The Night Is Deep (A Liam Dempsey Thriller Book 2) (21 page)

CHAPTER 23

“Liam. Wake up.”

The cocooning sway of sleep parted around him with a blade of consciousness coupled to pain. His eyes came open and he looked into Perring’s face. She stood at the back of the couch dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and any makeup she had worn in the days before was gone.

Liam blinked and sat up, the muscles in his abdomen filled with broken glass. His head sloshed with the last vestiges of sleep and he shook it.

“What time is it?”

“Six o’clock.”

His head snapped around. “You’re joking.”

“No. I tried to wake you a couple hours ago but you were out cold.”

“Damn it,” he said, struggling to his feet. The injuries from the night before felt more painful than when he had woken the first time in the woods. His joints fought his attempted movements as if they’d been injected with glue while he slept. He made it to his feet and began loosening them with small motions, stretching taut tendons, drawing out coiled muscles.

“I didn’t see the harm in letting you sleep,” Perring said. “There wasn’t much left for preparation. I got the preliminary report back from the crime scene team. No prints found in your truck besides yours and none in Caulston’s house besides his and yours. The slug they dug out of the wall in the garage was a .380. Other than that we have a size eleven boot print.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Guy was careful. No one in the neighborhood heard the shot either.”

“Not surprising. The houses out there are pretty well insulated by trees.”

She nodded. “We’re ready to head down to the harbor now.”

Footsteps came quietly from the stairway and Owen appeared a moment later dressed in a pair of dark Chinos and a heavy, tan button-up shirt. His face was still haggard and lined, but the constant weariness had lifted from his eyes, replaced by a frenetic intensity.

“Are we ready to go?” Owen asked.

“Yes. Liam and you will go in your car. The team and I will take the van and my car along with the money. I’m having a man stay behind here in case anything new comes through on the e-mail or phone. Two other task force members will remain with the money on the dock until it’s time to go. The rest of us will be in two separate boats positioned several miles out on the lake. We already have eyes on the location of the exchange that aren’t visible from the water via the observation drone. An officer will stay with you both at the harbor and give you updates. When we bring her home, you’ll be the first one she sees,” Perring said, reaching out to touch Owen on the shoulder.

“Thank you, detective.”

She nodded, gave Liam a long look, then headed out of the room. They followed her to the yard, past the remaining team member looking stoic at the dining room table, and into the cool fall evening. They climbed into Owen’s Cadillac ATS and reversed out of the driveway and fell in behind the somber line of vehicles that Liam tried not to think of as a funeral procession.

They didn’t speak as the cars turned at the various stoplights and traveled like water downhill to the street leading to the harbor. They parked behind a large restaurant where a line of caution tape had been hung. A uniformed officer pulled the tape away as they neared and restrung it the moment they were all through. A cruiser as well as two more unmarked sedans and an ambulance sat in the quiet lot. Beyond the lot’s low cement wall was a walkway and past that was Superior’s water, rippling in icy waves beneath the bobbing boats. The lift bridge stood in severe contrast to the darkening sky that held a coating of dirty clouds threatening rain, its austere structure more skeletal now in the failing light. At the closest dock, a flat-decked boat sat by itself. A grizzled man stood beside the craft holding a yellow rain slicker. He cast the vehicles a wary look before stepping inside a boathouse on the dock.

“Must be the captain,” Liam said.

Owen shut the car off and sat back in his seat. “I think so. Perring told me they tried to get a double who looked just like him to do the drop, but they couldn’t find anyone who fit the bill. I guess the guy told her he didn’t mind helping out. Apparently his son was a cop down in Florida who got killed doing a routine traffic stop.”

Liam glanced out the window and watched the boathouse but the captain didn’t reappear. Perring stood among a ring of other officers. She pointed to
The Mare
before gesturing to the canvas bag she held in one hand. The heavy magnet attached to the top of the bag shone in a circlet of reflected light.

“Want to get out or wait here?” Liam finally asked.

“Let’s get some air before it rains.”

