Secrets and Lies

"I have all the files in my office," Inspector Carter said as we pulled up alongside a small one-story building at the west end of town.

The structure looked like it was once a little residential cottage, which had been subsequently remodelled into a commercial store-front. Now in its most recent incarnation it served as the local police station, and I hadn't been expecting to go directly from the train to my new temporary assignment. I'd been hoping I'd get at least an hour or so to freshen up and get changed into more appropriate attire.

Unfortunately the inspector seemed to be a little too impatient for that kind of thing, which meant I'd be making the same sort of first impression on the rest of my temporary colleagues as I did with him.

As we both emerged from the old Land Rover he commented, "If you want to see the victims' bodies for yourself that'll have to wait until Monday. Although we might be able to get in there over the weekend if I ask nicely. They're in the morgue in Whitby."

"Probably best if I familiarize myself with all the details first," I replied as I followed him up to the small building's main entrance.

He actually held the door open for me, which was a small surprise. Not that I doubted he'd do that for other women, but now that he knew I was trans I assumed I'd receive the same sort of treatment I got from my bosses and coworkers back in London.

Just inside was a very small reception area, with a constable sitting behind the front desk. She looked past me and greeted her boss in a somewhat solemn tone, "Welcome back Inspector. Did they send someone to help?"

"They did," he replied as he slipped off his trench coat then hung it on one of a dozen pegs next to the door. He offered to hang up my jacket too, so I shrugged it off and handed it over.

After leaving it on another peg he finally took care of the introductions, "This is Detective Trillium Sharpe from London. And that's Constable Mary Blake. Mary was first on the scene Saturday morning, when the most recent body was discovered."

"Hello constable," I greeted her.

"Welcome to Castleton ma'am," she replied politely, although from the way she was looking me over I could tell she was surprised. Perhaps because of the very casual way I was dressed, although it was probably due to the fact that I appeared to be no older than herself.

Mary Blake looked to be in her mid-twenties, with an attractive rounded face framed by short dark hair. She was in uniform, and some subtle make-up accentuated her girl-next-door looks. And unlike the inspector I was fairly confident she wasn't a local, her accent suggested she grew up in the south west.

"This way Sharpe," Carter said as he moved past the front desk towards a door that led further into the small building.

The next room was an open-style office space, which was home to a couple desks, a half dozen chairs, and a large number of filing cabinets lined up along one wall. There was also another uniformed constable present, a thirty-something man with an earnest face sat behind one of the desks. He'd been typing away at his laptop when we entered, but stood up to greet us.

"Inspector," he addressed his superior. Then he seemed a little lost for words as his eyes swept up and down my figure.

Carter either didn't notice the young man's hesitation, or he chose to ignore it. Instead he responded with a nodd and gesture, "Mallory. This is Detective Trillium Sharpe, from London. And this is Constable George Mallory."

Without waiting for either of us to respond the inspector asked the younger man, "Anything from Dr. O'Conner yet? I was hoping she'd have that latest report for me today."

"Sorry sir, nothing yet," George sounded apologetic as he shook his head. He was a tall slim man, easily a half-dozen centimetres taller than the inspector. His sandy-blond hair was just a tad longer than was regulation, and he had bright blue eyes and a fair complexion.

The constable remained on his feet and practically at attention until Carter and I exited through one of three other doors along the back wall of the room. That led to a small and slightly cramped office which had to be his personal space. Only after we were both in there did I hear the younger man finally relax back into his chair, followed by the sound of more typing.

The inspector's well-worn old manager's chair creaked as he settled into it behind his desk, while he gestured at the solitary guest chair across from him. "Have a seat detective."

"Thank you sir," I replied as I glanced around.

The desk was surprisingly tidy, as was the small half-height bookcase behind him. There was a whiteboard on the wall to my left, on which were several names, dates, and numbers. It only took me a moment to realize they were the names of the six missing men, along with times and dates which I took to be when they were last seen. Those were followed by another set of times and dates, that were probably when the bodies were found. The final set of numbers had me momentarily stumped, but I quickly figured out what they represented.

"You're tracking the time between events?" I asked as I nodded towards the whiteboard. "Twelve, fifteen, thirteen, sixteen, fifteen. Those are the number of days between each disappearance?"

Carter nodded, "That's right. As you can see they're repeating roughly every two weeks, but not exactly. If this is the work of a serial then there must be a pattern, I just haven't cracked it yet."

