The Night Is Deep (A Liam Dempsey Thriller Book 2) (6 page)

“You never know. Maybe that’s how it will go down.”

“Yeah maybe.”

The door behind them opened and Sanders poked his head outside, making a face at the cold wind.

“You two frozen yet?”

“I am,” Liam said, moving past Sanders into the warmth of the house. Owen was showing Reilly out, and when he returned he took Liam’s arm and led him to the far end of the living room.

“What was that all about?” Owen asked.

“Perring wanted to speak in private.”

“No, not that. The questions you asked Reilly about Alexandra’s death affecting Val. Everyone with a brain knows that’s what caused her condition. I’d like you to be more concerned about where my wife is instead of a suicide that happened sixteen years ago.” Owen’s voice rose, anger barely concealed beneath the surface.

“Listen, I’m trying to gather all the facts. Alexandra’s death was a huge impact on Valerie’s current state. Maybe there’s something there that will help us find her.”

“She didn’t run away on her own if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“I know that.”

Owen seemed to calm slightly. “So where did you go earlier?”

Liam hesitated, glancing at Perring across the room. “To speak with Jenner.”

“I thought so. What did he say?”

“Nothing incriminating.”

“So you don’t think he’s the one?”

“No.”

Owen closed his eyes and touched the back of his head. “Caulston is absolutely sure that he’s responsible.”

“Where did Caulston go by the way?”

“He went home. He got really fired up again after you left and stormed off. I’m not sure he’ll be back.”

“That may not be a bad thing right now,” Liam said, leading Owen over to the sofa. “You need to stay focused, and no offense but your father-in-law isn’t helping at the moment.”

“He’d lead a lynching party over to Jenner’s in a second if he could.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. I did want to ask you, and I’m sure Perring already did, but with you running for mayor is there anyone you can think of that would go this far to stop you?”

“No. Perring asked me that earlier too. I’ve had a lot of support from the community and I’ve even met with Mayor Wilson. Since he’s retiring there’s only one other candidate that I’m running against.”

“And who’s that?”

“A city council member named Grayson. Old guy, maybe in his early seventies. Not someone who could do this.” Owen rubbed his face with both hands and Liam saw how bloodshot his friend’s eyes had become.

“You need to get some rest.”

“No, I’m fine. I want to be awake when we get a call,” Owen said.

“You’ll be exhausted and bound to make a bad decision if you don’t get some sleep. Go lie down for a while, I’ll wake you if anything comes in.”

Owen finally nodded. “Okay, but if—”

“Owen,” Liam said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything.” Owen gave him a tired smile and shuffled out of the room, his tall form disappearing into the hallway and up the stairs. Liam watched him go, then turned and moved to where Perring and Sanders were talking with a uniformed officer. The officer finished speaking, nodded once to Perring as she said something Liam couldn’t hear, and donned his hat before leaving the room.

“Anything new?” Liam asked.

“No. We had a few of our uniforms go shake down a couple of dealers and touch base with a narc we use from time to time. No one’s heard anything about a kidnapping,” Perring said.

“I’m surprised the press isn’t banging on the door right now,” Liam said.

“They were. The local paper and a news unit out of the cities both stopped by a couple hours ago but our guys headed them off in the driveway.”

“So someone leaked something,” Liam said.

“We think one of the uniforms that was first on the scene has loose lips,” Sanders said. “He’s gotten reprimanded for it before but there’s no way of knowing for sure.”

“This could turn into a circus, especially with Owen’s public status,” Liam said.

“Let’s hope not,” Perring said.

Liam gazed at the floor for a moment before saying, “Did forensics examine Owen’s head wound?”

“And why would you ask that?” Sanders said.

“Curious.”

“I’m surprised,” Perring said. “You being his friend in all this.”

“If I didn’t ask it would bother me.”

“Yes, we looked into the possibility that Mr. Farrow is somehow involved in his wife’s kidnapping,” Perring said, her eyes never leaving Liam’s face. “Do you think we’re that incompetent?”