They exited the Cadillac and walked to the group of police. Perring was finishing her instructions as they neared.

“Only when I have confirmation that Valerie is safe do we go. The helicopter will move in first and we’ll converge on the location to provide support from the water. Everyone has their orders. Any questions?” When no one spoke she glanced around once at the men and women before her. “Everyone be safe and let’s bring Valerie home.” The group murmured their assent and started toward the docks. Perring turned to them and glanced at the sky.

“You’ll be notified by Officer Evans when she’s safe. Then we’ll retrieve the insurance money.”

“I don’t care about the money,” Owen said. “Just bring her back to me.”

Perring nodded and turned to leave. She stepped over the low wall and was moving down the walk toward the water when Liam called out to her.

“Hey, Perring.” She stopped and faced him. “Be careful.”

A smile twitched her lips. “Always.” She continued down the walk and he watched her climb into one of two streamlined speedboats. The motors started a short time later and they watched the two teams idle out of the harbor and disappear below the bridge, which didn’t need to rise at all to accommodate their low profiles. Two task force members stood side by side near
The Mare
, one holding tightly to the bag, the other speaking quietly with the boat’s captain. The remaining officer leaned against his car, watching the boats until they were out of sight before climbing inside to consult his dashboard computer.

Liam checked his phone. There were two text messages from Dani. He answered them but without much detail since he didn’t want to have to explain the prior night’s ordeal. There was no reason to scare her more than necessary. He noted the time before tucking his phone away. 6:33 p.m.

Less than an hour and a half to go.

“Let’s take a walk,” Owen said, and began to move toward the concrete path beside the harbor. Liam gave the officer and his car a look before following.

The wind that coasted off the lake held a bite to it that nipped at the exposed skin of his hands and face. Gulls soared overhead in a constant turn of feathers and black eyes searching for food. Farther down the shore, two-foot waves buffeted the massive rocks that made up the waterline, the sound like a crowd of voices shouting as one. Owen had turned onto another path that joined the first. It led away from the shops and restaurants that lined the harbor’s side and hung close to the channel leading out beneath the bridge to open water.

Liam watched Owen as they walked. The cool weather had cleared most of the people from beside the lake and driven them into the warmth and comfort of the buildings whose lights had begun to turn on against the lowering night. Owen looked straight ahead, his gait easy and smooth, indicative of the runner he was. His hands were in his pockets and his lips kept moving soundlessly as if he were forming a sentence then letting it die on his tongue.

When they were a stone’s throw from the lift bridge, Owen stopped and leaned on the half-wall, his eyes focused across the water to the structures lining the peninsula of Park Point. Liam took a position beside him and mirrored his stance. He gazed at the long strip of land and wondered if Stella Erickson had realized that her son was dead yet, killed in his home by someone harboring a hatred deeper than the depths of the lake before them. Perhaps the disease that plagued her mind and robbed her of her memories was now a blessing. A barrier that kept out the knowledge that she was truly alone and that her son would never again come to visit her in the quiet room that would be her sanctuary and prison until she died. And what of Gage Rowe’s family? Where were they tonight? Wherever they were, they were surely held in the sharp-fingered hands of grief. They too had lost everything in the last twenty-four hours. Such a small span of time to have something so elemental taken that the world would never be the same again. But life was like the waves that lapped the shore: at times bringing something with them but always taking something away.

“Do you believe in karma?” Owen said, breaking him from his reverie.

“I believe in the past. And that the past echoes. If that’s what you’re talking about, then yes.”

Owen didn’t turn to him but continued to stare across the water. “Echoes. Yes. That’s more fitting I guess.”

“Are you okay, Owen?”

“No. I don’t think I am. But I will be when Valerie’s back home.”

The hollowness of his voice made the hair stiffen on the back of Liam’s neck. His friend sounded like a corpse that had been recruited by some morbid ventriloquist. “They’ll bring her back. You’ll see.”

