Deep Down Dead

by Steph Broadribb

  Those images would never leave her. Whatever I did, they’d stay with her always. How would she ever get over it? Witnessing something like that changed you. That I knew, from bitter experience.

  JT put his hand on my shoulder. ‘We’ll get her back.’

  I shrugged him away. ‘And if they’ve killed her, too?’

  ‘They haven’t. Emerson’s men wouldn’t want Scott dead, not without getting the device first. I don’t think they planned for this to happen.’

  I stared at Scott’s corpse. Some accident. ‘Why?’

  ‘Look at this place. What does the scene tell you?’

  I glared at JT. Didn’t want to play this game. Wanted my daughter. Safe. And the last forty hours erased. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Reluctantly, I scanned the room. Beside the candy-cane throne were piles of gifts, their faded wrapping paper splattered with blood. The two model reindeer by the fireplace looked like they’d gotten a bad case of measles. Even so, the wounds across Scott’s face and body didn’t look serious enough to be fatal. He hadn’t bled out.

  I turned to JT. Shook my head. ‘What do you think happened?’

  ‘My guess is his heart gave out. He was always popping pills. Kept going on at me about how he’d dreamt of joining the CIA but couldn’t because of a heart condition. I’d pegged it as fantasy. Perhaps it was the truth.’

  I peered at the face half-hidden beneath the blood-speckled Santa hat. Scott’s sightless eyes were open, staring. I pressed my fingers over them, felt a slight resistance before they closed, letting him rest. Poor bastard. ‘So why leave him here for us to find?’

  ‘As a warning.’ JT shook his head. ‘If they didn’t mean to kill him, I doubt he told them where to find the device.’

  I realised what he was getting at. ‘So we’re their next best bet.’

  ‘No, I am.’

  I frowned. ‘Then why didn’t they try and grab you already?’

  ‘It’s too public in the main park. Too many witnesses.’

  That made sense. ‘And another dead body found while you’re here, that’d be easy to pin on you I guess.’

  ‘Except they want the device. I was working with Scott, and they know that. He must have told them it’s here in the park. I reckon they’re waiting to see where I go. They want me to lead them to it.’

  Somewhere behind the grotto I heard the clanking of a rollercoaster climbing its rails to the summit. There was a brief pause. Then the screams began. I imagined the cars hurtling along their rails, plunging, corkscrewing, all in the name of fun. Emerson’s men would have known about the rollercoaster. If they’d timed their punches right, not one of the tourists walking along Main Street would have realised Scott’s screams were from real terror rather than manufactured thrills. He hadn’t stood a chance. ‘Or they’ll grab you and torture it out of you.’

  JT nodded. ‘Yep. Or that.’

  I glanced down at Scott’s lifeless body. He looked so damn pitiful, still bound to the throne in that ridiculous outfit. What a wretched way to die. Leaning down, I tried to pull Scott’s tunic over his rotund belly, give him a little dignity. ‘Shit.’

  ‘What?’

  Tucked into the tunic pocket was a cell phone. Scott’s, I guessed, the one Emerson’s men had used to call us to lead us here. I removed it, flipped it open.

  On-screen a video had been paused. My child. Freeze-framed. Her blonde braids fuzzy. Her azure-blue eyes staring into the lens. Terrified.

  My hand trembled. The cell began to shake. I stared at Dakota’s image. Tasted bile as it hit the back of my throat. Doubled over, retching.

  ‘Lori, show me.’

  Straightening up, I passed the cell to JT.

  He turned real pale, despite his tan. He looked back at me, his big blues all earnest. ‘You know we’re gonna have to watch this.’

  I swallowed hard. Couldn’t trust myself to speak without breaking down. Knew that wouldn’t help anybody or change anything. Tried to focus. Hugged my arms across my body. Nodded.

  He pressed play.

  36

  The video had been filmed in close-up. Dakota’s face – cheeks grubby, eyes pink and bloodshot, looking straight into the camera. Just as the man’s voice commanded.

  I stared at the screen. Blinked. Couldn’t cry. Had to stay strong for my baby, even though I knew she couldn’t see me.

  ‘Momma, I’m so sorry. I tried to be good.’ Her lower lip trembled as she spoke. She paused, looked to her right and glared at someone out of view. ‘But they were hurting Santa. I had to help him, so I—’

  The man’s voice, off camera, growled, ‘Say what I told you.’

