated the location of the next murder. I have no such point of reference now.”
Trey sat for a while, from all appearances chewing on the inner part of his right cheek. That was an odd habit that Darc had observed in his companion from time to time. The end result of the self-mastication was usually another statement that demonstrated Trey’s lack of understanding of whatever it was Darc had just said.
That was the case this time as well. “Your explanation was… well… not very explanatory.”
And that had been the simplest of the threads Darc could find. He found himself in a very uncomfortable position, one that was normally reserved for only social interactions. He was going to have to communicate without help from the logic strands.
His entire system jangled. This was never a pleasing process for him, and up until recently, he had not really engaged in doing so often. It made him feel strangely vulnerable, as if he were entering a crime scene without his gun.
“I am missing a vital… very important… piece of information. Without it I cannot ascertain… discover… where to find the next murder scene.”
“Oh. Gotcha.” Trey sat back further in his seat, then sat upright once more. His attention apparently compromised, he had to swerve to get back into the proper lane before striking a blue Honda to their side. “Whoa.”
“What?”
“That was the first time I think you’ve ever dumbed it down for me.”
Darc swiveled his head to look at his partner. “I do not understand.”
“You… you…” Trey seemed to be groping for words, his free hand waving in the air in front of him. “You were speaking my language. Well, sorta. I mean, I understood everything you said, but then you even translated some of the words I knew but never would’ve used myself. Good job, dude!”