“No, honestly I don’t, but I’d like to know what you found.”

“We had a paramedic examine Mr. Farrow’s head wound along with a member of the crime scene team posing as an assistant. The force of the blow at the angle it was struck makes it pretty unlikely that Mr. Farrow did it himself. And I know that doesn’t rule out his involvement, but judging from his emotional state today, I would say he isn’t involved, or he could give De Niro a run for his money at the Oscars. Also we checked his bank accounts. The Farrows are not hurting for money.”

“How about a witness corroborating his story about leaving work late?”

“We interviewed a secretary earlier over the phone who said he was at his office until the time he claimed.”

Liam nodded. “I had to ask.”

“We’ve got a stop to make uptown and then we’re going to grab lunch for everyone here along with some more coffee. You want anything?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, though.” Liam smiled.

“Just ’cause I offered you a sandwich doesn’t mean you’re my buddy,” Perring said. But before she and Sanders left the room Liam could’ve sworn he saw a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

He stood for a second in the middle of the living room, then moved to the stairway leading to the second floor. Upstairs, the master bedroom door was partially shut and he glimpsed Owen lying flat on his back upon the bed, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. He almost pushed the door open and said something to him, but instead continued past to Valerie’s office.

He stepped inside and pulled Alexandra’s diary from the basket before turning in a slow circle. He imagined Valerie here in the small hours of the night, gazing at her sister’s handwriting. Maybe she even looked out the darkened window into the world she’d left behind, to the past she kept locked away except for the small basket holding only faded memories and pages written by a long-dead hand.

Liam returned to the sofa downstairs and began to page through the entries, eyes hovering on scribbled out words, the names of Alexandra’s friends, everywhere, but without a pattern.

May 11, ’93

I hate Val! She caught me playing in the ditch near the house and told Dad. She said I shouldn’t be playing out near the street because of stranger danger. I told her I’m old enough now that I can take care of myself. She’s not Mom no matter how much she wants to be.

December 26, ’94

I got such a beautiful bracelet from Dad for Christmas! It’s solid gold inlaid with a cross and it’s SO pretty! I can’t wait to wear it for the New Year recital at school. Jenny Taylor is gonna be so jealous! Val got a really nice ring that used to be Mom’s. Dad said that I can have something of hers when I’m older. Wish I was older.

June 23, ’95

Val just saved my life! We were out riding bikes and I hit a pothole and took a bad digger on the road. I scraped up my knees and elbows, but that wasn’t the worst part. When I fell my bracelet hit the blacktop and it scratched the gold! I wasn’t supposed to be wearing it. Dad said it was only for special occasions. I was crying and saying how Dad was gonna kill me and Val took the bracelet off and reversed the cross so that the dented side was toward my skin instead of facing out. You can’t tell it got hurt at all! Val’s a genius. She’s gonna be something great someday like an astronaut or the president or something.

Liam flipped to the rear of the journal and read the last four entries, the leap in time like watching a life on fast-forward.

Feb 5, ’99

It finally happened. Dickson and I did “it” in the sauna last night! It was so great and it didn’t hurt nearly as much as Gracie said. Dickson was so gentle and I knew it was his first time too, since he was shaking so much. It was magic. I love him, I love him, I love him! Val would kill me if she knew, but deep down I know she’s happy for me. Just the big-sister-protective thing kicking in. I can’t blame her, she’s had to stand in since Mom died. And Dad, oh God! If he knew what we did in the sauna, he would absolutely kill Dickson! He’d probably kill me too. Maybe I should tell him. Then he’d disown me and Dickson and I could run away together. We could start a family somewhere new and get away from all the small minds that give us looks in the halls. I wish things were different, but they’re not. I can’t wait to get out of this town.