  She glared at whoever was to her right again. Flinched. Looked back into the lens. ‘They didn’t like me telling them off. Said Santa was a thief and I’m a naughty little girl.’ She leant forward, whispering now. ‘They said very bad things happen to naughty girls, and I’d find out what if I didn’t stay real quiet.’

  I heard laughter from the man off-camera. How I wanted to punch him. To rip his tongue from his mouth and stomp on it until all that was left was bloody pulp. I clenched my fists, dug my nails into my palms. Tried not to give in to the fear.

  The man spoke again. ‘Tell them what happened.’

  ‘I wasn’t quiet enough. That’s why they made me wear it.’ Dakota glanced down. Sniffed hard. ‘Because I’m a naughty little smart-mouth.’

  The camera started to pull back.

  She jutted her chin out, like she always did when being stubborn. ‘I don’t like it, Momma. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and they said it has bad things stuffed in the pockets for punishing me if I’m naughty again.’

  I watched. Numb. As the camera pulled back further.

  Beside me, JT cussed. I felt his body go rigid, as if he’d stopped breathing. Half a second later he slammed his fist into the wall. A chunk of rendering crumbled under the impact, dropping in pieces to the floor. ‘Son-of-a-bitch.’

  I inhaled sharply.

  The life preserver was navy blue, fitted tight over Dakota’s purple t-shirt. I stared at the red, blue and white wires, at the two large blocks of explosive resting over my daughter’s ribs, at her eyes, wide and afraid. I opened my mouth, tried to speak. No sound came out.

  ‘Please, Momma. Bring them what Santa stole. If you don’t, they say they’ll have to use the magic button.’

  37

  The video ended. The screen faded to black, empty. JT was talking, pacing around Scott and the candy-cane throne, ranting. I paid him no mind. All I could hear was my own inner voice repeating over and again: My fault, my fault, my fault.

  That was the only way this made sense. My child, my sweet girl, who’d kept up with her schoolwork, done her chores and, aside from being a little precocious on occasion, never given a moment’s trouble. I should never have taken the job, never have believed anything involving JT would go smooth. I should have known I wouldn’t ever be able to get that close to him and stay hidden from the past. No matter how deep down you think things have been buried, they always come right back to shoot you in the ass.

  Well, I wasn’t going to let Emerson beat us. We had to end this. Fight back. Hard, dirty, whatever it took.

  I turned to JT. ‘We need that device now.’

  He stopped pacing. Gestured towards Scott. ‘Maybe he’s got it on him.’

  I glanced at Scott’s body. If the device was the size of my palm as JT had said, then I doubted there was anyplace Scott had been able to conceal it on or inside his body. ‘They’d have searched him.’

  ‘They should have, but…’

  Rule number four: Don’t make assumptions. It was a valid point. ‘Sure, do it then.’

  JT leant over Scott. He patted down his body, trunk first, then each arm, followed by the legs. I looked away. I’ve never been squeamish, but there’s something real intrusive about frisking a dead person.

  JT stepped back from the body. Shook his head.

  Shi
t. The whole set-up made no sense. If Emerson’s men knew we were coming, why hadn’t they grabbed us already? They could have picked us up at the front gate, or been waiting here with Scott’s body. ‘Why the hell did they make that video?’

  JT exhaled. Shrugged. ‘Trying to keep us focused. Messing with our heads. Just being sick fucks. Who knows?’

  I felt another surge of adrenaline hit my bloodstream. I needed to get going. Do something. ‘Whatever the reason, they know we’re here. There’s CCTV everywhere.’

  ‘Yeah. So we have to be smart, figure out where it is and get out fast.’

  JT was right. If Emerson’s men found the device before us we’d have nothing. No bargaining power. ‘And if they get to it first?’

  ‘We won’t let that happen.’

  That was for damn sure. I stepped towards the exit.

  JT stayed put. ‘So what do we know?’ he asked – he was talking to himself as much as me. ‘Scott came back here to get the device. Seems he never made it to the place it was hidden.’

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Wanted to get going. Search the park. ‘So where’d we start looking?’

