The Night Is Deep (A Liam Dempsey Thriller Book 2) (9 page)

CHAPTER 9

He chased Abford down the alley.

Each breath coated in razor wire that tugged holes in his lungs. His fingers wrapped around the handle of his gun, feet connecting with the ground in painful steps, mouth full of gelled spit. His partner had already been shot. Liam had left him bleeding beside the door Abford had fired through. And he knew what would happen next. She would come out of the salon, dark hair styled for an anniversary that would never come, hand clutching her belly as she moved down the stairs where the bullet meant for Abford would catch her in the throat and steal two lives away at once. Any second now she would move into his line of sight.

Sights.

He could see Abford past the sights of his gun. He would turn now, raising his own weapon, ready to end Liam’s life.

Instead he ran on.

Liam paused, half waiting for Kelly to appear like she always had before. She would step out any second now and he would kill her with a shot to the throat.

The alley remained empty except for Abford’s sprinting form.

Liam ran.

Wind burned past his face. His eyes watered. He seemed to be on a treadmill, the speed increasing with each step he took. No matter how fast he ran he couldn’t catch Abford, who raced ahead unimpeded. The alley narrowed between two buildings that seemed to move inward, crushing the space between them as he closed in on the corner. Abford turned without breaking stride. Liam slowed, edging up to the wall before pivoting around it.

A stairway dropped into darkness before him.

The alleyway was gone, replaced by a wide set of stairs that disappeared into the grip of swirling shadows. The sound of footfalls filtered up to him and he hesitated on the first tread. A cold dread filled him as if he were being poured full of ice water. He didn’t want to go down those stairs. Only horror and death waited for him, he could feel it. As he stood there, locked in the grip of indecision, a memory of his father came to him.

He’d been young, maybe seven or eight, and his father had been alive and healthy, still working long hours at his barber shop each day, taking only Sundays off completely. They’d been outside at the farmhouse, having a fire in the evening after dinner. It had been late November and it was full dark save for the leaping light of the flames from their fire pit behind the house. The time around the fire was a special one since it allowed them to catch up on the day they’d spent apart, and Liam had always cherished the smell of the wood smoke and the gentle heat that warmed his toes and fingers despite the cold. On that particular night the fire had grown low and there hadn’t been enough wood beside the pit to keep it going, so his father had risen from his seat and moved toward the rear of the garage where they kept the ricks of wood leaning against two stakes and the building itself. The space behind the garage had been coated in darkness, the clipping of moon hanging in the cold sky providing little light. Liam had stood to warn his father not to go into the darkness, that something terrible waited there for him, its talons honed to an edge, a living bloodlust born from nightmare itself. He’d watched in abject terror as his father strode into the waiting mouth of shadows and winked out of existence. In the depths of his being, Liam knew that he wouldn’t return. There would be a scream and then quiet so deep it would sound like the world had gone deaf. Then he would see it moving deep in the darkness. Something cold and without pity that watches with glee as parents are taken from their children, because death is filled up but never full. That’s what he’d feared in the night, always when his father was sleeping soundly in the room that he would one day share with Dani. The unfathomable horror of death. The inevitable gnashing of geared teeth in the machine disguised as life. Yet it wasn’t life. Life was only a mask for what waited at the end for everyone and everything that drew a breath.

And it was what waited for him now at the bottom of those stairs. He hadn’t fired the shot that had killed Kelly. This time it had been different somehow, though he struggled with the implications of what had happened. The memory of her death was still fresh and raw as burned skin. But something had changed now. He needed to go back and make sure. He needed to see her face and watch her walk away from the salon, untouched by his bullet, unscathed by tragedy. He needed to see her go home to her husband and children. He was about to turn away from the inky depths when a scream rose from the stairwell, gutting him where he stood.

It was Dani’s voice down in the darkness.

Her shrieks were faint and so full of terror he didn’t realize he was running until he stumbled on the last step and fell to the floor of a wet corridor, his weapon spinning away into the shadows. He didn’t wait for his eyes to adjust but simply rose and ran on, not caring if he collided with something in the black. Ahead he saw a yellow glow spreading like a stain and as several doorways flashed by on either side, he realized where he was.

