NOT EDITED

Chapter Thirteen

Sunday: February 10, 2008

Thanks to Ed and a couple nightmares thrown his way, Dallas had spent another night sleeping like garbage. He scratched at his scalp as he made his way out to the kitchen, still dressed in his pajamas. On his way past the living room, he found Bo still asleep on the couch, legs pulled to his chest. He hardly took up the room a dog would.

At least he had slept. Dallas figured he had to chalk that up to a plus.

Or we could’ve killed him, Ed said. Dallas stopped walking. You were tired, Tex. So, so tired. Do you know how easy it is to take control of you when you’re exhausted?

Dallas took a few steps back and stared at Bo, waiting for any sign of Bo’s life. He lay on his side, the blanket tugged up to his shoulders and tucked under his feet. If he was breathing, there was no sign of it.

Heart pounding in his chest, Dallas walked over to the couch and pressed two fingers to Bo’s inner wrist. It took a moment of feeling around to find a heartbeat besides his own, but it was there. Bo was alive.

Ed laughed, a sudden headache shattering every cohesive thought in Dallas’s mind. Oh, I got you so good, Tex.

Dallas managed to make it to the kitchen before falling to his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head as he slammed his left hand down over his ear. It wasn’t long before he felt a hand on his. He opened his eyes, squinting at Bo, even the dim light in the kitchen proving to be too much to handle.

Bo sat in front of him on the floor, legs folded. He grabbed Dallas’s left hand and, without ever making a noise, rubbed his thumb in a small circle in the space between the base of Dallas’s thumb and forefinger. Dallas didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, the headache faded, as did the loud noises and overwhelmingly bright lights.

“How did…?”

“Acupressure. I assumed it was a migraine, based on… everything.” Bo offered a smile. “How often do they happen?”

“Depends on the month. Sometimes only once, sometimes a couple times a week.”

“I’m sorry you have to suffer through them. Have you seen a doctor?”

“Yeah. We believe it’s an underlying condition that we have to try and treat first,” Dallas said. Unfortunately, that underlying condition was Ed, and Dallas was pretty damn sure that bastard wasn’t going anywhere.

“I hope you find the underlying cause soon.”

“Me too. Thank you.” Dallas cleared his throat. “Was that a pressure point, then?”

“Yes.” Bo grabbed Dallas’s hand again and pressed his thumb into the same space as before. “Right here. You should do it on your left hand. You can massage it with your right hand, even with your arm in the sling.

“Cool. Thank you.”

“Mmhmm.”

Dallas shifted to sit on his ass rather than his knees. “When did you finally head to bed? Or, uh, to couch?”

One corner of Bo’s mouth lifted. For once, it didn’t immediately disappear. “Some time shortly after two o’clock this morning. Xavier made popcorn and introduced me to Uncharted. He was very excited to show it to me.”

Dallas nodded. “Yeah, that’s become his favorite game, that’s for damn sure. Ruggedly handsome hero saving pretty girls and shit.” He smiled. “He’s a fan of that. Did he have you play it?”

“Yes. He showed me all the treasure locations I passed so I didn’t have to search for them myself.”

“Good, good.” Dallas leaned back against the refrigerator, pulling his knees up just enough to rest his forearms on them. “You a gamer, Austen?”

“No,” Bo said, a little chuckle slipping through the monotone facade. “My friends introduced me to gaming, but I still only really do it when I’m with them.”

“I thought you didn’t have friends?”

Bo shook his head. “I didn’t have friends while I was in school. I made a few after graduating. Bridget would be one of them. She enjoys the Halo games. I play those with her.”

“Ah, that’s fair. I guess you did clarify that.”

“I generally do,” Bo agreed. He wrapped his hands around his ankles. “Your brother is kind and… humorous. I enjoy his company.”

Dallas smiled, turning his head toward Bo again. “I’m glad you like him. You believe me on the schedule thing now?”

“Yes. It’s… comforting to meet someone like me in a role like your brother’s.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Which part?”

“A ‘role’ like my brother’s.”

