Page 9 of Dropping Like Flies

“No…” I was already backing away. Nothing felt right anymore. The club was too hot. My clothes were too tight. My mouth was too dry. I needed out of here and I needed to be on my own. I needed whiskey. Lots of whiskey. Enough that I didn’t have to think about that innocent question—do you have a sister? Because I’d had one once, but not anymore, and that was something that ate away at me every second of every day. “I need to walk.”

Flynn came a step closer. “I’ll walk with you.”

“No!” The word came out as sharp as a whip crack. I took a deep breath and tried again. “Thank you, but…”

“Whatever I said, whatever I did… I’m sorry. I wish you’d tell me what it was and then I can make sure I don’t do it again.”

Shaking my head, I turned on my heel and strode away, pushing my way past anybody who didn’t move out of the way fast enough. The night air was a refreshing balm as I finally stepped outside and took off down the street. I might have been going the right way to get home, or I might have been heading in a completely different direction. Only time would tell.

Chapter Four

Ben

The main office was heaving as I stepped inside. I deliberately averted my gaze from the incident board that took up most of one wall, already knowing what I’d find there: crime scene photos from four bodies. All men. All killed in the same way. All found in their bedrooms with the same symbols drawn in blood on the wall, and all missing their fingers and thumbs. And absolutely no fucking leads. Not a single one.

It had only been two weeks since the discovery of the first victim and already the killer had struck three more times to prove we had a bona fide serial killer on our hands. One who wasn’t afraid to kill and kill again. The latest victim had been discovered two days ago—thirty-eight-year-old Baris Demir, a married father of three, who’d originally hailed from Turkey. I’d interviewed his wife myself, his widow sticking to her guns that her husband wasn’t gay and that she would have known if he was. It hadn’t quite been as harrowing as interviewing the first victim’s parents, but it had run a close second.

Duncan Whitaker’s parents had confirmed he’d only recently moved to London from Southampton to attend university. Biggest mistake he’d ever made. His mother hadn’t been able to stop crying for more than a minute at a time during the interview. His father had been more stalwart, but the redness of his eyes had spoken of that only being a temporary measure for my benefit.

I’d learned nothing more useful than that Duncan had been gay. Between sobs, his mother had spoken at length about how proud she was of him coming out when he was still in high school, about how he’d even taken his boyfriend at the time to the sixth form dance and not given a damn if he got flak for it. They’d shown me his room, but I’d already known there was nothing useful to be gleaned from it. Duncan didn’t have dark secrets that would lead us to a killer he’d already known. He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d done what a lot of young men did: taken someone home. But for him, that decision had proved fatal.

“Ebeneezer,” Paul White said in greeting as I took the seat behind my desk. Lou raised his head from the adjoining one to offer me a nod. “I’m not fucking Scrooge,” I said in answer to the ongoing attempt to find out what Ben was short for. I rued the day I hadn’t just lied and claimed it was Benjamin the first time of asking.

“Could have fooled me,” White’s partner, Oliver Barell, offered. “Remember that Christmas tree I oh so generously put on your desk? Barely five minutes had passed before you chucked it in the bin.”

I rolled my eyes. “You mean the one with little cocks hanging from it instead of baubles?”

“Thought you liked cock?” Paul said with a smirk and a very poor impression of my Welsh accent.

“I do. Just not as Christmas decorations. Call me fussy.”

“We do,” Oliver said. “That and a hundred other things when your back’s turned.”

I didn’t credit that with a response. It was all well-meaning banter, anyway. There might have been some people in the department who had a problem with my sexuality, but it wasn’t any of the three men in my direct vicinity. Oliver had even told me once during a drunken after work pub visit that he was glad I was gay, that in his words, it meant more skirt for the rest of them without my handsome mug getting in the way.

Lou cleared his throat. “DCS wants to see you, and he made it clear it needed to be five minutes before you got here.”

My gut did a somersault, and a rubber band wrapped itself round my chest. “Don’t tell me there’s been another one?”

Lou’s gaze drifted to the incident board that I still hadn’t looked at. “Not that I know of.”

My chest loosened slightly. I wasn’t ready for four to become five yet. It was going to happen, though, if we didn’t catch him. And that was looking about as likely as me waking up tomorrow and deciding I’d been wrong all these years and I was straight after all.

I rose from my chair, eyeballing Lou when he didn’t move so much as an inch. “Come on then. Shake a leg.”

He sat back in his chair, fixing me with a sardonic look as he folded his arms across his chest. “Are your ears just for decoration? I said he wanted to see you. Not us. I’m on desk duty until further notice.”

“What!” When my exclamation had heads turning our way, I lowered my voice. “You’re my partner. Don’t tell me cutbacks have gotten so bad that they’re sending us out on our own.” I ignored Oliver and Paul as they did a terrible impression of pretending they weren’t listening while taking in every word.

Lou shrugged. “Word on the street is that as of today, you’ve got a new partner.”

“What do you mean?” None of this made any sense. “Who in their right mind would decide that in the middle of the biggest case we’ve had in years?”

Lou shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong person. I just do what I’m told. And I’ve been told to keep searching for any links between our victims and feed it back to you. Baros didn’t directly say I’d be taking a back seat, but I can read between the lines.”

“For fuck’s sake!” I stared at Lou for a few seconds longer, but when he had no further explanation to offer, I spun on my heel and headed for Baros’ office, rage and frustration transporting me there in half the time it would normally have taken. My knock was louder than normal, my fingers relishing the opportunity to curl into a fist.

“Come in.”

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