The Dead Room (28 page)

62

Chadzynski sat in front of a small laptop set up on an old desk. In the light coming from the computer screen Darby could see the pair of headphones wrapped around the woman’s ears. The woman had a pleasant, almost angelic look on her face.

Darby heard a door slam shut, followed by the sound of a car driving away.

The corridor was maybe twenty feet long. She moved down it and heard a phone ring. A small square of light came to life on the desk. Chadzynski took off her headphones, letting them rest on her neck, and reached for the phone, which lay next to a shotgun. Both hands were covered with latex gloves.

‘Freeze,’ Darby said, and switched on the tactical light.

Chadzynski’s face lit up with surprise. Then it disappeared, swept back underneath her cool composure.

‘Hands on your head,’ Darby said. ‘Nice and slow.’

Chadzynski took off the headphones and placed them on the desk. She didn’t stand.

Darby stood in front of her. Chadzynski leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. Dust floated in the light coming from the computer screen.

‘Who else is here?’

‘I don’t know,’ Chadzynski said. No nervous hitch in her voice. She was in complete control of her emotions. ‘I arrived only a few minutes ago. You’d have to ask Mr King. Since I don’t see him, I’m left to assume he’s dead.’

‘You assume correctly. Place your hands on your head.’

‘I have a way out of this for you.’

‘Shut up.’

‘My car is right out front. We can leave together. If you play your cards right, you’ll come out of this looking like a hero. I can help you towards that end. I recommend –’

Darby swung the butt stock and raked it across the side of the woman’s head.

The force knocked the commissioner off her chair.

Darby fitted the shotgun’s strap over her shoulder and switched to Pine’s Glock. Then she took out her phone and pressed a few of its keys.

‘There’s no one here but the two of us now,’ Chadzynski said from the floor. ‘It will be my word against yours. And I can assure you I’ll win. I suggest you take me up on my original offer. If you don’t, you’ll never hold up under the scrutiny. The evidence is already stacked against you.’

Darby placed the phone on the desk. ‘What evidence?’

‘Recognize the computer? It’s yours.’

Darby glanced quickly at the laptop, a white Apple iMac. She owned one. On the screen, she saw the audio files from Kendra Sheppard’s flash drive. ‘You broke the password.’

‘And we copied the files on to your home computer,’ Chadzynski said. ‘Paperwork has been filed to show you checked Kendra Sheppard’s flash drive out of evidence – Anti-Corruption has it in their hands right now. Since the flash drive is now gone, Internal Affairs will have no choice but to assume you destroyed it. I can, however, make it all disappear with one phone call.’

‘You’ve got all the angles figured out, don’t you? Know how to make evidence disappear, have people plant bombs inside a house and on my crime scene –’

‘Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail? We have enough evidence to show you deliberately tampered with these cases. How you deliberately destroyed evidence to protect your father. The boxes of evidence and murder book pertaining to your father? The ones that are supposed to be in storage? They’re currently in a safe location with paperwork that leads back to you. The way the story will go down is that you came across evidence that showed your father was working for Frank Sullivan. He’ll be known as a corrupt cop – as will you. I don’t think you want that.’

‘I know about your trip to Reynolds Engineering Systems. You went there last year with Lieutenant Warner. That round we found inside the Belham house, the rounds we found in Kevin Reynolds’s basement? They came from a batch of test ammo that mysteriously disappeared on the day you and Warner were there. The company was kind enough to send me the list.’

Chadzynski scrambled up into a sitting position, eyes blinking. Her small hand with its perfectly manicured fingers and big, sparking diamonds trembled as she touched the side of her face. The butt stock had split the skin above her cheek.

The woman wobbled, stunned and confused. She placed a hand on the floor for balance.

‘Did you steal the ammo and the Glock eighteen?’ Darby asked. ‘Or did you have your pet do it?’

Chadzynski gripped the edge of the desk and slowly got to her feet.

‘I’m guessing you let Warner do it,’ Darby said. ‘You knew that kind of ammo would be next to impossible to trace because it doesn’t exist on the market. He was inside the Belham house, wasn’t he? He was there when they killed Kendra Sheppard.’

‘I can assure you he wasn’t.’

‘Then why did he kill Special Agent Alan?’

‘He didn’t.’

‘Then who did?’

‘You already know.’

‘Tell me anyway.’

‘Russo,’ Chadzynski said.

‘He’s dead.’

‘Not the wife. The wife is still alive and, coincidentally, living in the same house. She confessed to killing Ben Masters and the Federal agent, Alan.’

Darby thought back to that moment inside the lab with Randy Scott and Mark Alves. The footprints recovered from the deck steps matched the footprints found in the woods near the binoculars – a woman’s size nine sneaker. A
woman
had been watching from the woods.

‘Where is she?’

‘She’s still living in Wellesley,’ Chadzynski said.

‘Where is she right
now
?’

Chadzynski wouldn’t answer.

‘Call and find out,’ Darby said.

‘No.’

‘Hands on your head, Commissioner. You’re under arrest.’

