Ghosts

Madelyn and her partner canvassed the area around the park, looking for anything that might be linked to the two corpses: a footprint, a candy wrapper, drag marks. They searched for witnesses, security cameras at the surrounding colleges or Madame Tussauds, couples snogging in the park who might have heard something.

“Nothing,” Aidan frowned. “Not a single bloody person in the entire park. Not a tyre track or a muddy footprint or a blade of grass out of place. It was, what, half nine when we got here? No one saw these two magically lowered in by helicopter?”

Madelyn rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked vacantly around. “Maybe he used his little cupid wings to fly them in. Cupid can make himself invisible, right?”

Aidan laughed. “I don’t know.” They stood in silence for a few moments and contemplated the scene around them. Finally, Aidan sighed. “I don’t know. I think we’re about done here, though. I’ve taken the statement of the constable that found them here, and coroner says autopsy results will be complete tomorrow. Not much else we can do. Besides, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

Madelyn nodded. She could use some sleep. And a bottle of cheap scotch. They made their way out of the park and back to Aidan’s car silently. He could tell that Madelyn was trying to hide the fact that she’d been deeply disturbed by the crime scene but she wasn’t saying anything about it, so he turned the key in the ignition and drove silently home. When they reached her flat, he turned the car off and faced her.

“Maddy, look,” he started. “I know this one struck a chord with you. Maybe it’d be best if we did switch off the case, let Burke and Parson hand it.” Madelyn rolled her eyes at this suggestion.

“Stop trying to protect me, Parker,” she growled. “I’m a grown woman, and a damned good detective inspector. If I can’t handle a couple stabbings, I might as well quit.”

“That’s not what I meant. These weren’t just stabbings, Gray. They were—I mean, it was the same—you know what I meant.” Madelyn tried to smile as well she could.

“Yes, I know what you meant. The killer used a screwdriver, just like my dad’s killer used. It’s disturbingly similar, I get it. But I’m not quitting because of that. We’ll find this shit and put him behind bars. Now please may I go upstairs and get some sleep before the coroner’s report comes in and I have to be back at work?”

Aidan shrugged and started the engine again. “I’m just trying to help,” he offered.

“I know,” she smiled wearily. “Thanks.” And with that, she slammed the door and headed up to her flat. Upstairs, she ran a steaming bath, poured a generous amount of scotch into a tumbler, and stripped off all of her clothes. As she climbed into the water, the heat and the scotch loosened her restrained emotions and she cried alone in the tub for twenty minutes. She was physically and emotionally weary, and she knew the second she closed her eyes, pictures of her father’s own brutal death would start to mingle with the two corpses she had seen tonight. She quitted the tub and slipped naked beneath the covers, prepared for ghosts to overtake her.