Secrets and Lies

"Sharpe, I need to see you. My office, five minutes."

I winced a little at my boss's gruff voice in my ear. Even over the phone the guy always came across as impatient and angry.

"Yes sir," I replied. "Five minutes."

Then I let out a long sigh as I disconnected. I had a feeling this was it, after being relegated to a desk assignment for the last three weeks I was finally getting sacked.

I knew it was a possibility when I came out. Despite all the talk of progress and equality, I doubted there was a police authority in the country that'd be happy to have an openly trans detective on staff. It certainly explained why there'd been zero progress on getting me an updated warrant card with my new name and photo. No point wasting time and energy on that if they were always planning on showing me the door.

The only remaining question was what excuse they'd finally chosen. Obviously they couldn't admit they were sacking me for being trans, that'd leave them open to an easy discrimination lawsuit. And as far as I knew my record was clean, so unless they were willing to fabricate something I didn't think they had any good grounds for dismissal.

Either way I was about to find out, as four and a half minutes later I braced myself before knocking at Chief Superintendent Williams' door.

"Come," he called from inside.

I opened it and stepped inside as I responded, "You wanted to see me sir?"

"Oh!" I added in surprise when I realized my boss already had someone in there with him. "Sorry sir, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Seated in one of the two guest chairs was a smartly-dressed gentleman I didn't recognize. He looked to be in his late forties, probably about one-eighty-five centimetres tall and in good shape from what I could tell. His short dark hair was expertly coiffed, he was clean shaved, and was wearing what had to be a tailor-made dark blue suit, white shirt, and a red silk tie.

I almost wondered if he might be a government minister of some sort, but something told me he was another detective rather than a bureaucrat. Finally I realized his steely blue-grey eyes had locked on me, like he was studying me even more intensely than I'd been looking at him.

Meanwhile my boss seemed oblivious to my surprise, or discomfort at the way the mystery man was staring at me.

Instead Williams' eyes never left his laptop screen as he grunted once in acknowledgement then gestured, "Close the door behind you detective. And have a seat."

"Yes sir," I replied as I did as he asked.

The superintendent kept me waiting another minute or so, during which neither he or the other gentleman said so much as a word. I kept waiting for one or the other to introduce me to the stranger, but apparently that wasn't going to happen.

Finally Williams looked at me as he began, "I know you're probably itching to get back in the field Sharpe, but I still don't have an assignment for you yet. Not locally anyways. While you're waiting though, how would you feel about a little out of town work? An inspector up in North Yorkshire needs some help on a case, he's asked the Met to loan him a detective until that matter's been resolved."

It took me a moment to process that, before I realized where this was going. It seemed like they realized they couldn't just fire me without grounds, so this 'out of town work' was probably a prelude to reassignment. I could easily imagine them sending me to some remote middle-of-nowhere location in hopes that I'd either quit or be somebody else's problem.

"What sort of case?" I asked. "And where exactly in North Yorkshire?"

The superintendent's eyes flicked back to his laptop screen as he frowned, "That's the thing, they're not really sure yet what they're dealing with. They've had a number of missing persons, and there's been some bodies found under suspicious circumstances. They're not willing to call it homocide though, or not yet at least."

I couldn't help feeling a little surprised at that news. Despite what my boss seemed to think of me personally, I sincerely doubted the man would cook up a story involving multiple suspicious deaths just to get me out of his hair. So I put my expectations and suspicions aside for now and asked, "How many victims? And where exactly is this happening?"

Williams replied, "Six bodies, cause of death unknown, found in and around Castleton in the North York Moors. And a half dozen missing persons all last seen in the same area. Normally these would be treated as a dozen separate cases, but the lead inspector seems to think they're all connected somehow."

"Alright," I nodded slowly. "Who am I to be working with?"

After another glance at his laptop my boss responded, "Inspector James Carter's the lead on the case. He'd like you there ASAP, so I trust you can be there tomorrow detective?"

I nodded again, "Of course sir."

"Good," he stated. "I'll let him know you're coming, and forward you the details this afternoon."

That was fine, but there was one other matter that he hadn't addressed yet. So I brought it up, "Just a reminder sir, I still haven't received my updated identification yet. The information on my warrant card is no longer valid or accurate."

For just a brief moment I caught the look on his face, and that said it all. He hadn't forgotten, he just didn't want to deal with it. I'd already noticed that he'd been avoiding using my new name the whole time he'd been speaking to me. Instead he only addressed me by my last name or my rank. At least he hadn't deadnamed me.

