Once Shadows Fall (8 page)

J
ack watched them leave. When he turned back, his eye fell on the poster again. “Protect and Serve,” he whispered to himself. Captain Kostner put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Jack. Burt’s right. If we let you go and you get hurt or that girl gets hurt, the city’s ass would be in a sling. There’s no choice.”

“Actually, there is,” Burt Wiggins said. “That’s why we’re here. Both the deputy chief and Public Safety Director Cartwright would like you to consult on the case with us. We’re prepared to pay you four hundred dollars a day, plus expenses.”

“A consultant,” Jack said.

“Exactly.”

“It won’t cure the problem. I’d still be a civilian.” Jack turned to Kostner. “You can’t run this investigation from behind a desk, Art. You know that.”

“I do,” the captain said. “You’d be assigned to Robbery-Homicide with a temporary rank of detective lieutenant. That way it’s all nice and legal.”

Furman interrupted their conversation to say, “I’ve got Lieutenant Shaffer with the Corps of Engineers on the phone.”

Jack motioned for Furman to put the call on speaker.

“This is Jack Kale, Lieutenant. I’m, ah . . . consulting with the Atlanta Police Department. Has Ben told you what’s going on?”

“He has.”

“Three years ago, the Corps bought a hydraulic control system from McKeachern Manufacturing in Cleveland.”

“Before my time,” Shaffer said. “But it sounds right. We’ve been replacing the old units on dams throughout the Southeast.”

“Would Buford Dam and Lake Lanier be on that list?”

“Those records are kept in South Carolina, Mr. Kale. I can check for you.”

“That’s not important right now. Am I correct in assuming the unit controls water flowing out of Lake Lanier for users downstream?”

“You are.”

“As far as the mussel beds in Mobile, Alabama?”

“That’s where the river empties.”

“Can you describe what your system looks like?”

“Basically, it consists of two portal doors and a motorized assembly to move them. They’re quite large, as you can imagine. Once they’re opened, water enters the spillway—”

“At the base of the dam?”

“Right. The water flows along the spillway and into the Chattahoochee River via a culvert.”

Jack asked, “Do you plan any releases over the next few days?”

“Just a moment.”

He waited while Shaffer flipped through some papers in the background.

“As a matter of fact, we have a twenty-six-minute pour scheduled for one o’clock today.”

“I need you to stop it,” Jack said. It was 12:18.

“That would be a little hard,” Shaffer said. “The entire operation’s governed by computer. Water levels are constantly monitored. If we have a weather event, such as too much rainfall, two engineers are dispatched to confirm it and override the system. My nearest crew’s three hours away.”

Jack fought down a rising sense of urgency and forced himself to speak calmly. “Pull the plug. There has to be an emergency cutoff switch.”

“We have safeguards, of course,” Shaffer said, “but they’re operated locally. If you’re suggesting someone has tampered with—”

“I’m saying there’s a good chance a woman is about to die if that flood gate opens. You’ve
got
to stop it.”

“Mr. Kale, I understand your concern, but I can’t change the laws of physics. I assure you the facility’s secure. A person can’t just waltz in there.”

“I don’t know what kind of security you have,” Jack said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Two detectives are en route right now. I need to know exactly where that control gate is and how they get to it.”

There was a pause on the phone as the lieutenant considered his options. “Let me see if I can get hold of Colonel Zucker. I’m gonna need his authorization.”

It was at that point that Captain Kostner got on the phone and identified himself. “Lieutenant, I appreciate the position you’re in. But you just heard Dr. Kale tell you we’ll have two people on site in about thirty minutes. That means that
three
lives are now at risk. We don’t have time to go up the chain of command. This one’s on you, son. We need that info ten minutes ago.”

“Shit,” Shaffer said. There was another pause. “I’m scrambling our Emergency Response Team. This is what your officers need to look for.”

*

12:44

Sandra Goldner couldn’t shout anymore. Her voice was gone. Her lips were cracked and dry. She’d lost all feeling in her hands and arms. She thought about the two little finches she owned. They needed food and fresh water. So did she.

To distract herself, Sandra tried thinking about the upcoming bank audit next week and what she needed to do to get ready for it. But no matter how hard she concentrated, her mind always came back to the terrible room. No one had come.

Earlier, exhausted and weak, she’d fallen into a fitful sleep. The short rest was welcome, but even that didn’t last as a series of noises pulled her awake. At first it sounded like someone was moving heavy deadbolts. Then it happened again—metal sliding against metal. Finally, a heavy thunk came from the door in front of her. She knew it. They were coming. Maybe she’d get her finches that new bird cage she’d been looking at in Petco.

Seconds after the last thunk had died away, it was replaced by another sound. At first Sandra couldn’t identify the source. It seemed to be coming from all around her. Then the enormous door in front of her began to move. Little by little, it slid along a track until it disappeared into a wall.

