The Night Is Deep (A Liam Dempsey Thriller Book 2) (17 page)

CHAPTER 18

The house was made of white, rough-hewn stone and looked as if it had been carved out of bleached bone in the low light.

Liam and Perring stood on the front stoop beneath a heavy awning held up by intricately carved columns and balustrades. Lights were aglow in nearly every window of the sprawling house and soft music trailed from behind the heavy oak door.

“Remember, we have zilch on this guy, no leverage whatsoever. Don’t try anything stupid,” Perring said as she rang the doorbell.

“We’re just here to get some info.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

He was about to reply when the door opened. A burly man with thick sideburns and wearing an expensive suit glowered out at them. Liam noted the slight bulge of a pistol beneath his left armpit.

“Yes?” the man said.

“Hello, I’m Detective Denise Perring with the Duluth PD, and this is Mr. Dempsey. We were wondering if we could have a word with Mr. Silva?”

“I’m sorry but he’s indisposed at the moment. I’d be happy to give him a message.”

“We really need to speak with him tonight,” Perring said, trying a polite smile.

“I’m sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .” The man began to shut the door but Liam put his foot in the way.

“Tell Mr. Silva it concerns a business associate of his that’s recently gone missing.” Liam kept his gaze level and calm as the man scowled and shrugged his large shoulders. “I’m sure he’ll be interested.”

The guard shifted his eyes between them. “Wait here.”

“We’ll wait here,” Liam said, talking over the other man. The guard gave him one last look before shutting the door in his face.

“That went well,” Perring said, turning to go.

“What are you doing?”

“Um, he’s not coming back. We just got the not-so-polite brush off.”

“He’ll let us in.”

“No way.”

“Bet you a pack of cigarettes.”

Perring returned to the doorstep beside him. “You’re on.”

They waited for well over a minute, no sounds other than the music filtering through the door.

“Told you,” Perring said, beginning to move away again.

“Wait.” Liam pointed at the door and a moment later the guard opened it and waved a hand at the interior of the house.

“Mr. Silva will see you.”

Liam stepped inside, throwing a grin over one shoulder at Perring.

The interior of the house was lavish, but in an elegant way that didn’t shout money, it whispered it. A curving staircase grew from the foyer to an upper hall leading to the second floor. Dozens of oil paintings graced the walls and dark, antique furniture contrasted against the white marble floor that was polished to a mirror finish.

“This way please,” the guard said, leading them to the right down a short corridor that opened into a sitting room complete with a mahogany bar and a dozen overstuffed leather chairs beside a crackling fire within a large hearth. “He will be with you shortly.”

Without a look back, the guard left them, the clack of his dress shoes echoing back off the stone floor.

“How did you know that would work?” Perring asked when they were alone.

“Curiosity. No matter what type of crime, the ones at the top always want to know what’s going on. Thought I’d see if I could pique his interest. Guess it worked.”

Footsteps came from the hall and a second later a man appeared wearing a dark pair of dress slacks and a wine-colored, silk shirt. He was tall and well-built with ebony hair swept back from a prominent brow. He was clean-shaven with a dimpled chin and a long nose set below a pair of piecing dark eyes. He paused in the doorway before continuing toward the bar.

“Detectives, good evening. Can I offer you a drink?” Silva’s voice was cultured and low with only a hint of a Portuguese accent.

“Absolutely,” Liam said, stepping up to the bar.

“No thank you,” Perring said, standing beside him.

“What would be your poison, detective?” Silva gestured to the bottles lined up in neat rows.

“What’s the most expensive Scotch you’ve got?” Liam said.

Silva smiled. “That would be the Bowmore twenty-five year.”

“Sounds great.”

Silva poured two glasses halfway full of amber liquid. “Tell me, what have I done to earn a visit from two of Duluth’s finest?”

“I’m actually just a police consultant,” Liam said.

“Ah yes, you’re both working the Farrow case I assume. Such a sad turn of events for the potential mayor.”

“A man such as yourself must be interested in who becomes mayor.”

“Politics concern me very little. Such a roundabout way of getting things accomplished. I prefer the direct approach. Besides, politicians bore me.” Silva set the glass before Liam on the bar before smelling his own and taking a sip from it. “Sometimes I forget how good that is.” Liam took a drink, noting the excellence of the liquor before glancing around the room.

