Page 44 of Darkness

Austen leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed tightly across his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, features completely neutral, looking very much the part of the model Morrisey suspected him of being. Austen’s current blank cop face must mean disapproval or concern. No one could fault him on either account.

Austen studied Morrisey with an overwhelming intensity, which put Morrisey on edge, especially after last night’s weird-as-fuck dream.

Still looked like an angel, though. A faint sensation not felt in a while had recently stirred to life. Lust. Oh shit, and they’d be working together. The fucking dream made Morrisey feel like he knew the guy. Felt a kinship.

Bullshit. Morrisey didn’t feel kinship with people.

Why had they been assigned to work together? There were other recruits. Morrisey had encountered a couple during orientation—clean-cut, military types who likely bench-pressed Mazdas in their off time, though they’d gone off with other trainers. Austen seemed important. Why pair him with a newbie off the street? Maybe he’d fucked up and got Morrisey as punishment.

“What will we be doing, exactly, Austen?” Morrisey finally asked when the inscrutable stare grew too heavy.

Austen smiled, the expression somewhat strained. “Please, call me Farren.”

Austen… Farren… joined Morrisey and Leary at the table, sitting on the side opposite Morrisey. Leary had taken the end and sat back, letting Farren do the talking.

Farren toyed with an iPad. “Your last big case involved a multiple homicide.”

Morrisey blinked hard. The image still formed on the back of his eyelids. He tried his hardest not to blink. “Yeah. Mothers with kids. Only the mothers died. Horribly.” Had the women somehow sacrificed themselves for their children?

“You never found the person or persons responsible.”

“No. Never had the chance since I was on leave later the same day.” They’d never get anywhere now either if Aust… Farren spent the clusterfucking day repeating the obvious.

Farren paused for several moments before continuing, guaranteeing Morrisey’s gaze didn’t wander. “We strongly believe a malevolent entity possessed the suspects. You and I will continue your investigation. We need to ensure this wasn’t a human-on-human killing.”

Malevolent entity. Did the job come with a dictionary? “My preliminary investigation turned up nothing.” But a dead partner. Morrisey, unfortunately, didn't get to investigate. “Due to… circumstances, I had to hand the case off.” Circumstances like laying a partner to rest, getting attacked, and nearly dying. “The trail’s going cold.”

Leary pursed his lips but said nothing. Farren pushed on. “We have tools at our disposal that your precinct doesn’t.”

Oh yeah? “Like what?”

“Were you aware of an additional adult victim? A survivor.”

What the absolute hell? Morrisey balled his hands into fists, fingernails biting into his palms. “No! Why the hell didn’t I get this information?” How was it even conceivable for anyone to survive such carnage?

“Because of us,” Leary finally said. “We didn’t want the suspect coming back. The doctors have officially declared the victim brain dead. Recovery is not possible. He’s on life support after being found catatonic a few houses away. They took him to a human hospital since he wasn’t in any danger of spilling secrets.”

Anger brought on by frustrating weeks of no closure flashed through Morrisey. “How the hell was I supposed to investigate if I didn’t know about the survivor?”

Leary stared upward briefly, then dropped his gaze. “You know now, and you’ll handle the investigation.”

"The official reason he's connected to life support is because he's an organ donor, being kept alive until they can harvest his organs," Farren offered. “Standard procedure in such cases.”

A pit opened in the bottom of Morrisey’s stomach. “What’s the real reason?”

Farren glanced at his boss, who paused before returning his attention to Morrisey. “So we can talk to him.”

How was it possible to communicate with someone brain-dead? Could this be like the impressions Morrisey got from touching a dead body? Did the FBI somehow know of Morrisey’s talents?

Farren and Leary exchanged meaningful glances once more. This time, Leary acted as spokesman. "We have our ways."

The words didn't bode well, invoking a multitude of late-night movie villains. Morrisey almost expected a chortled Muh-ha-ha-ha!

Leary and Farren both stared expectantly.

Once more, Morrisey contemplated running. “What about my job? I haven’t even spoken to my captain yet.” He spared an inkling of guilt for never reporting back after his FBI interview per Gaskins’s instructions and wasn’t looking forward to the meeting.

Farren rose from his chair. “I’ve been in contact with your Captain Gaskins. You’ll receive a new weapon, and we’ll return the old one. You work for us as of eight o’clock this morning. Now”—he rubbed his hands together — “let’s go. Our witness won’t wait forever.”

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