"I also wondered if it might be related to phases of the moon," he added. "A few of those dates align pretty closely with either the full or new moons."

I noticed that too, "October seventeenth for sure."

"September third was just after a new moon, and the full moon was September eighteenth," the inspector continued. "October first was the day before a new moon, and as you've said it was full on the seventeenth. The most recent victim was found November second, that lines up with the latest new moon. That first one in August doesn't really line up with anything though, near as I can tell."

I grimaced slightly as I pointed out, "The next full moon's one week from today. And that falls neatly within the established timeframe too."

"Except I don't understand why my boss thought I'd be any real help here inspector," I added with a frown. "This is well beyond anything I've worked on before. I'm not a behaviouralist, and while I have worked some homicides I've never dealt with a serial killer. To be honest I can't help thinking you'd have been better off asking the Security Service for help."

Carter scowled, "I did. They don't want anything to do with it. According to them it's nothing more than some unrelated disappearances. And without cause of death the bodies can't be flagged as murders, according to them. Personally I think they can connect the dots as easily as you or I, they just don't want to go where those dots are leading."

"As for why you," he continued, "I got a pretty good idea the moment I saw that letter your boss Williams sent. You're trans, you used that spell last month. You're probably one of the only detectives in the whole country who's got that experience."

I found myself staring at him as his words sank in. "That's what this is about then? You believe the Jane Does really are your missing men after all? That magic was involved somehow?"

The inspector pulled open a drawer then placed a stack of manilla file folders on the desk in front of me, "If you've got a better explanation detective, I'd love to hear it. These are the files. One for each missing male, and one for each unidentified female body."

There were a total of twelve files, arranged in six sets of two. None of them looked to be very full, and for that matter I was more than a little surprised they were still using paper files here. Still, I took a moment to review what he had, starting with the first one.

That concerned a missing backpacker, a twenty-eight year old man from Leicester who'd been hiking through the North York Moors with his girlfriend. He was last seen on the afternoon of August twenty-third, when he visited a public washroom in a park in Westerdale. The attached photo depicted a burly young man with short dark hair, a moustache, and a tanned complexion. According to his girlfriend he had a tattoo bearing her name inside a heart on his upper left arm.

The attached folder concerned a Jane Doe who's body was discovered in that same Westerdale park just two and a half hours later. The remains were actually found by the hiker's girlfriend, while she was searching for the missing man.

The deceased appeared to be in her late twenties, with long dark hair and a tanned complexion. She was found dressed in mens-style hiking clothes that were several sizes too big for her, and carrying a wallet with ID that belonged to the missing backpacker. The forensic pathologist was unable to determine a cause of death, but the report did note that the woman had a tattoo on her left upper arm, which perfectly matched the one described by the missing hiker's girlfriend. And the woman's picture, finger prints, and DNA all failed to turn up anything in terms of her real identity.

The third folder was another missing persons report. This one was for a thirty year old farm labourer who lived in Ainthorpe, a nearby village. He was last seen on the afternoon of September third, leaving a shop in Danby which was the next closest town. The file included a copy of his drivers licence photo, in which he looked fairly unremarkable in just about every way.

And according to folder number four, on the morning of September fourth some children discovered a woman's body in a small copse of woods near their school grounds in Danby. She was dressed in the missing farm worker's clothes, and had his wallet and other personal effects with her. Her age was estimated to be late twenties or early thirties, and her eye and hair colour matched those of the missing farm worker.

That pattern continued through the next couple files. Disappearance number three was a local business owner. He was last seen leaving the train station in Commondale at half past eight in the evening of September the eighteenth. And on the morning of the nineteenth a woman's body was located near the train tracks, dressed in the missing man's clothes.

The next was a bartender who worked at the pub by the train station right here in Castleton. He was last seen by coworkers around one in the morning on October first. Less than three hours later a passing motorist spotted a woman's body on the side of Station Road, barely a hundred meters from the pub. And like the others the deceased was wearing the missing bartender's clothes and carrying his wallet.

In those last two incidents, both bodies were actually found before the men were reported as missing. In fact it was the IDs the victims were carrying that led the police to discover that the men in question had vanished.

"So there's a definite and obvious pattern here," I commented at that point. "And it's certainly pointing towards something, but that something seems impossible. So what exactly do you think is going on?"