“Oh.” Bo cleared his throat, rocking back for a moment. “Uh, well… a role where he has… someone he lives with all the time. Someone who still… loves him, despite who he is and how he acts.”

“Ah,” Dallas whispered. “You’ve got people that love you.”

“Yes, but I fear staying with my adopted parents for too long. I love them. They say they love me. But I assume love for me runs out after six years. So I space my years out.”

“Is… six years how long your biological parents had you before giving you up?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Thank you.”

Dallas scratched his jaw, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to live with that idea in your head, always thinking that you have to keep track of how long you’ve spent with someone to know how close you are to six whole years.”

“I manage. But it’s… still comforting to know that I may have been wrong.” A pause. “Well, about some people, anyway.”

“Everyone’s not the same. We all don’t fit into one of those baby toy shape box things.”

Bo smiled. “I suppose not.”

Dallas reached out and patted Bo’s knee. “Do you work today?”

“I’m on call, but I’m not at the station unless they need me.”

“Cool. Got any plans for the day, then?”

“I suppose not. Why? Do you have plans that involve me?”

Dallas chuckled. “No, we’ll both take the day off from crime shit. But I have some errands I need to run, so I was just wondering if you wanted to stay here with Xavier or if you needed a ride somewhere.”

“If it won’t negatively affect your brother, I think I’ll stay here. I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“Nah, it won’t bother him. He might just have you play more Uncharted.”

“I will accept my fate.”

Dallas chuckled. “I’m sure Xavier will appreciate that, man.” He smoothed a hand over his short curls. “You wanna help me make breakfast?”

“French toast?”

“Do you know how to make French toast?”

Bo smiled. “I think it would be incredibly inconsiderate to offer the suggestion if I was unable to make it.”

“That’s fair.” Dallas pushed himself to his feet before cocking his head to the side. “Holy shit. You’ve been making eye contact with me this entire time.”

“Yes. The hungry cat rarely attacks the hand willing to feed her.” Bo grabbed the counter and pulled himself up. “Well, neither does the human whose migraine dissipated with the help of an unknown pressure point.”

I almost like him, Ed said.

“Fair point, Austen.” Dallas smiled. “Let’s see if we have French toast materials.”

“I do believe you mean ingredients.”

Dallas couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, ingredients. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

A/N: Warning in advance, this is the final chapter I currently have completed. Hopefully, I’ll have another ready by next Thursday, but it depends if I make it back around to this book or not. If there isn’t one next week, there should be one the week after. Thank you in advance for your patience, just in case!

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NOT EDITED

Chapter Twelve

Back home, Dallas locked himself in his office and sat down behind his desk. “You stay inside this office at all times. Do you understand?” he asked, his voice low.

Yep. Stay in the office, don’t hurt Xavier, retreat if Xavier calls for you, retreat if your phone rings.

Dallas nodded, closing his eyes. “All right… Research is yours.”

Ed opened his eyes, rolling his shoulders back. The right one strained against the movement, but he didn’t mind too much. Dallas would feel far more of that pain than Ed ever would.

He reached out and opened the lid of Dallas’s laptop. It didn’t take long to bring up the articles of the pedophile Dallas had been referring to. Spencer Fabray, three confirmed victims, convicted on all three charges, spent less than five years in prison. Well, he certainly checked all the boxes on Dallas’s little list of requirements.

Ed grabbed a pen from the desk and leaned back in his chair, twirling the pen between his fingers. He hated being forced to follow Dallas’s little rules. When he’d still been alive, prior to his little adventure in the electric chair, there had been no rules. Ed had killed whoever the hell he wanted, and he had strung them up from trees in their own front yard. No long research process. No long confirmation of criminal actions. All he had to do back in the day was grab a young woman from the street or a young man from a bar. Easy peasy, and his hunger was fed rather quickly.

Despite Dallas’s difficulties, Ed let him have the little rules and checklists. If he didn’t, he knew Dallas would go full throttle when it came to getting rid of him, and for once, he would most likely succeed. Dallas’s previous attempts at getting rid of the ‘voice’ that had been in his head since he was a baby had been weak, hardly more advanced than ignoring Ed and refusing to respond to him.