“Very sorry to disturb you this evening,” Liam said. “Sounds like you’re entertaining guests.”

Silva smiled like a shark, revealing very white teeth. “Just a few close friends. But these gatherings can get tiresome.”

“I bet.”

“Tiresome, just like this conversation. Let us dispense with the politeness of adversaries dancing around one another. What do you want?” Silva said, all traces of humor gone, his face placid and unyielding.

“We’d like to know about Marshall Davis,” Perring said.

“Marshall Davis, Marshall Davis, hmm . . . name’s not ringing a bell.”

“Interesting,” Liam said, taking another swig of Scotch. “His contacts sure know you.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Dempsey, I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, you might be right, but I’m guessing the fact that we came here looking for Davis sent a little chill up your spine, didn’t it? I mean, how else would we know where to find you?”

“My name and address are in the phone book. I run two successful hauling agencies as well as four art galleries in three states. I’m not exactly hiding. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to be getting back to my guests.” Silva set his empty glass down and began moving toward the hall.

“Meant to compliment you earlier on your house as well as your taste in art. Is that an original Caillebotte on the stairway?”

Silva paused at the door and turned back to them. “You’re correct. Now I’ll give you both thirty seconds to leave my house before I have you escorted off my property, at gunpoint if necessary.”

“No need for that,” Liam said, swallowing the last of the Scotch. “Wow, that’s really good. You’ve built quite a kingdom for yourself here, Milo. It would be such a shame if someone tarnished it with accusations, and it would be even worse if there were evidence to back them up.”

Silva took a step back into the room, the predatory smile gracing his features again. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dempsey, are you threatening me?”

“No, not at all. We just want to know what you can tell us about Marshall Davis, because we will catch up to him sooner or later, with or without your help, and when we do we could ask him all sorts of questions. Some of them might concern you and your business endeavors.” Liam set his glass down hard on the bar and the sound made Silva blink. “But of course if you help us now I’m guessing your name won’t even come up when we find Davis. Right Detective?”

Perring smiled. “Right.”

Silva’s jaw clenched and released. “What do you want to know?”

“Where is Davis?” Perring asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Is he working for you?”

“No. I employed him very briefly a number of years ago but his service was . . . unsatisfactory, so I let him go.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Liam said.

Silva hesitated. “Two weeks ago.”

“Where?”

“Here. He came looking for a job but I sent him away.”

“What did he say to you?” Perring said.

“Nothing more than the trivial ramblings of an addict.”

“So he seemed desperate?” Liam asked.

“Yes. He looked strung out and twitchy. When I told him I had no work for him, he became unstable and had to be shown the door, which is what I insist for you both as well.” Silva motioned to the foyer and a moment later the side-burned guard appeared. “Horace, will you escort these fine people out?”

“Yes sir.”

“One last question,” Liam said before Silva could turn away. “How were you two introduced?”

Silva shifted his gaze from Liam to Perring and back again. “Traz,” he said, then moved swiftly out of sight down the hall. Horace approached them both, fingers flexing into fists and relaxing again.

“We’ll show ourselves out, thanks,” Liam said, walking past the bodyguard. Horace followed them to the door and shut it hard behind them once they were outside. The evening air was cooler, and as they made their way to the car several dead leaves zipped past them, their flight like that of wounded birds spiraling to the ground.

“You owe me a pack of cigarettes,” Perring said once they were inside the sedan.

“What? We got inside and spoke to him.”

“Yeah but you just made a deal with a major drug importer that I don’t know if I can hold up. So, cigarettes.”

“I didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t going to give us anything without a little pressure. To me it sounds like Davis was pretty desperate for a fix. He must’ve been completely out of money.”

“Probably.”

“What did Silva mean by ‘Traz’?”

“Monica Traz was the big fish in the waters around here before Silva came to town. She was brought up on charges for drug trafficking, extortion, and even murder. Nothing held up in court and the cases were dropped. About twelve or thirteen years ago Traz and twenty of her closest crew were found on her private yacht, anchored four miles offshore in Superior. They’d been hacked to death with machetes.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, it was brutal. But it was also a message. About two months later Silva started showing up on our radar.”

“So you think Silva was responsible?”

“Definitely. But once again, no leads, no evidence.”