May 17, ’99

I told Dickson I loved him today. He got this surprised but happy look on his face and then said it back! He loves me! We’re already making plans for college down in St. Paul even though dad’s already forbidden it. He wants me to go to his alma mater here in Duluth but I’m done with this town. I’m tired of all the snide comments and “black on white” jokes. If I hear “once you go black, you never go back” one more time, I’m literally going to murder someone! But we have each other, and that’s all I care about. I think he’s going to ask me to marry him soon!

July 20, ’99

What’s with men anyways? It’s like they can’t ever make up their minds. I mentioned the “m” word to Dickson yesterday and he freaked! Like I was trying to give him some disease! I know his family life wasn’t good while his dad was still around. Dickson told me he cheated on his mother constantly and she always knew about it but didn’t say a word because she didn’t want Dickson growing up in a broken home. Like it wasn’t broken already . . . I think that’s what he’s afraid of. I told him he wasn’t his father and he got really angry and yelled. I took it with a grain of salt because it’s been really stressful trying to make plans for college without anyone knowing. We were able to slip away a week ago and look at apartments off campus. We found some cute ones but they’re all really expensive. Dad said again yesterday that if I insist on going to school in the cities that he’s not going to help with tuition. I know he’s bluffing but he gets so angry these days. I think he misses Mom. Like we all don’t.

I know if we get married Dad will have to accept him. He won’t have any choice. All I have to do is get Dickson to propose. If I can’t think of anything else I’m going to have to do it! My friends would never let me live that down, haha!

August 1, ’99

We broke up. I can’t believe I just wrote those words. We’ve been dating for over a year and now we’re not. We were in the middle of trying to plan for the first few weeks of school (we even had money put down on a tiny apartment) and I mentioned getting married again. Dickson flew off the handle. He told me to quit pushing him and that I needed to give us time. I told him if he really loved me then what was stopping him? I don’t get it. I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with him. He’s everything I want. He’s my best friend, he’s unbelievable in bed, and he’s got the kindest heart out of anybody I’ve ever known, including Val (if you ever read this, sorry Val) I know we’re not broken up for good, but it feels that way. I don’t know what to do. I have to do something to get rid of this feeling. I want to die.

Liam flipped the page and saw only blankness from that point on. He turned back to the last passage, noticing several faint discolorations near the binding. Tears. The ghostly spots were where Alexandra’s tears had fallen. He closed his eyes. Only days later she’d been found dead, smashed upon the cement outside the church. Liam shut the diary, his knuckles turning white as he pinched the covers together, thoughts coalescing in his mind.

Valerie had thought Alexandra’s death wasn’t a suicide at all. What had her basis been? Had she known or suspected something that ate at her through the years, gnawing away at her psyche like some carnivorous scavenger? The thought of someone tossing her off the church tower, this young girl who had written the innocent and touching words in the diary, caused a note of anger to toll within him. When he looked out across the lake, the waves had calmed to ripples. It didn’t give up its dead.

As he watched the lake the anger slowly gave way to fatigue, the constant din of low conversation coming from the task force almost like a lullaby. A cell phone rang. A door opened and closed. The wind nudged the glass and Liam drifted.

A strong hand suddenly grasped his shoulder, and before his eyes even opened he had the person’s wrist in his hand and was yanking them forward.

“Hey, calm down!” Sanders said as Liam twisted the man’s arm. Realization flooded him. He’d fallen asleep sitting up. His surroundings, which had seemed so foreign seconds before, aligned into recognition. He released the detective’s arm and blinked, taking in the raised voices in the dining room.

“About broke my damn arm,” Sanders griped, rubbing his wrist. “Come on, we just got an e-mail. This is it.”

CHAPTER 6

The dining room lights had been turned on and it was only then that Liam saw evening had overtaken the afternoon while he slept.

The command center in the dining room now consisted of a half-moon group of people crowded around a large laptop. Two chairs had been pulled close. In one sat a task force member wearing horn-rimmed glasses, his hair raked back in an uneven wave as if he’d pushed his fingers through it too many times. In the other was Owen, eyes just as bloodshot as they had been hours ago. Owen spotted him as he entered and he gave him a quick nod before Perring began to speak.