He was in the basement of the abandoned building.

Dani’s voice came from the room at the end of the hall, the room where Valerie had been held, and she was sobbing his name between breaths. He yelled for her as the light brightened and then he was in the room, bursting through the doorway.

Dani was tied to the same chair Valerie had been in but she wore no gag. Her beautiful face was covered in blood and Abford stood beside her, his gun pressed to her temple. Liam reached for him and Abford turned.

The other man’s face had no features except for a widening smile that split his skull from ear to ear. Abhorrent laughter slid from between the brown teeth that lined the giant mouth, and even as Liam screamed Dani’s name, the report of the gun drowned his voice out.

He sat up from the couch, tossing away the weight on his chest—the blanket, now heavy and sodden with cold sweat. His mouth opened to cry out, but the focusing of reality helped him shape it into a soft moan. He swallowed, his tongue dry as shale.

He swung his feet off the couch and steadied himself there. His stomach was a punch bowl of acid, churning on itself as the dream replayed over and over in his mind. He reached out a shaking hand and touched his phone to light the display. It was a little after six in the morning. He stood and made his way to the dining room where the smell of coffee was constant in the air. Only one task force member sat at the table, an alert young man with a growth of stubble on his cheeks.

“Anything new overnight?” Liam asked, hating the wavering of his voice.

“Nothing.”

“When did Perring leave?”

“Around midnight. She said she’d be back by seven or earlier.”

Liam nodded and continued to the bathroom. Inside he braced himself on the sink until the sickness in his stomach begrudgingly passed. Each time he began to feel better the image of Dani’s bloodied face floated behind his eyes and he closed them, holding on to the contents of his stomach by sheer will. He moved to the toilet and urinated before running cold water into his cupped hands and dousing his face. The icy shock was enough to put some strength in his legs so that he was able to pause and pour himself a cup of coffee in the dining room before stepping out through the French doors.

The steady rush of the waves met him. He watched the horizon brighten, drinking long swallows of hot coffee even as the cool air chilled the sweat in his clothes. When the axe blade of sun cut its way above the opposite shoreline he pulled out his phone and dialed, a lingering fear hovering over him that the call would go unanswered. But Dani picked up almost immediately.

“Good morning.” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“I woke you.”

“No, I was just getting up.”

“Liar.”

“Guilty.”

“I’m sorry, I tried to wait longer.” He turned his back to the lake, glancing in through the windows to see several more task force members trailing into the dining room.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Just a nightmare. Nothing new.”

“Abford again?”

“Yeah.”

“Wish I was there.” He could hear the rustle of sheets on her end and imagined the warmth of her beside him in their bed.

“Me too.”

“How are things going? Any progress?”

“You mean when am I coming home.”

“You got me.”

He smiled but it faded as quickly as it came. “We received a ransom demand. We’re going forward with it in the next few days.”

“God. Poor Owen. How is he doing?”

“He’s getting by.”

“And how are you, other than the broken sleep?”

“Fine. As always.”

“You’re full of shit, Mr. Dempsey.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think it can be handled without you from this point on?”

“Why?”

“Because I do want you to come home.”

“I’d love to but I need to stay for Owen.”

There was a long pause and he thought he could hear the old clock ticking downstairs, its rhythm like a tired pulse.

“You need to stay for Owen or for you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m asking if you have other reasons for wanting to be there.”

“I’m here to help my friend.”

“And doing real police work doesn’t hurt either.”

The door opened and Perring stuck her head out. She saw that he was on the phone and nodded before retreating inside.

“Is there something you want to say?” he asked.

“No. Not now. But I want you to be careful. You’re a consultant, remember? It’s not your responsibility to go busting into houses, gun blazing.”

Liam chewed on the inside of his cheek. It was like the woman was psychic.

“I know that. I’ll be safe.”

“You better.”