Chadzynski gripped the bottom lapels of her suit jacket and gave them a sharp tug, straightening out the fabric.

‘This list you have from RES, it won’t hold up in court. You know I’m right.’

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

‘There are forces at work, people you’ll never be able to find,’ Chadzynski said. ‘Arrest me and you’ll be signing your own warrant.’

‘You’re probably right about that. That’s why I recorded our conversation.’ Darby picked up her phone. ‘Who killed my father?’

‘Let me use the phone and I’ll tell you.’

‘No.’

‘I know where all the missing pieces are buried. You
need
me.’

Chadzynski grinned, probably thinking about her Rolodex full of people who could pull the necessary levers, make this moment disappear as if it were nothing more than a bad dream. She already owned the Anti-Corruption Unit.

She had Warner or one of her other henchmen plant evidence and remove my father’s murder book and evidence files from the storage unit – she’s spent years doctoring evidence or making it disappear to suit her needs. She killed my father and she –

Darby squeezed the trigger.

The shot blew out the back of the police commissioner’s head.

Darby ran back to the main bay to Pine. She checked his pulse, and was unsurprised to find him dead. He had bled out.

She wiped down the Glock with her shirt-tail and dropped it on the floor.

Standing back behind the desk with her laptop, Darby used her shirt to pick up the shotgun. She dropped it next to Chadzynski, thinking about Sean Sheppard lying in a coma, brain dead, like her father.

63

Darby got down on her knees, warm blooding spilling out across the floor and touching her skin. She searched Chadzynski’s pockets. No flash drive but she found car keys.

She switched to the shotgun she was carrying and opened the door. The police commissioner’s sleek black Mercedes sat a few feet away.

There were no other vehicles in the car park.

She turned on the gun’s tactical light and ran through the rain to the front of the building. The door and windows were boarded. She looked for a number – there, a sign above the door. She shielded her eyes from the rain and read the faded letters:
DELANEY
’
S AUTOMOTIVE GARAGE
.

Sitting behind the wheel, the shotgun resting on the floor of the passenger seat, she started the car. The Mercedes had a GPS navigation system built into the console. Her location was displayed on the screen. Perfect.

She drove away from the building, then turned around so she could watch it.

The wipers thumping back and forth, she dialled Randy Scott’s mobile number.

‘Randy Scott.’

‘Please tell me you’re still at the lab.’

‘I am.’

Sweet relief flooded her.

‘Darby.’ His voice was hesitant, nervous. ‘I don’t know if –’

‘Don’t talk, just listen. I need Dan Russo’s address.’

‘I don’t have access to the homicide database.’

‘I know, I’ll give you my password. Go in my office –’

‘I can’t. They’ve sealed it off.’

‘Who sealed it off?’

‘The commissioner was here earlier and she… she told us that you tampered with evidence. She has half the Boston police department looking for you and Coop.’

‘It’s bullshit. I’ll prove it to you. I have Chadzynski’s confession recorded on my phone. I’ll send it to you, then I’m going to lead you to her body. You and Mark. I want –’

‘She’s dead.’

‘
Listen to me
. I need you two here to secure the scene. First, I want you to go to the fingerprint database and give me the address that’s listed with Dan Russo’s name. Will you do that?’

‘Hold on.’

Darby pulled out of the gate. The garage sat at the far end of a dead-end road. She looked at the tenement-type buildings and thought she was in East Boston or Chelsea. She suspected this was a neighbourhood used to gunshots. There was a good amount of distance between the garage and the buildings. With the rain, she doubted anyone had heard anything.

Randy finally came back on the line and gave her a Wellesley address. She plugged it into the GPS.

‘I need you to write down an address,’ she said.

‘Go ahead.’

Darby gave it to him. ‘I want you to come here with Mark and photograph and document every piece of evidence. Go in through the side door and you’ll find a laptop computer on a desk; there are audio files on it. You’re to confiscate that immediately. Under no circumstances are you to let anyone touch it. Put it into evidence and don’t let it out of your sight. After you’re done, call the police. Tell them everything I told you.’

‘Got it.’

‘Can your phone accept audio files?’

‘As far as I know it can.’

‘I’ll send you the audio file of my conversation with the commissioner.’

She hung up and called directory inquiries. There was only one listing for Russo. It matched the address Randy had given her.

Darby drove, dividing her attention between the road and the phone. She sent a copy of her recorded conversation to Randy and Mark. She also sent a copy to Coop.

64

Jamie could no longer see clearly. Kevin Reynolds had wasted no time in hitting her after she’d refused to answer his questions about the whereabouts of his partner, Ben Masters. Reynolds had hit her face so many times her eyes had almost completely swollen shut. When she still refused to answer, he kicked her in the chest so hard her chair had toppled against the floor, where she screamed the word ‘stay’ the entire time.

Thank God for Michael. Michael had kept his cool. Michael was still hiding, protecting his brother instead of trying to be a hero.