If Dallas really set out to get rid of Ed, he’d finally find out that the murderous ‘voice’ in his head wasn’t the most trustworthy source of information. Years ago, Ed had told Dallas they were bound together because he had been born at the same exact moment Ed had died. Though the time aspect was true, give or take a few seconds, they weren’t bound together in the slightest. A little bit of an exorcism and ghost warding would keep Ed away forever.

Of course, Dallas–poor, stupid Dallas–had no damn idea Ed was a ghost rather than ‘a voice’ left over from life. The bastard didn’t even know he was psychic, thanks to Ed’s artful lies over the years. So long as Ed continued to follow the rules, so long as he poked and prodded Dallas without crossing any lines, Dallas would continue to be oblivious to his abilities, and Ed would continue to be able to kill people well into his afterlife. He wouldn’t get that from another psychic, and forging a deep connection with a non-psychic would take too long to be worth it.

So he’d put up with Dallas’s rules and checklists. They kept Ed as ‘alive’ as one could be after their state-ordered execution had been carried out. Unless he found a guaranteed way to be in control of Dallas forever, his current situation would simply have to be good enough.

***

Dallas opened his eyes, lifting his head a moment later.

Spencer Fabray. Got his registered sex offender address for you.

“For you,” Dallas corrected.

Ed laughed. Come on, Tex. You know you like holding that blade in your hand almost as much as I do.

Dallas knew better than to contest that point. Though he believed Ed had a big damn part in his ‘like’ for the research, the blade, the actual killing, and the displaying of the body. Dallas had never hurt a living soul–human, animal, or otherwise–until he had finally caved beneath Ed’s constant promise that he would make sure Dallas’s father could never lay a hand on him or Xavier ever again. Dallas didn’t know much, but he knew he wasn’t evil for caving.

Ed was evil. Ed was a monster. Dallas had simply allowed the situation to play to his advantage. Unfortunately, he knew now that Ed had done the same.

“After we take out this guy, you gotta leave me alone long enough for me and Bo to solve this case, man. It’s hard enough masking your bullshit around other people when you aren’t constantly in my ear.”

That sorta sounds like a YOU problem, Tex. But, hey, I’ll do you a solid and relax as soon as my hunger gets fed. I’m not going anywhere by any means, but I’ll stop threatening to kill the little blonde.

“And Xavier.”

Now, where’s the fun in that?

Dallas closed his eyes, scrubbing his hands over his face. “You’ve known him literally his whole fucking life.”

Yes, and I’ve thus far done you the favor of only SPEAKING about wanting to kill him instead of physically acting on it. I can switch the two around if you prefer.

“No,” Dallas whispered.

Good. We’re bonded together, Tex. You and me are in this ‘life’ thing together. We’re in this little balancing act TOGETHER. The less you throw a shit fit about it, the easier it will be.

“Alternatively, the less you threaten to kill my brother with my fucking hands, the easier it will be.”

Ed chuckled. Potentially. But I wouldn’t be having nearly as much fun that way.

Dallas shook his head. Not responding to Ed was his best choice. It almost always was, despite how often Ed eventually managed to wear down his resolve and get him to respond.

“Dallas?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know someone named Bo Austen?” Xavier asked from the hall.

“Yeah. Why?”

“He’s at the door, says you offered the couch to him.”

“Be there in a sec, bud. Thanks.” Dallas pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his phone from the desk. He checked his text messages, finding one from Bo. I don’t recall responding to this.

Oops. Sorry, did I break the rules? Ed asked.

Dallas rolled his eyes, shoving his phone into his pocket. If he managed to get rid of Ed tomorrow, it still wouldn’t be soon enough. He unlocked his office door and made his way to the foyer. Bo stood there, a duffle bag held in his hands. “Hey, man. You find your way over okay?”

“Yes. I apologize for alarming your brother. He seemed… concerned.”