“I’ll come home to you soon.”

“You better.” Warmth seeped into her voice.

“I gotta go. Tell Eric hi and I love him.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He ended the call and shivered, the last vestiges of the dream lingering even after hearing Dani’s voice.
She’s fine. Eric’s fine. They’re safe,
he assured himself as he picked up his freezing coffee mug from the porch railing. It had just been a dream, a mingling of Valerie’s kidnapping and fears he didn’t want to think about brought to light.
The subconscious is a cruel place,
he thought before reentering the house. Perring and Sanders were sipping coffee in the kitchen. Both looked unkempt as if they had slept in their clothes as well.

“Good morning,” Liam said, refilling his coffee cup.

“What the hell’s good about it?” Sanders said.

“Our overnight guy said that Owen didn’t wake up,” Perring said.

“Not that I know of,” Liam said. “Hopefully he got some rest. Anything back from the canvass of the neighborhood where Valerie was being held?”

Perring shook her head. “Three uniforms knocked on fifty doors last night. No one saw a thing. No strange vehicles, no odd people, no noises. It’s like Valerie and her abductors were never there.” She sipped at her coffee, eyes unfocused. “We’ll have to respect Owen’s wishes from here on out. Even if we get a solid lead, he might not want us to go in after her. Last night really shook him up.”

“I can’t blame him,” Liam said. He watched the task force set up for their day in the dining room and then excused himself to go shower. The hot water was rejuvenating and when he’d dressed in a set of clean clothes the nightmare had softened, the sharp edges dulling so that when Dani’s tortured face rose to his mind he was able to shrug it off and let it slide away. When he reentered the kitchen Perring was talking on her cell phone, her brow drawn and her mouth a flat line of displeasure.

“What about Link, where the hell’s he at?” She paused, listening. “Oh for God’s sake. How about Teller? The flu? Are you shitting me?” She noticed Liam standing at the edge of the kitchen and turned slightly away. “Yeah. Tell the chief I’ll figure something out. It’s only a few blocks from here. Yeah, okay.” Perring hung up the phone then drew out a fresh pack of gum, ripping two pieces open before popping them in her mouth.

“That’s like chain smoking,” Liam said, trying a smile on her. She stared out the windows for a moment before glancing at him.

“I would kick a puppy right now for a cigarette.”

“Sounded like one of those calls.”

Sanders entered the room and immediately frowned seeing Perring’s face. “What is it?”

“Homicide. Four blocks north. Chief wants me to go.”

“What?” Sanders said. “Link or Teller can take care of that.”

“Link’s in Arizona on vacation, remember? And Teller’s puking his guts out at home apparently. If I fucking find out that he was golfing like last time I’m going to kick his ass.”

“There was a death only four blocks from here?” Liam asked.

“Yeah. Why?” Perring said.

“Home invasion?”

Perring chewed her gum for a moment. “Possibly.”

“I’d say that’s quite a coincidence having a death so close after Valerie’s disappearance.”

“Probably just that. Coincidence,” Sanders said before turning back to Perring. “So they want us on that now? Who’s going to run shit here?”

“We can’t both leave.” She glanced at Liam.

“I’ll go with you so Sanders can stay here,” he offered. “Until we hear anything else I won’t be of much use. Owen might not be up for a while either.”

“That’s not procedure,” Sanders said, an edge to his voice. “You’re helping us on this case, not an unrelated homicide. That wasn’t the deal.”

“He can come, Rex. He’s proven his worth so far on this one,” Perring said. Sanders began to protest but she cut across him. “Look, unless you want to go against the chief’s wishes and do the death by yourself, that’s on you.”

Sanders blinked, then sighed before waving his hand toward the front door. “Yeah, yeah, all right. I’ll keep things rolling here.”

“If Owen gets up have him finalize everything with whoever’s he’s getting the loan for the ransom from.”

“I got this, Denise,” Sanders said, turning away from them both. Perring jerked her head toward the door and Liam followed her outside, zipping his jacket as they stepped into the cool air.