Page 14 of Darkness

“Drank your dinner, didn’t ya?” the first officer said, tone mocking.

“Enough!” The whip-crack of Captain Gaskins’s shout as he came through the door silenced the two officers. Both shot to their feet, nearly toppling one chair.

Gaskins invaded their personal space. Morrisey watched them fight not to back away. “A brother on the force experienced trauma. You will not disrespect a member of my team. Do I make myself clear?” Anyone who didn’t know him would think Gaskins extremely pissed judging by the growl in his tone, not knowing he always sounded like a cornered bear. Being summoned to the hospital in the late hours probably didn't improve his mood. Even dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt, he commanded the same sense of authority he did at work.

Good thing he seemed to be on Morrisey's side—for now.

“Yes, sir,” both officers responded, all mirth gone.

“Good. Since you’re not being very productive, get back to work. I’ll take over from here.” Gaskins waited until they’d left to sag into the chair vacated by the chief instigator. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his index fingers. “Damn. Could this night possibly get any weirder?”

Probably wise not to talk about blue men right now. Morrisey would thank Gaskins for the save, but he could’ve traded one evil for another. Gaskins wasn’t smiling. Then again, Morrisey couldn’t recall the boss smiling more than a handful of times in the past eight years. Morrisey wasn’t smiling much, either. Every inch of him hurt.

Gaskins propped his chin on his palms, elbows on knees—an awkward pose for such a tall man. Though he still growled, he sounded less hostile now. “How are you feeling, James?”

James. Not “Morrisey” or “Morse,” so a professional call. “I’ve been better.”

“I’ve seen the reports. Deep thermal burns, brain trauma. Your doctor likened your injuries to being struck by lightning but with no external signs. Your brain being affected explains your hallucinations. Confusion is a normal symptom of a lightning strike.”

Hallucinations? Like a blue bald man tending to Morrisey in an ambulance? There hadn’t been even a hint of a storm in days. “He said those should go away.” Morrisey wanted to believe the doctor, but the nurse who’d just entered had the same blueish glow as the paramedic. Probably best not to say so.

“Yeah. Until you’re cleared by your doctor, you’re on leave.”

“But—”

Gaskins put up a hand, cutting off Morrisey’s protests. “There’s an investigation since you shot a suspect, though a pretty credible witness corroborated your story of self-defense. The victim’s wife at the liquor store confirmed the suspect’s identity from security footage. Looks like you took down a murder suspect.” He narrowed his dark brown eyes, deep lines furrowing his brows. “Pretty risky thing to do off duty without backup.”

Suspect hell! Having Agnes on hand had been a happy accident. Morrisey remained quiet. Nothing more he could say when he’d already told his story five times, at least.

His methods weren’t risky if he actually hoped to catch a bullet one day. Giving his life to save another might earn him some redemption when he breathed his last and faced whatever came next.

Judgement, he’d always been told.

Might be worth the risk to see the angel again.

Wait! Agnes! “Where’s my gun?”

“With forensics. You’ll get it back once they’ve finished their inspection. We’ll give you a department weapon until then.”

Fuck! No Agnes! The mere thought sent a shiver of panic into Morrisey’s belly, where it squirmed with whatever remained in his stomach.

Gaskins lowered his volume to a near whisper. “The guy you shot? Straight-up model citizen who didn’t even drink, according to his family and friends. Then, about a week ago, he started changing, almost like he was possessed, according to what they said.”

“What did he do?” Images from last night came to Morrisey’s mind. A grinning mouth. Bloody teeth.

“He tormented his wife. A neighbor found their cat dead. The same night, the perp’s wife said our suspect came in from outside covered in blood. Said he’d nicked himself working on his car.” Gaskins gave a disapproving shake of his head. “He’d never worked on a car before, and she found no traces of blood on either of their vehicles, but there was some in the backyard, along with fur and a bloody knife.”

Possessed sounded about right. The visual of a face over a face came back to mind: a man merged with some nightmare creature.

Morrisey remained silent. Speaking wouldn’t help the situation, only remove any doubt about his sanity.

Gaskins leaned closer. “Remember how you asked about rising crime rates? This isn’t the first report of a good person suddenly growing violent.”

The final case concerning Will. The party. Had good people gone bad there, too?

“Are the suspects trying to scare the victims as much as possible before killing them in the most gruesome ways possible? I’ve seen things even horror movies haven’t come up with.” Gaskins swept his hand across his head, a mannerism so familiar Morrisey sometimes made silent bets with himself on what part of conversations he’d see the gesture. “I’m telling you, Morse, I need you recovered and back in the office. Yours is the most level head we got at the moment.”

Morrisey? Level headed? Wow! The world really had gone to shit.

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