In fact I was even left wondering if my boss's avoidance of the subject was the real reason he skipped introducing me to the other gentleman. Otherwise he'd have had to say my new name. Or if not, he'd have to explain why he was using my deadname. And deal with me calling him out on it, which I absolutely would have done.

For that matter the mystery man still hadn't said so much as a word, and Williams hadn't acknowledged the man even once. I wasn't at all sure what to make of that, but I assumed if I was supposed to know why the guy was sitting in on our meeting then one of them would have told me. I didn't have any more time to ponder that question though as my boss finally spoke up again.

"I haven't heard anything yet detective," the superintendent grumbled. "You'll have to muddle through with the existing ID for now. I'll have a letter of introduction done up this afternoon, you can give that to Carter when you meet him. That way there won't be any confusion about who you are."

My shoulders slumped as I stifled another sigh, "Fine. Thank you sir."

I couldn't help thinking that situation had to be intentional. Not only was I being sent out to a remote rural detachment, but I was going to have to endure being deadnamed and possibly misgendered every time I needed to identify myself. That in turn left me wondering how accepting and open-minded folks were in Castleton. Hopefully more than they were here at the Met anyways.

Williams glanced at me for a moment then stated, "Dismissed. Good luck in North Yorkshire."

• • • • •

Typical for early November there was a light but steady rain coming down as I stepped out of the train carriage and onto the platform. Castleton Moor Station was one of the small stops on the Esk Valley line, and mid-afternoon on a Friday likely wasn't a very busy time there. Nonetheless I was only one of a handful who departed the train.

The others included two older gentlemen, a college-age couple, and a middle-aged woman. Unlike me though, they all seemed to know exactly where they were going. I watched as the others set off, some towards the small carpark while the rest appeared to be carrying on their journey on foot. Meanwhile the train pulled away behind me, to continue its way down the line towards Whitby.

I spotted a bench next to the station house so I made my way over to that, then set my travel bag down while I fished my phone out of the small purse hanging by my left hip. I hadn't actually spoken to the local inspector yet, but I'd been under the impression he'd be here to meet me.

Sure enough I was just looking up the contact information on my mobile when a man in his forties stepped out onto the platform from the parking lot. And I could tell from a single glance that he had to be the inspector. Some people just looked like cops, and this guy was definitely the type.

His short dark hair had a couple grey streaks in it, and he was clean shaved. He was carrying a black umbrella to keep the rain off him, and was also wearing a beige trench-coat. Below that I could see his dark slacks, and the well-worn brown leather Oxfords on his feet.

He glanced up and down the platform with an impatient frown on his face, then took a moment to double-check the time on his watch. He'd definitely seen me, but it was just as clear he'd immediately dismissed me as the person he was looking for.

"You must be Inspector Carter?" I asked as I picked up my travel bag and headed over to him.

This time he looked a little closer as his eyes flicked up and down over me then he responded in a strong Yorkshire accent, "That's right. What can I do for you miss?"

It was hard to hold back my smile at that point. Only three weeks had passed since my big coming-out moment, and I still wasn't entirely used to being addressed like that. Sadly it probably wouldn't happen again after I'd introduced myself.

"I believe I'm the person you're looking for?" I replied with a friendly smile. "I'm Detective Trillium Sharpe, from the Metropolitan Police Service. I work for Chief Superintendent Williams, I understand you're expecting me?"

Carter's eyes narrowed slightly, "Trillium? That's not the name I was given."

That didn't surprise me in the least. I did my best to keep calm and carry on as they say, "My file probably hasn't been updated yet. It's still got the wrong name on it and for whatever reason the Met's been dragging their feet about correcting it."

The inspector slowly shook his head like he didn't quite believe me, "You're the one they sent? Damn it, I told them I needed someone experienced. I don't have time to babysit some new wet behind the ears constable."

I couldn't really blame Williams for that one, it was entirely on me that folks underestimated my age. And my current attire didn't help either, I'd dressed with comfort in mind knowing I'd be spending half the day on various trains. My sneakers, black leggings, light grey hoodie, and navy blue autumn windbreaker probably left me looking more like a student than a police detective. My long blonde hair wasn't up in a regulation bun either, for now it was hanging down in a loose messy ponytail.

"Actually sir I've been with the Metropolitan Police Service for thirteen years," I replied as I fished that introductory letter out of the side pocket on my travel bag. I offered it to him as I added, "Chief Superintendent Williams sent this along, hopefully it'll clear things up?"

