by Thomas Kies
I took her hand in my own. “I’m Genie Chase.”
Bristol nodded to the man standing behind me, AR-15 still slung from his shoulder. “This is Karl.”
No last name. That worked for me. I learned later that his full name was Karl Lerner, formerly an Army Ranger who had managed to become Merlin Finn’s right-hand man.
I gave him a curt bob of the head while he took off his sunglasses, placed them on the top of his head, and studied me one more time. I tossed him a hello. “Hey, Karl.”
Bristol’s eyes formed narrow slits as she appraised me. “What are you here for?” She had a slight Southern lilt to her words.
I glanced back at Karl again, then answered, “I’ve been covering the death of Judge Niles Preston. The police tell me that Merlin Finn is a person of interest. I’d like to get some background information about him.”
She put the cup of coffee to her lips and sipped. “What makes you think I can tell you anything about Merlin Finn?”
“You’re his wife.”
“He never told me much about what he was up to.” She attempted a tiny grin.
“So you didn’t know that he headed up a criminal organization.”
She shot a glance at Karl. “I had my suspicions. He wasn’t up here much, and that was okay by me.” Bristol glided away from me and sat down in one of the chairs, coffee mug still clutched in her hand. “You want to sit down?”
I stole one more look at Karl, who had apparently lost interest in me and was staring out the window. I sat on the couch closest to Bristol. “Do you know where Mr. Finn is?”
Karl might have been focused on the driveway, but he was listening. His words came out loud. “We do not. And if we did, we sure as hell wouldn’t tell a reporter.”
“Of course. Does Mr. Finn have any family?”
Bristol nodded. “I told this to the FBI when they came to talk to us. He doesn’t have any brothers and sisters, and his mother passed away when he was only eleven. But his father is still alive, and Merlin was always close with him. If anyone knows where Merlin is hiding, it would be his dad. I think he still lives in White Plains.”
“Did you ever visit Mr. Finn while he was in prison?”
Karl answered. His reply was simple but emphatic. “No.”
“So you had no way of knowing that he was planning to break out of Lockport?”
He studied me. “I hear things. Word was he was organizing with the Brotherhood on the inside and some of his old crew on the outside. There was an investigation that said the Brotherhood was behind his escape. I saw it on the news.”
I had my phone out, hit the record app, and placed it on the seat next to me. It was less intimidating than my recorder. I focused on Bristol again. “Do you know a man by the name of Jim Caviness?”
She jerked slightly as if hit with a tiny static electrical shock. Bristol cleared her throat. “He’s that man that got burned up by his wife.”
I leaned forward. “Did he come by here every so often?”
Like nearly every week?
I heard Karl’s steps across the hardwood floor until he got to the throw rug, where he stopped, looking down at me. “Jim Caviness was one of Wolfline’s crew.”
Sometimes it’s best to act dumb. “Wolfline, what’s that?”
He took a breath, pondering how much to share with me. Finally, he took the weapon off his shoulder, and sat down on the couch facing me, placing the AR-15 on the seat next to him, barrel aimed at the doorway. He pointed to my phone, recording our conversation. “Turn that off. This is all off the record.”
I reluctantly reached over and made a show of turning it off and putting back in my bag. “Okay.”
“Wolfline Contracting, it’s a front for the Russian Mafia.”
“Russian Mafia?” I repeated.
Karl scratched the back of his neck. “This better be off the record, Reporter. I don’t want this showin’ up in any newspaper, understand?”
I nodded. “Guaranteed.”
“Up until Merlin killed two of their dope dealers, we did contract work for Wolfline.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Our chapter of the Brotherhood?” He silently counted in his head. “Twenty when Merlin was still running the show. Maybe there’s half that now.”
“What happened?”
“When Merlin went to prison, some of the Brotherhood decided it was better to go to work directly for the Russians.”
Bristol spoke up. “Up until Merlin busted out of prison. That’s a game-changer. If he finds the men who turned on him, he’ll kill them.”
I wanted to move the conversation back to Wolfline. “So before Merlin killed those two men, Jim Caviness would stop here every week?”
She frowned. “How do you know how often he came here?”
Crap.
I shrugged. “I have my sources, same as the cops.”
Bristol studied me. “Our cut. Jim would bring by the Brotherhood’s cut for the week.”
“Cut of what?”
Karl growled again. “This better not see the light of day, Reporter.”
I held up my hand and shook my head. “All off the record.”
Bristol explained. “Drug sales, mostly. Prostitution, gambling. We’re out of that now. Laying low.”
“How are you paying for your groceries?”
Karl raised his chin and gave me a cocky look. “We have money set aside, investments and such.”
Bristol offered, “And I own this house outright. When Merlin bought it, he put it in my name. Said if he ever got busted for something, we’d keep possession of the house.”
“Tell me a little bit about Merlin Finn.”
Karl and Bristol glanced at each other. She took a breath. “We met when I was dancing at Ivan’s.”
“The club in Bridgeport?” I purposely didn’t call it a strip club. As I studied her, I wasn’t sure I could visualize her as a stripper in a seedy bar.