“Okay people, listen up. About three minutes ago an e-mail arrived in Mr. Farrow’s inbox. It was simply titled ‘ransom.’ Now from what Heller says it came from a burn site, which means that once we watch the video attached, the e-mail will be deleted from the inbox and then burnt from the site it was transferred from. We’re ready to record it so there’s no worry about not catching everything on the first go round, but it does present a problem for tracking an IP address. We’ll talk about that more later. I want everyone to watch this and hold thoughts or opinions until after we’ve seen everything.” Perring gave the small crowd a look, then nodded to the man in the glasses. He turned and tapped the laptop’s trackpad twice. A few seconds later an e-mail screen opened. He clicked on the attachment’s icon and immediately muffled sobs emanated from the speakers.

Liam flinched as the video screen blazed into life. They were looking at a basement, that much was apparent. The light was low and yellowed, illuminating only a portion of the room. The walls were cinderblock and stained partway up with blotches of mold. Cobwebs hung in tangled strands from the open joist above.

And in the middle of the floor Valerie sat in a wooden chair with a thick, plastic gag in her mouth.

Her hands were behind her, shoulders pulled back in accord with how tightly her wrists were bound. The video screen ended at her knees but by the way her legs were clamped together Liam assumed her ankles were tied as well. Crusted blood stained the waves of her blond hair above her right temple and ran down into the neck of the T-shirt she wore, coloring the collar a sickly maroon. She sobbed around the gag, white teeth biting into the blue plastic bit that was shoved so far back into her mouth little lines of blood drooled from the corners of her lips.

“Oh God, no,” Owen breathed. He reached out to touch the screen but Perring stopped his hand and held it in her own.

The shot remained on Valerie as she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. After nearly thirty seconds, the camera began to turn, smoothly panning the basement until Valerie slid out of view. It slowed, jiggling a little, then stopped, centering on a seated figure. The person was only visible from the shoulders up, their face completely hidden behind a hooded mask that gave no hint at any features. Liam noted the width of the shoulders, the definite masculinity of their shape.

“I think this is all the proof you need that I have your wife,” the figure said. The voice was garbled and low, almost mechanical in nature. “Although I can send you one of her fingers if you need further verification. You will give me two million dollars in unmarked bills or she will die.” Valerie’s cries increased and it sounded as if she were trying to say
please
but it came out as
feez
around the gag. The kidnapper kept speaking as if he couldn’t hear her. A faint methodic thumping rose in the background and fell away. “I will contact you again in two days. The countdown has begun.”

The video ended, then disappeared from the screen, leaving the small symbol of a burning tree in its place. Owen began to cry in earnest and slumped forward over the table as if he’d been shot. Perring put a hand on the back of his neck and gazed around at the task force.

“Heller’s going to send copies of the video to each of you. I want everyone to go over it. Watch it and then watch it again. I want a list from everyone in half an hour, anything pertinent you can think of, anything that stands out to you. Let’s find her, people, clock’s ticking.” The men and women dispersed, returning to their computers. There was a rustling of fast food bags as they were cleared from the workspace, then the tapping of keyboards filled the room. Liam knelt by Owen’s side, touching his heaving back.

“Hey, listen. She’s alive, okay. We can quit worrying that she’s not, right?” Slowly Owen raised his reddened face and nodded. “So now we’ve got a plan. That guy wants his money. He doesn’t want her dead, otherwise she would be.”

“Liam’s right, Mr. Farrow,” Perring said. “This is by no means a good scenario but it’s much better than some of the alternatives. Now you need to decide how we’re going to proceed. Are you willing to try and raise the funds for Valerie’s release?”

Owen sniffled and squinted at her. “What? Of course. Of course I’m going to pay, what choice do I have?”