Sandra squinted against the bright sunlight pouring into the room. As her eyes adjusted, she found herself looking at an odd cement street with high slanted walls on both sides. It reminded her of the bayous in Houston her sister had pointed out when she visited.

What in God’s name is this place?

She glanced behind her at the other door. It was still locked in place. More creaks and groans reached her ears as if something was pressing on it. For the first time she noticed water trickling in from beneath the door.

12:55

B
eth’s cruiser fishtailed as she shot around a corner and onto the gravel access road that led to Buford Dam. Beth tore up the highway doing more than a hundred miles an hour, horn blasting and weaving in and out of traffic like a madwoman. Every few seconds her eyes flicked to the dashboard clock.

Please, God, let us be in time
. She wanted to scream at the clock to tell it to stop.
Just a couple minutes more. That’s all we need
.

Pappas eyed the speedometer and gripped the hand rest a little tighter. He’d been speaking with Jack on his cell phone.

“You still there?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Pappas said. “Danica Patrick here just took a turn at a hundred and eighty. The dam’s right in front of us. How do we find her?”

“There’ll be a security gate in about a half mile. It’s nothing more than a chain link fence, but it’s locked. Beyond that, the road continues to the top of the dam and then across to the opposite side.”

“I see it,” Beth said.

“Holy shit,” Pappas said.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“The gate ain’t locked anymore,” Pappas told him. “What happens when we reach the top?”

“Look for a staircase where the road meets the dam. You should see it at the extreme right corner. That leads down to the spill control gates and the culvert.”

“Gotcha,” Pappas said. “We’re almost there.”

“The spill control is nothing more than a couple of big doors at the bottom.”

“Okay,” Pappas said. “We’re out of the car. I see the staircase. Starting down now. Christ, this dam is huge.”

“Listen close, Dan. You’ve got about two minutes before the water’s released. The whole thing’s controlled by a computer. Before that happens, a siren’ll sound three blasts. There’ll be a thirty-second gap before the final siren starts. You’ll recognize it by the one-second intervals. If that happens, get your asses out of there.”

“Got it.”

*

12:58

Beth sprinted ahead of the big detective, who was talking on the phone as he ran. Drawing her gun, she started down the metal stairs. Far below her, the cement spillway stretched stark and white against the landscape. Beyond that in the distance, the Chattahoochee River flowed through the green countryside. Halfway down the stairs, the sound of three siren blasts split the air. Pappas came close behind her, breathing heavily.

“That’s the one-minute warning,” he said. “After that, some gate opens and water comes pouring out, and it’s gonna be coming hard. Jack says we don’t enter the gate system or the culvert once the final siren starts.”

Beth nodded and started forward once more. At the bottom of the stairs, she came to a second chain link fence with an access door secured by a sizable padlock. Leveling her gun, she fired two shots into it, blowing the lock apart, then kicked the door open.
Jack’ll have a fit
, she thought. After another step, she froze.

“Listen!” Beth shouted.

A banging sound was coming from inside the room behind the spillway door.

“Sandra! Sandra Goldner, are you there?” Beth yelled. “This is the police. We’re coming to get you out.”

More banging.

“Hang on, lady,” Pappas yelled. “We’ll be—”

The rest of the detective’s words were lost as the last siren went off. Above the gaping doorway, a red light began to flash. With a vast roar, water came rushing out of the opening. Pappas grabbed for Beth.

“No!” she screamed.

Pappas tightened his grip as she fought to break free. In seconds, water pouring from Lake Lanier flooded the culvert, moving higher and
higher at an incredible speed toward a pipe at the opposite end. The two detectives stood there watching helplessly. Pappas finally released her, sick to his stomach. Twenty-six minutes later, the red light stopped flashing and the siren ceased its relentless blasts. The only sound now came from the wind and water moving beneath them.

J
ack Kale realized he was holding his breath. He slowly let it out. He’d been gripping the phone so tightly, his hand hurt. When the siren finally went off, no one in the room spoke. Burt Wiggins slumped into a chair, shaking his head. Jack felt like all the energy had been drained from his body.

Captain Kostner was the first to recover and took the phone from him. “Dan, you still there?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Pappas said. “Still here.”

“Any chance Ms. Goldner—”

“None. I saw her when the door opened. Bastard had her chained to a pipe.”

“What about Detective Sturgis?”

“She’s fine.”

“I’ll call the ME and get him rolling,” Kostner said. “Will you need forensics?”

“There won’t be anything left,” Pappas informed him. “That water came out of that hole like a freakin’ rocket.”

Kostner’s face lost a good deal of its color. He turned to Jack. “You agree?”

It took an effort for Jack to collect his thoughts and get the words out. “Someone still has to work the scene.”

Pappas apparently heard the comment and said, “I’m standing twenty yards away looking at it, and I’m telling you it’s a waste of time. Nothing could’ve survived that. Whatever was in there got blown away by the water.”

“I understand,” Jack said, “but—”

“Jack, it was strong enough to tear her clothes off.”