She nodded. “Merlin’s boys worked security there. Merlin and me started going out. I think I was attracted to him because he had everyone’s respect. When he gave an order, men did what he told them to do. There’s no question that Merlin’s an alpha dog.”
“Alpha dog?”
“Alpha dog, top dog. He likes being in charge. But he has a sweet side too.”
At that, Karl coughed in derision.
“He does?”
“Back when we were dating, he was always bringing me presents. Clothes, jewelry, once he surprised me with a trip to Nashville. I always wanted to go to Nashville. Back in the day, he could be a big, old teddy bear.”
“Does he have a dark side?” In relationships, there’s almost always a yin to the yang.
She looked down at the floor. “Being an alpha dog means he’s very controlling and domineering.”
“Domineering?”
Karl leaned forward. “Bristol’s being nice. He’s a sadistic son of a bitch.”
“How so?”
He stood up. “I’ll show you.” He turned and headed for the kitchen.
An invitation?
I got up from the couch, threw my bag over my shoulder, and followed. Passing through the doorway, I noticed that the cramped kitchen had all the amenities, refrigerator, stove, microwave, dishwasher. There wasn’t a lot of counter space, and what there was had been crammed with plastic storage dishes, boxes of rice and instant potatoes, canned vegetables, fruits, and cooked chicken.
Karl was moving fast, and he was already at a doorway on the other side of the room. Along the way, he’d shaken off his camouflage winter coat and tossed it on the back of a kitchen chair. I could see how broad his shoulders and slim his hips were. This was a guy who was in very good shape.
He disappeared through the doorway, and when I caught up, it was
to see Karl descending a set of wooden steps. At the bottom, he flipped on a light, and I came down to where he was standing.
Descending, I felt the cold. There wasn’t any heat in this part of the house. I was glad I’d kept my coat on.
Getting to the basement, I saw we were in a large storeroom of aisles of metal racks and shelves filled with canned goods, bottles of water, medical supplies, and guns. Lots and lots of guns. Karl stopped and stared at me. “We got everything down here. Merlin even put in an escape tunnel, just in case.”
I walked out into the middle of the room, amazed. “Wow. I guess you guys are ready for the zombie apocalypse.”
It was the first time I saw Karl grin. He showed me a set of uneven teeth. Once you got by his badass routine, he looked like he could be a big, old-fashioned country boy. He drawled, “Won’t be zombies, Reporter. But it’s comin’.”
Doomsday preppers?
“What’s coming?”
Karl nodded slightly. “Race war.” He walked by me toward another doorway. “C’mon.”
As I followed, I glanced back and saw Bristol slowly coming down the steps. She stopped at the bottom, arms folded, staring wide-eyed at the door where Karl stood waiting. He opened the door and motioned me in.
If I had a concept of hell, that’s what I’d call that room.
It was the size of a very large master bedroom. Fluorescent lights showed me cold stone walls and a concrete floor with a drain in the center of the room. There was a toilet and a shower stall in the far corner.
Metal hooks and eyebolts were screwed into the thick beams in the ceiling. Along the walls hung dozens of whips, canes, crops, ropes, chains, and leather restraints. A shelf on the wall to my left contained gas masks and leather hoods.
Just like the hood the killer at the marina wore the night Judge Preston and Abigail Tillis were murdered.
Manacles were attached to a low wooden bench off to my right. Across the room was a wooden structure in the form of an X that I knew was called a St. Andrew’s Cross.
The display that chilled me the most was on the wall facing us. Hung by leather straps on metal hooks was an array of metal saws, picks, serrated knives, hooks, and clamps. A simple shelf held several small blowtorches.
I tried to speak but all I could manage was a whisper. “What is this place?”
Bristol came up behind me and stood close, her voice low as well. “This is where he would take me if he felt I needed discipline.”
Without thought, I reached out and put my arm around her. She was shivering like a frightened dog. “Did he bring you down here a lot?”
She nodded, sadly staring at the St. Andrew’s Cross. “Yes, ma’am, he did.”
Karl spoke up. “Show her your back.”
I took my arm away from her shoulder, and she turned around, hitching up her sweater so I could see a portion of her skin. It was crisscrossed with dozens of angry, red scars.
“How long were you with him?”
She lowered her sweater and faced me. “Three years.”
“She’s with me now, we love each other,” Karl stated defiantly. “He’ll never touch Bristol again.”
“Aren’t you afraid he’ll come here?”
He slowly shook his head. “If he does, I’m ready for him. Trip wires and traps all over these woods.”
Bristol touched my arm. “He won’t come here, anyway. The cops have the property under surveillance. They want him bad. Anyway, we’re movin’ soon. I can’t stay here anymore.”
I took a breath and looked at the cutting tools on the back wall. The bone saws and scalpels made me shudder. “I’m surprised you’ve stayed here as long as you have.”
Karl glanced around him, not answering me. “This house has seen a lot of pain.”
“You said you’re going to be moving?”