“We could try to extend the ransom time, call his bluff, use our resources in the meantime to smoke him out of wherever he’s holed up with her.”

“No, absolutely not. I won’t risk her life over money. My insurance company will reimburse me. I already spoke to the necessary people this morning to acquire the money.”

“Okay. I always have to give people options,” Perring said. “So we’ll go ahead with the ransom demands and when the kidnapper makes contact again we’ll put a contingency plan into effect.”

Owen nodded and Liam caught a faraway glint in his eyes, a fading of sorts. Owen’s head continued to bob, and when he tried to rise from the chair, his legs wouldn’t hold him. Liam steadied his swaying form until the other man could stand on his own.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Owen said, then hurried down the hall. They heard the slamming of a door that deadened the sound of him being sick. Liam stared after his friend before turning back to Perring.

“Can I have another look at the video?” he asked.

“Sure. Here. Heller, share your laptop with Mr. Dempsey.”

The man in the horn-rimmed glasses scooted to the side, holding out a hand as Liam settled into a chair next to him. “Brandon Heller.”

Liam took his hand. “Liam Dempsey.”

“Good to meet you, Liam. Okay, I’m going to start the video over from the beginning if that’s fine with you?”

“Perfect.”

Heller opened the recorded file from his hard drive, but before he began to play it he handed Liam a set of ear buds. “Go ahead and listen first, I’ll take the second round.”

Liam plugged the buds into his ears and Heller hit the Play button. Valerie’s sobs were much louder and so defined that it made him want to close his eyes to the pain and anguish that each sound brought. Instead he removed his focus from her form in the chair and began to study her surroundings: the stain on the cinderblocks, the mold, old spider webs, the lack of light. The camera shifted away from Valerie and he watched the shudder that ran through the video as if whoever was turning it had fumbled their grip for a moment. When the kidnapper spoke he listened for any phonetic markings: odd pauses, slurred speech, lisps, rounding of vowels, but there was nothing. Besides the obvious electronic masking of the man’s voice, there was nothing peculiar or defining about it. When the thumping rose in the background, Liam turned up the volume one notch, replaying the portion several times.
Dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk.
A pause.
Dunk, dunk, dunk.
It sounded like someone was knocking on a door with a large piece of iron. When the video finished playing and reset, he pulled the ear buds out and handed them to Heller.

“What do you think?” Heller asked, twisting the cords in his fingers.

“Well we know it’s a basement. Looks old, unused. I’d say it’s either in an abandoned building or somewhere run-down, but that doesn’t really narrow our search.” Liam felt a flicker of amusement as Heller scrambled for a piece of paper and began to jot down notes. For the first time he noticed how young the man was, definitely not older than twenty-five. “The water stains are interesting. Looks like the building was flooded at one point.”

“We had a really terrible flood here a few years back.”

“That’s right, I remember seeing it on the news. Was there anywhere specific in the city that got hit hardest?”

“No. Everything from the top of the hill down was partially underwater. There was less damage on the north and south ends of the city but everything in between got nailed.”

Liam sat forward and stared at the computer screen. “That sound near the end, the thumping, it’s really familiar but I can’t place it.”

Heller put the buds in his ears and ran through the video before drawing them out again. “Sounds like music from a passing car.”

“I thought that too at first but if you listen closely there’s no increase or decrease in volume like you’d have with a car driving past,” Liam said.

Heller frowned. “You’re right. Maybe it was someone playing a song upstairs or outside.”

“Maybe, but it didn’t sound like that. I think we might’ve heard some lyrics or melody alongside the bass with it that loud.” Liam sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he looked out through the kitchen windows at the lake. With the falling dark the water had turned a lurid black draped with patches of the last light drifting on its surface. The sound in the video replayed in his head as clearly as if he were hearing it again. There was something exciting about listening to it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew what it was.

Heller continued to take notes as Perring and Sanders circled the table, stopping at several computer stations to gaze at the screens. Owen appeared from the direction of the bathroom and Liam rose, walking beside him into the living room.