Owen pushed away from the wall, his eyes clearing somewhat from the faraway look that dominated them. “I rented a boat this afternoon,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I need to be out there, Liam. I can’t just sit here waiting for them to bring her in. I want to be there if something goes wrong.”

“Owen, no. Perring has this under control. We tried very hard to get Valerie back before we were forced to this point, but now that we’re here we need to let things play out. If you get involved the exchange could go wrong.”

“I’m not going to interfere, I just want to be ready in case something happens. If the bastard that’s holding her hurts her . . .” His words failed him and he swallowed. “I asked Perring if I could ride along with them and she told me no, but I need to be out there, Liam. And I need you to come with me.”

Movement caught Liam’s attention and he flicked his gaze to it.
The Mare
was idling toward the bridge. It was time.

“I can’t. It’s too risky.”

Owen stepped back, scrutinizing him. “So you’re a coward.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“Please, Liam. I’m begging you.”

He was about to reply when the sharp bark of a car horn came from the street leading to the lift bridge. Liam glanced toward the sound and saw the crossing arms slowly coming down to cut off traffic from either side of the bridge, red lights blinking as they dropped into position. A car honked again, this time longer. Liam traced the length of the bridge. His vision snagged on a lone figure moving across the expanse.

The person was dressed in a baggy black jumpsuit two sizes too large, hands bound in front and a black hood drawn tightly over their head.

Long blond hair spilled from the back of the cowl and over her collar.

Even as Liam tried to calculate what he was seeing, Owen was turning, following his gaze. There was a beat of absolute stillness, a crystalline clarity to the evening air and a silence that became a hum in Liam’s ears. Owen drew a deep breath in and then expelled it, yelling one word.

“Valerie!”

“Owen! Wait!” Liam reached out to grasp his friend’s shoulder, but he was already gone. He ran across the walkway and vaulted the concrete wall, stumbling on the opposite side. Liam ran after him, throwing a look at
The Mare
as it approached the bridge. Now he could make out the profile of the captain within the wheelhouse, the canvas bag sitting directly in the middle of the empty deck.

Liam sprung up and over the wall, landing with less grace than Owen had managed, and the slight pause in his movements had given his friend all the time he needed. Owen was a runner, and he used his skill now. His lanky form leaned forward, tearing across the ground toward the entrance to the street beside the bridge. Liam sprinted after him, but even as he ran he saw he was losing ground to Owen’s longer legs. The figure on the bridge trundled along, her movements drunken and unsteady.

Something was wrong.

He could feel it. The cold knowledge flared in a burst of panic within his stomach. He had to notify Perring or one of the other task force members. But they were all out of earshot. Liam fumbled his phone from his pocket as he ran, barely keeping hold of the plastic casing. Owen had made the street, his wife’s name coming from him in frantic cries that rebounded off the building’s sides. Liam lost sight of the stumbling figure on the bridge as he neared the sidewalk and raced up its path. Owen’s feet slapped the pavement ahead of him as the other man ducked below the crossing arm and continued toward the bridge. Something about his hurried movements triggered a memory in Liam’s mind. The way Owen ran, how he held his shoulders, his head tipped forward nearly below them; it was like trying to recall a half-forgotten dream.

“Owen! Stop!” Liam yelled again, reaching the street. The mane of blond hair fluttered behind the hooded woman as she left the bridge’s structure and wobbled onto solid pavement.
The Mare
’s horn blasted from the channel, making Liam’s eardrums flutter.

Tucking the phone away, Liam drew his gun as another car honked farther back in the waiting line of vehicles. He tried to hold a bead on the woman as Owen reached her.

She swayed once and began to fall.

Owen leapt forward and caught her weight before she could hit the street.

Liam ran, gun out, breath burning in his lungs.

“Owen, no!”

Owen cradled the figure, sobbing his wife’s name as he drew the hood up and off.

The hood fell away along with the blond wig, revealing the stricken face of Marshall Davis. His mouth was open in an
O
of pain and a large number two was carved raggedly into the skin of his forehead.