“Don’t worry about it. That’s on me. Totally forgot to tell him you’d be coming over.” Dallas cleared his throat. “If you wanna kick off your shoes, I’ll give you a quick tour.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want to be a bother. The couch is fine.”

“What if you need water? Or a bathroom break?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Nah. Not a bother, Austen. I promise.”

After a moment, Bo nodded. He kicked off his shoes and adjusted his grip on his bag. “Okay. Following you.”

Dallas cocked his head to the side. “ ‘Following you’. Did you pick that up from me?”

Bo glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for little more than a second. “As I said, I eventually mimic the people I care enough about to do it. As you are putting forth a genuine effort to befriend me in your way, I am putting forth a genuine effort to do it… in my way.”

“Well, I’m honored.”

Bo smiled faintly. “I’m glad.” He cleared his throat. “Following you.”

“Of course. This way.” Dallas led the way to the living room. “Here’s the couch. Feel free to set your things down here before we take the rest of the thrilling tour.”

“As the house didn’t appear to be a mansion from the outside, I feel I’m safe in the assumption that ‘thrilling’ is sarcasm.”

Dallas chuckled. “Yes.”

“Good.” Bo waved a hand between them. “Same page.” After setting his things down on the couch, he tucked his hands behind his back. “Where to next?”

We could take him to the basement, Tex. It could be fun, huh?

Dallas cleared his throat. “Kitchen. This way.”

“Do you cook often?” Bo asked, following several steps behind Dallas.

“I’m not great at it, but I do cook. Do you?”

“Yes and no. I enjoy cooking and baking, but I generally don’t do it on my own. But when I do cook on my own, I’m still good at it.”

Dallas laughed. “I don’t think you realize how savage you are sometimes.”

“Savage?”

“Yeah. Umm… sort of like bluntly stating opinions or facts. No sugar-coating.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well, for some people. I just think it’s funny. Like, it brings genuine joy to my life, man.”

Bo offered a smile. “I’m glad. Who may it be a bad thing to?”

“People who are looking to be harmed or offended by what other people say. People who don’t know that you mean no harm. People who don’t get you.”

“In conclusion, most people.”

“That’s usually how it is,” Xavier said. Dallas turned to face his brother. “People who don’t know you have a harder time gauging what you mean and stuff. Like, I understand what Dallas means when he talks more than I’ll ever understand anyone else. And he understands what I mean more than anyone else will ever understand me.”

After a moment, Bo nodded. “That’s how Mister A is for me. I understand the intent behind most of what he says, regardless of his expression or tone.”

“It’s cool you have someone like that. Helps give you a baseline of your normal.” Xavier stuck out a hand. “Now that I’m not so weird, I’m Xavier.”

Bo untucked his hands and grabbed Xavier’s. “I’m Bo. I’m the forensic analyst that’s been assigned the task of babysitting your brother at the station.”

“Oh, dude, that’s awesome. You have a babysitter?”

“That is technically one of the titles he’s allowed to have,” Dallas said.

Xavier laughed. “Ugh, that’s awesome.” He stepped past Dallas and pulled open the refrigerator. “Do you like Pepsi, Bo?”

“Umm, yes, sure.”

“Sweet.” Xavier handed a pop to Bo and grabbed another for himself. As the door swung shut, Xavier pointed the can at Dallas. “Your tour’s boring. I’m giving him a tour of the rest of the house.”

Dallas smiled. “Go for it. Have fun.”

“Come on, Bo. I’ll show you the non-boring rooms.” Bo followed Xavier out of the kitchen without any complaint.

Well, you know what they say.

Dallas shook his head, closing his eyes.

Birds of a feather flock together. That must apply to freaks too, huh?

“Fuck you,” Dallas whispered.

Aww, Tex, come on. It’s not like I’m calling YOU a freak. Just your freakishly abnormal baby brother.

Dallas wrapped a hand around his wrist, fingernails biting into his skin. He knew damn well what Ed’s end goal was. It was easier for him to take unapproved control of Dallas when he was angry. As it stood, with two lives to endanger in his home, he planned on preventing that unauthorized control for as long as he could.