The inspector had a thoughtful look on his face as he leaned back in his chair, "Here's my theory, such as it is. Each of our missing men was magically transformed into a woman, then subsequently died, all within hours of the last time they were seen. No idea how or why though, that's where the theory splits into a few different possibilities."

"Option one," he continued, "The victims were all secretly trans and used that spell to transform themselves. They were subsequently killed, possibly by someone with a strong anti-trans prejudice. Which would make these a set of very serious hate crimes. However I've found no evidence yet to indicate that any of the men were trans, and even if they were there's nothing to connect them. No way I can see for a killer to find them so soon after they'd transformed. And we still don't even know how the victims died, so if there is a killer then how'd he do it?"

Carter shook his head before moving on, "Dr. O'Conner made a suggestion that could hold merit. She's the M.E. in Whitby who's working with me on all this. She suggested that maybe there's a corrupted version of that spell making the rounds? Perhaps these people are using some flawed or malformed magic, which still provides the transformation but subsequently results in their death. In which case there's no killer stalking them, waiting to strike the moment they've changed themselves. In fact there may not be a killer at all, it could just be several cases of extremely bad luck."

I'd kept quiet the whole while he was talking, and I almost had to bite my tongue at times. When it seemed like he'd finally stopped though I didn't hesitate to speak up, because there were a few obvious flaws in those theories.

I shook my head as I explained, "The problem is the spell can only be used during a fifteen minute window, immediately preceding the full moon's astronomical peak. Or in other words, only once every twenty-nine days or so. Plus the spell takes half a month of preparation. It's not something people can just use at the spur of the moment."

"And speaking as a trans woman who's used it, and who's spoken with several others online who've done the same," I stated confidently, "I cannot imagine any trans woman using that spell without having at least some femme clothes at the ready. You're already planning it weeks in advance, you have loads of time to prepare at least one or two outfits for after the change."

I continued, "For that matter nobody's going to use the spell just anywhere while they're out carrying on their daily routine. You'd make sure to be somewhere safe and comfortable when the time came. At home would be the obvious choice, or if your home situation isn't safe then with a friend. Or in a hotel room if necessary."

Finally I pointed out, "The spell is also used by trans men, not just women. And non-binary people. Even some cis people are using it, and those with chronic illnesses. I think it's statistically unlikely that out of six random users they're all going to turn out to be trans women. Not by chance anyways. Transmisogyny is still a very real problem, unfortunately."

"Damn," Carter sighed as he slowly shook his head. "I wasn't aware of most of those details detective, thank you for enlightening me. Sadly that leads me to the last possibility, which is the one I was most hoping to be wrong. It seems to fit the circumstances better than the others though."

Rather than respond I just waited for him to explain the last part of his theory.

The inspector frowned as he began with a rhetorical question, "What if someone is doing this to these people? What if someone's transforming these men against their will, then killing them afterwards. Or perhaps death is a side-effect of whatever sort of magic they're using? Either way it would explain how they're dying so soon after the transformation. And it would explain why we haven't found any evidence to suggest any of the missing men are trans, or that they wanted to become women."

I grimaced, "If that's the case then it's got nothing to do with the spell I used last month. That simply cannot be used on others, it only works for the person who's casting it. And if the case doesn't have anything to do with trans people then that brings us back to what I said earlier. I don't really have any special experience or training in dealing with these sorts of situations."

Carter pointed out, "If we're dealing with a magically empowered criminal then I rather doubt anyone else in the country has very much experience either. And what you do have is over a decade of police work for the Met. You're a decent detective with a good track record, according to your Chief Superintendent."

That last part actually surprised me, I really hadn't expected Williams to say anything nice about me at all. Although I could see him doing it if he thought it meant I'd become someone else's problem.

Meanwhile the inspector's expression and tone became much more sombre as he stated, "The bottom line is we need help here regardless. The sixth victim, the man that went missing just last week? He was my partner, Detective Harry Armstrong. Last seen leaving this building at eighteen-thirty hours last Friday evening, for the short walk to his home."

"The following morning a woman's body was found around the corner from Harry's cottage," Carter sighed. "She was dressed in Harry's clothes, and his badge and wallet were still in the pockets. She even had a matching scar to the one Harry had on his left hand. So I hope you understand why I need you here detective."

He took a deep breath then summed it up anyways, "I'm short-staffed, and I'm dealing with a possible serial killer who's armed with something that seems a lot like magic. And if that's the case, then this unknown assailant has just added a police officer to their list of victims. I can't let them take any more innocent lives."