“So what did he mean by Davis being introduced by Traz?”

“Not sure.”

“Maybe Davis was working for Traz and sold her out to Silva?”

“That’s a possibility, but again, how does that help us now? How’s it connected to Valerie’s disappearance?”

Liam tapped his temple. “I don’t know.”

Perring put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. They were quiet for some time before she glanced at him.

“Listen, there’s a change of shift coming for the task force in a half-hour, and since Mills is going home for some sleep, I need to be there. You can get something to eat and maybe some rest.”

“Sounds good.” Liam watched the businesses slide past in the murky light, their windows darkened save for the occasional advertisement lit by neon. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“After all the shit you’ve pulled tonight? You’re asking me for a favor? Really?”

“You said you’re having Erickson’s phone records sent over, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you have any information on Alexandra’s suicide as well as Davis’s background sent along with it?”

“Why?”

“I want to read over it.”

“Why?”

“Because you were right.”

“About what?”

“The itch never left.”

Liam didn’t have to look at her to see the tired smirk spreading across her face.

CHAPTER 19

Owen was in the living room, standing at the picture window when they came in, a drink loosely held in one hand.

“Where the hell have you been?” His tone was sharp, his fingers shaking as he set the drink down. When he spotted Liam behind Perring there was a split second when Liam couldn’t read his expression, then Owen moved to him, grasping his arm. “Are you okay? I heard rumblings of something happening at Rowe’s. They said you were involved somehow.”

“Fine. And to answer your question, we were working to get Valerie back.”

Owen eyed him for a moment before dropping his gaze. “Sorry about my tone. I didn’t hear a thing for hours and then one of the task force members tells me that Jenner and Detective Sanders have been shot. Is Jenner dead?”

Perring nodded. “He was killed after wounding Detective Sanders.”

“But he didn’t have Valerie?”

“No.”

“And there was no sign that she’d been there?”

“No.”

Owen turned from them, his long-fingered hands clenching and releasing. “Damn it.” He stopped by the window before facing them again. “And Caulston’s in custody?”

“Yes,” Perring said. “He’s being detained for conspiracy and obstruction of justice.”

Owen put a palm to his forehead, pressing it there as if he were afraid his skull might come apart. “My God, what’s happening?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Liam said. “But we need to tell you something that might come as a shock.”

“After the last two days? Go ahead.”

“A pawn store owner identified Valerie today.”

“What do you mean
identified
?”

“He called in after seeing the broadcast this afternoon. She’d been to his store, Owen. She’d been going there for almost two years.”

Owen’s face shriveled into lines of disbelief. “What? No. He was wrong. It couldn’t have been Valerie. She was here every day while I went to work. It’s not possible.”

“He identified her twice,” Perring said. “He called it in to the station and when I showed him the picture of Valerie he confirmed it again.”

“What pawnshop? Why would she go there?” Owen came forward to perch on the arm of the couch.

“It’s the higher end store on Second Street attached to the First National Bank,” Perring said. “And we were hoping you could tell us why she was going there.”

“What? How would I . . . I had no idea she was leaving the house. I still think there’s been a mistake. Maybe someone that looked like her . . .”

“He said he’d seen her personally come in to the store every other day for the past two years,” Liam said. “I don’t know what this means but we’re dealing with something different now that we know Valerie wasn’t housebound.”

“I . . .” Owen pressed his hand to his head again. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

In the dining room the phone began to ring.

Liam locked eyes first with Owen then with Perring as Heller stepped into the doorway.

“Mr. Farrow? This could be the call,” Heller said.

“Okay, stay calm and collected no matter what you hear,” Perring said as they hurried to the dining room, the phone trilling again on the end of the table. Two task force members besides Heller were already at their computers, headsets clamped over their ears. One of them made a twirling gesture to Perring and pointed at the phone. Liam grabbed a vacant headset from the place beside Heller and put it on. Owen approached the phone and picked it up, giving everyone in the room a look before hitting the Talk button.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Farrow, I assume you know who this is?” The same mangled voice growled in Liam’s headset.

“Yes.”

“Good. Then I’ll start off by saying to the officers listening to this call that it’s useless to try and pinpoint my location. I’m using a disposable phone that they will find once this call is finished. By that time, I’ll be long since departed. Mr. Farrow, I trust you’ve gathered the two million dollars I’ve asked for?”