What’s wrong, Tex? Did I bully you into not responding again?

You bully me INTO responding, not out of it, in case you’ve forgotten.

Mm. Fair, I suppose. Still, you’re being pretty unfair, Tex.

Dallas couldn’t fight back the chuckle that fell past his lips. Wow, damn good joke, Ed.

Imagine for a moment that, after you died, you were stuck in some human’s body, and instead getting to be who you were before, you had to listen to his absurdly boring conversations with his freakishly boring brother every single day, and DESPITE that, you’re still not allowed to have control to do the one fun thing you enjoy every once and a while.

Well, first, I’d be honored to listen to those ‘boring’ conversations, since I’m not a murderous, emotionless monster like you were. Second, I let you have plenty of fun, and I let you indulge in it far more often than I should.

Oh, grow up. We’ve hardly killed anyone.

‘Hardly’ would be a laughable statement if the fact that it was a lie didn’t hurt so badly. Including his father and the two men in Texas Ed had killed after getting Dallas drunk enough to take full control of him, Dallas’s hands were covered with the blood of thirty-five people. ‘Hardly’ was far from the truth.

Dallas managed to take some solace in the fact that the overwhelming majority of those thirty-five people had been well-vetted criminals that he had agreed to let Ed kill. He managed to take solace in the fact that if he hadn’t bargained with Ed, it would’ve been thirty-five innocent lives instead. Thirty-five–or thereabouts–dead criminals sounded much better in his mind than thirty-five dead innocents, plus the innocents the criminals would’ve continued wreaking havoc upon.

If he didn’t take solace in something, he’d lose control of everything that made him Dallas Silver instead of Ed Lincoln.

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NOT EDITED

Chapter Eleven

Through with the car dealer, Dallas slid back into the driver’s seat of the cruiser and handed Bo the picture of the van from the security footage. “Guy in there identified it as a 2007 Chevy Express 1500 Passenger Van. Verified it with two of his colleagues too.”

Bo nodded. “There are a few ways we could take that.

“Yeah. Check all the traffic cameras leading up to the beach, but since there wasn’t a license plate on the front or back, our only hope there is that we get a good enough shot of the driver’s face to run it through the system,” Dallas said. “Based on my experience in narcotics, that’s not likely.”

“My experience says the same, more or less.”

“Okay, so we’re on the same page again. What kind of directions do we have for options? Umm, on the case as a whole, not just the van thing. What are the options there?” Dallas asked.

“We’re still waiting on blood results from the victim, I can use the height of the railing to find out a height on our mystery driver, we can see if we can speak to the victims’ friends from school, or we can work on figuring out how to find the van.”

“Sorry, umm… his friends from school?”

“Miss Sawyer told us that one of his friends spoke of the cult. That was why her son wanted to join. She gave us the friend’s name? Along with two others” Bo prompted.

Sorry, Tex. Might’ve zoned you out a bit too much during that one.

Dallas cleared his throat. “Sorry, man. I must’ve zoned out a couple times.”

Bo nodded. “Sleep deprivation will do that to you. That’s okay. I have my notes at the station. You may look at those as much as you’d like once we get back. So maybe we should start there before we try finding the friend, in the assumption she’s alive and findable.”

“She?”

Again, Bo nodded. “Yes, she.”

“Okay, so… you think she might’ve ended up like our vic?”

“I think the LAPD would’ve found her, if that were the case. But if the cult killed Mister Sawyer–and based on what I found when I cut him open, it’s very likely that they did–there’s a chance that his friend wouldn’t have wanted to be involved in that. She spoke highly of the cult to Mister Sawyer, yes, but she was young and stupid. It’s doubtful the cult was showing her that they really were planning to kill people, her friend included.”

“And if she didn’t want to be involved, they might’ve killed her too.”

Bo nodded. “Yes. There’s also a chance she would’ve been allowed to walk free. It… depends on what kind of people make up the cult rather than the fact that they are a cult.”