  ‘Scott was highly secretive. He’d have hidden it somewhere he could reach from the security office, but not exposed to other people. Someplace in plain sight but—’

  I heard a floorboard creak in the passageway. Catching JT’s eye, I put my finger to my lips. He nodded. He’d heard it too.

  We weren’t alone.

  Question was, how many? Listening hard, I tried to work it out. But all I could hear was our breathing and the distant screams from the rollercoaster. Damn.

  There was no easy way out. The grotto’s boarded-up windows, solid walls, and single route in and out made our odds of a fast escape real slim. Seemed we were trapped.

  I signalled to JT for us to split up. He nodded, stepped to his right and eased a large candy-cane-styled baton from the utensil stand beside the fireplace. Moving quietly, we slipped across the room to the archway, each flattening ourselves against the wall on either side of the entrance. JT held the candy cane as if it was a baseball bat and he was waiting for the pitch. Ready.

  Sliding my right hand into my jeans pocket, I curled my fingers around the can of pepper spray and manoeuvred it free. Without any real weapons our best chance would be to get the jump on whoever was coming, take as many out as we could, then run.

  So we waited.

  Pulse thumping. Mouth dry. The muscles across my body tensed, ready to act.

  ‘… Lots of fun for you and me. Jolly times all filled with glee. Come and…’

  I cussed silently. Tried to block out the noise of the ‘Happy Holidays’ tune still jangling from the nearby speaker. Concentrated on my breathing, on the peanut-butter rendering scratching against my back. Listened for any sounds from the passageway. Focused on anything other than the damn song.

  From the opposite side of the archway, JT watched me. I stared back.

  His gaze flicked towards the passageway. I saw the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled, the rise of his chest, his shoulders. He raised the baton a little higher.

  It was time.

  The man came in fast with his gun raised. He took two steps into the grotto and had just enough time to register me, for our eyes to connect, before JT leapt forward. He whacked the guy hard with the candy-cane baton.

  The man ducked right, firing his Beretta. The silenced shot zipped wide and embedded into the fireplace surround. JT hit him again: once to the head, twice to the back. The baton snapped. The guy went down.

  I tensed, ready for others. Waited.

  No one came.

  JT grabbed the Beretta, then stepped into the passageway and walked down to the exit. Returned a few moments later. ‘He’s alone.’

  I glanced at the man groaning on the floor. He looked like a regular guy, I guessed a little shorter than JT, and a few years younger. He wore a green polo shirt and cream cargo pants. Didn’t look like park security. ‘I don’t get it. Why send only one man?’

  JT frowned. ‘He’s not Emerson’s man. His name’s Ugo Nolfi. He’s an enforcer with the Miami Mob; one of the top guys. He’s who Gunner and his boys were waiting at the ranch for.’

  Shit. Back outside Pops’ bail shop I’d seen a man parked up outside in a brown sedan. I’d spotted a similar car later, out on the highway as we left the motel for Winter Wonderland. The brown sedan, I’d convinced myself it was coincidence. Now I knew I’d been wrong.

  I remembered how freaked JT had sounded when I said I’d seen Pops. Maybe he’d assumed the mob would station someone there, waiting for him to show. ‘They tracked us here. Must’ve tailed me from Pops’ place.’

  JT stared at the mob guy, this Ugo Nolfi. Didn’t reply.

  ‘Did you—?’

  ‘Yep, I heard you.’ He cussed under his breath. Looked back at me. ‘And, just so as we’re clear, it’s me he’s after, not us.’

  I held his gaze. He didn’t know Pops had told me the reason why the mob were after him. Didn’t realise I knew the hit put out on him should have been for me. That I knew that, even after I’d left him, he’d been protecting me. And right now I didn’t want to tell him I knew. If that was the way JT wanted to play it, fine. ‘Well, whoever he is, and whatever he wants, we need to get moving.’

  On the crumbling mosaic floor in front of us Ugo Nolfi pushed himself up to sitting. JT stepped closer to him, pointing the Beretta at his chest.

  Ugo raised his hands. ‘Wait. Let’s talk. You know why I’m here…’

  ‘Yep.’

  Ugo nodded towards the gun. ‘So you know even if you do this, we’ll keep coming.’

  JT frowned. ‘And your point is?’

  ‘You told Gunner you had information?’

  JT nodded. ‘I did.’