“Right after Merlin went to prison, we put this place on the market. Took a while to find a buyer.” She leaned over to whisper to me. “Got a bad reputation, ya know.”
“Did you sell it?”
“We did.”
“Really?” Who in their right mind would want to live in this house of horrors?
Bristol nodded slightly. “The buyer’s attorney is handling the closing. The buyer is a property management company insisting on anonymity. Attorney says the buyer likes the location but is concerned with the notoriety, what with the dungeon and the two men killed up here and all. He says they’re planning on turning this place into a hunting resort.”
I shivered again.
Buyer must have a strong affection for the macabre.
I chucked my chin at Karl. “You said this place is under surveillance?”
He chuckled. “You didn’t notice the repair truck at the bottom of the hill before you turned onto our road? It’s been there since Merlin escaped.”
No, I hadn’t noticed.
“And I’ll bet you didn’t see the drones?” He pointed toward the ceiling. “There’re about a two or three of ’em buzzing around at any one time.”
I shook my head. What was it that Mike had told me?
If the FBI has you under surveillance, you’ll never know.
But Karl knew.
He frowned. “For a reporter, you’re not very observant.”
I dismissed his insult. “Did Merlin ever bring anyone else down here?”
The smile on Karl’s face vanished, and the color drained from Bristol’s face. She nodded. “Those two drug dealers who worked for Wolfline. Merlin claimed they were assassins that the Russians sent to kill him. He brought ’em down here and tortured them. Took him most of the night. There was so much screaming. When he was done playing with them, he killed them and buried the bodies out in the woods.”
“Cops find the bodies?”
Bristol nodded and glanced briefly at Karl. “Someone tipped ’em off.”
Karl chewed on his lower lip. “They brought in cadaver dogs.”
Bristol said something I couldn’t quite make out.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
She cleared her throat and repeated, more loudly, “He made me come down here the next day to clean up the blood.”
Karl spit on the floor. “That son of a bitch will never lay a hand on Bristol again. Not as long as I’m alive.”
Chapter Eleven
Leaving the house and stepping out onto the porch, I took a deep breath of the icy air and went to the railing. I gazed up into the ashen sky. My eyes strained as I scanned the expanse above the trees for any evidence of a drone, a mote, a flying speck against the iron-colored clouds.
Seeing nothing, I went down the steps and got into my Sebring. I grabbed my phone out of my bag and saw that Caroline had texted me.
Condo here in Aspen is fabulous. Right on the side of the mountain. Skiing out the front door. Jess can’t stop grinning. Aunt R must have spent a fortune. Wish u were here. Hugs.
I surrendered up a tiny smile. She had gotten there safely. I was sure that Caroline and Jessica were going to have the time of their lives.
And I’m spending Christmas alone.
Glancing up at the stone house, I shuddered at the thought of the torture chamber in the basement. Up there on that hill, tucked back in the woods, no one would ever hear you scream.
I turned up the heat.
When I got to the bottom of that long, dirt road, I looked for the surveillance truck that Karl had mentioned.
Nothing. The road is empty.
I pondered the possibilities. Either the FBI had found Merlin Finn and no longer needed to keep an eye on this place, or Karl and Bristol were paranoid, and the repair truck was just that…a repair truck.
And where were the drones he talked about?
I hoped it was that Finn was under lock and key. Because if the law wasn’t watching this proper
ty, it made Karl and Bristol vulnerable as hell. And in spite of Karl’s bravado, the more I learned about Merlin Finn, the less I wanted to meet him.
Unbidden, my mind flashed onto the video from the marina. Four men in black, Finn wearing the bondage hood.
Would Karl and his AR-15 be any match for Finn and his crew?
I drove back to Sheffield and spent the rest of my workday in the newsroom reading through police reports that outlined the investigation of the murders by Finn of the two dope dealers who allegedly worked for Wolfline. What I read had been sanitized. All it told me was that the two men, Parker Graff and Jason Starnes, both in their twenties, had been tortured, shot to death, then buried in the woods up on Oak Hill.
What it didn’t tell me was why. Finn was supposed to have been working for Wolfline. Why did he go rogue? Why kill two of the Russians’ men?
What did Bristol say about them? That Merlin claimed they were sent to assassinate him?
I glanced at the clock and then peeked at Lorraine, her eyes plastered to her computer screen. For me, it was quitting time. I had a hunch that for Ms. Moretti, there was no real end to the day. She was corporate through and through.
When I’d been in her office, I noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
She’s the kind of woman that, if you ask her if she has a husband, she’d say she was married to her job.
I needed a drink.
* * *
I toyed with the thought of stopping by Brick’s for a vodka tonic. Caroline wouldn’t be waiting for me and I wasn’t anxious to face my empty house alone.
But Tucker was overdue for a walk and I couldn’t let the little guy down. Plus, with the new regime running the newspaper, I sure as hell didn’t want to get caught boozing alone in a dark bar.
So I parked the car in my driveway, collected my mail from the streetside box, and took a quick peek at a handful of nothing but bills.