Reynolds had kicked again and again – in the stomach, in the shins; he had slammed his foot down against her hand and broken several of her fingers. Finally her mind snapped from the excruciating pain and she admitted to killing Ben Masters. It shamed her, admitting this. Reynolds wanted details. Wanted to know how she had killed him and where she had buried him. She came close to saying it. She was delirious with pain and could no longer think clearly. And in the midst of all of this her mind clutched the brass ring, the only thing that was keeping her alive: the location of Ben’s body. She had to convince Reynolds and Humphrey to take her out of the house so they could drive to the location of the body. Once the house was empty, the kids would be safe, and Michael could call the police.

Jamie lay sideways against the floor, struggling to breathe. She was pretty sure Reynolds had broken several of her ribs.

‘Take… you,’ she said.

Reynolds stood somewhere in front of her. She could hear his sneakers pacing the carpet near her head, and he was breathing hard – not from the physical exertion but from anger.

‘Take,’ she said again. ‘Take… ah… ah… you.’

Humphrey said, ‘She’s speaking.’

Jamie cracked an eye open and saw Reynolds’s blurry shape leaning close to her.

‘What’s that, hon?’

‘Take… you… ah… there.’

‘I want you to tell me where he is.’

‘Take… take… you.’

Humphrey said, ‘Let her take us there, Kevin. What’s the harm?’

‘I still don’t believe her,’ Reynolds said. ‘I think she’s got him stashed away somewhere. I’m smelling a trap. This cunt is real crafty, was going to ambush me this morning. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?’

Reynolds leaned in closer. ‘You were a cop. You know who Ben is, don’t you? Your husband told you, I
know
it. Ben’s worth more to you alive than dead. You call one of your friends on the force and tell them what you saw in the basement?’

Jamie licked her lips. It took a great effort to speak. ‘No.’

‘You’re more stubborn than your husband. But I’m aiming to fix that.’

Jamie thought she heard a car door slam shut.

Humphrey said, ‘Clean-up crew is here.’

‘Tell them to pull into the garage,’ Reynolds said. ‘I want to load her into the van.’ Footsteps walked past her and then she felt Reynolds grip the back of her chair and pull her up into a sitting position.

Now she felt his breath, heavy with booze and cigarettes, against her ear. ‘I’m going to get you to talk. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to do, one way or another, you’re going to tell me every little detail.’

65

Darby took the corner too quickly. The tyres skidded across the wet pavement as she pulled on to a long suburban street full of big homes and nice lawns. Lots of space between the houses, lots of the windows dark. She drove out of the skid and heard the GPS’s computerized voice giving her the directions. The house she was looking for would be on her left, less than half a mile up the road.

Tearing down the street, she saw a brown van parked in a driveway. Through an open garage door, she took in the quick movements of three men dressed in suits and carrying big plastic tackle-boxes and large briefcases. Her attention was fixed on the man lighting a cigarette by the van’s open door – the man who had checked her car for bugs, the head of Chadzynski’s Anti-Corruption Unit, Lieutenant Warner.

Warner saw the Mercedes and looked puzzled but not afraid – puzzled as to why his boss, the police commissioner, had decided to come here.

Concerned now, he stared at the Mercedes’s tinted windows as he jogged across the front lawn. Darby tucked the SIG underneath her thigh, pinning the gun to the seat. Then she hit the gas.

The car bumped over the pavement and then tore across the front lawn, spitting up grass and dirt.

Warner turned, the cigarette dropping from his mouth, and started to run.

Darby hit the back of his legs. He bounced up over the bonnet. His head slammed against the windscreen, showering the glass in a web of cracks, and she saw his cheap suit disappear above her as he tumbled across the roof.

Gripping the wheel with both hands, she slammed on the brakes and drove out of the skid to prevent a head-on collision with the car parked at the top of the driveway. She slammed into it sideways in a screech of crushing metal and exploding glass.

The Mercedes came to a jarring stop. Darby was thrown against her seatbelt. She unbuckled it, quickly threaded the shotgun strap over her head and threw open the door.

Warner was on the front lawn. She could see him trying to get to his feet. She brought up the SIG and hit him twice with a double tap.

She swung her weapon to the garage, to a man in a dark suit standing in a doorway at the top of the steps. He let go of the blue tackle box in his hands and reached underneath his suit jacket for his sidearm.

Two shots to the chest and he went down, collapsing back inside the house.

She was about to move into the minivan parked in the garage when she saw a second man aiming a Glock.

Darby ducked behind the minivan as he fired. The windows exploded, glass raining down on her, and he kept firing. She counted the shots as she inched her way along the back bumper. She waited until she heard him running.

The door slammed shut. Darby came up and fired two shots against the door.

Sweep the garage.

Clear.

She moved up the steps and checked the doorknob. Locked. She hit the button to close the garage door and then killed the lights.

Switching to the shotgun, she blew off the hinges. Then she blew out the doorknob. She kicked the door down and swung to one side.

Muzzle flashes came from inside the hall. She swung the shotgun around and fired. Someone screamed and she pressed the trigger.
Click
. She pumped more rounds into the shotgun, then came around and fired again and again as she moved inside the house.