Jack explained, “There’s still the chain or whatever he used to secure her.”

“Beth and I can handle that.”

“You need to locate the killer’s entry and exit points and maybe a vantage point as well. One provides cover; the other searches.” His voice sounded tired even to him.

Beth Sturgis came on the line. “What do you mean vantage point?”

“Exactly what I said. First, do
not
assume you’re alone. The killer could easily have set a trap. Second, there’s been no ransom demand, so there’s a good chance he’s the type of freak to hang around and watch the show.”

“Crap,” Beth said, looking around her.

“In fact, I’d say it’s more likely than not,” Jack said. “Remember, he left clues for us to find at the farm. There was no reason for that.”

Beth said, “I’ll go down, Dan. You stay up here and make sure we don’t have company.”

“I don’t know,” Pappas said uneasily.

“I’ll be fine. What Jack’s saying makes sense. I need to get the tech kit out of my car. Give me a minute.”

Jack added, “You’ll need to move quickly. The lieutenant I spoke with told me he scrambled their tactical team. They should be there shortly, and more people—”

“Contaminate the scene,” Beth said. “I know.”

*

A short while later, Beth found herself standing in front of the control gate, frustrated. The first portal had shut, sealing the chamber off once again. She called Jack to report that. He decided to stay on the phone with her.

“When the engineers arrive, they can reopen it,” he said, “but you need to keep them back until you finish processing everything.”

“There won’t be much to do until then,” Beth said.

“Try to locate the killer’s point of egress.”

“Jack, the spillway walls are angled and at least twenty feet high. He didn’t come down or leave from them. In all likelihood, he used the stairs.”

“In all likelihood?”

“What else is there?”

“Could he have come from the river using the spillway?”

“Not really.”

“The water’s got to get to the river somehow. Can people walk in the spillway?”

Beth squinted against the glare, using her hand to shield her eyes. “It’s possible,” she said. “The spillway drops in elevation to funnel the water into a large pipe. Beyond that is the river.”

“Understood,” Jack said. “Could the killer have gotten in that way?”

“No—wait a minute, yes. I see a ladder. There’s another chain link fence at the top. Pretty crummy security, if you ask me.”

“What about the pipe itself?” Jack asked. “Could he and the woman have walked through it to gain access?”

“Possibly,” Beth said. “It’s about ten feet high. How far does it go?”

“According to Lieutenant Shaffer, a little over seventeen hundred feet. After that, it intersects the Chattahoochee. It might be worth checking out.”

“Great, another tunnel,” Beth muttered. “It would be incredibly tough for the killer to get in that way. He’d have to carry the victim.”

“Not really. Remember I mentioned roofies at the farm? He could have walked her in.”

“Good point,” Beth conceded.

“Wait for backup,” Jack said. “You shouldn’t go in there alone.”

“I’m a big girl, Jack. Pappas’ll be with me. At least this time he won’t have to bend down.”

*

For the second time in as many days, Beth and Pappas found themselves walking down a tunnel. Unlike the first, this one had light at both ends. It was hot, humid, and damp smelling. A third of the way through, they came upon a woman’s shoe and a portion of what appeared to be an orange cocktail dress.

Pappas asked, “Do we know what Sandra was wearing when she left home?”

“An orange print dress.”

She took a photograph and then bagged both items. Their trip to the opposite end yielded no clues. The pipe itself was surrounded by another chain link enclosure to keep people out, along with an access door where it emerged.

“Looks like you were right,” Beth told Jack. “The killer came this way. The lock’s been cut.”

“Bring it with you,” Jack said.

“I know that,” Beth said, annoyed.

“Footprints over here,” Pappas said. “A man and woman, by the look of ’em. Better tell Ben to come out and make some casts.”

Beth said, “I can see a single-track path going up the hill. I’ll bet that’s where he parked his car.”

“Let’s go find out,” Pappas said.

As they made their way along the path, Beth was suddenly seized by the feeling they were being watched. Pappas must have felt it, too, because he kept scanning the woods on each side of them. The trees and underbrush were just beginning to grow in, which made matters worse. Here and there a few wild dogwoods were blooming. As the slope steepened, the forest around them grew denser. In minutes they found themselves breathing heavily.

Eventually, the path let them out at the top of a hill with a road running perpendicular to it. A short distance away was a gravel clearing. Below, the Chattahoochee River, now several inches higher, flowed placidly on through the countryside. In the distance through an opening in the trees was an unrestricted view of the dam, the spillway, and the control gate they’d just come from. Beth knew in an instant Jack had guessed right.

How does he do that?

Without speaking, Pappas tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at the ground. Just off the road in the red clay where the gravel ended was a partial tire tread mark and more footprints.

Beth laid out a grid in her mind and began to walk it while Pappas checked the area out.

“Dan, take a look at this,” she said, pointing to a black spot on the ground.

“Some fluid drip. Oil, maybe,” Pappas said, dropping down and rubbing the substance between his thumb and forefinger.