“Are you defending a cult? A cult that cut a kid open and stole some of his organs?”

“No, though I do believe he agreed to that. I’m not ‘defending’ a cult. I’m insinuating that every cult isn’t inherently Charles Manson and his followers. The leaders of cults are inherently manipulative, either on their own or with the help of their religion of choice. But they aren’t all Manson or Jonestown. That’s my point.”

After a moment, Dallas nodded. It wasn’t like he had the moral high ground when it came to homicide, anyway. “All right, that’s fair. Not all cults are ‘murder everyone around us’ types, and not all of them are ‘poison our own members’ types.” He cleared his throat. “So… we can go back to the station and look up the gal’s last known address?”

Bo nodded. “I was thinking much of the same.”

“Great.” Dallas started the cruiser. “Then let’s get a move on.”

***

Back at the station, while Bo sat down in the lab to work out the height of the driver of their blue mystery van, Dallas sat at his desk. Bo had given him his notes from the Carol Sawyer interview, as well as a sticky note with the names of three of Robert Sawyer’s friends. According to Bo’s notes, only one of them had ever told Robert about the cult or urged him to join in, but Robert had been close with the other two since elementary. It seemed Carol had hoped one of them would be of ‘more use’ to the investigation than she had.

Jesus, Ed, how much of that interview were you fucking around in my head for?

Quite a bit. You know how hard it is to control my… interference when I’m hungry, Tex.

Dallas sighed, rubbing a hand over his short curls. Can you be patient? If I let you feed your ‘hunger’ as often as you’re hungry, we’d get caught in no time. Just chill the hell out, let me do my job, and we’ll find someone for you to take out. Okay?

Ed chuckled. I’ll hold you to it, Tex.

Dallas shook his head and turned toward his computer. Though Ed was going out of his way to make the job as difficult as possible, Dallas planned to put his best foot forward. If he needed to play detective, he’d play detective. If he and Bo had to play this back-and-forth on how friendly they were to each other or how much of silent treatment one gave the other, he would.

Speaking of all the things you’re willing to do, maybe you should find some addresses, Ed suggested.

Why do you care?

It’s a Saturday. We generally use our off Saturdays to research criminals for our kills. Again, I would like to kill. I am HUNGRY, Tex.

Dallas let out a breath. Patience. I want to find the addresses for these three. Then… I’ll wrap up for the day and let you do your thing.

Burke?

Too soon. If someone strings her up right after I got here, we’re gonna trip up some alarms. There’s been a pedophile in the news, just got out of prison.Once we get home, you have free reign to research him. Same as always, if I give you the reins, you leave Xavier alone. If Bo chooses to take me up on the offer of the couch, you leave HIM alone too. Deal?

Deal. I’ll even sweeten it and leave you alone until then.

Dallas sighed. Thank you.

Ed snorted his response.

Dallas closed his eyes and stretched his neck out to one side until it popped. He moved Bo’s notes off his keyboard and typed his badge number into the system. Logged in and given access, he searched for the last known address of all three people Bo had given him the names of.

He printed off the addresses and headed down to the lab. “Austen?”

Bo lifted his head. “Yes?”

“I’ve got the addresses, but I think we’ll hold off on trying to find these people until tomorrow. We’ve both put in more than enough overtime today, yeah?”

Bo offered a smile. “I’m on shift. Both of our other forensic analysts are on… vacation. I work the day shift week long until one of them returns.”

“Right,” Dallas whispered. “Do you… want to go find these people, then?”

“That’s okay. It can wait until tomorrow. I have evidence that needs to be sorted through. A West Department analyst did evidence collection at a crime scene today, but I still need to officially tag the collected items.”

“All right. You go ahead and call me if you finish that and need something to do, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dallas crossed the room and set the thin stack of papers on the table. “My couch is still open if you want a place to stay that’s not a lab or an empty house.”

“I… will continue taking that offer into consideration.”

“All right. Shoot me a text or a call if you decide to accept the offer, all right?”

Bo nodded. “I will.” He slid the papers into the open folder on the table. “Enjoy your day, Mister Silver.”

