Where the Violets Grow

Chapter 10- Corpses

Vivian

I used to think that I knew what Hell was like.

I used to think that Hell was waves of fire licking up jagged peaks of brimstone. We were warned about it all our lives. My brothers and I used to lie down at night, afraid that it would open up beneath our beds and swallow us whole. Hell is screaming and wailing in agony.

I know better now.

I know better because, since the dawn of time, screaming has been a universal sign that we are very much alive. We are born into this world bloody and screaming and alive.

Hell is different from that.

Hell is silent. Cold.

Hell is the stillness in the dark, waiting for the creaking of the stairs long after the moon is obscured by the shadows. It is figures watching from where my eyes don't reach.

Hell is filled with the cries that ring out only to reach the ears of corpses.

A corpse—that is how I have always seen myself. On the outside, I am Homicide Detective Vivian Cross. The general public sees the badge and the face behind dozens of solved homicides. The department sees the daughter of a once highly regarded police chief clawing her way through the ranks, pouring blood and sweat into every waking hour of training. Neighbors and relatives see the girl who witnessed her mother being shot to death in an armed robbery gone awry.

The girl whose father never recovered from the loss of his wife.

You look just like her, you know...

The words ring through my mind in a haunting echo.

Daddy's little girl...

I slam the file I've been poring over for hours shut. I shove away from my desk and walk to the window of my office, knotting my fingers in my hair and breathing slowly with my eyes closed until my heart stops pounding. Once it steadies, my eyelids slowly peel back to stare out over the vast city. The department overlooks it from thirty stories up, nothing but bustling city noise and people shuffling to and from wherever.

Sons, daughters, mothers and fathers...

Brothers, sisters...

Doctors and lawyers...

Blue collars and CEOs...

All mingling together with the righteous and the wicked. Good and Evil coexisting with hardly more than their own perceptions and delusions to identify the other side.

I stare until my vision blurs, then I turn away. The normally spacious office suddenly feels like a tomb, and I rip my jacket off the hook and leave before I can suffocate. I speed-walk down the hallway to the elevators and smash the button a little too aggressively.

I've got to get out of here.

My frustration bubbles in my temples like hot soup as the numbers crawl upward at a snail's pace. When the screen finally reads 30, I practically press myself up against the doors to board.

Almost free... Almost...

The doors slide open.

"There you are."

The department chief and commissioner are standing between me and a much-needed dose of oxygen. I take an almost too-obvious wide step back and to the side. I nod my head respectfully while staring past them.

"Chief," I greet him solemnly. Then, to the man beside him, the Commissioner: "Sir."

They both nod in acknowledgment.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" I try to sound pleasant, but it falls flat. They don't seem to notice.

"Oh, I was just in the neighborhood." The Commissioner's mustache turns up at the corners, but his eyes remain cold as stone. "I came by to run some analytics with your chief, and he was on his way to see you, so I tagged along."

Chief Dodson laughs in a way that doesn't reach his ankles. Turning serious in a heartbeat, he hands the file over to me.

"High-priority case. It needs your full attention," he says. "The state attorney's son left home nearly a week ago and hasn't come home. His mother has been ringing my phone off the hook and chewing my damn ear off. Take care of it. Please."

The last word is clipped.

I stare at the name on the file.

Daniel Ashford. The son of the state attorney.

Missing. Not dead.

I try not to let my Are-You-f*****g-Kidding-Me face show too much. "I see..." I fiddle with the edges of the file pages. "If I may, sir... shouldn't this be a case for Missing Persons?"

The chief nods and runs his fingers through his gray hair. "Yes, it normally would be." He heaves a sigh and throws his hands up as if saying f**k it. "But his mother insisted that I assign the 'woman detective who is always in the papers' to investigate because..." The vein in his forehead twitches with the last part. "She said you were the only one in the entire department who seemed to have a set of balls and was capable of finding her precious Danny."

The Commissioner throws his head back and lets out a booming laugh, clapping Chief Dodson on the shoulder. "Yeah, that's Hillary for you," he chuckles. "She's as cutthroat as they come, and she makes a mean blueberry cobbler."

He continues to chuckle while Chief Dodson stands looking like a disgruntled bird that just had its bread stolen.

I awkwardly fake a laugh and tuck the file under my arm. "Don't worry, Chief. I'll look into it, and in the meantime, you can just forward all of Mrs. Ashford's calls to me."

The ice thaws, and Chief Dodson actually smiles, taking my free hand and shaking it gratefully.

"Thank you, Detective Cross. The sooner we get this figured out, the sooner we can get back to cases that are actually in our jurisdiction."

"Yes, sir," I say robotically. "Just leave it to me."

"That's our Vivian." The Commissioner's hand falls on my shoulder. "Always ready for whatever comes her way."

My stomach twists, and I fight the urge to shove his hand away. Instead, I politely step to the side and salute with feigned urgency. "Yes, well, sirs, if you will please excuse me. I am going to go get started so we can ease Mrs. Ashford's mind."

They send a farewell salute back to me, and I hear them chattering behind me as I begrudgingly head back to my office. My plan is to drop the file on my desk and wait until their voices disappear from the hall before I sneak down the stairwell to the 28th-floor elevators.

"Missing Persons..." I mutter as I jam my key into the lock. "f*****g politics..."

"I'd like a word with you, Detective."

The Commissioner's voice behind me makes my skeletal system attempt to remove itself from my skin suit.

I turn slowly to meet his gaze. He stands there with his hands in his pockets, cold eyes locked on me and his mustache crooked over a wry smile.

"Or are you too busy to say hi to your own Dad?"