Carter reached out and took the folded sheet from me, then as he read it his eyebrows jumped up about a centimetre or two. Finally he handed back the letter while his eyes tracked up and down over me one more time.

"So that's why they sent you," he commented. "You used that magic spell thing we've been hearing about over the past few months?"

"Three weeks ago yesterday," I replied with a smile. "I believe they're referring to it as the sixth wave."

I felt another little surge of euphoria just thinking about it. The spell Inspector Carter mentioned was practically a godsend, a literal miracle for trans people like me. Instead of dealing with years of medical gate-keeping and the costs of hormone therapy and surgery, not to mention other potential expenses like hair removal, voice training, and even feminizing facial surgery, all that was rendered obsolete practically overnight.

The spell first appeared on an obscure video back at the end of April, shared anonymously in only a handful of online trans spaces. Then at the full moon in May a few thousand people world-wide used it. That number swelled to tens of thousands in June, and hundreds of thousands by July. By that point the major media news outlets could no longer ignore it, and governments around the world suddenly had to stand up and take notice.

No-one knew where the spell really came from, although some girl from Canada was claiming responsibility. Most official statements though suggested it was the work of some shady occult organization, or possibly some foreign state actors looking to destabilize world politics or some such thing. Not that any of that nonsense mattered to the millions of trans people worldwide who'd benefited from it.

At least that's how I felt about it. Especially since my eggshell finally cracked back in August, after seeing hundreds of ecstatic trans people sharing their magical transformation videos online.

By the end of September my mind was made up, and after that I spent the next two and a half weeks reciting the simple 'prep spell' every evening before bed. Then just before the moon reached its peak on the morning of October seventeenth I recited the 'main spell', closed my eyes, and focused on my ideal body. And when I opened my eyes a minute or two later it was done. I'd become the woman of my dreams. The process was almost instantaneous, completely painless, and absolutely free.

My smile at those memories quickly faded though as I focused on the inspector again. "What do you mean about that being the reason they sent me? How does my being trans have anything to do with this case?"

The inspector frowned back, "Didn't they brief you?"

"Not really," I shook my head. "I was told you've got some missing people, and some bodies that might be connected."

Hearing that the man shook his head and muttered under his breath, "Oh for Pete's sake."

"Come on detective," he added in a resigned tone as he turned and headed for the car park. "I'll fill you in on the way."

"Yes sir," I replied as I hurried after him.

I couldn't help feeling that I'd just traded one grumpy boss for another though. And while Inspector Carter hadn't said or done anything transmisic yet, he also hadn't gone out of his way to make me feel welcome here either. And it was fairly obvious he wasn't happy about having me here to assist him.

His car turned out to be an old Land Rover. And by old I mean it may well have been an antique. Forget about plastic and thin pressed aluminium sheet metal, this thing appeared to be made of welded steel plates. I hated to think of what sort of mileage it got, but it certainly felt solid climbing up into the passenger side. I set my travel bag down on the floor between my feet then reached for my seat belt, while Carter settled behind the wheel after tucking his umbrella behind his seat.

"I suppose I should get the proper introductions out of the way," he commented as the old Rover's engine rumbled to life. "I'm Inspector James Carter, currently in charge of a small local force based here in Castleton. We look after the northern half of the national park, and I answer to the Chief Superintendent in Whitby."

Then as we pulled out of the lot he began my first proper briefing of the situation, "Over the last two and a half months we've had six men reported missing, in and around our corner of the North York Moors. Most were locals, but one was just passing through."

"We've also had six bodies turn up in that same time period," he continued. "Cause of death unknown, but the circumstances were definitely suspicious. First was August twenty-third, in Westerdale. Then September fourth, in Danby. Another in Commondale on the nineteenth. Then October second, right here in Castleton. October eighteenth was back in Danby. And six days ago we found the sixth body here in Castleton again."

All that left me with a thoughtful frown on my face as I responded, "That leaves me with two obvious questions. First off, six bodies and six missing persons, but I gather you don't believe the bodies are your missing people? And if not, what makes you think there's a connection?"

Carter shook his head, "This is where things get downright strange. The missing persons are all men, aged twenty-one to forty-five. They come from all walks of life, we haven't found any connections or commonalities between them."

"The bodies however can't be our missing men," he continued, "Because the deceased are all women. As for the connection, each of the Jane Does was found near where the men were last seen. And the bodies were discovered dressed in the missing men's clothing, along with any other belongings the men had with them when they vanished."

My eyes widened as I turned to stare at him, "Oh. I see."