Owen let out a shaky breath. “Yes.”

“Good. Understand that if there is any deviation from what I’m about to tell you, your wife will be killed in the most unpleasant way I can imagine, which is saying something.”

“You bastard,” Owen hissed.

“Let’s dispense with the name calling, otherwise I’ll have to resort to other methods to get the conversation back on track.” There was a pause then Valerie’s voice rang out in a short scream followed by several low sobs.

“Don’t hurt her!” Owen yelled. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

“You will deposit the money in a canvas bag and securely attach a neodymium magnet, six inches in diameter, to its top in plain sight. You will then place the bag in the center of the deck of the fishing boat,
The Mare
, which you will contract to leave the harbor at exactly eight p.m. tomorrow evening. The boat will be driven by its captain to forty-seven degrees north and ninety degrees west, then he will receive new coordinates, which is where the money and your wife will be exchanged. If law enforcement is spotted anywhere in the vicinity before or during the exchange, your wife will die. Do you understand the instructions?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And one final note. Liam Dempsey, I’m sure you’re listening to this. If I see your face again before the exchange, Valerie will die.”

The line went dead and Perring looked at Heller who nodded quickly. “We’ve got a trace. He’s at the Duluth East High School.”

“That’s only a few blocks from here,” Owen said.

“Get some cars headed that way,” Perring said.

“On it,” Heller said.

Liam placed the headset on the table and surveyed everyone in the room. They all met his gaze, then looked away. Owen twisted the cordless phone in his hands, the plastic creaking as he worked it back and forth. Liam rose and went to him, taking the phone from his grip.

“That’s where we went to school,” Owen said, lowering his head.

“I figured as much,” Liam said.

“The bastard’s taunting us. Taunting me.”

“He’s enjoying himself. We need to stick to the plan and we’ll get Valerie back safe.”

Owen shook his head and when he looked up again a glossy sheen of tears covered his eyes. “What if something happens to her? I couldn’t . . .” He seemed to run out of breath and Liam guided him out of the dining room to a chair beside the couch.

“You’re doing the best you can right now,” Liam said. “You were calm on the phone and now we know when this will all be over. By tomorrow night Valerie will be back in this house.”

Owen rocked in the chair like an overgrown child waking from a nightmare. “I keep seeing her, somewhere in the dark with that psycho. She’s cold and afraid and I don’t want that to be her last moments. I’d gladly take her place.”

“I know you would. Everyone does.” Liam squeezed his friend’s shoulder, trying to pour reassurance into the other man merely through touch. They waited in silence for the next ten minutes until Perring approached them.

“The responding officers found the phone that was used in the school parking lot. We’re going to try and get something off the school’s camera system but the corner where the phone was discarded was very dark.”

Liam frowned. “He must’ve been driving a car since Valerie was in the background. He had to have driven through one of the well-lit areas to get there. The cameras will have gotten the vehicle on tape.”

“In theory,” Perring said. “I’ve already got someone contacting the owner of
The Mare
to arrange the exchange tomorrow. We’re also going to question him about any suspicious activity within the last few weeks. Maybe someone hanging around the marina or asking strange questions about the boats.”

“The coordinates that he gave, where are they exactly?” Liam asked.

“Over fifty miles out in the middle of Superior.”

“What?”

“I had Heller check it twice. It’s far enough away from land that a boat, even a small one, will be noticed.”

“But if he’s making the exchange there, he’ll have to be in a boat.” Liam tilted his head. “Where the hell is he going to go once the deal is done? There’ll be nowhere to run.”

“I’m guessing he’ll be in something fast, something that he thinks can outrun our boats,” Perring said. “I’m arranging for an observation drone to be brought in from the Air Force base in the morning. We’ll use that to keep watch on the exchange and have a helicopter ready for pursuit if it comes to that. We’ll also have SWAT members hidden on
The Mare
so the moment that Valerie is safe, they’ll take the bastard down.”

“I don’t want her in any more danger than necessary,” Owen said. “If he spots something he doesn’t like . . .”

“I can assure you that she would be in more danger if we didn’t take these precautions,” Perring said.

“Why the magnet?” Liam asked after a pause.