“You too, Austen.”

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NOT EDITED

Chapter Nine

After Carol Sawyer had collected herself, she invited Dallas and Bo inside. Now they sat in her living room, each of them armed with a single cup of coffee. Bo sat beside Dallas on the couch, an open notebook on his lap and a pencil poised and ready for note-taking. For that, Dallas considered himself thankful. His partner in Narcotics had always hated taking notes, had always passed it off to Dallas–not that he entirely minded–but with his dominant hand out of commission, he appreciated Bo’s willingness to be the designated note-taker.

“Miss Sawyer, when is the last time you physically saw your son?” Bo asked.

“Saw? The, uh… the day before he turned eighteen.”

“Why’s that?” Dallas asked.

“He’d been obsessed with this group of people for… years. Two or three, I think. One of his friends at school was a member, and he wanted to join the group too. I told him time and time again that he wouldn’t be joining some group of self-proclaimed cannibals while he was living under my roof. So the very day he turned eighteen, he packed up his things and got the hell out while at work. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Self-proclaimed… cannibals?”

Carol nodded. “That’s what I gathered from Rob, anyway. When he was trying to get my permission to let him join this… group of freaks, he explained some of it to me. I don’t know if they ever actually did it, but I remember him telling me that they believed eating human organs would give them strength. I can’t say they actually ate them, but I can say that’s what they believed in.”

Dallas glanced over at Bo’s notebook. Much to his surprise, the analyst had kept up with notes just fine. They were in some kind of vowel-less shorthand, but he was right on track. Dallas took a sip of his coffee before looking back at Carol again. “When was the last time you heard from your son? A text message, a phone call… Anything of the sort?”

“He called me on his twenty-first birthday. I was at work, so the call went through to voicemail.”

“He left you a message, then?”

Carol nodded. “Yeah. He wanted to let me know how happy he was to be with them. He said he felt at peace, felt… he finally had a purpose in the world.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “He called me from a payphone. I couldn’t even call him back and try to talk some sense into him. Not that that… ever worked before, but still, a mother hopes.” She opened her eyes, clasping her hands in front of her mouth. “Did those bastards kill my little boy?”

“We can’t say that for certain, ma’am. We’re still in the beginning stages of this investigation, but I assure you we will explore every possibility to find the person or persons responsible for your son’s death.” Dallas cleared his throat. “I just have a few more questions for you, whenever you’re ready.”

***

As they walked down Carol Sawyer’s driveway, Dallas pulled his keys from his pocket. “I know we didn’t get a cult name or anything, but now we have confirmation that he was involved in a cult. That’s a good step forward.” He unlocked the cruiser before looking down at Bo. “Are you okay with admitting that? Or is it too much of an assumption?

Bo grabbed the handle of the passenger door, a small frown set on his face. “Are you mocking me?”

“No. God, no. If talking about it like it’s a fact bothers you, I wanna avoid doing it, that’s all. The closer we are to the same page in our investigation, the smoother things’ll go. In my experience, anyway.”

“In mine, as well,” Bo said quietly. He pulled open the door, clearing his throat. “No, it’s not an assumption. Despite their distance now, her son lived with her until the day he turned eighteen. He spoke of this cult. He requested her permission to join it previous to society-proclaimed adulthood. He called her to tell her how much he loved being a part of the cult. If it wasn’t a fact, it is instead the most elaborate prank to play one’s mother I have ever seen. Calling it a fact doesn’t bother me when it is a fact.”

One corner of Dallas’s mouth lifted. “Good to know, Austen.” He opened the driver’s side door of the cruiser. “Where do we go from here?”

“There are many options for which direction you would like to go.” Bo slid into the car and closed the door.

Dallas let out a breath. He’d need to get better at wording his questions in a way that would get a more direct answer from Bo on the first try.

Or we could kill him and be assigned a new lab geek, one that’s less… Oh, let’s be kind and say ‘complicated’.

Or you could go fuck yourself.

Ed laughed.