“You okay?” Liam asked.

“No.”

“Stupid question. Would you like something to help calm your nerves? I’m sure Perring could have a prescription sent over from your doctor right away.”

“No. If I could have a drink I think that would help.” Owen’s watery eyes met Liam’s and then slid away.

“Go ahead,” Liam said. Owen swallowed, then made his way to the liquor cabinet before taking his drink to the couch. From the dining room, Perring’s voice asked for the task force’s attention. Liam walked to the doorway and leaned against it.

“Okay people, what do we have?” she said, placing a digital recorder down in the middle of the long table. A slender woman with mousy hair stood up and held a notepad before her.

“Generally we all agree that Mrs. Farrow is being held underground, some type of old basement by the looks of it. It’s been flooded to a height consistent with most basements and properties below the hill so that’s where we think we should begin the search. As far as the kidnapper goes, I’m guessing age to be somewhere between twenty-five and fifty, and by the width of his shoulders over two hundred pounds. We didn’t pick up any voice tags or any other significantly revealing speech patterns. Obviously he was using a type of voice distortion, but he sounds Caucasian with a Midwestern speed and cadence to his sentences. I would go so far as to say he’s well educated by the way he structured his sentences. The sound that can be heard behind the kidnapper’s voice three-quarters through the video could be the bass of a stereo or possibly a train passing nearby.”

Perring waited. “Is that it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Anyone else have anything to add?” A burly, mustached man at the far end of the table raised a hand. “Mills?”

“There’s a possibility that there’s more than one kidnapper. By the way the camera turned it looked like either someone else had moved it for the person speaking or he had it on a remote pan.”

“Good,” Perring said, scanning the group again. “Let’s have the recording analyzed, see if there’s any way of telling what type of camera he’s using. If we find that out, we can do a check of local shops that sell them. It’s thin but right now it’s all we have to go on unless we can pull an IP address from the burn site.”

Liam dropped his gaze to Heller’s computer screen where the video was playing again. The portion where the beating noise came in the background passed, and something caught his attention. He stepped forward so fast that everyone glanced in his direction.

“Rewind that,” Liam said, pointing at Heller’s screen. The man did so without question. “Now turn up the sound as loud as it will go.” Valerie’s gagged cries came from the speakers as the kidnapper talked over her. The bass thumping started and Liam pushed a finger against the screen. “There. Something fell from the ceiling while that sound was going on.”

Heller leaned in, squinting as he replayed the video. Several other officers rose from their seats and closed in around them. “You’re right,” Heller said. “It looks like a little bit of dust fell from the ceiling.”

Liam looped the sound in his mind, letting it become a rhythm.
Dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk.
He closed his eyes. The first tinges of memory grew on the outskirts of his consciousness, a glint of sunshine off of a car’s rear window being the first image that came to him. Heat, roasting within his clothes. A sense of impatience, his fingers drumming against a steering wheel.

All at once the memory surfaced clearly like a fish leaping into the air.

He opened his eyes.

“It’s a jackhammer,” Liam said, looking around the group.

“Can’t be, it’s too slow for that,” Sanders said.

“Not a handheld one, the kind that mounts on a payloader or a backhoe.” Liam watched several officers frown, then begin to nod.

“I think he’s right,” the task force member who had spoken first said, looking at Perring. “There was some construction going on down the street from my house earlier this summer and they were using one of those to break up the pavement. Sounds exactly the same now that he mentioned it.”

Perring looked at Liam. “Okay. I want a report of all construction activity utilizing this type of equipment within the city limits in my hand in the next ten minutes. This is definitely worth a look, people.” The tap of keyboards rose in the room. Several cell phones appeared and in a matter of seconds officers were scribbling down notes. Perring approached Liam and gestured toward the kitchen. When they were in the next room she pulled out her diminished pack of gum and unwrapped another piece.