“Heller did a quick search and it seems that a neodymium magnet is extremely powerful. One of that size may disrupt a tracking device or any type of electronics within the bag.”

Liam paced to the window and back, picking at the last of the sap still stuck to his neck. “He knows who I am,” he finally said in a quiet voice.

“Yeah, you’re right. How could that be?” Owen said, straightening in his chair.

Perring sighed and dug in her pockets. Liam saw the disappointment on her face and knew she was reaching for a cigarette that wasn’t there. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Liam said. Perring looked at him, freezing as she drew out a pack of gum. “We need to tell him, Perring.”

“Tell me what?” Owen asked.

Perring’s face was a mask of stone, eyes unblinking. She held the expression, flicking her gaze between Liam and Owen until it finally crumbled and she looked down to the floor.

“We have reason to believe that the individual holding your wife captive is responsible for two murders and another possible disappearance in the last three days.”

“What? You mean there was another besides Dade?” Owen asked.

Perring shot a venomous look at Liam but nodded. “Yes. Gage Rowe was killed this afternoon and Marshall Davis’s location is unknown.”

Owen swayed in his seat and Liam wondered if he might topple out of it. “They’re dead?” he asked in a faint voice.

“Yes. Now it’s obvious you know about Erickson’s murder, but can you tell us anything about a connection between the other two men and Valerie? We know that you all attended high school together.”

Owen shook his head. “I told you. Dade, Gage, and Marshall all ran together, but they weren’t friends with me or Valerie.”

“They ever threaten her or you in any way?” Liam asked.

“No.”

“Did they have any enemies they made besides Dickson Jenner or because of the assault they committed against him?” Perring said.

“No.”

“Which brings up another question,” Liam said. “You told me none of them knew Alexandra but it sounds like the number they did on Jenner after her death was a retaliation of sorts.”

Owen ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, yeah, I suppose they thought they were the knights of the community, taking the law into their own hands. A lot of people believed Jenner was responsible even after Alexandra’s death was ruled a suicide.”

“So you never heard any rumblings of any other connection between them and Jenner?”

“No, not that I can think of. Why? Are you two trying to tell me something?”

“No. We still think that the person who took Valerie has every intention of trading her for the money. Honestly she wouldn’t still be alive if that wasn’t the case.”

Owen was silent for a moment but when he spoke his voice was low and steady. “I’ve trusted you both. I’ve trusted everyone who’s working on getting Valerie back. You don’t know what’s gone through my mind in the last two days, what a future without her looks like. She is my life.” He looked at them. “Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

Liam struggled for something to say but in the end he held his tongue, excusing himself to go clean up. He left them in the solitude of the living room, Owen gazing at the blackened window, Perring hovering between him and her personnel.

The shower was heavenly. Liam turned the water to a near scalding temperature and let it beat against his back. The horizontal scar there always flared bright whenever he was too warm or too cold and this was no exception. He scrubbed at the pinesap on his neck and stared at the tile lining the walk-in shower, letting his thoughts drift. Everything was happening too fast. Events were unfolding like a scroll that had been written years ago, actions and reactions already accounted for and scribed in blood. There was a link between Erickson, Rowe, and Davis, something beyond their ties of friendship. And friendships always have secrets. In this case the secret was something they were being killed for. But what it was might take weeks to become clear. They didn’t have weeks. They had hours that were counting down.

The countdown has begun.

Erickson was four. Rowe was three. Davis could be number two. And Valerie . . .

He closed his eyes, letting the water run over his scalp, reminding him with a dull throb of where Richard had struck him. He went back to the moment, pinning the drug dealer to the ground, the razor in his hand, the righteousness flowing through him as if he were a conductor channeling rage from somewhere outside himself. He examined the foreign emotion for a time, approaching it from all sides. He’d never felt that way before, during an investigation. Sure, there had been moments of adrenaline and anxiety as well as jubilation at a discovery, but the feverish burn he felt to inflict pain?

Never.

He didn’t want to admit it but it had felt
good
to break Houston’s hand, to see the look of terror flood Richard’s face as he put the razor in his mouth. It had been exhilarating to know that he’d torn down a barrier full of lies and left the guilty lying in their own misery and fright. But it was more than that, more than exhilaration. What was behind the dark energy was as simple and plain as the waves that beat the shore outside or the wind that pushed them.