Dallas rolled his eyes and slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind him. “Where do you think your favorite officer would’ve gone from here in terms of… the next step in the investigation?”

“That would’ve been mostly dependent on the case and what we had accomplished prior to this specific point. Like I said, there are many directions we can go with our next step. For instance, I’m still waiting on blood test results from the victim. I already know he died from blood loss, but if we know what he was injected with prior to that, we may have a better clue as to what kind of person had access to what he was injected with.”

Starting the car, Dallas glanced over at Bo. “What do you mean by that? Uh, the ‘what kind of person had access’ bit.”

“Apologies. Was he injected with something only a veterinarian has access to? Only a doctor? Or was it something you can make? Something you can buy anywhere? If not everyone has easy access to the drug, it helps us narrow down who we’re looking for.”

“Ah, yeah, a fair point, man.” Dallas reached across with his left hand to punch Bo’s shoulder. Bo flinched away, though the look his face read as confusion rather than pain or fear. “Sorry. That was playful. I was about to follow that with the thought that I’m glad to have you as my partner.”

“Playful,” Bo echoed. He nodded once and turned to look out the window.

Dallas let out a breath. Forging a friendship with the short blonde would be a hell of a lot harder than he had initially planned for. Shifting into drive, he pulled away from the curb. “Were you homeschool, Austen?”

“No, I attended public school for the entirety of my schooling career.”

“What were your friends like?”

“There were none?”

“Not even one?”

“No. I had kids that were slightly kinder to me when they forced me to do their homework than other kids were, but that was the general extent of it. It’s one thing to befriend the short kid or the smart kid who skipped a couple grades. It’s another thing entirely to befriend the kids who is both. I could fit in lockers and do all of their homework. You don’t befriend that kid. You make that kid do the assignments you don’t want to do on your own and threaten to lock him in a locker if he doesn’t.”

“Jesus,” Dallas whispered. “I’m sorry your schooling experience, umm… was far from the best.”

“It’s the hand I’ve been dealt, and it’s the one I’m used to. I was prepared for it long before I got to school.”

“Because of your mom?”

“I’d prefer not to discuss it.”

“Yeah, man, of course.” Dallas cleared his throat. “We, uh, we can still watch that security footage together, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Downstairs?”

“We would have to bring one of the televisions down. Those are upstairs for the officers and detectives.”

“Are they, like, trying to corral you guys? You don’t get computers, you don’t get TVs… Why not?”

“It isn’t in the budget. We have our forensic-specific technology, and that’s more or less all that matters.”

“Even though you guys are normally the ones that do the tech shit?”

“Yes. As long as we have what we need to do our job, the majority of the funds are allocated elsewhere. Officers, detectives, insurance, upkeep on police vehicles and weapons.”

“Does Pitman do that?”

“Mister Pitman hands the budget for each department to his lieutenants. They may do with that as they please. I’m sure he would allot more to a department if they deserved it or needed it, but I believe Lieutenant Fox isn’t exactly willing to ask for more.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I can only offer assumptions.”

“Okay, what kind of assumptions can you throw my way?”

Bo shook his head before letting out a sigh instead. “Mister Fox isn’t a fan of chats with Mister Pitman. Budgeting for an increase to the forensics department would require a chat.”

Little tip, Tex, Ed said. If you want this good streak to keep going, don’t ask him any more questions.

Why do you care?

You with friends lets us kill more often than you without friends. I’ll make the sacrifice and leave the little blonde’s life IN his body.

Dallas bit back the initial urge to thank him. Ed was and always would be a monster. Just a voice or not, the monster still didn’t deserve genuine thanks. “Thank you for answering that, Austen. I know you have trouble with certain questions, so thank you.”

“No one… has ever thanked me for that. Are you being sarcastic?”

“No. I appreciate you going a little out of your norm just to answer my question.”

After a moment, Bo nodded. “You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat. “Do you… mind if we go to the coffee shop before we head back to the station? I personally don’t much care for the coffee in the break room.”

Dallas smiled. “I don’t mind at all, Austen.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, man.”

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