A man took the seat opposite Detective Lane, slumping down on the ragged vinyl with the weariness that accompanies a life spent uncovering monsters. The look on his face was not one Lane had come across often, one that said more than any words. Still, he pressed on.
“I want to talk to you about your former partner, Dylan Knox.”
“You mentioned that. You work with him already, so what else do you need to know?”
“I'm trying to figure out if he has something against me in particular, or if he just holds all of humanity in contempt.”
“I see, you're at that point where you think he should be acknowledging that you contribute to the team, but he spends most of his time off in his own little world.”
“That's exactly it.”
“Don't sweat it. That's just the way he is. He was like that the day he got his desk, and it never changed. It didn't matter to him that he was low man on the totem pole, he knew he was good at his job, and he didn't think being collegial mattered as long as he was right. Turns out, he wasn't wrong.”
“I get that, but I want to know how you managed to get past that. How did you get his respect?”
“Who said I did?”
“You worked together so long, you had to have a better rapport with him than I do.”
“We got along, but that's because I figured out the key to handling him.”
“Which is?”
“Staying out of his way. If you let him do his thing, and chime in with a good idea now and then, things will go just fine. But if you insist on trying to show him what you're capable of, and muscling in on his turf, you're going to get shut out.”
“All I want to do is learn how to do the job well. I can't do that when he doesn't work with me.”
“That's all part of the education, kid. If you watch long enough, you start to see how the whole thing works. It's not that he's trying to shut you out intentionally, even if he does hate you. He's trying to show you, in his own misguided way, that procedure isn't everything. You have to find your own way of working, your own way of thinking. It’s not about drawing a murder board with straight lines. If that's what you're expecting, you're probably in the wrong line of work.”
“Because life's too complicated for that.”
“It is if you're actually trying to get to the truth. Look, it's one thing to solve a case. It's a whole different task to figure out what really happened. That don't always mesh.”
“And what he does is try to figure out the big picture, not just the little bit we get to see.”
“Pretty much. There's more to a mystery than who did it.”
“Finding out the how and why is as important as finding out the who.”
“Now you're starting to get it.”
“Thanks. You've been a big help.”
“That's a first.”
Chapter 20
Sin-Light
A few stray beams of sunlight snuck through the clouds, reflecting off the windshields of the cars lining the street, blinding anyone who didn't shield their eyes. It was rare, in the city, for the sun to bestow the people with rays of hope once they had been roused from their slumber. The city was a dark void, a black hole that sucked the life out of anyone who dared enter its limits. Even sunlight refused to dip a toe in the water, lest it be sucked in like the rest, never to escape.
The city exercised a pull on its inhabitants, and even the most jaded of them stayed long past the point when they should have made the break. It had a way of turning people into prisoners, brainwashing them into believing that life would be no better anywhere else, despite the fact that it could not be any worse. Stockholm syndrome may have made them stay, but it was not a happy accident. The city was a living being, working to control as many lives as possible, breeding a constant supply of fresh souls to harvest.
The glare caught Detective Knox squarely in the eyes, burning them a deeper shade of red. He raised his hand to shield them, cursing the sun for daring to make an appearance. This place, he thought, was not one that should be seen, certainly not with fresh eyes and bright light. The sun illuminated the dried trails of blood that led into every storm drain, the cracked burgundy walkways that traveled the path of death, things best left under the cover of darkness. Sunlight illuminated the sins of the city, which led Knox to call it 'sin-light', a term he felt was more befitting.
Detective Knox understood how absurd it was to be annoyed by clear skies and sunshine, but he also understood that not everything in life was meant to be beautiful. Without the light, the dark was all you knew, and things didn't look so bad. Only the comparison could stop the desensitization that was necessary to live in the city. Sunshine, he thought, was as much a poison as any chemical.
Detective Lane spotted Knox from a block away, leaning on the hood of the car, his breath spiraling into the sky like a plume of pure white smoke. As always, he looked to be lost in thought, oblivious to the bustling world passing him by. It was fitting, Lane thought, that Knox had no idea, in addition to no care, for the progress that threatened to bury him alive.
Knox didn’t notice him until he was standing within inches, well within the bubble of personal space Knox insisted on maintaining. Lane cleared his throat, alerting Knox to his arrival. Knox turned his head, a wedge cut from the dark circles of his eyes by the corner, exposing just enough for both sides to know the connection had been made.
“You really should be more careful about where you are when you go off into your own little world. Standing in the middle of the street probably isn't a good idea.”
“If you hang around long enough, you realize nothing is a good idea.”
“I'm sure it's not, but you don't want your obituary to say that you got hit by a car while you were busy thinking, do you?”
“Hey, I'm proud of the fact that I actually think.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“Lighten up, will you? So where were you?”
Detective Lane was fortunate that Knox was not a proponent of eye contact; as it would have been much more difficult to lie to his partner. Able to cast his eyes aside, Lane felt more comfortable, picking his words carefully so they would not be truly deceitful.
“I had something personal to take care of. It's nothing you need to worry about.”
“I'm not worried. I just didn't realize we were hiding things from each other.”
“You hide things from me all the time. You barely tell me anything.”
“Fair enough. I should say I didn't realize you were hiding things from me.”
“You can't just let me have this, can you?”
“What kind of partner would I be if I didn't give you a hard time?”
“A good one.”
“That's debatable. So really, where were you?”
Lane wondered for a moment whether to tell Knox the truth. There would be some embarrassment to be sure, but maybe his partner would consider it a sign of initiative that he’d gone out and made an effort to become a better detective. The most likely scenario, he realized, was that Knox would not care at all, and the angst he was feeling about his decision would be for nothing. His conscience would get the better of him in time, he knew, so it was better to rip the bandage off the wound and take the pain, to at least save himself the trauma of endless anxiety.
“I was talking to your old partner. I thought he might be able to tell me a few things about how to satisfy you.”