  That was news to me. JT must’ve spoken to the boys at the ranch before I’d gotten there. I thought back to how things had gone down, remembered JT whispering something to Gunner about making a deal with his boss. I’d thought he’d meant Merv. Seemed he’d been talking about Old Man Bonchese.

  ‘Your story checked out. There’s a rival operation, taking trade from our Sweet-Sixteen business.’

  JT kept the Beretta pointed at Ugo. ‘So you’re saying what?’

  ‘The Old Man doesn’t like people muscling in on our territory. You tell me what you know, who’s in charge, how the operation works, and maybe there’s a deal to be made.’

  I heard a thud outside, like someone tripping over something solid. I pointed in the direction of the noise. ‘Shush.’

  JT nodded. Kept the gun trained on Ugo’s chest. I hurried to a window where a section of the wooden cover had fallen away. Peered through the grimy plastic and spotted figures coming our way. I turned to JT, whispered, ‘We’ve got company. Three of them.’

  He looked at Ugo. Kept his voice low. ‘These men coming for us, they work for Randall Emerson. He owns this park, and he’s running the kiddie operation I told Gunner about. His men killed your boys out in West Virginia, not me.’

  I squinted through the window again. The men were walking towards the entrance of the Gingerbread Grotto. They all had guns. ‘They know we’re in here.’

  JT lowered the Beretta a fraction, kept staring at Ugo. ‘So here’s the thing, you back off me, and I can solve the Emerson problem for both of us, clear the way for you and the Old Man.’

  Ugo shook his head. ‘I don’t know. The boys in WV, they were lowlevel muscle, but loyal. They died on my watch, waiting for me to show.’ He paused for an agonising moment. ‘Still, I guess we could swallow what happened there as collateral damage. But writing off payback for that other thing? That’ll be harder to sell to the boss. He’s held that grudge a hell of a long time.’

  I looked through the window again. The men had reached the front porch. They were blocking the only door. Trapping us inside. ‘We’re out of time,’ I hissed. ‘Decide fast. We’ve got to get out of here.’


  JT lowered the gun. ‘I’ve got video evidence of Emerson’s operation. I give that to the cops, he’s screwed and you win. That doesn’t work, I’ll end him myself. Either way, there’s no comeback for you, and the rival operation’s gone.’

  Ugo stared at JT a short moment, then nodded. ‘All right. You make that happen, and I’ll speak to the boss. That’s the most I can promise.’

  ‘I’ll take that. So, we good?’

  ‘Good enough.’

  JT held out his hand, and helped Ugo to his feet.

  Glancing back through the window, I saw the men step on to the porch. ‘They’re coming in. We need a diversion. They realise we’re breaking out, they’re going to be round back real fast.’ I looked at Ugo. ‘Can you do that?’

  He nodded.

  JT handed him the Beretta.

  Ugo stepped towards the archway, flattened his back against the wall and blind-fired a volley of shots along the passage. The men returned fire. Ugo yelled something in Italian and fired again.

  I grabbed the board still covering part of the window and yanked it hard. As the wood splintered free, JT shoved his fists against the window frame. Loosened by decay, it shifted away from the wall. JT pushed it clear.

  I threw the wooden board on the floor. That’s when I noticed the blue ball-cap, lying crumbled in the dust a little ways to my left. The gold lettering above a picture of Percy Penguin read: MAINTENANCE CREW. I grabbed it, before following JT out through the gap in the wall.

  38

  Back on Main Street, it seemed like another world. So many people enjoying themselves, oblivious that in the fenced-off construction area just a few hundred yards away, one man lay dead and another was under siege. Still, I couldn’t think on what had happened. Had to push it from my mind. But the deal we’d struck with Ugo, it didn’t sit right with me. I glanced at JT. ‘When you told Ugo you’d help the Old Man did you mean—?’

  ‘I said that to buy us some time.’

  ‘But this Sweet-Sixteen business, is that—?’

  ‘It’s messed up. Seriously, it makes me sick. They sell a girl’s – a sixteen-year-old’s – virginity to the highest bidder. But I had to say something that’d get me clear of the ranch, and get us out of the Gingerbread Grotto.’ He turned. ‘Believe me, I’d never help Bonchese. I just had to make Ugo believe that I would, because right now my priority is getting to Emerson.’